Fear and Loathing in the Congressional Oversight Committee

There's been saturation coverage of the hearings all day, so I'll just summarize my reaction here real quick:

1. I believe Roger Clemens took steroids.

2. That said, good luck convicting him of perjury if your main witness for the prosecution is Brian McNamee.

3. By forcing the issue this far, Clemens put Andy Pettitte in a really terrible position. Which, to be honest, lowers my opinion of Clemens more than any amount of steroid use.

But hey, at least he's not a vegan.

4. Our elected representative are asses. Why on earth did even this spectacle have to split down party lines? We have a thrilling three-way bipartisan tie for the most staggeringly stupid thing said by a member of Congress today:

*Representative Clay, Democrat of Maryland, asking on behalf of a friend what hat Clemens would wear into the Hall of Fame. Points for ballsiness! Negative points for wild inappropriateness.

*Rep. David (R, VA) comparing the attacks on Clemens to "a lynching." No. No, no, no.

*Rep. Souder (R, IN) comparing the players' widespread silence on the steroid issue to the anti-snitching culture in Baltimore that got one family's house fatally firebombed recently. Again: no.

Nobody has died, people! Although I'm starting to consider it. I'm sick, it's raining, I'm stressed out, and I just watched the U.S. Government discuss abscesses and buttocks for a solid hour. Not even kitlers can cheer me up today.

I'll leave you with this quote, though, from the autobiography of the great Bill Veeck:

“Don’t misunderstand me. I am not saying that baseball is not a great game. It has to be a great game to have survived what we have done to it.”

Amen.

Actually, I Can Only Dream About Having That Kind Of Storage Space

I'm a little confused by everyone's reaction to the news that Brian McNamee claims to have kept used syringes and bloody gauze as evidence of Roger Clemens' steroid use. So... people are saying it's not normal to keep boxes of your friends' and clients' bloody medical waste for eight years? Here I thought I was just being conscientious!

Seriously, though: Ew. I think Clemens probably did use steroids, but the more I learn about McNamee, the more the ex-trainer appears to be a slimy, untrustworthy scumbag.

In other news:

-Johan Sanata was introduced to New York yesterday in all his glory. Santana was relaxed and friendly and stayed on-message -- he's not a born showman type, like Pedro Martinez or Johnny Damon, but he handled himself well. Maybe a bit stiff and scripted in the main press conference, but looser and more charming in the subsequent one-on-one interviews. Still, he was nearly Jeterian in his determination to say nothing controversial. Which is probably for the best when you consider...

-...last night's revelation that Pedro Martinez is apparently a cockfighter. You know, I'm surprisingly unsurprised by this.

-My ancient Tino Martinez #24 t-shirt is current once more! Well, sort of. Tino is in Tampa working with Shelley Duncan, a meeting of remarkably affable and good-natured first basemen. Expect much enthusiastic high-fiving.

-Paul at Yanksfan vs Soxfan has some fun projections, based on BP's PECOTA numbers, for the Yankees and Red Sox in 2008. I've weathered the offseason pretty well this year, but looking at those posts, particularly the segment on the Yankees' starting pitching, I suddenly experienced a yearning for actual baseball games so acute it almost physically hurt.

If I had a nickel for every time I confused CPR with non-consensual sex!

I already suspected there was no God when I woke up a few days ago with a slight hangover and was greeted by news stories suggesting a bleeding abscess on Roger Clemens' ass. (Have you ever unexpectedly seen the results for a Google Image Search on "abscess"? No? NOT RECOMMENDED). And now there's this. Noooo!

A world with abscessed-Clemens-ass imagery and a hobbled Endy Chavez is not a world I want to live in.

Meanwhile, while I now have no idea what the truth is in this whole Clemens fiasco -- inclined to think he used steroids, but trying to keep an open mind -- and am increasingly unable to give a fuck, I lost any shred of respect or empathy I might have had for Brian McNamee when I read this AP article (via River Ave Blues last week). It seems that at the end of the 2001 season, in Florida, a bunch of Yankees had a party at their hotel, which McNamee attended, and:

"Detectives believed the former New York Yankees trainer who says he injected Roger Clemens with steroids lied to them during the 2001 investigation of a possible rape, according to documents released Tuesday by police."

