The tragic transformation from a Rocket to a Syringe
September 2, 2001: My dad, a lifelong Yankees fan, was watching his team play the hated Boston Red Sox. Mike Mussina was on the mound for New York, and in the middle of the fifth inning he was still pitching a perfect game. My dad called me over to watch the game with him, and we spent the next four and a half innings hanging on every fastball, every change-up, every knuckle curve “Moose” selected from his repertoire.
When the twenty-seventh batter for the BoSox, pinch-hitter Carl Everett, blooped a Texas Leaguer into center-field to break up the perfect game at the last possible moment, the disappointment in my living room in Jackson, Miss., was no less vivid than that of the excitement of the crowd at Fenway Park. Luckily, the Yanks still won the game and completed the series sweep. And from that evening forward, my casual interest in major league baseball catapulted into a full-fledged obsession.
At this same time, the legendary Roger Clemens was in his second year of his first tour with the Yankees. As arguably the best pitcher on the staff at the time, Clemens easily became one of my idols. In 2001, the Houston native was in the midst of his sixth Cy Young award-winning campaign, quickly gaining my respect with every start. By the end of the season, Clemens was second only to Derek Jeter in my book.
But it was not his imposing fastball or his sheer grit that swayed me —it was his legendary work ethic that got my attention. His leadership of the rest of the Yankee pitching staff, his mentoring of fellow pitchers (especially Andy Pettitte) and his steady composure in any game situation only added to his hero status.
That was the way I saw Roger Clemens six years ago. Heck, that was the way I saw Roger Clemens six weeks ago. But today, in the post-Mitchell Report era, my admiration of his sacred “work ethic” is long, long gone.
The moment I saw what the Mitchell Report contained — from the bizarre details of Clemens’ butt injections to the peculiar absence of blame placed on the owners — something rang hauntingly, almost preternaturally true. You see, despite my near-worship of Clemens, my logical side had told me his weight gain in later years was not simply due to a superior work-out regimen. Now that Brian McNamee, Yankee trainer extraordinaire, claimed he had injected Clemens with steroids, I had little choice but to accept the harsh truth that I may have idolized one who had committed the dirtiest crime in professional sports: cheating.
And yet, whether or not Clemens used steroids is not his most unforgivable crime. No, the most unforgivable crime of Clemens will be if he actually used steroids and then continuously and repeatedly lied to the media and the fans. Even though it sounds naive that all of our heroes will in reality be honest and upstanding citizens, a lot of baseball fans have seen Clemens as one for a very long time.
If Roger did use performance-enhancing drugs, I wish he would just own up to it, as his longtime friend Andy Pettitte has already done. The question now is not whether Clemens’ reputation will be muddied if he did use steroids, but rather how much further he can fall in the realm of public perception.
Clemens is scheduled to testify before a Congressional committee under oath about his possible use of performance-enhancing drugs Feb. 13. If Clemens did in fact use such substances, I see no reason for him to delay his admission nearly a month. An admission coerced under oath will only increase the criminal perception of Clemens. With his reputation already besmirched by the Mitchell Report, his admitting his use on his own terms would be an act reminiscent of the Roger Clemens we all used to know, not the defensive accused version we see today.
Natalie Clericuzio is a Wiess College freshman and assistant sports editor.
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