Word: rogerism
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Sunday’s game was just the latest example. Once again, Roger Clemens took the mound for the Yankees and New York prevailed. Once again, one thing had nothing to do with the other...
...because of the fact that he’s old as dirt, Clemens remains the sentimental favorite. Forget the fact that by this logic, Jamie Moyer might make an even better candidate than Clemens; Roger, somehow, remains the darling of the media. It’s enough to make me cringe in disgust. The playoffs aren’t supposed to figure into the balloting, but when I see guys like Randy Johnson and Curt Schilling—both of whom have dominated this October—contending for the same award as Clemens, it just doesn?...
Some will defend Clemens, pointing to the hamstring injury that suddenly flared up as soon as Oakland starting wailing on him in Game One of the ALDS. Who knows, maybe Roger actually was playing hurt. With Clemens, though, it’s always something—a pulled groin, a sore hamstring or a hangnail. By now, Roger is pretty much the boy who cried wolf. And whether he fakes his injuries or not, whether he asks out of games or not, the reality is, for one reason or another, he always disappears when the game is on the line...
...Yankees are a team of clutch performers, no doubt about it—Roger just isn’t one of them. Bernie Williams is a clutch player. So is Derek Jeter. And Andy Pettitte. And Mariano Rivera. And, I suppose, Scott Brosius. Hell, I will even buy Luis Sojo...
...Roger. In the history of sports, there might not be any other player who has ever been along for the ride more so than him. This postseason, like so many others before it, has revealed himself for what he truly is—a sidenote. The idea that he “carried” the Yankees at any point this season is laughable. So, too, is the thought that he might win a sixth Cy Young by virtue of a win-loss record that is more inflated than Don Zimmer...