Projo Sports Blog

Now, about Roger Clemens. . .

I'm on blogging duty today, which means I've been drawn into the latest round of Clemens talk. We monitored his interview on ESPN's ``Mike and Mike in the Morning'' Show and it was fascinating, as so often is the case when Clemens speaks. It has become the topic of the day, perfect fodder for talk on the radio and over the water cooler.

In more than 30 years of covering sports, Clemens is one of the most memorable personalities I've ever dealt with, for two reasons.

One is that he is truly one of the greatest athletes I've ever seen. He was nothing short of fabulous as a pitcher and a competitor. He is not just a Hall of Famer, the seven-time Cy Young winner is one of the greatest in the history of the game. Beyond his talent, he was as tough a competitor, as determined an athlete, as could be found in any sport. His determination raised his performance to another level.

The second reason he is so memorable is because of his personality.

He has been different all along, but not in a positive way. There are two incidents in which I was personally involved I remember most.

Here they are. I will not comment. You decide what they mean.

One came in the Red Sox clubhouse in Fenway Park. It was the early 1990s, when I was one of the beat writers covering the Sox. I entered the clubhouse one summer night and was surprised to see Billy Andrade, the pro golfer from Rhode Island, standing at the locker in the corner of the clubhouse, the one nearest the manager's office.

It was Clemens' locker. Andrade was chatting with Clemens. The two had become friends when they played together in the PGA Tour event at Pebble Beach. They are still friends to this day.

I've covered golf much more than I've covered baseball. I've written about Andrade since he was 13 years old. When Andrade saw me, he called me over. He introduced me to Clemens. I had been covering the Sox for some time, so I had been around the team many times. But Clemens was not one to chat with reporters. He had no idea who I was.

With Andrade there, the discussion was all about golf. And Clemens was very different. He was pleasant and amiable. We chatted for 5 or 10 minutes -- all golf -- and had a nice time.

I thought the incident might help with my Sox duties. I hoped it would establish some sort of rapport with Clemens. The next night, I went out of my way to go to Clemens and strike up another golf conversation.

No chance. He was not interested. He looked at me, said something about leaving him alone, and turned away. For the rest of the time I covered the Sox, there was never another chat like the one when Andrade was there.

The second story also involves golf. It happened in Minnesota.

One of the perks of covering the Sox was getting to play a lot of golf on the road. The Sox had a lot of golfers on the team -- Clemens, Frank Viola, Greg Harris, Matt Young and Tom Brunansky among them. They loved to play on road trips. The late Bob Starr, one of the team's radio voices at the time, loved to play, too. When he found out I was a golf guy, he often invited me to play to fill a foursome. Starr and the writers never played with the players. Starr needed someone to fill out his foursome.

Anyway, on this day in Minnesota, Starr set up an outing to join some of the players. Another writer went along, as did one Starr's good friends from his days with the Angels, Moose Stubing. Stubing at the time was the Angels' advance scout.

The round was at Hazeltine, one of the top courses in the country. The previous year, it had been the site of the U.S. Open. It's a great course, one of the best I've ever played. But the course was not the biggest memory of the day.

As we were in the pro shop before teeing off, one of the assistant pros came over and said the fee was $50. We paid. The Sox players paid. All except for Clemens. The Sox rarely had to pay on such days. As players, they usually were guests of the course wherever we played.

Clemens obviously was not happy about being asked to pay. He said something to the golf pro, in effect, ``Don't you know who I am?'' The pro said he yes, he knew, but that everyone had to play.

The other Sox players saw what was happening and intervened. Someone, I think it might have been Viola, got Clemens' attention. He pulled him away and began showing him some of the new clubs in the pro shop. One of the other players, it might have been Brunansky, went to the pro and gave him $50 to pay for Clemens.

When everything was settled, the players went back to business as usual. The golf pro told Clemens everything was fine and we should all head out to the first tee.

The other players knew. It was just Roger being Roger.

 Tags  Bob Starr Boston Red Sox Frank Viola Roger Clemens steroids Tom Brunansky

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