Back in January, when Roger Clemens filed his lawsuit, I wondered if the legal process would open up a whole new can of worms. Short answer: yes. And what nubile worms they turned out to be.

But the Rocket’s latest statement, which hit the newsstands today, shows just how far he still is from understanding what’s already happened to him.

I was only just getting used to Mitchell report ballplayers apologizing without saying what they were apologizing for. There was Eric Gagne, who apologized for a “distraction” and said he felt “bad.” Bad for what? Distraction, why? He didn’t say. Paul Lo Duca was similarly cryptic. “You do something wrong in your life and you get away with it, you still have something inside you that burns,” he said. I don’t think he was talking about kung pao chicken. But when a reporter asked him for an antecedent, Lo Duca’s replied: “Come on, bro. Next question.” Jason Giambi set the standard in 2005, when his use of steroids became public. He took “full responsibility”—but for what he did not say. And he declined to elaborate. “I’m sorry,” said Giambi, “But I’m trying to go forward now.” Move forward from what?

But Roger Clemens has now taken this art of nonapologizing to a new level. He admitting making “mistakes” in his “personal life,” adding, “I have apologized to my family and apologize to my fans. Like everyone, I have flaws. I have sometimes made choices which have not been right.” Then he categorically denies any improper relationship with “a fifteen-year old girl.” Mindy McCready is not mentioned by name.

(McCready, of course, said she”could not refute” anything in the story first reported by the New York Post. The Post danced around the issue of statutory rape by saying that Clemens and McCready met when she was 15, that it was “love at first sight,”and that McCready accompanied Clemens back to his hotel room, but that the two did not become “intimate” until she moved to Nashville and became a star—conveniently, when she had turned 18. But as Coley pointed out, it’s hard to say what’s creepier—a 28-year old man sleeping with a high school sophomore, or a 28-year old man mentoring her for three years and then sleeping with her when he’s 31 and she’s 18?)

In the statement, Clemens said the relationship, “has been twisted and distorted far beyond reality,” adding, “It is just one of many, many accusations that are utterly false.” He does not, of course, go into specifics. He merely concluded:

“I realize that many people want me to simply confess and apologize for the conduct that I have been accused of, but I cannot confess to, nor apologize for, things I did not do. I have apologized to my family for my mistakes. And having offered this apology to the public, I would ask that you let me and my family deal with these matters in private.”

If the accusations are as false as he claims, it’s hard to see what sort of matters he and his family could be dealing with in private. If they’ve got stuff to deal with, it would seem to point to some level of truth in the philandering-Roger stories. Of course, I suppose it could be his other, unspecified “flaws” or “choices which have not been right.” But then, why issue this statement now? Can’t we just go back to accepting “full responsibility” (for something unnamed), “moving on” (from something unnamed), because someone feels “bad” (about something unnamed)? That seemed so simple and clear in comparison.

But the biggest insight into Clemens’ view of this case comes in this short nugget: “I believe my personal life has nothing to do with the accusations of steroid and HGH use. I have already made clear that I did not use them.” When he was gladhanding on Capitol Hill, he asserted that he did not use PEDs and that he was a faithful family man. Now he asserts the two assertions have nothing to do with each other. Not only does he seem to think whatever he asserts becomes God’s own truth, he also apparently believes that this truth can be changed any time he issues a new assertion.

Unfortunately, Roger’s lawyers don’t seem to have informed him that in the eyes of the law, just asserting something doesn’t make it so. Once you’re making statements under oath, anything untrue assertion becomes perjury. That’s how you get from an Arkansas land deal to Monica Lewinsky. That’s how you get from the Hall of Fame to a can of worms.

Mike Greenwell was one of my favorite players growing up. The Red Sox left fielder had the many appealing intangible qualities (not to mention quite a few impressive tangibles, too, like a lifetime .303 average and .368 OBP) that often make players fan favorites. Plus, upon running into the left field wall for the umpteenth time, he’d decide every now and then to give it a swift kick in return. That’s good stuff.

