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Wallace Matthews: Roger fails on "60 Minutes"

Wallace Matthews

January 7, 2008

In an appearance on '60 Minutes,' Roger Clemens denied using steroids, saying former trainer Brian McNamee injected him with "Lidocaine and vitamin B-12" only. (Photo courtesy CBS News / "60 Minutes" / January 6, 2008)

They stuck him in a lineup that would have protected even A-Rod in October, and still, Roger Clemens couldn't manage to look good.

They batted him third, behind a pompous jerk of a politician who blamed a woman for her own assassination and a Boston mobster with 20 hits to his credit, and Clemens still had the nerve to whine, pout and shake his fist at how tough it is to be him.

First, Pakistani President Pervez Musharraf had the guts, if not the sense, to admit his country was so unsafe that Benazir Bhutto should have known better than to stick her head out a car window. Then came John Martorano, the hit man who not only was honest enough to own up to his crimes but honorable enough to keep a promise to Ed Bradley that he would appear on "60 Minutes," a promise he kept despite Bradley's death last year.

Then came the big, bad Rocket, pursing his lips, shaking his head, evading and obfuscating, a big, squirmy teenager being reprimanded by an 89-year-old principal. Suddenly, the despot seemed as noble as Gandhi and the two-bit thug came off as commanding as Tony Soprano. And Clemens appeared as intimidating as Pee Wee Herman and as believable as Joe Isuzu. It was as bad as his Game 3 effort in the ALDS.

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He started by complaining about what the world owed him, moved on to kvetching about money and finished up with some self-pitying rant about how people in this country believe you are guilty until proven innocent, and by the time Mike Wallace dismissed him, you no longer cared about whether Brian McNamee is telling the truth. You just wanted Roger Clemens to go away and tell his story to someone else. Anyone else.

The fact is, minus a piece of paper from a lab with Clemens' name and blood type on it, Clemens vs. McNamee probably never will be conclusively settled. But this much we know for sure: Once again, Clemens tests positive for the big three: arrogance, entitlement and stupidity. Throw in self-pity and he's hit a grand slam.

The sad part is, he really believes he is a victim here, besieged by lesser beings who seek to bring him down, offended that he must answer to them and refute their charges, annoyed that he now must acknowledge their existence.

He says he's tired of answering questions, but the truth is, few athletes have ever been as good as Clemens at dodging, evading and intimidating his way out of answering anything of substance. He says he won't sue McNamee because he doesn't want to spend the money - after all, he made only $18 million for two-thirds of a season's work. And he blames his "counsel" for advising him not to speak with George Mitchell, but let's see if he doesn't find a way to weasel out of talking to Congress next week.

Mostly, he says he shouldn't even have to deal with this issue because, well, he's Roger Clemens. "I'm angry that what I've done for the game of baseball and the personal, in my private life, what I've done that I ... I don't get the benefit of the doubt," King Roger said.

In fact, he has gotten nothing but a free ride from everyone forever. "Oh, Roger's just so intense out there," we were told, again and again, by way of explanation. "Grueling workouts," we were told, a canard he repeated last night to explain his remarkable turnaround, as if all that kept Sandy Koufax from 25 years of dominance were a few more push-ups.

We know now that probably is not the case. We also know that in their megalomania, guys like Clemens and Barry Bonds came to believe they really didn't need the help, that they really were supermen, not only above the laws of the land but the laws of nature, the way a 5-6 guy can use lifts and convince himself he is really 6 feet tall.

That is why Clemens could sit there last night and have the air of a wounded prince, besieged by all manner of abuse and disrespect when in fact, he was making all these sacrifices, paying all these terrible prices, performing these feats of heroism strictly for your enjoyment.

"You think I'd get an inch of respect," he moaned.

Through the years, he's gotten miles of respect and leeway, and the benefit of way too much doubt. The free ride has lasted nearly 25 years, but now the time has come for Roger Clemens to pay up.

Or at least just to shut up.