I don't even remember hearing about this story at the time -- it was just a few weeks after 9/11, and I suppose that's at least partly why it didn't get more attention. But it isn't being discussed much now, either; even the Post, which you'd think would be all over it (the Post loves rape), didn't even run the entire AP article. And so I'm going to rant a little bit now, because dammit, somebody ought to.

The article goes on to describe the embodiment of all the nightmare-jock-party stories you heard in high school and college:

"The records released Tuesday by the St. Petersburg police show McNamee was suspected of raping a woman he had met at the Renaissance Vinoy Resort in October 2001. ...

McNamee was having sex with the woman in the resort's pool and didn't stop when confronted by security, the documents say. Police were notified. When they arrived, they found McNamee had helped the woman out of the pool and get dressed, according to the documents. Groggy and incoherent, she was taken to the hospital, where the documents said she was found to have GHB, the "date-rape drug," in her system.

The woman told detectives she could not remember details of the encounter in the pool. She said she did not give McNamee permission to have sex with her, and witnesses told detectives they had heard her saying "no" during the encounter, according to the documents. Detectives later recovered some of her jewelry, an empty beer can and a water bottle containing GHB at the side of the pool.

Police interviewed McNamee hours later, according to the documents, and he denied having sex with the woman or knowing Yankees batting practice pitcher, Charles Wonsowicz, who was also in the pool. McNamee refused to submit a saliva sample for DNA analysis, the documents said."

Now, McNamee was never charged, let alone convicted, so I get that these are just allegations, not proven facts. These records are only coming to light now because of Clemens' lawsuit, and of course making McNamee look bad is the whole point. Still -- the story is drawing from police files, not just innuendo, and it's more than enough to make me question McNamee's character and credibility. To put it mildly.

Of course, it raises another question, too, which Roger Clemens' lawyers seem to hope we'll gloss over: if you're Clemens, and you know about this incident, why do you then hire this slime, and stay friends with him for years afterwards? After all, it was apparently reason enough for the Yankees to fire him (which: I am pleasantly surprised they had the backbone). But:

"Clemens then hired McNamee as his personal trainer. According to the pitcher's lawsuit, McNamee told him that his actions were "actually a life-saving attempt.""

Right. A life-saving attempt, who wouldn't buy that? You know what, I'm done here -- these two guys can sue each other into oblivion for all I care.

All in all, it's certainly been a glamorous few weeks for the national pastime. Rape and abscesses! HGH and GHB! Christ on a pogo stick, I just want to watch a damn game already.

I Know Why The Caged Splitter Misses the Outside Corner

I was at the Stadium on Saturday for Old-Timers' Day and a painful, beautifully pitched, horribly defended thirteen inning loss to the Angels. God, I hate the goddamn Angels. Friday night was a wild, ugly win and Sunday's game was a satisfying rout, but because it's the Halos, that middle game lingers. The Yanks couldn't score -- looking back, I'm amazed they managed even the one run -- and made five errors, which makes it all the more remarkable that they kept the Angels to a tie for so long. But the Yankee pitching was just that good, especially Roger Clemens, who went 8 innings for the second start in a row.

It may very well happen one day, but I can't imagine Clemens ever pitching in the Old Timers' Game. The Game's pleasant enough on one level, but as an exercise in pure unadulterated nostalgia -- it's not for charity, there's no genuine competition or high level of play -- it's also melancholy. This is something I plan to write more about later, probably in the book (never too soon to start the hard sell!). But in any case I can't see Clemens, the pure competitor, the guy who backed his own son off the plate with a pitch towards the chin, suiting up in fifteen years, the uniform highlighting his potbelly, priding himself on still throwing 78. A refresher:

And that competitive fire never left — as discovered by Koby, who had the audacity to hit a home run off Dad in batting practice two weeks ago in Florida. He got the vintage Clemens brushback pitch the next time up.

"I figured I'd get strike one on the kid with a fastball, 92, 93 mph, and he runs into it," Clemens says. "So, of course, I was a little pissed. I said, 'OK, if that's the way it's going to be.' So next time up, I went in on him."

Says umpiring supervisor Steve Palermo: "When I umped, we used to always joke that Roger was so competitive that he'd knock down his own mom. Well, we now know that he'll at least knock down a family member."

Then again, Paul O'Neill was there Saturday -- another guy you don't want to picture taking a feeble cut at age 65. Fortunately it hasn't come to that, as O'Neill's just 44 and, to the naked eye, almost completely unchanged; in fact he's probably moving better than Damon these days. I was immensely relieved, when he stroked a single in his first at-bat, that he hadn't embarrassed himself.

