This time of year most kids are trudging back to school, reluctantly returning to once again counting down the days until vacation. Baseball season is long over and the biggest drama they’re facing is upcoming homework, projects and book reports. But one lucky group of kids gets to hold onto summer holiday a bit longer than the rest. Those kids have dedicated the summer, and probably much of their young lives, to the dream of playing baseball on the biggest stage. Each won their respective city, state, and regional qualifying tournaments and earned the right to represent their hometown in the Little League World Series.
Wide eyed and full of ambition, every last week of August youngsters from around the globe descend upon South Williamsport, Pennsylvania for the only youth sporting spectacle that still captures the imagination of grown men. At that age every kid with a hat and glove thinks he can make it to the big leagues and they play with that spirit every pitch. We know the action we’re watching might not be Major League-sized, but the heart and excitement sure is.
This is also the time of year when most former MLB stars are perfecting either their pennant-chase commentary or their backswing. Shoot a Rogaine commercial here, a charity golf round there. Life is good, and at least publicly, problems are at a minimum. But some legends just don’t quit, they have to keep fighting because it’s all they know. They have battled all their lives and just because they’re no longer doing it in a uniform doesn’t mean they’ve surrendered. Such is the case of Roger Clemens.
On Monday the Rocket will be a world away from his Roger Clemens Foundation charity golf tournaments and silent auctions, facing a federal arraignment on charges of perjury, making false statements and obstruction of Congress involving his use of performance-enhancing drugs. This is one jam his seven-time Cy Young-winning arm won’t be able to get him out of. The evidence against him is substantial: his name was listed on the infamous Mitchell Report and former strength coach Brian McNamee and old buddy Andy Pettite have both testified under oath to his use of the juice, despite Clemens’ and his attorney’s steadfast denials. Clemens has approached this entire situation the same way he faced ornery batters, with smoking chin music and a Texas-sized “fuck you.” He first attacked McNamee; calling him “a troubled and unreliable witness” while filing defamation litigation against him, then his agent released an 18,000-word memorandum statistically justifying Clemens’ superhuman post-prime performance. If the guy would brush back his own kid after hitting a spring training bomb off his pops, why wouldn’t he come out swinging against Congress? It makes you wonder if he’ll be getting his traditional bull snortin’ rubdown before his arraignment Monday.
All this suit-wearing obnoxiousness has Clemens now labeled a villain even though the same swagger was vaunted when his pinstripes came with a “21” attached. It would seem that something as pure and innocent as the Little League World Series could not be further across the hardball universe from Roger Clemens’ tainted attainments. Let us not forget though, that the Little League World Series is not without its own controversies. In 2001 the “Baby Bombers” were led by oversized and over-aged hurler Danny Almonte, whose illegality eventually led to the expunging of his team’s third place finish. Of course, this was not discovered until after the conclusion of the tournament, after being given the key to the city, after being honored by Roger Clemens and his Yankees before a Bronx home game. Similarly, Clemens’ indiscretions were not officially revealed until long after the Cy Young trophies, the World Series rings and the All-Century recognition had all been adorned. And that’s not even the darkest stain on the Little League World Series’ past. That standard was set by 1992 would-be champion Zamboana City of the Philippines, who after trouncing the competition and returning home as heroes were exposed for various age and location ineligibilities.
It’s easy to paint these two scenarios as everything right and wrong with baseball, starring the Little Leaguers as grass-stained cherubs and Clemens as the pitchfork wielding demon, fiery testicles and all. If only it were that simple. But everyone knows some crazy Little League parent using the organization to ruin their child’s life and it is indisputable that Clemens was a complete badass on the mound. His desire not only to win but to utterly humiliate anyone with the gall to challenge him is something any red-blooded competitor can admire. Those kids in South Williamsport could learn a lot about determination and playing to win from the Rocket, even if he is making an ass out of himself while the 12-year-olds get glorified on national broadcast television.
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Brett Phelps is a regular writer for The Golden Sombrero who splits most of his time between the Land of Enchantment and the Biggest Little City in the World and contributes weekly to You Been Blinded. Known in other circles as Slo-Mo and Captain Buck Nasty, he is a wandering gypsy and amateur conspiracy theorist. He likes skiing, getting thrown out of sporting events, and long walks on the beach. He hates being in handcuffs, as this is usually a sign he will spend the night in jail. Any questions, comments, concerns, love or hate mail can be sent to him at brettsta04@yahoo.com
