The Rocket Man Fizzles Out

"Brian McNamee? Um, who?"

To almost no one's surprise, the 2022 Baseball Hall of Fame induction class was announced and Roger Clemens wasn't on the list. Along with Barry Bonds, Clemens has served as the poster-boy for the Steroid Era in baseball. Neither superstar had been able to crack the 75% barrier over the past 10 years, and with this last ballot, both fall short.

Much has been written over the years about Clemens, Bonds, steroids and the Hall. But this year, their last year of eligibility, has seen a slew of articles lamenting other writers' collective stance on accused steroid users. One even wrote that it would be a failure of the Hall of Fame if Bonds wasn't inducted.

But I'm not here to talk about Bonds. This is a Clemens story. Specifically, a story about how the voters got it right. That while Roger Clemens was one of the most dominant pitchers in baseball in the late '80s, by 1996 his skills had diminished.

In order to put everything into perspective, one first needs to understand just how dominant Clemens was in his prime. Here are some of the mind-blowing stats Clemens put up between 1986 and 1992:

• Three Cy Young awards
• 2.66 ERA
• 1.09 WHIP
• 136-63 record (.683 win %)
• Averaged 257 IP and 239 K's
• Led the AL in ERA four times
• Led the AL in K's twice

But starting in 1993, the Rocket began to fade. To be clear: this wasn't a blip or an aberration. This was a steady and consistent decline from the level of excellence he'd established. From' 93 to '96, Clemens was no longer the best pitcher in baseball:

• ERA jumped more than a full run to 3.77
• WHIP rose to 1.29
• Two losing seasons, and a record of 40-39
• Averaged only 186 IP, over a 70-inning drop

By the end of the '96 season, fans were wondering if Clemens had pitched his last game in Boston. He had. But then a funny thing happened. Roger Clemens, age 31 and trending downward, got better. And not just a little better.

In his two seasons in Toronto, Clemens was even more dominant than he was in Boston. Back-to-back Cy Young awards. Leading the league in Wins, ERA and strikeouts. Almost 500 innings pitched in just two seasons. It was a remarkable turnaround. But eventually, we all understood how it had happened. 

Roger Clemens had pitched 13 seasons in the major leagues by 1996, and had won 192 games and three Cy Young awards. Assuming his continued decline, Clemens would have been lucky to hang around for 4 or 5 more seasons and rack up perhaps another 50 wins. It's entirely possible that his resume -- 240 wins, the Cy Youngs, that truly dominant 7-year stretch -- might have been enough to earn a ticket to Cooperstown. But we'll never know. 

Instead, Clemens employed a steroid and PED regimen that turned him into the Barry Bonds of pitching: an other-worldly presence who defied not only age, but explanation. Until the truth came out, and the Baseball Writers decided that cheaters don't belong in the Hall. In the end, Clemens only has himself to blame. 

"I must have misremembered about that whole steroid thing..."

At this point, I'd say I felt sorry for Roger Clemens... except for the fact that any man as arrogant and off-putting as Clemens has been for the past 20 years deserves every bit of scorn directed his way. It's one thing to be branded a cheat; it's another thing entirely to be known as a cheat and a liar. And Roger Clemens is making a case to be the sports world's #1 representative of both.

While I agree that Brian McNamee is not exactly the poster boy for Truth, Justice and the American Way, he simply presents the more plausible case. With George Mitchell, the Federal Government, Andy Pettitte, Chuck Knoblauch, and the Nanny backing all or part of his assertions, McNamee makes the best case. Clemens? Apparently the only one to speak for him is that bastion of honor, Jose Canseco. I don’t know about you, but that’s an endorsement I could live without.

So while Clemens digs himself deeper and deeper into this hole, it's fair to think that he's now sunk lower than the original poster boy for steroid use in baseball, Barry Bonds. I'd make the case that Clemens is even worse than Bonds, since Bonds was still performing at an All-Star level when he supposedly started using. Clemens, though, was in the midst of a downhill slide. Who's to say when his career may have ended had he not started "supplementing" his workouts?

But as much as Clemens shares with Bonds, there's another notorious figure whose story parallels Clemens' even more eerily. It wasn't that long ago that another icon from the baseball world, confronted by a government report and mountains of evidence, chose to wage a never-ending campaign of denial:

Jim Gray: Pete, now let me ask you. It seems as though there is an opening, the American public is very forgiving. Are you willing to show contrition, admit that you bet on baseball and make some sort of apology to that effect?

