Rocket could have avoided mess he's in

by Ian O'Connor

Updated: May 2, 2008, 2:37 PM EST 401 comments

What if I didn't challenge the veracity of the Mitchell Report?

What if I didn't dust off my fastball for Mike Wallace on "60 Minutes?"

What if I didn't play that stupid tape of that stupid conversation in that stupid news conference?

What if I didn't demand to tell my tall tales under Congressional oath?

What if I didn't sue Brian McNamee for defamation of character?

The greatest pitcher of our time, maybe of all time, has to be haunted by his own dreadful choices now that he's watching his public legacy and private life do a slow and sensational burn.

It didn't have to be this way, no it didn't. Clemens could've met the release of the Mitchell Report with a quick, one-size-fits-all confession. He could've acknowledged dabbling in steroids and/or human growth hormone, Andy Pettitte-style, and maintained he only did so to recover from injuries and/or because he realized every batter and his brother was doing the same.

Or Clemens could've played a Clintonesque game of semantics and declared that he had never "cut corners" — cheating to neutralize the cheaters wouldn't be cutting corners, would it? — and then refused additional comment forevermore.

But Clemens isn't wired that way. He's a bully, after all, and bullies keep coming at you until they're finally knocked on their rumps.

Clemens is down and nearly out now, and you almost feel sorry for him. The New York Daily News reported that he engaged in a long extramarital affair with a country singing flameout, Mindy McCready, whom he met in a bar when the aspiring performer was all of 15.

So if you thought Clemens had some explaining to do to his wife, Debbie, when he willingly gave her up as an HGH user in a pathetic attempt to cover his own alleged needle tracks, think again. Who said pitchers didn't play the field?

His existence a reality show spinning way out of control, Clemens is all alone again with those two words: What if?

What if he initially told the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth and then threw himself on the mercy of the people's court? There wouldn't have been any Congressional hearings, for one.

Mark McGwire was dragged kicking and screaming before Congress; Roger Clemens dragged Congress kicking and screaming before him. While millions of American viewers were getting a sobering lesson in partisan politics, the hearings left most asking the same thing:

Why in the world were these proceedings necessary?

The Rocket made them necessary by throwing high heat at people who stood firmly in the box and refused to blink. Clemens guessed that he could do what he'd done his entire career: glare at his opponents from his elevated perch, slap on some eye black if needed, and watch them quiver and quake.

Clemens guessed wrong. In fact, he's guessed wrong more than any hitter he faced in his prime.

He guessed wrong when he figured the public would accept him as a truth teller despite the mountain of evidence suggesting otherwise.

He guessed wrong when he assumed McNamee would be dismissed as a two-bit loser desperate for his 15 minutes of fame.

He guessed wrong when he counted on the Rocket-fueled Republicans overtaking the Democrats on Capitol Hill.

He guessed wrong when he put the tattered remains of his reputation in the hands of Rusty Hardin.

The lawyer's chief responsibility is to protect Clemens from himself, and yet Hardin has allowed Rocket to talk his way into a Department of Justice investigation and, possibly, jail.

Some observers have tried to excuse Hardin, suggesting the lawyer was powerless to stop the raging bull that is Clemens from seizing control of his own fate. But if Hardin wasn't strong enough to contain his client, to make him abide by the lawyer's playbook, then he shouldn't have taken the case to begin with.

It's too late for a do-over now. The feds are investigating whether Clemens perjured himself while testifying under oath, and you could fit the number of Americans who believe Clemens told Congress the truth inside a Volkswagen.

"We believe that his testimony in a sworn deposition on Feb. 5, 2008, and at a hearing on Feb. 13, 2008, that he never used anabolic steroids or human growth hormone, warrants further investigation," Henry Waxman, chairman of the House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform, wrote to the Justice Department.

Waxman issued this report after Clemens kept telling Congressmen that the dog ate his homework.

The Rocket apparently didn't care whom he hurt in the process. He was hellbent on sticking to his game plan and damning the consequences along the way.

In the end, McGwire was smarter by saying as little as possible and then fading into never-never land. Barry Bonds was smarter by declining to file a defamation lawsuit against those claiming he was a juicer.

Clemens' defamation suit against McNamee might've opened the door on the McCready story, giving the former trainer's lawyers a fresh area of attack. This isn't about Clemens' character, and whether evidence of infidelity has any relevant role in a case revolving around steroids and HGH.

This is about all the humiliating questions McNamee's lawyers will now get to fire at Clemens in a deposition that will find its way into newsprint, make no mistake about that.

The Rocket's reputation can't absorb any more lethal hits; it already looks like the shattered bat Clemens once threw at Mike Piazza.

So the Hall of Fame is the least of the ace's problems. Roger Clemens is all out of pitches, and he can blame the man in the mirror for that.