Unfortunately, the Gator retired after a season of .295 hitting at the age of 32, well before he’d reached the end of his rope. And in comments made yesterday on his selection to the Red Sox Hall of Fame, we can see why:

“I felt like I was very, very loyal,” Greenwell said. “I never felt like I got that back at the end of my career. “

“I wasn’t really mad at the Red Sox,” Greenwell said. “I was burnt out. I knew I would never come to Fenway as long as Duquette was there. I really thought what he did to that organization was a shame and I’ll say that right to his face.”

Greenwell also called the Duke’s decision to ban former players from the clubhouse —including Red Sox legends Carl Yastrzemski, Ted Williams, and Johnny Pesky—”one of the worst things I’ve ever seen, not just in sports but as a human being.” But it was not all bitterness—Greenwell relayed his reaction to the news of his impending induction (’What, did you all run out of people?’) and bumped into the press conference’s mini-Green Monster backdrop (’It’s been a while since I bounced off of that thing’).

Yet Greenwell also repeated sentiments he’s made in the past about getting shortchanged as a result of others’ steroid use, though he no longer seems offended by his empty trophy case.

“[Greenwell] said it was an eye-opener when he was told during contract negotiations that the difference between his salary and that of Canseco’s was ” ‘he’s hitting 40 home runs,’ and I knew why. I didn’t tell them I knew why, but I knew why and I always took issue with the fact that I was putting up similar numbers without the power numbers.”

[…]

“…all at once, the numbers got crazy. Well, why? We all know why and I knew why. I did lose the MVP to Jose Canseco and also lost Rookie of the Year. If you’ll look back, the guys that finished in front of me, we would all have doubt.”

“I get a little miffed at people when someone makes the argument, ‘Well, does it make the player?’ Of course it doesn’t make the player, but I promise you as a guy that could hit like I could hit, if the ball would have traveled 20 more feet for me, what kind of player am I then? If I get healthier faster because of that, what kind of player am I then?”

[…]

“Probably if I didn’t have my wife [who is a nurse], I would have done it to try to at least perform at that level. Another reason I retired when I retired was I just didn’t feel like [the playing field] was quite even anymore.”

I hope Mike Greenwell has no regrets, despite getting shafted by Jose Canseco and Dan Duquette. I find his rhetorical question about himself as a steroid user (”What kind of player am I then?”) a bit haunting. Because the answer would be, “just another juicer.” So Mike Greenwell didn’t take steroids. So the ball didn’t travel 20 feet further. He didn’t end up with a closetful of trophies, but he was still a special kind of player. And he did it all by himself. So what kind of player was Mike Greenwell? I think the answer is, “a damn decent one.” One who even manages some sympathy, now, for the players whose ill-gotten success cemented his own second-class status:

“I do not blame the guys. I was very tempted myself, because I understood the pressure to perform,” he said. “It’s tough to have you guys walk up after the game, and I hit a fly ball that got caught 5 feet in front of the fence, and it ended the game with the bases loaded.

“To be criticized when I know that there’s something out there that could solve that, but I just didn’t do it. I’m proud of the fact that I didn’t do it, but I understand the why.”

“It’s not about the [MVP] trophy. It’s about letting people know that there was an issue in the game, and let’s see if we can clean it up. I have a son who’s now in the minor leagues [Bo, 19, in the Indians’ organization], and I’d like to know that he’s playing on an even playing field.”

Greenwell says he hasn’t been back to Fenway since the day he retired, but that he’s “definitely” planning to return this year. Looking forward to seeing you there, Mike.

For your Sunday morning pleasure, via Slate.com, the poetry of Roger Clemens, excerpted from his deposition and his Congressional testimony:

“Offensive Haiku”

I am offended.
I will be honest with you.
I am offended.

—Feb. 5, 2008, deposition

“Ghost Andy”

He looked at me,
Wringing his hands,
White as a ghost

And asked me
What are you going
To tell them?