There's nothing wrong with the Old Timers' Game, exactly -- the players want to be there, the fans pay to see it, it's all in good fun. And occasionally, as with Bobby Murcer's dignified, emotional presence, it provides some powerful moments. It's always great to hear the applause for Reggie (still hotdogging) and Mattingly, and the more respectful reception given to Yogi Berra and Whitey Ford, who still looks sharp as hell -- my all-time favorite Yankee-I-never-got-to-see-play. This year, of course, Scott Brosius and O'Neill got a lot of love, and it warmed my cold, blackened little heart. But there's still something painful just under the surface. He tossed it off casually in a pre-game interview, but I thought O'Neill had the most revealing quote of the day: "Let's face it, when you get out on this field it brings back a lot of memories," he said. "And that's what you've got left."

***

On a lighter note, I came across this tidbit while looking at that Koby Clemens link:

"I was just trying to pick a good time to do it. Weekend or weekday?" says Clemens, who keeps a journal that he plans to turn into an autobiography.

Oh man, what's Clemens' journal like? "7/7: Guerrero got three hits today - great, now have to pitch next year too, and K him. Or Plan B: kill with shattered bat fragment. After game, rented Rambo II with Andy, even better on 14th viewing. What you choose to call Hell... Mr. Splitty calls home."

More tomorrow on the Mets' schizo series against Houston, and Carlos Beltran's catch of the year. And hey, it's the All-Star break! A time for contemplation, reflection, wondering how it all went so terribly wrong... much like Yom Kippur really, only instead of being forgiven for your sins, you have to listen to Chris Berman call the Home Run Derby.

B.Y.O. Deca-Durabolin

Well, that's just fantastic. The lesson, as always: never, ever say that things can't get any worse.

The Yankees actually got a nice win yesterday, Roger Clemens' 350th. He's the first pitcher to get that many Ws since Joe Torre caught Warren Spahn in 1963, and only the second since the Great Depression. Now, I'm generally the first to argue that wins are a totally meaningless statistic: you can allow 1 run and lose, or 11 runs and win; it's utterly team-dependent, and tells you very little about a pitcher's actual performance, etc, etc, and so forth. But, that said: if you've got 350 of them, you've done something right. It was old-school Clemens last night -- he went 8 innings and allowed just 2 hits.

But that's all overshadowed by A-Rod's hamstring. Jesus: enough with the fucking hamstrings already! Don't these people ever stretch?! The truth is, the Yankees probably weren't going anywhere anyway. But that's all the more reason to have A-Rod around, because watching him put up his incomprehensible numbers has been one of the few enjoyable things about this season.

In other news: like the Yankees, the Mets rolled into Coors field ready for some offensive fireworks and instead barely scraped out two runs, while Tom Glavine gave up six runs in the third inning. Luckily, the Braves and the Phillies still suck.

Finally, Peter Gammons' ESPN blog post yesterday was, essentially, one long ad for the iPhone: almost the entire entry is about how cool the technology is and how many MLB players wanted to get one as soon as possible. Now, while I would absolutely not for a second put it past ESPN to take money for an endorsement disguised as a column... Peter Gammons wouldn't do that, would he? He's not one of my favorite columnists, but he's still an enormously respected sports writer, and he was one of the greats back in the day. So it must have been just a somewhat misguided story idea born on a slow news day... right? Man, I hope so. Haven't we all been disillusioned enough already?

One interesting thing in there amidst all the masses of product placement:

Verlander also knew he didn't have to go to the AT&T/Cingular store to activate his toy. No, simple. "All you have to do is download iTunes into the phone," said Verlander. Before he went to warm up Friday, he could listen to Timbaland (actually, he might want to to listen to a little Jay-Z to get ready for the All-Star Game party he and Barry Bonds are throwing), call friends, check the weather and go online...

Screw the iPhone. Justin Verlander and Barry Bonds are throwing a party? What a random duo, and who wants Barry Bonds at their party, anyway? "I know... let's invite the old humorless guy with 'roid rage!"

