The Rocket, Roger Clemens' Journal|
[Most Recent Entries]
Below are the 13 most recent journal entries recorded in
The Rocket, Roger Clemens' LiveJournal:
|Monday, October 17th, 2005|
Haven't felt much like writing. Thanks to all of you who wrote about my mom. It's still hard to believe she's gone even though she was so sick for so long, but she fought until the very end and that's all you can do. She was always there for me and probably forgot more about baseball than I'll ever know. Even now I find myself calling her house before I remember.
It's hard for me to enjoy what's happening because of that. Maybe if this had been the first time I'd be going to a World Series it'd be different, but I have my rings. I know I'm getting ahead of myself because we have to win tonight, but Andy's on the mound and his knee is back in shape. Hell, if he hadn't gotten hit we probably would have swept. This is a good group of guys who have pulled together all year and I'm proud to be a part of this, but I miss looking into the stands and seeing Mom there.
And yeah, it's making me think retirement. Suddenly I feel tired and old, and I've never felt that way. And it'd be nice to go out on top, with another ring. I know some people are talking about me getting another Cy Young because of the ERA, but I think either Carpenter or Willis should get it, they made a bigger difference.
My mom would have wanted me to be excited that I'm part of what might be the first Astros team to go to the World Series. For her sake, I'll try.
|Sunday, July 31st, 2005|
Haven't written here in a while. It's been busy and unlike some guys (Schilling) I don't spend my life fucking off on the internet, but people have been asking me how it's going so here I am.
First off, that RocketRocksAndy thing is bullshit. I've been told that's the cool thing for the kids to do, write about actors and people banging each other, but when I have to hear about it from my sixteen-year-old it stops being funny. Kody learned very quickly that he's still not big enough to give his old man shit, and that's all I'm saying. Jesus, some people really need hobbies.
Koby seems to be doing well in Greenville. Debbie's disappointed that he didn't go to Austin, but he's never really been much of a student--he was smart enough to get decent grades but didn't really work hard--and I think this'll give him a kick in the ass. Rookie league is all-night bus rides and four guys in a shitty hotel room in the middle of nowhere. Austin would have given him a better draft position and probably entry into Triple A, which is why I wanted him to go. I got drafted out of high school too, but in the low rounds. Two years at Austin, I got a College World Series and was a first round pick. But I have to remind myself that he's an adult and can make his own decisions. We've been to a couple of games, but it's weird not having him in the house. Kasy really misses him. He always followed Koby around, and when we went out last week he was crying because he didn't want to go home without Koby. My brother Randy and I had kind of the same relationship and there's about the same age difference between Koby and Kasy as there is with me and Randy, so I feel for the kid. Kody and Kory have been giving Kasy shit about it, but they miss him too. And Debbie's on the phone or the computer with him every time I turn around. We talk a couple times a week. It makes me feel old to know that my eldest is out on his own, and I can hear the difference in his voice. The papers talk about us playing together, but I don't see us pulling Griffey stuff. Besides, in all likelihood he'll be traded to another system. The kid's got a great eye, I know he can hit major league pitching, but I'll be damned if he gets a hit off me.
As for me, I'm feeling good. Had some trouble with cramps in my back the other day and didn't throw that great, but it was enough to win. You can feel the excitement coming back though. Ensberg is unbelievable, Lancey's back to his old tricks, Andy's totally in a groove. I think if we keep playing like this we'll give the Cards a run for their money. Man, it'd be good to get back to the Series. Get one more ring with my hometown team, then hang it up and go out on top. I'm going to be 43 on Thursday, and I plan to celebrate sitting in the stands in a little southern town with my family and watch my eldest play ball.
|Friday, June 17th, 2005|
Writing this on the plane back to Houston. It's been a while. Just concentrating on the game and the kids. Koby graduated Memorial a couple weeks ago. It felt weird to watch him walk in his cap and gown to get his diploma, remembering the night he was born. I bust his balls a lot, but he's a good kid and hopefully will be a better man. We threw a party at the house and invited pretty much the whole class, even though Debbie and I had to play liquor police all night. We gave him a new H3 since that's what he wanted. Kory's all happy because he'll get the H2. I know some people think that's excessive, but one girl got a fucking Bentley
. A fucking quarter of a million dollar car for an eighteen-year-old. That's just insane.
And damn if the Astros didn't draft him in the eighth round. I kind of think it was symbolic, but Koby is doing some thinking. I have to keep reminding myself that he's a man and can make his own decisions, but as his father I really want him to go to college rather than just plunge right into it. He's got what it takes to be a major leaguer, but at Austin he can really hone his skills.
I actually got some run support tonight, although it was the Royals who suck even more than we do. I'm glad the trade rumors have gone away--now I actually get asked about the game instead of whether or not I'm going to the Yankees. Of course, I'm not happy about how things are, but Lancey seems to be coming around and we're getting hits when we need them.
Tired. I'll be home soon.
|Wednesday, May 25th, 2005|
I hate groin pulls. I don't know what the hell I did, but I felt it go right as I released the ball. It's not torn, but it hurts like a bastard. I'll just stay off it and get treatments so I'll be okay for my next start.
