An Internet Web site is taking bets on whether Giants slugger Barry Bonds will be indicted by a federal grand jury before July 31.

I’m not a betting man, but I’ll wager you a box of Pete Rose rookie cards that a Bonds indictment is inevitable.

The grand jury that has been investigating Bonds is nearing the end of its term, and it’s hard to imagine that the federal prosecutors who have been dogging him will issue him, as the National League often does, a free pass.

Bonds’ alleged crimes? Well, even though Bonds has often tested positive for arrogance, the feds likely will settle for the legal version of the “clear” and the “cream” – perjury and money laundering.

Which means that there will be a trial, at some point. I wouldn’t count, though, on him losing any pennant-race at-bats.

Baseball likely will be spared the ignominy of its all-time left-handed slugger starring in yet-another reality show – on Court TV.

Seen Bonds play lately? He’s about as mobile as Tom Lasorda, maybe less. If you’ve been watching on DirecTV, you’ve seen Bonds lope after line drives in the outfield, wince on outside pitches while at bat and regularly miss fat fastballs he used to clobber into McCovey Cove.

That Internet site offers three proposition wagers on Bonds. One sets the over-under on how many home runs he will hit the rest of this season at 91â2. Take the under.

A monumentally vain man, Bonds can’t be enjoying this.

As soon as the San Francisco Giants fade from the playoff hunt, it’s quite possible that we’ll hear Bonds announcing that the 2006 season will be his last. He’ll blame it on those “San Francisco Chronicle” book guys. Or on you and me.

And that will be it. No suspension from baseball. No asterisks in the rule book. No Bart Giamatti-style grandstanding by Bud Selig about how Bonds disgraced baseball.

Sure, Bonds did. But so, it seems, have a lot of guys, from Jason Grimsley to Rafael Palmeiro to A-Rod’s buddy Alex Sanchez to Jason Giambi and Gary Sheffield, though the latter two seem to have been granted immunity by Yankees fans.

We have seen only the tiniest tip of baseball’s doping iceberg. Jose Canseco is the village idiot, but he certainly knew where a lot of the village’s dirty laundry was hanging.

When baseball’s Mitchell investigation finally ends, the report is going to look like a Michener novel. Names are certain to be whited out – squealing having been bartered for immunity. The report, I’m guessing, will loudly trumpet the names of the usual suspects – McGwire, Bonds, Raffy – and vaguely condemn the rest.

Baseball had a sickness, Selig will announce. It was on dope, he’ll say, and now it’s cured, thanks to the game’s new anti-substance policy. Let’s play ball.

Really, though, what else can he do?

Singling out Bonds for public flogging wouldn’t qualify as a deterrent, because Bonds has succeeded in distancing himself from all other major leaguers. He’s the Planet Barry, an act impossible for others to identify with.

And what about the rest of the steroids users? No grand jury indictments for Sheffield?

Bonds is going to have enough problems on his own. If Selig adds to them, he runs the risk of making even Barry Bonds be a mildly sympathetic figure.

And will baseball’s brotherhood of millionaire players have learned a lesson from the bittersweet end of Barry Bonds?

The smart Internet bet says no.