If You Can't Even Bring Pepper Spray to a Ball Game Anymore, The Terrorrists Have Already Won

Big series this weekend, obviously. I was going to put up a post before heading up to the Stadium tonight, but ran out of time, so when I say I was predicting a strong effort from Oliver Perez you'll just have to take my word for it. I didn't know how strong, though: 2-0 Mets. The offense was mostly Reyes, really showing off for Yanks fans with three steals, two singles, and a homer. See? Not overhyped. Roger Clemens was solid, and it's too bad that was wasted, but I'm just relieved that he didn't get confused and throw a bat shard at Paul Lo Duca. That wouldn't have ended well.

I usually get a kick out of my neighbors at the Stadium, but tonight I was seated near some unbelievable douchebags. The kicker was the row of four drunk 20-something hedge fund guys directly behind me; they kept clumsily kicking me and the Jersey girls next to me (also sloppy drunk, but happy, friendly drunk, which is fine by me), every other word out of their mouths was "faggot," and they never stopped loudly complaining about their seats long enough to pay the slightest bit of attention to the game. (I should probably add here, before Mets fans let this confirm their worst stereotypes, that two of them were Mets supporters). The indisputable highlight came when one guy got into a long screaming match with the mother of a 10-year old boy sitting next to him, claiming that the kid had spilled mustard and ruined the hedge-funder's "$100 pants." Words can't express how deeply I regretted not having any pepper spray on me.

Fortunately, the ride back on the 4 train was a font of totally affable, often hilarious Mets-Yanks banter, which restored a bit of my faith in humanity.

Anyway. Tomorrow is Tyler Clippard vs. Tom Glavine, which would, to put it mildly, seem to favor the Mets. You know, just a tad... it's tough not to favor the guy with 100 times more career wins. Sunday is Chien-Ming Wang vs. El Duque, which is a tougher one to call, but certainly ought to be fun to watch. As always, I look forward to seeing the eephus.

Random notes:

-I've got a couple posts up on the Banter: Your Mostly Arbitrary Guide to the AL All-Star Ballot (fun for the whole family, if the whole family doesn't mind a little cursing) and a recap of yesterday's win over the Diamondbacks.

-David Wright is now 15 for 15 in stolen base attempts this year -- pretty impressive for a guy who's not remarkably fast.

-David Pinto at Baseball Musings discovers that in the course of his career, Derek Jeter has at least one hit in 77.9% of his games played, which is good for second-highest in the last 50 years (min. 1000 games played), behind only Ichiro. Interesting stat. Joe Morgan on ESPN has pretty much ruined this word for me, yet I have no choice but to call that "consistent". Michael Kay noted on YES a few weeks back that Jeter says he wants to play 10 more years; if he's actually serious about that, and if he stays healthy, he has a very legit chance at 4,000 hits. Big ifs, but still.

-Tyler Kepner points out that the Mets drafted Clemens, but chose to sign Steve Phillips instead. If you're the guy responsible for that decision, how do you ever get over it? That's a real sell-all-your-material-belongings-and-move-to-a-Thai-monastery kind of fuck-up.

-The Diamondbacks left their scouting report lying around the dugout after last night's game. Whoops! MSNBC has the AP story (via Deadspin). Interesting... but one question: what the hell is a "good cripple hitter"? Other than Jorge Posada, apparently? I really feel like I should be familiar with this term (which by the way could probably stand to be updated), but I've never heard it, and Google is for once not helping. Anybody?

UPDATE: Never mind! Per the Times, "A cripple hitter is one who jumps on a pitch when he is ahead in the count." Thank you.

They Call Me MISTER Splitty

Well, Roger Clemens isn't Roger Clemens anymore, but he's still Roger Clemens, if you know what I mean. And I won't blame you if you don't.

Never mind my ill-fated attempt to reach today's game at Yankee Stadium; it took me almost three and a half hours to reach the Bronx from Brooklyn, an epic and disastrous journey -- sort of like The Warriors in reverse, especially the subway scenes. So I arrived at River Avenue shortly after Roger Clemens left the mound. Thanks to a kind but incompetent Pakistani cab driver, though, I did catch some of it on the radio ("I don't know," the driver said doubtfully of Clemens. "He is an old man"), and the rest via the glittering wonder that is Tivo.

Roger wasn't great, but he was good enough. It's so helpful when your team scores more than two runs behind their starting pitcher, you know? And, also, when your opponent is the Pirates. Yikes -- can't we just stick them on a remote field somewhere and make them play the Royals every day? At the end of the season, the losing owner will be forced to sell his team to someone who gives a fuck.

