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Zuri Berry
Andy Pettitte is the key to the Roger Clemens steroid saga.
It can't be any other way. As much as the Rocket wants you and me to believe that Pettitte has nothing to do with his situation, he's wrong. It has everything to do with it, beginning solely with their close friendship and doubly with the fact both of them used Brian McNamee as a trainer.
Up until Clemens' lawsuit against McNamee, accusing his former trainer of defamation, it was a Clemens-vs.-McNamee kind of deal. All observers were whirled up into the argument of he-said, he-said which is a spinning argument only circumvented by the occasional press conference and public statement made by one or the other.
"60 Minutes" didn't help Clemens' image. Neither did his taped conversation of McNamee, which has all but egged on critics and cynics after the potential hall of famer's head for creating more questions and not answering any.
McNamee, purportedly holding all of the cards, has been caught slightly off guard by Clemens' taped phone call. The listening session at Monday's press conference neither helped nor hurt what Clemens was trying to portray: an unreliable, emotionally dysfunctional ex-friend who is broken up about outing his former employer.
Only one part of that can be construed as remotely true.
The bottom line is, in all of Clemens' attempts to reconcile his persona and fight for his respectability in the court of public opinion, he has failed to unequivocally answer the most important question in the proper context: How are the fans supposed to believe you when Pettitte has admitted to what you so vehemently deny?
Quickly and with humility, Pettitte responded to accusations of steroid use by admitting what he thought was appropriate, one to two days of Human Growth Hormone for injuries sustained.
Nothing more, nothing less.
Although it's not an indictment of the pitcher's career or an indication of his actual steroid use, it is a glimpse of his willingness to be open and up front. Those are two traits we have yet to see from the alleged stars of the game, including Clemens and cheater No. 1 (guess who).
Eight days went by before we heard from Clemens, which was a simple call for no rush to judgment. OK.
Two weeks later, he posts a video denial answering no pertinent questions. Strange, but OK.
Almost a month after the Mitchell Report, he goes on "60 Minutes" and admits to being injected with B-12 and Lidocaine, presumably a harmless admission. He also vehemently denies Pettitte has anything to do with him, as if their buddy-buddy relationship never existed.
A day later - 25 days after the Mitchell report was released (on the advice of counsel) - Clemens faces the world in his press conference. What is revealed is of no significant importance.
Truly, this isn't a surprise.
Because of all of the posturing and positioning, selective answers and controlled responses, it's hard to put Clemens in any other position than as a man who has been calculating from Day 1 how to be above the fracas.
The man who prides himself on his hard work ethic, now prides himself on doing the best he can to win over his good name. His suit against McNamee is his best bet. Answering the media's questions will only poke more holes in his argument.
And if he's true to his word, and goes before Congress under oath, he will seem open. But the X factor will come up again.
The fate of this storied pitcher lies in Pettitte's lap. He can either bury his friend, by telling what he knows when he's likely subpoenaed, or exonerate him and leave the rest of us with questions if he says he knows nothing.
Clemens needs all the friends he can find. Would it surprise you that his fate is in the hands of his best friend? Furthermore, would it surprise you that this friend may be afraid of possible perjury charges as well?
Is it too much to ask for people to tell the truth - at all?
ooo
Zuri Berry is a sports writer at The Union. His column appears Wednesdays. Contact him via e-mail zberry@theunion.com or by phone at 477-4244. You can also read his blog online at TheUnion.com.
It can't be any other way. As much as the Rocket wants you and me to believe that Pettitte has nothing to do with his situation, he's wrong. It has everything to do with it, beginning solely with their close friendship and doubly with the fact both of them used Brian McNamee as a trainer.
Up until Clemens' lawsuit against McNamee, accusing his former trainer of defamation, it was a Clemens-vs.-McNamee kind of deal. All observers were whirled up into the argument of he-said, he-said which is a spinning argument only circumvented by the occasional press conference and public statement made by one or the other.
"60 Minutes" didn't help Clemens' image. Neither did his taped conversation of McNamee, which has all but egged on critics and cynics after the potential hall of famer's head for creating more questions and not answering any.
McNamee, purportedly holding all of the cards, has been caught slightly off guard by Clemens' taped phone call. The listening session at Monday's press conference neither helped nor hurt what Clemens was trying to portray: an unreliable, emotionally dysfunctional ex-friend who is broken up about outing his former employer.
Only one part of that can be construed as remotely true.
The bottom line is, in all of Clemens' attempts to reconcile his persona and fight for his respectability in the court of public opinion, he has failed to unequivocally answer the most important question in the proper context: How are the fans supposed to believe you when Pettitte has admitted to what you so vehemently deny?
Quickly and with humility, Pettitte responded to accusations of steroid use by admitting what he thought was appropriate, one to two days of Human Growth Hormone for injuries sustained.
Nothing more, nothing less.
Although it's not an indictment of the pitcher's career or an indication of his actual steroid use, it is a glimpse of his willingness to be open and up front. Those are two traits we have yet to see from the alleged stars of the game, including Clemens and cheater No. 1 (guess who).
Eight days went by before we heard from Clemens, which was a simple call for no rush to judgment. OK.
Two weeks later, he posts a video denial answering no pertinent questions. Strange, but OK.
Almost a month after the Mitchell Report, he goes on "60 Minutes" and admits to being injected with B-12 and Lidocaine, presumably a harmless admission. He also vehemently denies Pettitte has anything to do with him, as if their buddy-buddy relationship never existed.
A day later - 25 days after the Mitchell report was released (on the advice of counsel) - Clemens faces the world in his press conference. What is revealed is of no significant importance.
Truly, this isn't a surprise.
Because of all of the posturing and positioning, selective answers and controlled responses, it's hard to put Clemens in any other position than as a man who has been calculating from Day 1 how to be above the fracas.
The man who prides himself on his hard work ethic, now prides himself on doing the best he can to win over his good name. His suit against McNamee is his best bet. Answering the media's questions will only poke more holes in his argument.
And if he's true to his word, and goes before Congress under oath, he will seem open. But the X factor will come up again.
The fate of this storied pitcher lies in Pettitte's lap. He can either bury his friend, by telling what he knows when he's likely subpoenaed, or exonerate him and leave the rest of us with questions if he says he knows nothing.
Clemens needs all the friends he can find. Would it surprise you that his fate is in the hands of his best friend? Furthermore, would it surprise you that this friend may be afraid of possible perjury charges as well?
Is it too much to ask for people to tell the truth - at all?
ooo
Zuri Berry is a sports writer at The Union. His column appears Wednesdays. Contact him via e-mail zberry@theunion.com or by phone at 477-4244. You can also read his blog online at TheUnion.com.