And I told him
I’m going out there
To tell the truth.

—Feb. 13, 2008, hearing

“Glute”

I have strained my glute
On a couple occasions.
I wish I could tell you
How many occasions.

—Feb. 5, 2008, deposition

Today John Rocker went on an Atlanta radio station and told the world that he was a steroid user and that Bud Selig knew about it.Better yet, he told us in the third-person:

He also said that “Bud Selig is a clown and should do the entire world a favor and kill himself.” Rocker, no stranger to controversy, made those comments on Atlanta radio station Rock 100.5.Later Monday, he told Atlanta sports talk radio station 680 The Fan that “between 40 to 50 percent of baseball players are on steroids” and “in 2000 Bud Selig knew John Rocker was taking the juice.”

Now, we all know John Rocker is insane and about as credible as a stripper at a lacrosse party. And Rocker offers us no hard evidence to support his claim that he failed a 2000 drug test.But we here at Umpbump have long believed that Rocker was on steroids. Around this time last year, a friend and former boss, Creative Loafing News Editor Scott Freeman, offered a story about Rocker and steroids. Freeman penned Leo Mazzone’s autobiography, so he should know.Here’s what he had to say: 

According to Leo, Rocker was so muscular that if he pitched more than one inning they’d have to take him down to the hallway leading to the dugout, lay him on the floor on his belly and stretch his back. Otherwise, he’d be too cramped up to pitch. He says Rocker became “high maintenance physically” because Rocker was so muscular from lifting weights. And I can remember walking past his locker and seeing a poster of Goldberg, the WCW heavyweight champ, hanging there.

It’s not hard to believe Rocker was on steroids. Hell, I’d believe he was on a lot of different drugs. And I’d argue that he belongs on a number of different prescription medications.Why is it that it’s only the John Rockers and Jose Cansecos of the world who come forward to spill their guts about baseball’s steroid problem? When is Cal Ripken, Jr. or Derek Jeter going to take a stand?

David Cone was considered one of the classiest players in the game in his day, and I see the same is true in retirement. I had the pleasure of watching Cone pitch for the Red Sox in 2001, his second-to-last year in the majors. I was at his famous duel with Mike Mussina, in which Moose was perfect for eight and two-thirds innings, before giving up a garbage hit to Crazy Carl Everett. I remember feeling very disoriented to have actually been rooting for a Yankee pitcher in a game against my beloved Red Sox, but how many perfect games does a girl get to see in her lifetime? Anyway, often forgotten is that David Cone turned in a vintage, virtuoso performance in that game as well. He scattered 6 hits over 8 and a third innings, allowing only one unearned run (the Red Sox made three errors behind him).

Anywho, it was a great—and eerie—game to watch, and it left me with a perennial soft spot for Cone. So I was pleased today to see him take some responsibility for the steroid era:

The former pitcher was on the union’s negotiating team during the 1994-95 strike, when management proposed drug testing and the players’ association successfully fought it off.

“Certainly in retrospect, I think there’s plenty of blame to go around. Certainly I share some of that blame as being involved with the players’ association at that time,” Cone said Wednesday. “It’s something I’m not proud of. It’s humbling. It’s embarrassing.”

Cone walked a careful line, talking about former teammates and Mitchell Report goats Andy Pettitte and Roger Clemens but not criticizing them. Did Roger or Clemens ever tempt him to train with them?

“I was afraid of the weight room,” Cone said. “I think they knew better. I made my position very well known. I was an old-school guy, I was a couple-beers-after-the-game kind of guy.”

Well, at least a little bit.

In an interview with the LA Times, Kent called for the Major Leagues to begin blood testing and to initiate testing during the playoffs. Kent told TJ Simers:

“I’d like to see every player take a blood test and have the samples frozen,” Kent says, then waiting for the day when there’s a foolproof HGH test to identify the cheaters.

