Note: Not all of the stories in this blog will be about steroids. It's just the hot topic right now.
On Tuesday morning, Roger Clemens appeared on the "Mike and Mike in the Morning" radio show on ESPN radio to refute the claims that he took performance enhancing drugs. The topic has made its way to the forefront of the sports world again because a book entitled "American Icon: The Fall of Roger Clemens and the Rise of Steroids in America's Pastime" hits the book stores this week. Clemens failed to convince the masses that he didn't cheat, but he did manage to dig himself a hole that even his roid pumped body can fit in.
Although the accusations of his steroid use were made about a year and a half ago when the Mitchell Report was released, Clemens still attempted to bring new evidence of his innocence to light.
When asked if Brian McNamee ever injected him with steroids, Clemens said, "He’s never injected me with HGH or steroids. You know guys, let me just add to it. Common sense…our family has a history of heart conditions. My brother had a heart attack in his late 40’s, my step-dad died of a heart attack."
Unless new cutting edge research has recently surfaced that I'm unaware of, step fathers have nothing to do with family medical history. Clemens, a multi-millionaire, hired a public relations firm to help him deal with the release of the new book and to help guide him while he pleads his case. This means that everything he says is vetted in front of these public relations gurus who are getting paid hundreds of dollars an hour. I guess that one slipped through the cracks.
Andy Pettitte, who admitted to taking performance enhancers."once or twice" also said that Clemens took them. On this topic, Clemens said, "Andy misremembers and there’s only been a couple of times I’ve been in contact with Andy since then because of the legal issues and we’ll let that play out, we’ll let that play out that’s all I can say about it." Andy misremembers? Pettitte had nothing to gain from outing Clemens. He said what he said because he is a good ol' Christian boy who can't tell a lie.
Roger, you took steroids. You know it, I know it, and Mindy McCready, the 15-year-old aspiring singer you allegedly had a decade long affair with knows it. At one point in time, you were the best pitcher on the planet and you were beloved by the home fans and despised by your rivals for your unmatched work ethic and dedication to the game. Now, you've taken an extremely ungraceful fall from grace, but you still can't avoid the spot light. You continue to deny the use of steroids for the same reason you took them in the first place - you crave the attention. Your legacy is now in question and depending on how voters feel in five years, you may never make the Hall of Fame, despite having Hall of Fame talent before you cheated. Now you're embarrassing yourself even more as you shamelessly continue to lie to America. It's time to put your tail between your legs, go home to your ranch in Houston and sit on the stacks of money that you fraudulantly earned.
It's well documented that all of your kids first names start with the letter 'K' because you were indeed the king of strike outs. Well, if the steroids haven't left you sterile, and you have another kid, here are a couple of suggestions so your child's name can truly reflect your real legacy: Kon artist and Krook.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Sunday, May 10, 2009
On Manny Ramirez
Perfect timing. The pressure is off of A-Rod. He can come back to the line-up today and avoid the media firestorm, because now Manny Ramirez has also been caught with performance enhancing drugs. As a die hard Yankee fan, Manny has been a Hispanic thorn in my ass for the past 10 years. He broke the curse. He won two World Series with Boston, spurring them to create one of the worst phrases I've ever heard - Red Sox Nation. He's an arrogant, pompous, self-inflating ego-maniac who admittedly will play for the team that gives him the most money, even if it's the Tokyo Teabaggers. From a sports enthusiast's perspective (and near-purist) he represents everything negative about professional sports in America today. So why do I sit here, devasted over this?
For some strange reason, deep down in my heart I've always had a special place for Manny Ramirez. Of course, as described above, I have every reason to hate the guy. I should be rubbing it in every Rod Sox fans' face that yes, now it's official, Manny was juicing when the Red Sox won their titles. I should be relieved that it's not just Alex Rodriguez who has to shoulder the load of baseball's bad boy anymore. But I'm not. For some odd reason, I have always respected Manny Ramirez more than anyone else in professional sports. Why? It's two-fold: His honesty and his swing."
