In Defense of Roger Clemens

Something to consider while Shawne Merriman and Rodney Harrison sit on their couches today, watching our great national disgrace:

Roger Clemens might have injected steroids into Brian McNamee’s penis, and allowed the trainer to make love to him in order to receive the hormones anally. Roger Clemens might have lathered himself with the cream before every start and bathed in the clear after each game. Roger Clemens might have personally spiked the team’s Gatorade cooler with HGH before every game of the 2000 World Series.

We don’t know what Roger Clemens did or did not do today anymore than we did the week before the Mitchell Report came out, or in 1998 while Bud Selig was stuffing his cheeks fat with the cash generated by the McGwire/Sosa home run chase, or anymore than we will in 2023 when the World Series is played between angry man-eating robots and a team full of clones created from Christy Matthewson’s skeleton.

Every piece of evidence against Clemens is circumstantial, and grounded in a maze of indecipherable he-said/he-said nonsense. To judge Clemens based on the Mitchell report is an epic fallacy, a foolish game being played by headline-hungry columnists and a lynch mob of fans who have always hated Clemens anyway.

The Mitchell Report is a flawed, incomprehensive, possibly biased document that holds no authority. The only fair way to treat the information contained therein is to ignore it. Ignore it all. Pretend it never happened.

While the public’s apathy toward the steroids issue is apparent in box office revenue and television ratings, the media continues to build a gilded controversy, largely because drugs are an easy issue about which to screech from a soapbox. The din has grown so loud and intense, that our only choice is to tune it all out. Unless there is hard evidence proving a player has taken steroids (and at this point, I’m willing to accept only positive tests, and perhaps a Game of Shadows-like web of proof), everyone is innocent until proven guilty.

Of course we all know that Mark McGwire probably took steroids. He essentially damned himself on national television. But it shouldn’t keep him out of the Hall of Fame, because there is no proof. A player not stepping forward to defend themselves, either in front of investigators or for Mitchell’s inquisition, is not an admission of guilt.

We don’t know the scope of the problem, or if there even is a problem, anymore than we did before Mitchell released his findings. For God’s sake, we still don’t even know what effects steroids and especially HGH have on baseball performance. It’s time to end this charade, with the understanding that any numbers and records achieved in the last 15 years happened in a certain era, under certain offense-friendly circumstances, like the anti-Dead Ball era.

Roger Clemens’ legacy is not tainted. Let him be. And hell, I don’t even like the guy.

Lost Weekend

A lot to catch up on after a miserable long weekend for the Yankees.

• Most importantly, the Bombers lost three of four to the woeful Devil Rays and the marginal Mariners, in turn letting Seattle and Detroit inch closer in the Wild Card race. The Yankees looked incredibly flat all weekend, and recently they've shown a disturbing predilection for throwing in the towel once they're down by a handful of runs.
• Nice Guy Andy Phillips is out for the season with a broken wrist after being hit by a pitch. This is a problem, because Joe Torre will either play Jason Giambi at first base too much, increasing the chances he breaks down, or, God forbid, throw Minky back out there. Some people never learn. Wilson Betemit's slump vastly increases the chances Torre will turn to the Minkman sooner than later.
• Roger Clemens will miss at least a start and get an MRI on his right elbow after reporting a "grabbing" sensation during Monday's drilling by Seattle. The way Clemens has pitched lately, Mike Mussina isn't necessarily all that much of a downgrade. But the Yankees' rotation is suddenly frightful for the stretch run, with Wang and Pettitte looking solid, Phil Hughes struggling, Clemens hurt, Mussina legally dead and Ian Kennedy with one big-league start. Joba in the rotation, anyone?
• Edwar Ramirez struggled yet again Sunday vs. Tampa. Can he not pitch while trailing? Or is he simply not a major-league pitcher? His minor league numbers and strikeout rate suggest he can succeed at this level, but he's giving up a ton of home runs right now. If he's not effective, the bullpen is massively shaky aafter Mariano Rivera and Joba.
• Needless to say, a huge game tonight for the Yankees, with summer officially over. They need to win at least one of the remaining two games from Seattle to continue controlling their own destiny.

They Are Not Long, The Days Of Wine And Roses

Well, after two of the most relaxing games imaginable, in which the Yankees belted 13 home runs in 16 offensive innings, Roger Clemens got pounded by the White Sox today. The Rocket left the game after 1.2 innings, having given up eight runs. Robinson Cano didn't help matters with a throwing error, but there's no excuse for Clemens's performance.

The Yankees recent success has disguised the fact that their starting pitching has been poor. Andy Pettitte got good results last night, but didn't pitch particularly well. The same goes for Mike Mussina the night before. Clemens has clearly not looked good lately. Even Wang has not been at his Wangian best.

Phillip Hughes, a nation turns its lonely eyes to you...

Secrets, Rocket?

Much has been made of the secret conversation between George Steinbrenner and Roger Clemens in March, which purportedly helped push the Rocket to the Yankees.