“Not everyone in the game is using HGH, but I would bet it still is being abused,” he says. “Why not have blood tests? If ultimately you want a clean game, then it needs to happen.

“They ought to be testing for drugs in the playoffs too. They never do that.”

Kent also called out some of his fellow players for their lame confessions:

“The Mitchell Report is probably just 1% of those who have cheated in the game. It gives a very small sampling of what was going on.

“Now we’re hearing about some guys who cheat and the phony excuses like I got hurt, so I just used HGH one time. Whether they are telling the truth or not, people are finally having to answer to some things.”

Kent has generally been a clubhouse cancer and an ass wherever he has gone (even though his assholishness seemed like a mere drop in the ocean when he played alongside Barry Bonds) , so these are pretty much the first words that have come out of his mouth that I agree with.

I’m not sure if this is just Jeff Kent looking ahead to his own Hall of Fame eligibility and thinking strategically. I mean, if he says things like this, he MUST have been clean, right? Yet it is easy for Kent to say these kinds of things at the very end of his career, a career in which he had a late-blooming, mid-30s power surge of his own.

But for now I’m going to give Kent the benefit of the doubt. Because these are words that need to be said, and I’m glad somebody is saying them. The vast collusion by the players to not talk about performance enhancing drugs and not rat out other players completely hamstrung the Mitchell report outside of the Randomski ring evidence, and is a massive roadblock to the game coming clean and moving forward.

Jeff Kent’s mild and vague criticism of his fellow players and his calls for testing when he is virtually past the point where it would affect him is only a start. But we need to do whatever we can to encourage more players to throw their support behind cleaning up the game, and even if that means I have to throw some love at no less than Jeff Kent, I’ll suck it up and give him some props. For the good of the game.

It’s really too bad. I love Bill Simmons. He’s funny. He’s to the point. And his Sports Guy blog is so delightfully long and rambling. Plus, he gives hope to bloggers everywhere that one day, you too may be plucked from obscurity by ESPN and get paid to do what you already do for free.

But in this column from last year which ESPN has just resurfaced, he’s not really that funny. And not really to the point. I didn’t like it then, I don’t like it now.

He gets off to a decent start:

Normally, I enjoy the week the Baseball Hall of Fame inductees are announced. Not this year. With Mark McGwire’s inclusion on the 2007 ballot, we have officially entered the Let’s Blackball the Potential-Steroids-Guy Era.

Some writers won’t vote for McGwire because he probably used steroids — keep in mind there’s never been proof that he did, other than a visible bottle of andro and those 135 pounds of muscle he added from 1990 to 2002 — which would be fine if they weren’t so pious about it.

135 lbs of muscle? Pretty funny. Okay. Pious? Yeah, fair point. What else you got, Sports Guy?

Not content with simply dismissing McGwire’s candidacy and moving on, they need to climb on their high horses and rip the guy to shreds. Of course, many of them would appear on any radio or TV show for 50 bucks and a free sandwich. We’re supposed to believe they would refuse the chance to take a drug that would enable them to do their job twice as well and make 10 times as much money? Yeah, right.

Totally valid. In fact, 50 bucks is what the Metro pays me per column (sandwich not included). Unfortunately, this may be the last valid point Simmons makes in this column, so take a minute to savor it. Go on. I’ll wait.

Ready?

Read the rest of this entry »

In this week’s Metro column, I note the ignominious end of Roger Clemens’ storied career. A virtuosic performance has worthy of the big screen has rapidly degenerated into a tawdry television drama. Two thumbs way down.

And though much ink and many pixels have been devoted to whether or not Clemens used steroids, whether he “seems guilty,” the PR of filing a lawsuit, what that tape was all about, and how Andy Pettitte must feel about all of this, it’s basically all been speculation. Leave it to Baseball Prospectus to actually look at the particulars of his lawsuit.

