So I cruise on in to my local SBUX this morning for my grande bold, and happen to see a Boston Globe lying on one of the tables. I’m immediately arrested by the screaming headlines and massive above-the-fold image of David Ortiz and Manny Ramirez, circa 2003, both pointing skyward. Steroid Scandal Hits Home; Shaughnessy: Cheating Takes the Juice Out of Sox Turnaround; For Legions of Fans, a Magic Spell Is Broken.

Inside, there’s a Globe editorial (Say It Ain’t So, Papi) and a Bob Ryan column (Another Big Hit). The website has a slideshow of David’s career and a graphic of his stats. Nick Cafardo even suggests that a Roy Halladay blockbuster is what the team needs now to “move on” and change the media storyline.

Well, I’m sorry, but I find this all a little disgusting. Ortiz was using steroids? I’m shocked, shocked. Today’s Metro column is, hopefully, a breath of fresh air to those who find all the sturm und drang in the Globe a little ridiculous.

(For a more complete rundown of the media ululating, I suggest this roundup from Boston Media Sports Watch.)

Baseball was a lot simpler before performance enhancing drugs. Or rather, baseball was simpler before we started to learn just how many players were using performance enhancers.

Now we’re stuck trying to figure out who was using and who wasn’t. We’re arguing over who belongs in Cooperstown and who doesn’t, who should keep his record and who should get an asterisk.

Fortunately, Rick Reilly is here to make life easier for us. He’s got a new column up where he imagines taking MVP awards away from guys who were on steroids and giving them to the “clean” guys who came in second.

Reilly proposes stripping Ken Caminiti of his 1996 MVP and giving it to Mike Piazza. He wants to take away Barry Bonds’ 2002 MVP and give it to Luis Gonzalez. And he wants to give a whole bunch of Bonds’ trophies to Albert Pujols.

Now, it’s possible that none of Piazza, Gonzalez or Pujols were on steroids. But it’s not likely.

Mike Piazza averaged 34.6 HRs a season between 1993 and 2002, but in 2003 he showed up to camps several pounds lighter, which he attributed to a new diet and workout routine. That season he hit 11 home runs.

Luis Gonzalez hit more than 31 home runs once in his career, when in 2001 he hit 57.

Pujols…I’ve got nothing on Prince Albert. He looks clean. But you know what? So did A-Rod until a few days ago. So did Jason Grimsley and Andy Petitte and Ryan Franklin. The point is that we don’t know if Gonzalez or Piazza were using. We don’t know if anybody who played during the steroid era was using, unless they failed a test or confessed.

“If Bud Selig can talk about giving Barry Bonds’ phony-as-tofurkey home run record back to Hank Aaron, why can’t we right all the wrongs of the Syringe Binge?” Reilly asks.

I’ll tell you why. Because while it’s easy to take trophies away, it’s a lot harder to figure out who really deserves them.

More than 100 guys tested positive for steroid use in 2003 when they knew they were being tested. Who were they? And how many players were using in 2002 before testing started?

Performance enhancing drugs made things a lot more complicated. It’s going to take more than the wit and wisdom of Rick Reilly to sort this out.

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.