OT: Roger Clemens
Posted by:
VoodooLounge13
()
Date: December 14, 2007 16:07
Well yesterday's Mitchell Report has brought to an end for me a looooooooooooong, sometimes rocky love of America's favorite past time. I never in my wildest, worst nightmares would have guessed that Rocket was a user. So much is made of his insanely vigorous work-out routine that I was sure that that was all he had done; after all he breaks down usually every second half of the year, and for a guy his age that made sense to me.
I grew up in a family (on both my mother's and father's side) of die hard Yankees fans, was one myself until that fateful season in 1986, when a young stud pitcher in red amazed, stunned, dazzled hitters and fans alike. As a boy of 10, I wanted nothing more than to be Roger Clemens, arguably the greatest pitcher ever to stand on a mound. I cheered that entire season, and as the Red Sox made their way to the World Series, I declared myself to my family to be a lifelong Red Sox fan, the ONLY non Yankees fan in the family! How I was not bludgeoned to death I'll never know. I cried right along Rocket, Schiraldi, Boggs as the World Title slipped away, but I stayed true to my word and followed the Sox every year.
I cannot even count how many hours I spent in the side yard of my parents house, pitching against our fireplace, on which I had traced a "strike zone," imagining I was Roger Clemens trying to win it all. I would pitch a whole 9 inning game out there, for both teams. I wore such a divot in the lawn that my father used to scream at me every night to stop my pitching. And sometimes I missed the fire place all together with the tennis ball that provided far more zip and bounce on the return than a normal baseball that dad would immediately come running to the window to check the vinyl siding for cracks, yelling "How many times have I told you to stop?!"
I played baseball for years growing up, always on the corners: first, third, left, and right, where I loved to play most, although I still longed to be on that mound with the fate of it all in my hands. Then, one year when my coach happened to notice me pitching before practice. That coach had me pitch a little during practice and decided that I was going to come in during our next game. I was ecstatic; here was my chance to emulate my hero! What a thrill, what an opportunity! I'm gonna strike em all out! Well......my chance came, and unfortunatey, adding the actual batter into the mix proved to be too much for me. The strikezone became nonexistent. I threw I don't even know how many wild pitches, hit 4 batters, and walked another 5. Needless to say I was pulled without recording a single out and before the game got too far out of our grasp, never to step on the mound again. My dreams dashed, I returned to the mound in my backyard, where I was still the awe-inspiring Cy Young award winner.
I stopped watching baseball after the '96 season because Boston said that Clemens was washed up, done, finished and refused to re-sign him. I was heartbroken that a team could be so cruel to the man who had taken them to the playoffs and World Series and who held so many records already. Only later would I learn that the sport was actually a business run like the insurance company for whom I now work as opposed to a little or senior league ball club. I vowed never to watch a ball game again, and I stuck to that more or less except for 1 or 2 Braves World Series games. How could the greatest pitcher be cut by his only team and then go to a Canadian team I thought? What did Canada know about baseball? When was the last time a Canadian team had won a World Series?? Stanley Cup sure, baseball, no - that was not their sport.
But then the unimaginable happened..........Rocket was going to join the Yankees!!!!!!!! My former favorite team's most hated rival, a team I'd once loved, rooting for Donnie Baseball in his early years and Dave Righetti too. A team my entire family loved and supported as much as I had once loved the Red Sox. Perhaps, just maybe, all might be right in the world of baseball again...And so with little fanfare I quietly slipped back into the Yankees clubhouse, silently looking around to see how things were, if my faith in my favorite sport could be restored, and what do you know? Rocket was still the Rocket, and he continued to amaze, even after 2 amazing seasons, now tainted, in a foreign country. He was still the man I remembered and worshipped, and now he was in pinstripes, helping the Yankees win World Series titles!! It was a new dream come true!!!
I cried again when Rocket was going to retire, but was overly excited when he decided to follow Pettite to Houston. I followed Houston almost as much as the Yankees, and sometimes even more. I watched every game he pitched that I could while he was in Houston those 3 years and even during that original "final" season with the Yankees. To me, Rocket still dazzled, all these years later. He hadn't lost anything except maybe a couple of miles off of his fastball, but I sure as hell still wouldn't have wanted to have been standing in the batters box with it coming at me. He was still just as ferocious as ever and afraid of no one.
To my elation, he came back to the Bronx one last time this year, for what I thought, like everyone else, would be the saving measure needed for this season, and it nearly was, but as I watched the greatest pitcher ever slowly break down before my eyes, I came to the realization that an era was now at its end, and I relished in all of the memories that the great Roger Clemens had given me over the years, from the post season dazzles, to the 20-strikeout game, to watching him try to break that record later in his career, The Piazza incident, to what was thought to be his final pitch in the World Series against the Marlins, to his first start for the Astros, and to his first and last games of the 2007 season.
The man, like Emmitt Smith, was more than a legend to me. He was someone I'd grown up idolizing, worshiping, whose career I followed almost entirely from start to finish (sorry Toronto, but I still don't think you count LOL). And I knew that once he finally retired for good, and all signs were pointing to this being the year, that my time with baseball, just like football before it when Emmitt had retired, would soon draw to a close and I would no longer have a need to turn on the television in anticipation of watching history.
Now, history of a different kind has been made, and all of my memories and childhood idolization has been shattered faster than a dropped glass hits the floor. I am left devastated, trying to find the strength to put aside the shock and carry on, knowing that my childhood idol cheated. Such things were reserved for the likes of Bonds, McGwire, Sosa, players who deserved what they got and didn't feel the need to work hard to gain the glory like Rocket had. I am left to re-evaluate life and what I once held dear.
And as I took down all of the Rocket memorabilia that I had up in my house - the limited edition photos, the autographed baseballs, the collage of the various baseball cards from over the years - I have vowed once again to never watch another baseball game. My love of the game is now gone forever, and I cannot do anything to recover that. I have nothing left to give to the sport. And I was planning on taking my 5 and 3 year olds to the Stadium this coming year before it is no more. Maybe I still will - hypocritical as it sounds - because that too will be history, but I will have a long way to come back in order to want to do that.
For now, I hang my head in disgrace, shocked that such a thing could ever have happened. For me, the Rocket has not landed, or even been grounded; the Rocket severely veered off course, crashing in no man's land, devouring the status of role model to thousands along the way.