Rocket Fuel: Embracing the Untarninshed Part of Roger Clemens' Legacy

Remember, Roger?

Remember when you were "The Rocket"? Your name was etched into the palm of my first baseball glove. Number 20. The mitt was a hand-me-down from my cousin Will, and by the time I first felt its floppy rawhide over my sweaty palm, You were only a few years away from eating your way out of Boston. But I didn't care. You were The Rocket, the fearless, guiltless Texan who once struck out twenty batters in a single game. No one could touch you. Every time you took the mound, my heart hung on each strike, waiting and hoping to see the next "K," the next small proof of the greatness I was witnessing.

When Dan Duquette let Roger leave for the Toronto Blue Jays after the 1996 season, the Boston public was torn. Half, angrily hung onto nostalgia, and cited the second to last game he pitched for Boston, when he struck out 20 batters for the second time in his career, as cause to believe he would have turned it around. The other half, content to see him leave, chose to believe Duquette, who notoriously suggested Clemens was entering the twilight of his career.

I was devastated. As soon as I read the headline in The Boston Globe that Roger had signed with the Blue Jays, I threw my Roger Clemens glove into the deepest recesses of the garage. Roger had been a Red Sox since the day I was born. And now he was a Blue Jay? It just wasn't possible. See, the thing in Boston is that the Red Sox aren't just a team, they are an integral part of life. We live and die with them. When they won the World Series in 2004, never before have so many people in Massachusetts simultaneously proclaimed, "Now I Can Die In Peace!" and truly meant it.

The loyalty of the fan base is both a blessing and a bane for the athletes who play here. When they succeed for us, they are worshiped (see Tom Brady). And when they leave, there is a deep hurt, that festers as an eternal feeling of both scorn and resentment. Just ask Johnny Damon, who until 2005 was one of the most beloved players in Red Sox history. Then he left under similar circumstances to Roger and the fan base turned on him quicker than the last pitch he saw in a Red Sox uniform.

We are spiteful because we put our heart and soul into these men on this field, and we expect them to do the same for us. The late Will McDonough of the Boston Globe may have summed the feeling up best when he famously called Roger "The Texas Con Man." Roger had earned the love of the Boston fans. All he had to do was stay and he never would have lost it.

Watching Roger after he left was painful. He was the ex-girlfriend who lost twenty-five pounds right after the break-up, and then found someone who was better than we were. Every chance he got to make us regret dumping him, he took full advantage.

Spurned by Boston and resentful toward all those who doubted him here, Roger focused all of his anger on rebuilding his career. He adopted the intense workout regimen he's since become famous for, developed a split-fingered fastball to counter the loss in velocity, and went on to win four more Cy Youngs and two World Series rings. Worse yet, he won both rings and one of the Cy Youngs as a member of the New York Yankees.

Of course the pain was eased in 1997 when Pedro Martinez arrived in Boston, bringing with him a dazzling changeup, blazing fastball, and the kind of media friendly persona so rarely seen in Boston. And the pain was further eased in 2004 and 2007 when we won the World Series. But no matter what happened, one needs only to realize that no player has worn number 21 since Clemens left to see that we could never truly move on from Roger. Even as he piled up record after record, and Cy Young after Cy Young for other teams, each accolade was only a reminder of what could have been.

Until now.

The recent steroid allegations have cast a new light on Roger, one that potentially burns a scarlet asterisk next to every one of his accomplishments since he left Boston. All the guilt and regret we felt as we watched him become the greatest right handed pitcher of the modern era while wearing a non Red Sox uniform has been washed away.

His former trainer, Brian McNamee says that he cheated. And to be honest, it's really so good to hear that. Even if it turns out to be false in the end (which seems not to be the case at this point), it feels so good, like I just found out that the ex-girlfriend who was so much better off without me, actually lost the weight through liposuction and a tummy tuck paid for by the new boyfriend. I hope they have a great life together, but no matter what happens now, I can take comfort in the the knowledge that I had her first, back when she was still her real, unaltered self.

The same goes with Clemens. We had him first. He won three unquestioned Cy Youngs and an MVP here. The steroid allegations, for what they're worth to me, simply cast doubt upon everything he has done since.