That's just Manny being Manny," is a phrase every baseball fan has heard. Unlike Alex Rodriguez and (God, you can send me straight to hell for this) Derek Jeter, Manny doesn't care about his image. He tells it like it is. Sure, he shoved a 60-year-old Red Sox assistant. Oh, "that's just Manny being Manny." So what if he quit on his team half way through the season last year, only to be traded and continue to go on to a devastating offensive tear right through the National League Championship Series. "That's just Manny being Manny." He doesn't care. He simply goes about his business, not caring what the world has to say about him. There is something professional and even admirable about this, in a world where image is everything and everyone sneaks around behind each other's back, making sure not to say the wrong thing to the wrong person.
From the right side of the plate, I challenge anyone to find a sweeter swing than Manny's. When Manny connects with a high hanging breaking ball and smashes it over the Green Monster, or now into the hot California breeze, it's near-perfection. They say the hardest thing to do in sports is hit a baseball, but at times, Manny made it look like he was hitting off of a tee. Manny tends to admire his work after hitting a home run a little longer than is sportingly acceptable. You would too if you could hit the ball 500 feet with the grace and artistic style of a Greek Titan.
But now, it's all for naught. Baseball was the most glorious sport of all for a guy like me. You could take your rough "manly" sports like football and hockey. I don't care about Lebron James buzzer beaters and windmill dunks. Just give me baseball. The history, the stats, the four hour nine inning games, ground-rule doubles, rally-hats, rally-monkeys, Yogiisms, Big League Chew. Americana. Since the news about A-Roid came out, I had held out hope that maybe Manny and Pujols were not on the juice. Maybe there was a shred of integrity left in my favorite pasttime. Now, Manny has become yet another racing stripe on the shit stain that is Major League Baseball. Everything about him is now false. His obnoxious, morale-killing swagger and his home runs. They're all false. This means both the feelings of hatred and love I had for Manny, have also gone by the way-side, and thus, not only has Manny been suspended for 50 games, but my boyish enthusiasm for a simply complicated game has also been suspended.
So while other Yankee fans rejoice, I have died a little bit more inside. Whether you like him or not, Manny helped define baseball for our generation, and up until now, at the very least, he was clean. As a baseball fan, I have to make a decision. Should I turn my back on a sport that has seemingly turned it's back on me? Self-admittedly, I've always been a little naive to the cut-throat world around me, and I've tried to create in my mind an environment that incubates the pure things in life, all the while denying and shunning the bad. This environment is now continuously deteriorating and the only thing that can help me is a heavy dose of NEDs: Naivete Enhancing Drugs.
For some strange reason, deep down in my heart I've always had a special place for Manny Ramirez. Of course, as described above, I have every reason to hate the guy. I should be rubbing it in every Rod Sox fans' face that yes, now it's official, Manny was juicing when the Red Sox won their titles. I should be relieved that it's not just Alex Rodriguez who has to shoulder the load of baseball's bad boy anymore. But I'm not. For some odd reason, I have always respected Manny Ramirez more than anyone else in professional sports. Why? It's two-fold: His honesty and his swing."
That's just Manny being Manny," is a phrase every baseball fan has heard. Unlike Alex Rodriguez and (God, you can send me straight to hell for this) Derek Jeter, Manny doesn't care about his image. He tells it like it is. Sure, he shoved a 60-year-old Red Sox assistant. Oh, "that's just Manny being Manny." So what if he quit on his team half way through the season last year, only to be traded and continue to go on to a devastating offensive tear right through the National League Championship Series. "That's just Manny being Manny." He doesn't care. He simply goes about his business, not caring what the world has to say about him. There is something professional and even admirable about this, in a world where image is everything and everyone sneaks around behind each other's back, making sure not to say the wrong thing to the wrong person.
From the right side of the plate, I challenge anyone to find a sweeter swing than Manny's. When Manny connects with a high hanging breaking ball and smashes it over the Green Monster, or now into the hot California breeze, it's near-perfection. They say the hardest thing to do in sports is hit a baseball, but at times, Manny made it look like he was hitting off of a tee. Manny tends to admire his work after hitting a home run a little longer than is sportingly acceptable. You would too if you could hit the ball 500 feet with the grace and artistic style of a Greek Titan.
