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Will we ever know the truth about Clemens?

Shaun Powell

January 8, 2008

He's lying about the Hall of Fame part.

But regarding everything else, could it be that Roger Clemens is actually telling the truth? Has he been Duke lacrossed by a skeptical baseball nation all this time? Is it possible that when Clemens famously threw a shattered bat in Mike Piazza's direction, it was a classic case of ... B-12 rage?

You must admit that what happened yesterday will go down as the 355th victory of Clemens' career, because he did everything that you, the doubters, wanted him to do. He was angry and defiant and adamant that he wasn't a serial steroid user, as his former personal trainer said. He slapped a defamation lawsuit on Brian McNamee, further proof that Clemens is up for a fight. And here's the big one: He agreed to appear before Congress and say, under oath and at the risk of perjury, that he never juiced up.

What else do you want him to do?

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What else is there for him to do?

Nothing, really. Clemens says he's innocent and that he's willing to put himself on the line by going through the court system, and he sounded anxious to swear with one hand on a Bible, a significant step up from swearing to Mike Wallace.

With yesterday's news conference, which was one part show, one part substance, he has effectively built a wall that will come crumbling down upon him and his legacy if he's ever found guilty of lying.

But that's just the point here. Without a smoking gun, we'll never know the truth. This is now, and forever, one man's shaky word against another's.

The next stop for this drama is Washington, where Clemens says he'll appear before a congressional committee a week from tomorrow. But in reality, this is a road to nowhere. What this disagreement between Clemens and McNamee lacks is an "aha" moment that destroys the credibility of one of them. Unless someone finds a dirty syringe with Clemens' blood, or a videotape of him uttering the word "steroid" to McNamee, or a paper trail, or a witness, or a drug pusher with a guilty conscience, we will know tomorrow what we know now: nothing.

Speaking of which, that's exactly what a 17 1/2-minute phone conversation between Clemens and McNamee proved yesterday. The way Clemens and his lawyer, Rusty Hardin, hiked up the moment, this was supposed to be the most revealing tape since Watergate. But McNamee never confessed to making up a drug story and telling it to George Mitchell, the investigator hired by Major League Baseball. On the flip side, McNamee did not attempt to press a confession from Clemens. You came away with the feeling that this tape was made public only to make Clemens a sympathetic figure because he expressed concern about the well-being of McNamee's family.

Anyway, if you wish to believe Clemens, you now have your good reasons. He was angry. He explained he waited days after the Mitchell Report to issue a denial under advice of his legal team. He's suing. He's going under oath. And he doesn't "give a rat's ass" if this keeps him out of the Hall of Fame.

Well, scratch that last one; Clemens wants the Hall worse than he wants McNamee's head.

If you doubt Clemens, you, too, have your strong reasons. Andy Pettitte, his workout pal, confessed to being injected with HGH by McNamee; surely Clemens was in on that, right? McNamee lacks a motive, especially because, as the phone conversation proved, he and Clemens were "like family." And steroid rumors have dogged Clemens for years.

In the court of public opinion, there are no rules. Feel free to take a side, and if you're proven wrong, so what? Who cares?

Bottom line: Nobody knows for sure except two men, once friends, now adversaries, and there's a very real chance it'll stay between them forever. Clemens doesn't face any punishment, not from baseball, since he's all but retired, or financially, because his career earnings are non-refundable - only perjury if he's ever caught in a lie after his congressional appearance.

Then there's the Hall, where he belongs, because Clemens didn't hurt baseball even if he did juice. Baseball hurt baseball by looking the other way while the ballplayers swelled up, then dragged its feet on a hard-line drug policy. The real scapegoat for baseball is baseball.

And that's the truth, for those still waiting to hear some.