This is the article I’ve been waiting to read. After all, the Mitchell Report only had teeth because of the BALCO trial. By filing a lawsuit, could Roger Clemens be opening up a whole new can of worms? I suppose that depends on the particulars of the case. From BP writer Derek Jacques:

A claim of defamation (usually broken down into slander for spoken statements and libel for statements made in writing) accuses someone of saying or writing something untruthful that is then “published” to a third party, for the purpose of injuring the reputation of the person making the claim. Because a statement can’t be defamatory if it’s true, the truth of the allegations McNamee made against Clemens is the main issue of the suit. The question is simply whether or not McNamee injected Clemens with steroids and HGH in 1998, 2000, and 2001.

[…]

Defamation is a notoriously hard case to prove. In this situation, the allegations are all about the actions of two men alone in a room together with no other witnesses, and likely no physical or documentary evidence to connect or divorce them from what McNamee says they were doing. Clemens will face an uphill climb making his case, both because he bears the burden of proof and because he has to prove a negative—that an event that McNamee doesn’t tie to a specific date and time didn’t happen.

Clemens lamented during his 60 Minutes interview that people were treating him as “guilty before innocent,” instead of innocent until proven guilty. Ironically, filing this lawsuit puts the burden of proof right where he didn’t want it: on him.

And for those who were hoping that the Mitchell Report would close the door on the steroids era and let our beloved sport heal, the Clemens lawsuit effectively crushes those dreams:

Before this matter reaches trial, there would likely be months, perhaps years, of preparation, discovery, and depositions. If you give skilled litigators enough time to dig through someone’s life and financial records, all sorts of interesting and unexpected things can happen.

In other words, yes, the seal has been broken on a new can of worms. The only remaining question: is it a can of harmless earthworms, a can of annoying ringworms, or a can of fearsome Mongolian Death Worms?

Jim Caple is a Hall of Fame voter. Remember that when you read this snippet from a debate between Caple and fellow ESPN baseball writer Jerry Crasnick, where the two debate the HOF candidacy of Mark McGwire:

Crasnick: I’m afraid of saying “yes” on a guy like McGwire only to regret my decision later. Does that make sense?

Caple: Yes, it does, though really, I don’t know what we’re going to find out at this point. I mean, they weren’t specifically banned by baseball at the time. And to me, that makes all the difference. (And no, just being an illegal drug isn’t the same thing as being banned. For one thing, I believe a lot of players who took illegal drugs are in the Hall of Fame.) [italics are mine]

Good point Jim. Except that steroids were banned at the time.

MLB banned steroids in 1991. You should know that, Jim. It’s your job to know that.

Here is a history lesson, courtesy of Houston Chronicle baseball writer Richard Justice:

Commissioner Fay Vincent sent the clubs a memo in 1991 reminding them that players were forbidden from taking any illegal substance. He specifically mention steroids in the memo and encouraged the clubs to take a get-tough policy on players thought to be using steroids.What could a team have done if it suspected a player of using steroids? Probably nothing.Vincent simply wanted to be on the record as letting the clubs know that steroid use was against the rules and that they shouldn’t be afraid to confront a player.There was no testing for steroids until 2003 (after being part of the 2002 labor agreement).The notion that Bonds wasn’t breaking any rules is ridiculous. He was. He knew he was.

So there you go, Jim. Steroids have been BANNED and ILLEGAL since 1991.

But, hey, that means that for the first five years of his career, McGwire was (probably) merely taking illegal substances. But nothing banned, God forbid.

You know, the truth is I find a lot of Caple’s writing funny. But when he goes and writes things that demonstrate a lack on understanding of the game, it just makes it that much harder to stomach the omissions of Keith Law and Rob Neyer from the BBWAA.

PS. If you want to read a really good debate, check out the give and take between Gammons and Stark on the merits of Tim Raines’ HOF candidacy.

The time for knee-jerk reactions to the Mitchell report has passed. The time to play devil’s advocate—whether said devil deserves an advocate or not—has arrived. After all, every week must have a new storyline. In this installment of our post-Mitchell report coverage, I’ll take a look at the arguments for legalizing steroid use in baseball.