Pete Rose: Not at all, Jim. I'm not going to admit to something that didn't happen. I know you're getting tired of hearing me say that. But I appreciate the ovation. I appreciate the American fans voting me on the All-Century Team. I'm just a small part of a big deal tonight.

JG: With the overwhelming evidence in that report, why not make that step...

PR: No. This is too much of a festive night to worry about that because I don't know what evidence you're talking about. I mean, show it to me...

JG: Pete, those who will hear this tonight will say you have been your own worst enemy and continue to be. How do you respond to that?

PR: In what way are you talking about?

JG: By not acknowledging what seems to be overwhelming evidence.

As we know, it took nearly 14 years but Rose eventually emerged from his cocoon of denial: first, to admit that he bet on baseball; then to admit that he'd bet on his own team, the Reds. Who doesn't foresee Clemens’ voyage along this same road? After today's hearings, only the most-blinded Clemens loyalists can't see past the angry bluster, empty rhetoric and ridiculous lies. The day will come when Clemens, like Rose, will be forced to admit what we already know.

Figures Lie and Liars Figure

The conventional wisdom is that you can manipulate statistics to bolster any argument. So the fact that Team Clemens claims their latest testimonial -- an endless accumulation of numbers, graphs and exposition -- explains away Clemens' remarkable longevity is no surprise. SI.com's Tom Verducci does a great job cutting through the clutter and coming to the conclusion that you can use 18,000 words and still have nothing to say.

But I think Verducci lets Clemens off the hook. In fact, using the very statistics that Verducci provides, one can argue the case against Clemens grows even stronger. Let's take a look at the numbers from Clemens' first season in Toronto, both before and after the time that Brian McNamee claims to have first injected Clemens with steroids and human growth hormone:

1998	GS	W-L	ERA	K/9	OPS
Before	13	6-6	3.27	9.18	.592
After	20	14-0	2.29	11.11	.561

Combine his slow start in Toronto with four sub-par seasons in Boston -- twice under .500, no more than 11 wins, twice with an ERA over 4 -- and this is the portrait of a pitcher approaching the downside of his career. Then, like flipping a switch, Clemens becomes virtually unbeatable. But instead of the obvious, Clemens' camp instead serves up this implausible explanation:

By the mid 1990's, he had mastered the split-finger fastball, and the combination of Clemens' experience, his overpowering fastball, and his improved split-finger fastball led to two consecutive Cy Young Awards in what the record shows to be the best pitching of his career. -- Clemens Report

Really? In the 14th year of his major league career, after four-plus years on the decline, Roger Clemens had the best seasons of his life because he picked up the splitter? Really? Did I mention that was his 14th season?

But let's assume for the moment that we'll consider this ridiculous assertion, and that Clemens resurgence was due to his craftiness on the mound, rather than a slavish devotion to performance-enhancing drugs. What, then, do we make of Brian McNamee and his claims? Are we expected to believe that McNamee was so prescient that he'd broken down Clemens' exploits himself? Otherwise, how is it that he provided dates and doses that corresponded nearly exactly with the ups and downs of Clemens' post-Boston career? And that he was able to provide that information on demand, under oath, with a possible Federal indictment hanging over his head?

Clemens himself noted how hard it is "to prove a negative". It becomes even harder when your angry denials, backed by little more than an indignant attitude, stand in direct opposition to common sense. But hey, you can't blame Pete Rose... er, I mean, Roger Clemens, for trying.

Rocket Fuel?

We all know Barry Bonds is the poster boy for steroid abuse in baseball. Yet how is it that Roger Clemens consistently gets a free pass in the steroids debate? Has anyone noticed that he's a 45-year old power pitcher? That doesn’t send up any red flags?

I love how everyone dismisses Clemens as a user by saying "He's a workout warrior." HELLO! Who do they think are using all that stuff? Do they think players just inject steroids and become magically muscular overnight? Without the work, steroids won't do a damn thing. It’s these very “workout warriors” whom steroids benefit the most by aiding the body in rapidly repairing itself.

Also, as a player without a contract every year -- and ostensibly retired -- Clemens isn't subject to off-season drug testing. In fact, he can "train" however he likes and wait until it all passes through his system before he rejoins the league. Talk about a "competitive advantage"!

Perhaps, though, it’s all finally catching up with him. Clemens follows a solid outing by getting cuffed around by the likes of the D-Rays. Hamstrings, groins, elbows, menstrual cramps: too many starts missed from too many ailments in just half a season. Simply put, forty-plus players off their cycles shouldn't be counted on for too much consistency. Maybe we'll all get lucky and 2007 will be end of the road for that fat, bloated mercenary and his never-ending career. Good riddance.