06/13/2002

"I will introduce myself pretty quickly to that big old piece of plastic he has on his elbow.''

Roger Clemens on facing Barry Bonds

Well, you were right, Rog.

You sure did introduce yourself to that big old piece of plastic on Barry Bonds's elbow.

The only problem?

You had to go tell the world before you did it, which is why you again have found yourself about to be fined, and waist deep in the middle of another controversy. Once again, you have been slain by your own words.

When will you ever learn?

Not until the 12th of never, if history is our guide.

For that's the thing with ol' Rocket Roger. Just when you think he's learned the error of his ways, he once again says something inappropriate. In fact, a case can be made that Clemens's biggest enemy over the course of his illustrious career has not been opponents and their big bats. It's been a live microphone.

From his infamous remark to how athletes have to carry their own luggage through airports, a line that forever stamped him as a jock brat, to his remark that he wanted to play closer to his home in Texas before ending up in Toronto, Roger always has gotten himself in trouble with his own words, as though he keeps throwing the high, hard one to a love microphone and it keeps getting slapped back up the middle.

It was one thing to plunk Bonds on the elbow patch and move him off the plate. That is Roger pitching inside, protecting his turf, especially when the Bondses of the world hang out out over the plate like they're trying to steal the lunch money from their kids. Clemens's problem was he had to tell everyone he was going to do it before he did it.

We always hear about players who become larger than life?

Clemens has become smaller than life.

Think about it for a second. Here is Clemens, one of the greatest pitchers of his era, a dozen wins short of 300, near the end of a career that's going to live forever in the Hall of Fame. Here is Clemens at the stage in his career when he should he one of the game's elder statesmen, respected by all, the way Nolan Ryan was at the end. Yet, with Roger, it's more complicated than that. Then again, with Roger, it's always been more complicated than that.

And that goes beyond his being a public relations disaster.

Part of that is he always seems to be searching for a persona, as if being a great pitcher isn't enough. Remember the ol' "Possessed Rebel" routine, back when he showed up in a playoff game against Oakland with war paint on, as if doing some Steven Seagall imitation, commando as pitcher? The last few years, it's been the cultivation of this image of him as this macho gunslinger --move close to the plate and pay the consequences. Do you here me, Mike Piazza? Are you listening, Barry Bonds? Rocket Roger, king of the hill.

It's a persona that keeps getting him in trouble. It got him in trouble two years ago when he plunked Piazza in the head, an incident that further intensified with the infamous bat-throwing incident involving Piazza in the World Series (Clemens picked up a broken bat and threw it in Piazza's direction). It all added to this perception of Clemens as this loose cannon, the feeling that Possessed Rebels don't grow up, they just get older.

The other problem?

He has managed to shrink his accomplishments, to the point that when you think about Clemens now, it's often because he's in the middle of some mini-controversy. This is just the latest.

And, of course, it comes wrapped in all sorts of questions. Would Roger keep throwing at people if he didn't hide in the American League and had to bat? Hasn't he always been protected by manager Joe Torre, who somehow always seems to find a way to keep him from hitting in National League parks?

Now, the word is he will pitch this weekend in Shea Stadium, will come to the plate with a bat in his hands. Yesterday, he tried to defuse both the statement about throwing at Bonds and his scheduled appearance at the plate this weekend. He was described as being "brief and combative" in the interview session, and when asked if he feared he might be a target, he asked, "Why would I?"

Let me count the ways, Rog.

But it all seemed a little late, empty words fluttering off to nowhere.

Once again, Roger has put himself in the middle of the microscope, there not for his great ability but for the sideshow that too often seems to surround him. The sideshow he creates, then tries to extricate himself from like some school kid caught in a lie.

The sideshow that makes him seem smaller than life, not larger.