Having said that, they'll probably shell Tyler Clippard tomorrow, just to spite me. Ah well.

However! The Yankees are, for perhaps the second week all year, not sucking. They're now just two games back from .500.... and, mmmmm! Mediocrity is so close within reach I can almost taste it!

Meanwhile, I'm beginning to think that what the Yankees had may be contagious, and the Mets could use some penicillin: cold bats, a rash of injuries, a suddenly unreliable bullpen. What the Mets still have going for them, though, is their starting pitching, which has been solid throughout (well, except for today, but never mind). The bullpen might turn out to be a serious problem, if Heilman and Schoenewies and Mota can't be reliable... but their offense at least will come around as people get healthy.

The truth is, though, I'm still mourning the loss of Endy Chavez to a serious hamstring strain. Nooooooo! I was at Shea for that game, a bleary, hopeless affair even before Endy had to be helped off the field. (Best fan quote of the night, from one of the severely drunk Long Island college kids to my right: "FUUUUUCK YOU! YOU SUUUUUCK! FUCK YOU, BUR-- hey, you're not Burrell. Who the hell's that guy?" The game in a nutshell).

Anyway, I was there for Endy's NLCS Catch, too, and his brilliant walk-off drag bunt in April. And if you think the mere fact that he'll be out for probably two months is going to keep me from writing him on my NL All-Star ballot, you are very much mistaken. Dammit! Why'd it have to be Endy?!? Please, lord, take Ben Johnson istead!

That's What SHE Said

The Yanks went down to the Chicago White Sox today when poor Matt DeSalvo was yanked before he could finish the second inning. Naturally, the one guy who actually reads is kicked back to Scranton. Turns out Crash Davis was right: Don't think, it can only hurt the ball club.

At least he's got Last Exit To Brooklyn for the ride back. Yep... that's gonna be a cheerful trip.

This weekend, the Yankees sandwiched promising wins over the Red Sox against a nuclear meltdown of a game on Saturday. I honestly have no idea what to expect from the Yanks this year; they could win 15-3 tomorrow or lose 22-0 and neither would surprise me. As a result, it's important to enjoy things like Sunday night's win: Bobby Abreu with a disastrous misplay and subsequent game-saving catch; sweet D from Melky; Posada with a nifty block of the plate (okay, lousy slide by Lugo, but still); A-Rod with the ninth-inning homer off Papelbon; Mariano with the emphatic save... it was a long, messy game, but that just made the ending more satisfying. Even Joe Morgan made some intelligent points. These are the moments we have to savor.

By the way, when the Yanks claimed that Clemens had a "fatigued groin"? Clemens just made that phrase up. I mean, do a Google search on fatigued groin and... well actually, no, don't. But the point is, there's no such diagnosis (stop snickering!). This invention of new terms for injuries seems to happen all the time in baseball, and everyone just nods and say "ah yes, a fatigued groin!" like it's an accepted medical condition; I guess the Yankees and Celemens don't want to admit they didn't know what was wrong (disrupted scar tissue, it turns out), but why not just say he's got a "sore inner thigh"? This is right up there with Carl Pavano's "bruised buttocks" in the Yankee annals of embarrassing injury phrasing.

Meanwhile, speaking of embarrassing, here's Gary Sheffield on Latin players, and -- as quoted in the new GQ -- tactful as always:

"I called it years ago. What I called is that you're going to see more black faces, but there ain't no English going to be coming out. ... (It's about) being able to tell (Latin players) what to do -- being able to control them. Where I'm from, you can't control us. You might get a guy to do it that way for a while because he wants to benefit, but in the end, he is going to go back to being who he is. And that's a person that you're going to talk to with respect, you're going to talk to like a man. These are the things my race demands. So, if you're equally good as this Latin player, guess who's going to get sent home? I know a lot of players that are home now can outplay a lot of these guys."

Gary, I think Jorge Posada, Mariano Rivera, and the ghost of Roberto Clemente would like a word with you. Yeesh.

Of course, there are valid concerns about the way MLB teams now sign dirt-poor teenagers who speak no English, and whether they are always treated fairly (hint: no). But that's Sheff for you -- bring up a kernel of truth and obscure it with a pile of paranoia and ridiculous, offensive generalizations. I predict he will claim to have been misquoted by 6 pm. Also in that interview:

On carrying a gun (after taking one to school in eight and ninth grade): "It ain't changed because I got in the league. It just made me get more of them."

