The Racket. Rahjah. Team Bastard. All were intentionally derogative terms hurled at Roger Clemens and his agents. Having tickled our collective scrotum last time Clemens was a free agent, these twin (triple?) pillars deception kicked us squarely in the bollocks by signing with the Evil Empire. History shows that Clemens got what he wanted, a World Series ring, but it also shows that he received some shabby treatment from Herr Steinbrenner and also engaged in a curious, one-sided feud with Mike Piazza. (I agree with David Wells, if that’d been me, that shard of bat would still be jammed up Clemens’ arse).
As a result, Clemens became something of a pariah around these parts.
But then an odd thing happened. He retired, in all likelihood to allow the opportunity to compete in this year’s Olympic Games in Athens. Fate, it seems, is not without a sense of irony. The US Olympic team was dumped unceremoniously out of the qualifying stages and The Racket found himself without a gig for the coming summer. Then Andy Pettitte signed with Houston. Then a radio station gave him a Hummer (NTTAWWT). Then the town many called his own, finally embraced it’s wayward…umm…neighbour from 50 miles west.
All that love, five million dollars and the desire to have at least one more shot at Piazza was too much to resist. Drayton had his man, and almost instantly recouped his entire outlay in additional season ticket and merchandise sales. Meanwhile YankeeFan is choking on his own bile. It’s a story to warm the cockles of one’s heart. I can’t wait for the movie: with McLane and Clemens played by CGI renditions of James Stewart and John Ritter; Sauron’s Eye as Steinbrenner and the Leather Guy from the Village People as Mike Piazza.
Here’s a joke for you:
Funny Man: “I say! I say! I say! What is the secret of good comedy?”
Straight Man: “I don’t know. What is the secret of good com…”
Funny Man (cutting in): “Timing.”
Timing. The Yankees have suffered a minor reversal of fortune, losing some important players and (for once) not being able to plug the gaps with sure-fire replacements. The Braves, hobbled by a deliciously ironic bout of fiscal responsibility, have completely re-tooled their once-dominant starting rotation and don’t scare anyone with pitching any more. The Giants may have missed their window and can expect to see a drop in performance (although they’ll still most likely beat the crap out of the Astros, blindfolded, with o’ne hand tied behind their backs). The Marlins have had their customary post-World Series fire sale. The Cubs rode career years and un-Godly good health to a one-game win over the Astros in the Central, and may not have such a year in them again this year. The Dodgers still don’t have a slugger anywhere in their line-up. The Diamondbacks have lost Schilling, and even though Johnson remains, he has (finally) started to appear human. The Jakes finished behind Houston and Chicago last year, and have certainly not improved themselves thus far this winter.
…and Drayton McLane has thrown open the coffers and stacked the Astros with talent like never before.
Good timing? I think so. While there’s still plenty of challenge, both inside and outside the Division and League, almost all the once-mighty franchises have fallen back towards the pack. In the NL, perhaps only the Phillies can argue that they have improved significantly, but more than the Astros? Not in my humble opinion. Others have improved – particularly the Red Sox who look to be better equipped than the Yankees for the first time in quite a while – and many teams are not yet done jiggling the wires. At the time of writing, Maddux and Pudge remain floating in the free agent miasma and could easily tip the delicate balance of power depending on where they end up.
However, when Drayton looks in his mirror in the morning and asks himself “What have you done to be a Champion today?” he has a very good answer: “I perceived a parity amongst the contenders that we have not seen for a while, and spent what was necessary to thrust my club firmly into that group.” What happens next is down to the players and the BBGs, but it will be a lot of fun to go along for the ride.
I shall sign off now, but I shall leave you with this thought:
The whole fury and might of the enemy must very soon be turned on us now. Chicago knows that it will have to break us in this city or lose the division. If we can stand up to it, all Houston may be free and the life of the world may move forward into broad, sunlit uplands. But if we fail, then the whole world, including the United States, including all that we have known and cared for, will sink into the abyss of a new Dark Age, made more sinister, and perhaps more protracted, by the lights of perverted science. Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties, and so bear ourselves that, if Houston and its Astros last for a thousand years, fans will say, “This was their finest hour.”