The walls were closing in. Roger Clemens had to do something. Going all McGwire on us wasn't going to get him out of this one.
Fraud. Cheat. Liar. Hypocrite. Juicer. Clemens in the last week emerged as the five-tool player of the Mitchell Report.
First he was dimed out by Brian McNamee, a former trainer who had nothing to gain and much to lose (prison time) by lying to George Mitchell. McNamee said he regularly injected Clemens with steroids (at least 16 times) in 1998 and 2000-01. Then the Rocket took a bullet to the temple when friend/teammate/training partner and fellow Hendricks-brother-client Andy Pettitte fessed up and said everything McNamee said about him (Pettitte) was true.
Clemens took a beating from coast to coast. His legion of haters was newly validated and emboldened.
Clemens's attorney issued a flimsy retort last Thursday, but there was no word from the pitcher himself. Monday Clemens brushed off a New York Daily News reporter who was staking out one of the Rocket's kids' elementary schools.
"I'm not talking to y'all about it," Clemens told the News.
Yesterday, finally, there was word from the Rocket.
In a statement issued by his longtime agents, Clemens claimed, "I want to state clearly without qualification: I did not take steroids, human growth hormone or any other banned substance at any time in my baseball career, or in fact, my entire life. I am disappointed that my 25 years in public life have apparently not earned me the benefit of the doubt, but I understand that Senator Mitchell's report has raised many serious questions. I plan to publicly answer all of those questions at the appropriate time in the appropriate way. I only ask that in the meantime people not rush to judgment."
It's more than Mark McGwire ever did, but it's hardly a threat to sue the pants off Mitchell and McNamee. We are left to wonder when, precisely, comes "the appropriate time" for Clemens to answer questions. Will that be when O.J. starts looking for the real killer?
Most of us think McGwire cheated because he chooses not to talk about the past. We view McGwire's pathetic performance before Congress in 2005 as a confession. Hall of Fame voters overwhelmingly rejected Big Mac when he first came on the ballot last year. This is what Clemens faced if he did nothing in the wake of the Mitchell Report. The Hendricks Brothers were certainly smart enough to know that continued silence from Camp Rocket was bad strategy.
So now we have a denial. It's either another Big Lie or it's a plea for patience from a man who's wronged by a report with more holes than your neighborhood Dunkin' Donuts.
The Rocket isn't going to get much rope from the haters. They will maintain that he was able to throw 95 when he was 45 because he was cheating. His 354 wins and seven Cy Young trophies will get flushed down the toilet like bags of Blue Magic in "American Gangster."
His wiggle room got a lot smaller over the weekend when his buddy Pettitte validated the claims of McNamee. It had to chill the Rocket to see his stablemate admit McNamee was telling the truth. Then yesterday's
And so the walls started to close. The Texas High School Baseball Coaches Association met yesterday to discuss the wisdom of letting Clemens deliver the keynote address ("My Vigorous Workout. How I Played So Long") at its annual convention in Waco next month. It's only the beginning. Endorsements will be lost. Clemens's reputation has been permanently stained. We can only wonder how Roger explains all this to his four ballplaying sons.
There was a time when Clemens was a Boston sports god. He could walk across the Charles or get a little loopy and butt heads with Al Nipper on "Sports Final." It was all good. In 1986, when Clemens was 23 years old and en route to a 24-4, MVP season, I wrote a column comparing the Rocket favorably with Larry Bird. No one quarreled with the praise.
The Rocket has been a pariah in New England since he went to Toronto after going 40-39 in his last four years with the Red Sox. His shrinking Boston fan base eroded entirely when got himself traded to the Yankees in 1999. In the last 10 years, no visiting sports figure has inspired more venom from our ballparks and airwaves. Who can forget when the late, great Will McDonough dubbed Clemens "the Texas Con Man"?
Here's what a former Red Sox manager told me in 1999:
"Everybody in the game knows why Clemens got so good again. He's on steroids. It's obvious."
I didn't want to believe it then. And there was no proof. No one ever would go on the record. And, let's face it, a lot of us get a little wider as we get older.
There's still no hard proof. Not yet. There are no canceled checks. No
The Rocket is asking you to withhold judgment. But he knows better. He's been around too long. His outrage is late and limp. He needs to answer questions. He needs to threaten legal action and invite the disclosure that comes with it.
Bet he won't. It's hard not to rush to judgment. Clemens looks dirty and he needs to fight furiously now or take his place as Barry Bonds's wingman in Asterisk Purgatory.
Dan Shaughnessy is a Globe columnist.
He can be reached at dshaughnessy@globe.com.