It became trendy, when the steroid whispers started, to act like it didn’t matter. “Why not take steroids?” these cutting-edge pundits said, “It only increases the entertainment value of the game!” The make-steroids-legal argument has really come out into the open, though, since the Mitchell report became public last week.

At Jon Swift, an apparently satirical blog, they even compared using steroids with the second amendment:

 The real problem is that baseball banned steroids in the first place. It is a fact that when you ban guns, only criminals have guns. The same is true with steroids. When steroids are banned, only cheaters will have steroids…Distributing guns to everyone and requiring everyone in the community to know how to shoot levels the playing field and gives everyone a fighting chance against criminals. In the same way distributing steroids to all baseball players and requiring every  player to take them would level the baseball playing field and give everyone a fair chance to compete.

It’s a good thing Jon Swift is meant to be funny…because requiring any human being to inject themselves with any substance—and especially, in this case, ones that have been demonstrated to cause serious physical and mental problems, including heart problems—is obviously fascist. (And in fact, the communist-fascists in East Germany did require their Olympic athletes to do just that.)

But, to my mind, making steroids legal would have the same effect as requiring all athletes to take them. Even now, any athlete who doesn’t take them is basically consigning himself to a serious disadvantage and leaving millions of dollars on the table. But at least the clean athlete knows he’s not cheating. He’s not risking his health. He’s not risking his credibility or jeopardizing the integrity of the game. If steroids were made legal, all that would change.

Some people say that steroids, like any forbidden drug, would be safer if they were legalized. Look, this isn’t a case of cancer patients growing weed in their basements. These athletes are already perfectly healthy. It is true that messing around with controlled substances under a doctor’s care is safer than squeezing into a bathroom stall with Jose Canseco and a syringe. But that still doesn’t make it safe. And since using steroids is all about getting an edge, I contend that there would still be a thriving black market of all the newest, latest, hottest performance enhancers. After all, if everyone starts using Deca or Winstrol, what’s the point of using them at all? You’d have to find something else, something new and improved if you wanted to keep your edge. The FDA couldn’t keep up.

Some folks say that steroids—like stealing signs or scuffing the ball—are just another way of giving 110%. Isn’t doing anything and everything to win just part of the American way? I can only assume these people are Ayn Rand-addicted psychos who think insider trading and price fixing are okay and believe that Tonya Harding should have been allowed to kneecap however many opponents she wanted to.

Still others point out that sports are, after all, just a form of entertainment. And doesn’t using performance-enhancing drugs make sport more entertaining? Don’t we all want to see everything bigger, better, faster, more? First, considering the health risks associated with steroids, I find this attitude unbelievably callous. For instance, pro wrestling is extremely  comfortable with its status as entertainment, and pro wrestlers are some of the most obvious steroid users. Pro wrestlers also die of heart disease at a rate 12 times the average for Americans their age. This isn’t Xbox. This is real. These athletes are real people, people with families. Expecting them to risk their health, even their lives, just for your titillation? That’s cold.

And maybe the casual fan needs 70 450-foot homers a season to keep himself entertained, but not all of us do. Some of us are more excited by a strike-em-out-throw-em-out double play, a suicide squeeze, a  double steal, a triple play, or the hidden ball trick. Some of us are interested in the strategy that goes into pitch selection, the skill needed to be a truly dangerous baserunner, or the deception of a surprise bunt. And for some of us, it’s not about the highlight reels. It’s about the crack of the bat and the pop of the mitt. It’s about blue skies, good friends, and flat beer.  It’s about history, and knowing that David Ortiz is playing the same game Ted Williams played. And when an old record is surpassed, you know that the player who surpassed it has accomplished something meaningful. Remember, baseball is supposed to be hard. If it wasn’t hard, anyone could do it. It’s the hard that makes it great. Legal or illegal, steroids make baseball easier. And in so doing, steroids make baseball that much smaller.