Clemens has stated he won't reveal what Steinbrenner told him in Tampa, but might let us know after the season. Rumors have swirled that Steinbrenner told Clemens that the Boss is in poor health, and is running out of time to witness one more championship. Some other possibilities:

"Listen, Rocket, you remember how I thought that Randy Johnson could replace your production and lead us to a title? I've made a huge mistake."

"Listen, Rocket, you remember how I thought that the combination of Kevin Brown, Carl Pavano, Jaret Wright, Kei Igawa, Javier Vazquez and Jose Contreras could replace your production and lead us to a title? I've made a huge mistake."

"Howdy, Rocket, come on in. There's something I've been meaning to tell you for a long time now, but I've never quite been able to work up the courage. I...God, how do I say this?...I, um, want to put myself inside of you. I love you, Roger, and I want to feel your sugar walls. Your musk has driven me crazy since 1998, and the time has come to let our bodies intertwine."

"Goddamnit, Rocket, you have to come pitch for us this year. Pettitte cries himself to sleep every night. He calls me at four in the morning asking why you don't care about him anymore. He says that one day you said you were going out for beer and then never came back."

"Catfish, hello! It's been so long!" [Steinbrenner spokesman Howard Rubenstein translates: "Mr. Steinbrenner greets you warmly, Mr. Clemens, and wishes you and your family continued good health and happiness."] "I have a new medication. It makes me salivate." [Rubenstein: "Mr. Steinbrenner would like for you to come out of retirement to pitch for the 26-time world champion New York Yankees this year."] "Marshmallows! Kittens! Trampolines!" [Rubenstein: "Mr. Steinbrenner cordially offers you a pro-rated $28.5 million contract to help lead the Yankees to victory. Our attorneys will be in touch."]

"Hello, Rocket, I'd like you to meet someone. This is Pacman Jones. OK, Pac, make it rain!"

Rocket's Hangover Cure

Now how about that for a weekend?

Sunday afternoon, I was a little bit tired, a little bit hungover perhaps, and watching the worthless Cleveland-New Jersey playoffs series on ABC. At halftime, Dan Patrick announced that Roger Clemens had agreed to return to the Yankees. Needless to say, I felt better quickly. The body possesses amazing powers of recovery when the spirit is buoyed.

I never had particularly harsh feelings for Clemens after his fake retirement in 2003. If he could pull off pitching at home for a ton of money, and not having to travel with the team, more power to him. I didn't feel betrayed, despite all the pomp and circumstance of his original Yankees' send-off.

So it is with a clear conscience and open arms that I welcome Roger Clemens back into my life. Wang-Mussina-Pettitte-Clemens-Hughes sounds pretty good right about now, especially given all the instability with the starting pitching thus far. Hopefully, Clemens's aging hamstrings, quads and groin have a few more months of strength left in them.

And, hey, Curt Schilling...I've asked politely before, and I do so again here: shut the fuck up, s'il vouz plait? No one cares about your two-faced opinions about where Clemens signed. So you don't need Clemens on the staff because you have Julian Tavarez? Another lie from an all-time liar.

After watching the highlights of the game and the announcement on ESPN, the most fascinating part to me was the sheer unbridled joy on the Yankees' players faces once the announcement was made. I've never seen a group of grown man look so thrilled, other than after immediately winning a championship, or in the middle of a particularly great Eyes Wide Shut-style orgy.

Wang's Near Miss
Chien-Ming Wang is a particularly unlikely pitcher to throw a no-hitter or perfect game, since he strikes out so few hitters and puts so many balls in play. If you allow that many balls to be hit in the general direction of your fielders, some of them are exceedingly likely to fall in.

Still, Wang's run at history was typically thrilling then disappointing, especially following so shortly after Hughes's bid at immortality. Wang needs to anchor this staff all year and throw a ton of innings if the Yankees are going to contend.

The Brawl
Coming just moments before Roger Clemens's dramatic stadium announcement, the bench-clearing incident between the Yankees and Mariners yesterday is being swallowed in a sea of Rocket-related hype. I'll go on record that Josh Phelps's hit on Johjima was dirty. The Mariners' catcher wasn't remotely close to blocking the plate, and Phelps actually risked not scoring by going out of his way to bowl Johjima over. To Phelps's credit, when he was hit by Jarrod Washburn, he calmly strode to first base without even looking in Washburn's direction.

Even though Washburn's retaliation was justified, I'm still glad Scott Proctor threw one behind Yunieky Betancourt. Too often, the Yankees don't retaliate when thrown at, because of some misguided notion of what being classy means. As for Betancourt, he reacted like a true douchefucker, pointing his bat at Proctor, bulging his eyes out and screeching like a girl. If you're going to charge the mound, drop your bat and charge. Don't stand at home plate with a weapon waiting to be held back by the catcher and your teammates. Even the threat of using a weapon in a baseball fight is cowardice of the highest order (including catchers' gloves, Varitek).

Three of Four?
The Yankees go for the sweep in the Bronx tonight, riding a five-of-six streak and a Clemens high, but saddled with non-prospect Matt DeSalvo making the start. Win or lose, they've done their job this weekend.