Roger and Me

I was at a Sox game two weeks ago or so with a buddy of mine when the subject of Roger Clemens' recent return to Fenway came up. For those of you who missed his appearance in the Monster Seats mere days after his acquittal on charges of perjury, check it out here. I'll wait until you get back.

...

Okay, so his reappearance at Fenway was the subject of a brief discussion, and we were talking about the reception the Rocket got - a mixture of cheers and boos, with the boos seemingly a little louder. I was about declare that I too would have booed Roger...but a funny thing happened on the way to my statement. I thought honestly about how I would react to seeing the guy in the same ballpark, displayed on the videoboard. And I realized something that I had never really given much thought to before.

So instead of saying I'd vehemently boo Roger, I said I'd give him a quick cheer, a few claps, and then be done with it.

You see, Roger was my childhood hero.

I can't really remember why. I can't even really remember being a demonstrative supporter. My only reminders are a small poster of Roger in our basement, a photo of me at about age 5 standing next to my grandparents' TV with the image of Roger walking off the mound frozen in time, and the fact that 21 was long my favorite number. But for whatever reason and however I demonstrated it, he was my favorite player.

It remained that way even after he was famously declared to be in the twilight of his career and allowed to leave for the Blue Jays, where he immediately showed he wasn't anywhere close to said twilight by winning back-to-back Cy Youngs and pitching Triple Crowns.

It even remained that way - somehow - when he was traded to the archrival Yankees and, among other things, first concussed Mike Piazza and then threw a shattered bat at him, claiming he thought it was the ball. Not only that, but he won the championships he never did with the Sox.

It remained that way through the Houston years, and even through what Suzyn Waldman described as possibly the most dramatic thing she'd ever seen - aka his return to the Yankees in 2007. To be fair, he was no longer my favorite by that point, but I at least still liked him.

That all changed with the Mitchell Report and Roger's descent into just a general attitude of complete surliness. I can't pinpoint when exactly it happened, but the knowledge that Roger had potentially used performance-enhancing drugs, proceeded to allegedly perjure himself in front of Congress, and had become an all-around unlikeable guy was enough to break whatever sentimental connection I still had with old Number #21. Much like A-Rod after his slap of Bronson Arroyo's glove in the '04 ALCS, I found myself having lost all respect for Roger.

And I suppose that along with that loss of respect, I always just kind of assumed I'd boo him if given the chance. Yes, I know that according to the government, he didn't take performance-enhancing drugs (or at least argued better in court), despite many baseball fans feeling the complete opposite. But my general dislike of the guy overrode all that, and it just seemed accurate to assume any cheer I gave Roger would be of the Bronx variety.

But in those moments where I hesitated and actually thought about what I was going to say to my friend on the matter, I realized something. Me having no respect for Roger took nothing away from the several years I had idolized him, and from all the joy he had brought me as a kid. And that, to me, seemed important to remember.

So that's why I ended up saying what I said to my friend. It would be a tribute to the heroic figure from my childhood, not the surly alleged cheat of the present day. The Clemens of today would get enough tribute from me in the form of silence. But the Roger of my childhood would get that quick cheer and those few couple of claps, just as a reminder of what once was. To ignore that and focus exclusively on more recent events would be folly. The measure of a man's life, as much as it may be influenced by one single moment or even a string of them, is not defined by that. It's defined by the whole thing, both the good and the bad. To me, Roger has been both. It would only be appropriate for me to acknowledge both.