But now, it's all for naught. Baseball was the most glorious sport of all for a guy like me. You could take your rough "manly" sports like football and hockey. I don't care about Lebron James buzzer beaters and windmill dunks. Just give me baseball. The history, the stats, the four hour nine inning games, ground-rule doubles, rally-hats, rally-monkeys, Yogiisms, Big League Chew. Americana. Since the news about A-Roid came out, I had held out hope that maybe Manny and Pujols were not on the juice. Maybe there was a shred of integrity left in my favorite pasttime. Now, Manny has become yet another racing stripe on the shit stain that is Major League Baseball. Everything about him is now false. His obnoxious, morale-killing swagger and his home runs. They're all false. This means both the feelings of hatred and love I had for Manny, have also gone by the way-side, and thus, not only has Manny been suspended for 50 games, but my boyish enthusiasm for a simply complicated game has also been suspended.
So while other Yankee fans rejoice, I have died a little bit more inside. Whether you like him or not, Manny helped define baseball for our generation, and up until now, at the very least, he was clean. As a baseball fan, I have to make a decision. Should I turn my back on a sport that has seemingly turned it's back on me? Self-admittedly, I've always been a little naive to the cut-throat world around me, and I've tried to create in my mind an environment that incubates the pure things in life, all the while denying and shunning the bad. This environment is now continuously deteriorating and the only thing that can help me is a heavy dose of NEDs: Naivete Enhancing Drugs.
About the Author
Name: Scott Miccio
Age: 23
Qualifications: B.A. in Journalism from The College of New Jersey
Sports Team Interests: First and foremost, I do not believe in the intra-city rivalries. So, while I'm a die-hard Yankee fan, I also root for the Mets. The Giants are my passion, but the Jets are also a hobby. I don't pay as much attention to basketball and hockey, but I'll root for all the local teams. The Eagles and Red Sox come in at the very bottom of my list.
Favorite Athletes: I arbitrarily declared Derek Jeter to be my favorite player at the ripe age of nine, before Derek even made it to the major leagues. Clearly, I made a good choice. Now that Derek is nearing the end of his career, I decided it was time to groom someone new to eventually take his place. I've chosen Mark Sanchez.
Mascot Obsession: I have a strange mascot obsession. The Phillie Phanatic is number one in my book. Runners up include Western Kentucky University's Big Red, the Syracuse Orangeman, the Stanford Tree, Wally of the (hated) Boston Red Sox, and the Michigan State Spartan.
Age: 23
Qualifications: B.A. in Journalism from The College of New Jersey
Sports Team Interests: First and foremost, I do not believe in the intra-city rivalries. So, while I'm a die-hard Yankee fan, I also root for the Mets. The Giants are my passion, but the Jets are also a hobby. I don't pay as much attention to basketball and hockey, but I'll root for all the local teams. The Eagles and Red Sox come in at the very bottom of my list.
Favorite Athletes: I arbitrarily declared Derek Jeter to be my favorite player at the ripe age of nine, before Derek even made it to the major leagues. Clearly, I made a good choice. Now that Derek is nearing the end of his career, I decided it was time to groom someone new to eventually take his place. I've chosen Mark Sanchez.
Mascot Obsession: I have a strange mascot obsession. The Phillie Phanatic is number one in my book. Runners up include Western Kentucky University's Big Red, the Syracuse Orangeman, the Stanford Tree, Wally of the (hated) Boston Red Sox, and the Michigan State Spartan.
The Pinstripe Post - A dream in the making
Welcome to The Pinstripe Post, the first ever blog dedicated to New York sports. Okay, it's not the first, and I cannot guarantee it will be the best either. However, I can promise updated content on a consistent basis from the point of view of a New York sports enthusiast. This blog will be an outlet not only for me to express sports opinions, but most importantly for you the readers to converse and debate. Expect wide ranging topics...everything is fair game. One day, I may blog about the possible financial implications of moving the Nets to Newark or Brooklyn, and the next day I may explain how David Wright's voice being so similar to that of Michael Jackson negatively impacts the Mets' chances of ever winning a World Series. I've always wanted to be a sports writer, and since that didn't work out, I'll settle for being a sports blogger. Ultimately, I hope the Pinstripe Post provides not only valid sports insight, but also a laugh and a tear here and there. I hope you enjoy becoming a fan of mine.
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