Sox Fans Shouldn't Want Clemens in Jail

There are things more important than baseball, even in Red Sox Nation.

Nevertheless, Roger Rocket Fuel Clemens devastated me when I was a kid.  He essentially forfeited the 1990 playoffs simply because he was personally offended by a tight strike zone.  That was the year the Bash-Brother-led Oakland A’s swept the Sox from the playoffs, while Clemens shampooed his head in the clubhouse, having retired only 5 batters.  But, Roger must have flown home satisfied by his profane berating of the ump who dared to enforce those oh-so-inconvenient rules of the game. 

Clemens soiled himself for his final four years in Boston, before leaving for Toronto to win the next two Cy Young Awards.  Apparently his workday responsibilities, his commitment to teammates, fans and a multi-million-dollar contract were not powerful enough to make him care about his performance on the mound.  In Clemens’ mind, he was still a 21-game winner with a 1.93 ERA.  But, the personal insult of being cast aside by the Red Sox did hit home, so he sought a force even more powerful than nature’s aging of him right arm.

Clemens wore the pinstripes as though he'd been conceived by DiMaggio and Mantle at the foot of Babe Ruth's bust in Monument Park.  He rubbed spittle in the faces of Red Sox fans, before every Bronx start.  He betrayed New England more profoundly than Eric Mangini, Suzyn Waldman and curdled clam chowder combined. 

Perhaps the self-indulgent K-names with which he adorned his sons should be punishable by a weekend at county lockup.  Koby, Kory, Kacy and Kody Clemens are a reminder of strikeouts -- a statistic reflecting Roger’s success at work.  Hell, why not churn out another 16 kids to properly commemorate your strikeout record?  Children are mere offspring, but whiffing 20 Seattle Mariners is an achievement worthy of lifelong pride.  Now the Clemens boys might consider emailing Prince-Michael and Prince-Michael II about their used veils. 

Should our old pal Rocket Fuel do actual time if convicted of perjuring himself during his congressional testimony?  We know he took illegal performance enhancers.  We know he lied about it.  And we know he's been screwing us since 1997, at the latest.

Despite my contempt for everything within a 10-foot radius of Roger Clemens, he still doesn’t deserve time in the slammer.  Congress acted solely out of political self-interest in holding public hearings that included former star ballplayers.  They claimed it was a public-health crisis that needed exposure.  As if publicly connecting these rich, superstar athletes’ success with steroids would somehow dissuade kids from taking performance-enhancing drugs.  Clemens never should have been part of that sideshow of SportsCenter-highlight-seekers in the first place.

Clemens' testimony is roughly equivalent to Congress questioning Hanna Montana about the rise in teenage sex, then charging her with perjury for lies she designed to keep from being grounded by Billy Ray.  No person should be forced to humiliate themselves under oath when the only goal is personal embarrassment and political distraction.  Politicians who favor campaign sound bites to governing are a problem that dwarfs any authenticity issue within the entertainment industry.  Maybe the Committee on Foreign Affairs should convene to discuss the plot holes in Slumdog Millionaire.

If anything, authorities should have prosecuted Clemens for hurling Mike Piazza’s shattered bat back at the Mets slugger, in the 2000 World Series.  And I couldn’t exactly complain about an afternoon in the stocks for Clemens down on Yawkee Way.