It probably would be handier if subtitles flashed underneath as Roger Clemens speaks, but I think we can deduce this much from his pregame damage-control press conference at Fenway Park late yesterday afternoon: He knows what he wants, and what he wants is a four-year contract. It doesn't seem to matter whether said contract offer comes from the Boston Red Sox, Texas Rangers or Yomiuri Giants. Roger definitely has a four-fixation.
Everything else is subject to interpretation, evaluation and just plain recorrection.
Let us take, for example, the issue of Roger's 34th and final start of the 1996 season. That trip to the mound is scheduled for Saturday against a certain hated rival from the Bronx. There is nothing substantially wrong with any of his body parts that we know of, and yet late Monday evening/early yesterday morning, he floated the possibility that if there is nothing tangible at stake in a team sense, he might pass the start along to someone else. Roger being Roger, he couldn't let it go at that. No, not Roger. He also said that ``I don't know where I'm going to be next year and I don't have a job.'' And how about this? ``Obviously, I'd like to pitch another time at Fenway, but I know I'm going to get a call from the Hendricks brothers at home, too.''
Oh, that's great.
A reference to his Houston-based agents prompted arched eyebrows from Caribou to Cos Cob. Fans don't want to hear about agents. Was Roger saying he might consider not pitching a game in which he is healthy enough to perform, on the advice and counsel of Randy and Alan Hendricks? And would Roger be suggesting such a thing if he had a significant interest in re-signing with the Red Sox?
The answers, I believe, are ``apparently'' and ``I don't think so.''
Now we don't know for sure that we've already seen Roger's last Red Sox performance. During the course of his dugout seminar, I believe he crossed and recrossed the conversational Rubicon a half-dozen times. Why, yes, he would gladly pitch if the Red Sox are still in it. But he is talking to people back home (including ``siblings''), and they are advising him to, to, to, well, you know, no, to, well, you know ... And yes, he would pitch if the Red Sox are out of it but the Yankees haven't clinched. And then ``I anticipate pitching Saturday'' regardless.
``Don't make it more than it is,'' Roger advised.
The funny thing is that he means it. Every word of it. He means the yes, he means the no and he means the maybe. He never understands why we don't understand. Hence, ``don't make it more than it is,'' after detonating a mini-nuclear verbal weapon rife with long-range implications.
Left stranded on a raft in the middle of Lake Roger's choppy waters was the manager. As usual, Kevin Kennedy was able to impart a nothing-to-worry-about spin on the situation following a pregame closed-door powwow with his big righthander.
``Basically, things got blown out of proportion a little bit,'' Kennedy explained. ``He said what he said, but he didn't mean it in a negative way.''
Oh.
``If we need him,'' continued Kennedy, ``he'll pitch. We'll be hoping we're still in it. That's a no-brainer, as Roger said.''
Well, let's just say you're out of it. What then?
``We'll address that when we get to it,'' said Kennedy. ``But I think we'll see him pitch again.''
What's important here is not the act of pitching or not pitching in game No. 161. What's important is what threatening not to pitch if physically able represents. The implication is that in his mind, Roger is saving himself for something, or somebody, and that somebody is more than likely not the 1997 Boston Red Sox.
The simple fact is that if Roger really wants to be here for the rest of his career and if he really wants to retire as holder of every significant Red Sox pitching record, he can easily make it happen. The Red Sox value him, as last night's pregame ceremony honoring his record 20-strikeout performances of 1986 and last week in Detroit attest. Last time I looked, the Red Sox didn't have any 24-year-old guys running around striking out 20 people. They understand the psychological and spiritual benefits he brings to the team. They understand the fact that to the general public, Roger Clemens is Mr. Red Sox. They are prepared to make him what you or I would consider a fabulous offer to remain in a Red Sox uniform.
Roger would not be so crass as to argue the money point. The problem is that Roger Clemens wants a four-year guaranteed contract and the Red Sox aren't prepared to do that.
Four, it's always four. Why four?
``I want to know where my family is going to be for the next four years,'' Clemens explained. ``This one-month, two-month thing is not working out for my family.''
Clemens is married and the father of four children between the ages of 1 and 9, and the translation is that he wants them to spend the next four years living in one spot for all 12 months, rather than the Boston-Greater Houston shuttle they undertake now. That's very admirable and sensible. But the Red Sox don't think giving a guaranteed four-year contract to a 34-year-old pitcher is a sound business practice.
A reasonable person would suggest some sort of compromise - assuming Roger really wants to stay in Boston. Mo Vaughn comes down a year (with an incentive-laden option for a fourth), the team throws a little more money his way, they do a little of this and a little of that, and life goes on.
That presupposes there is basic goodwill between employer and employee, which is not the case, as anyone listening to Roger rip into general manager Dan Duquette for his handling of the Mike Greenwell situation could attest. Duquette really has impressed this group of Red Sox players with his people skills, hasn't he? If anything were to happen to the seldom-smiling GM today, we could cross Tim Wakefield, Vaughn, John Valentin, Tim Naehring, Greenwell and Clemens off the list of potential pallbearers. Hey, guys, have I forgotten anybody?
To the direct question ``Do you want to be here or don't you?'' there was a five-minute Clemens response that included an affirmation to play four more years and a desire to ``attain'' a championship ring. Anyone waiting for him to say, ``Yes, for sure,'' is still waiting.
But the great misconception here is the idea that Roger will control his destiny. There may not be anyone willing to give him a four-year contract. In that event, Roger will rediscover that his best chance for day-to-day happiness will come by redonning a Red Sox uniform.
I, for one, would welcome that, and not just because I enjoy watching him pitch. I've invested 12 years in an attempt to decode him, and I want to see this project through.
This story ran on page f1 of the Boston Globe on 09/25/96.