Oh, good!

Is That A Rocket In Your Pocket, Or Are You Just Happy To See Me?

We're just happy to see you, Roger.

One of the things I had sort of forgotten over the last few years is that Roger Clemens, bless his heart, when he talks at length about anything other than the mechanics of pitching, makes no fucking sense whatsoever. I present this verbatim quote from his eighth inning interview with Al Leiter and Michael Kay in the YES booth today:

“I was very upset in 2003, not upset that, that – you know, I had so many flashbacks when that first happened, and then I took a deep breath and knew that I had a chance to be in the bullpen throughout the remainder of that, that series. And then yeah, when it ended I thought that was it, I thought I had thrown my last pitch and I felt good about it, you know that was my mother’s wishes, and so we’ve come to grips with a lot of that. I’ve been playing at home, I didn’t know the circumstances that would happen with Andy going back to Houston, and uh, I just feel very blessed, my body’s been holding up, what can I say? I’m taking care of myself, and I’ve done the work, I’ve always enjoyed working, and again, working with young guys, so hopefully that’ll be the case here. I’m gonna get my body ready for a situation like this on this field, here, and uh, that’s just going to take a little more time."

In case you're wondering, the question was: “What keeps you coming back?”

It's okay, Andy Pettitte speaks fluent Roger and can translate in the clubhouse. And Clemens is smarter than he sounds: not only did he sign for a prorated $28 mil (making him, I believe, the highest payed player in the game), and swing an unprecedented-for-the-Yankees deal in which he will not always travel with the team -- he also managed to drop the name of his sponsor, Continental Airlines, at least three times during various interviews.

That may sound cynical, but make no mistake, I was thrilled to see Clemens' surprise announcement during the seventh-inning stretch today. When you're one of the three or four best pitchers in history, you can play by your own rules. Of course Clemens isn't going to pitch at that level, at age 45, in the AL East, but I don't doubt he's still a damn sight better than Kei Igawa, Darryl Rasner, and Jeff Karstens combined, and the Yanks need him. Major props to Cashman and the Yankee brass for keeping this so quiet, surprising almost everyone, and creating a truly memorable moment at the Stadium. Buster Olney explains how it all fell into place.

The crowd went nuts, and it was a nice change, after the last few weeks, to see the Yankees grinning and laughing in the dugout. Jorge Posada, next to Pettitte on the bench, practically melted with relief... not that getting acquainted with Kei Igawa's pitching style hasn't been a real thrill for him, I'm sure.

This move could backfire, I suppose. One of these years, he isn't going to be able to do this anymore; 45 is up there for pro athletes, no matter what kind of shape you're in. Or maybe, though I hate to bring it up today, it'll come out that he took steroids. There's no hard evidence, but the rumors have swirled for a while, and anyone with that kind of late-career surge has to make you wonder. Clemens also has that "my actual skull has expanded over the years" sort of look to him, plus roid rage (and little else) could explain the Mike Piazza-thrown bat debacle. But you know what? I'm going to ignore that for the moment, and hope there's no fire underneath all the smoke. Or that he never gets caught. Whichever.

-You know how much they need Roger Clemens right now? The win today (oh yeah, there was a game!) was the Yankees' first shutout of the season. Good grief.

-My question is, what did Steinbrenner say to Clemens that made him come back? Best guess: that he's in failing health and this might be his last shot at a Championship? Okay, maybe it was just "I will fill your Olympic-sized swimming pool with cash." But I prefer the more dramatic scenario.

-Neither Cashman not Clemens’ agent wanted to discuss the money at the press conference today, I suppose to keep that from becoming the focus -- and Clemens claimed he didn’t even know the details of the deal. Uh huh.

-Random factoid: according to Jose Conseco's book -- in which he suggests the pitcher showed signs of steroid use, but admits he has no firsthand knowledge of it -- Roger Clemens is "one of the very few baseball players I know who never cheated on his wife. I was amazed by him, to be honest... He was one of the rarities, the anomalies, in baseball. I can hardly think of anyone else who never cheated on his wife."

-Clemens said over and over today that he's looking forward to working with the team's young pitchers. In other words, Phil Hughes just lucked the fuck out and found his Yoda.