We blew another one last night--I left with a 2-0 lead which Lidgey promptly proceeded to fuck up. We're still not hitting for shit. Oswalt pitched a terrific game Sunday--and lost, 2-0. Andy's elbow is messed up so we had to call up some kid from Round Rock who got lit the fuck up. Bags is done for the year and probably his career, poor bastard. Berkman stares at balls like he's never seen them before, and fucking MORGAN ENSBERG is our best hitter. And goddammit, I have the lowest ERA I've ever had in my ENTIRE FUCKING CAREER AND I'M ONLY 3-2. Jesus, even when I was in Toronto and they were sucking they at least gave me decent run support.
I'm going to go sit in the whirlpool before I get even more pissed off.
|Friday, May 13th, 2005|
Checking in. I've been busy working with Andy. Still getting no goddamn run support. Still not going to the fucking Yankees so you can stop asking. Debbie's fine, kids are fine.
|Tuesday, May 10th, 2005|
At least we were on the GOOD side of a 2-1 game for once. I found my rhythm pretty early last night, but it sucks to come off the mound after seven good innings and think "Shit, how are we going to blow it this time?" I know the guys are trying, but it's damn frustrating, particularly when you see Beltran and Kent belting away. Yeah, way to go losing our two best hitters. Lancey's still not in the groove and everyone else is piddling around. Kent's an asshole, but he's an asshole that can hit.
And goddammit, why am I still getting e-mails about the Yankee thing? Jesus, what part of I'M NOT GOING TO THE FUCKING YANKEES aren't you assholes understanding? At least the media's shut up about it. For now.
I'm playing in a charity tournment today down at the Oaks. Bush Senior's in my foursome supposedly. I hope he doesn't ask me about the Yankee thing, because I'd hate to have to go off on a former president. Don't think I wouldn't though.
|Sunday, May 8th, 2005|
So ESPN calls me about five times Friday afternoon, wanting to interview me so I could set the record straight about the trade rumors. To get them off my ass, I said okay and sat down for a couple hours with some kid. I thought I got my point across pretty well, that I'm happy in Houston and I want to help out here, and if there's some sort of trade-me-if-the-team-blows clause in my contract I don't know much about it, which is the truth. The kid asked me, and I quote, "Let's just say that it exists and you can choose where you want to go. Are the Yankees the only team that you would consider?" I told the truth again and said yes. I enjoyed my time there, I still have friends on the team, I respect Joe Torre. But then I said, "but it's not going to happen."
I should have fucking known that ESPN would chop everything up and make that the highlight of the piece and leave out my comments. Good thing the kids had taken Debbie out for her Mother's Day brunch thing because I damn near put my foot through the TV.
Once and for all--I'M NOT GOING TO THE FUCKING YANKEES. My contract is with the Astros and I'm committed to the team. Even if we did lose 16-0 to the fucking Braves today. Jesus, even my youngest came up to me and said "Dad, are we going back to New York?"
I'm starting to understand why Barry Bonds hates the fucking media.
|Friday, May 6th, 2005|
Goddamn McLane. Yeah, I know, he's the owner, signs my checks, blah blah blah, but he has to go and make like we had some sort of secret deal to let me go to another team if the Astros started sucking and as a result I've had to take phone calls all damn day. I mean, I'm on the damn course
and ring, ring, here's ESPN, "Roger, are you going back to Boston?" I'm trying to relax and play golf here, not deal with bullshit. One asshole practically came out and said I was lying when I said there was no deal like that. "Oh, yeah, like you were really going to retire your last year with the Yankees."
Screw this. I make my decisions when the time comes to make them and not a moment before. I do what's best for myself, my family and my career. Sorry if I don't let everyone know beforehand.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to play basketball with my boys--or maybe throw a football. If that's okay with you that I can change my mind. Assholes.
|Thursday, May 5th, 2005|
We lost again. Blew a fucking three-run lead because Garner insisted on putting Lidge in. You know, Lidge--the guy who had fucking PNEUMONIA last week and sounded like he was hocking up a lung. No goddamn run support, either. Lancey's finally coming back though. Maybe we'll get some offense for a change.
This sucks. We're almost as bad as the fucking Diamondbacks. Fuck it, I won't even watch the Atlanta games because I know we're going to get our asses handed to us. It'll be like fucking batting practice for them.
I'm going to work out now, so I can stay in shape for those 2-1 losing games. Fuck.
|Wednesday, May 4th, 2005|
I read the ESPN column that says I'm being wasted in Houston. Listen, any team can have a crappy April. If we're still sucking in August, then I'll worry.
I'm pitching tonight, so I'll just take a run today. My arm feels good. I just hope I can get some run support and they don't leave me hanging like they did in Chicago.
And I went out this morning and got the Trojans for Koby. During the game last night I had to go out to the truck to get something and he and Amanda were out there making out. The look on his face when I knocked on his window was fucking priceless--it was all I could do not to laugh. But things looked like they were getting heavy, so maybe Debbie's right to be concerned. All I know is he came downstairs this morning and turned bright red the second he saw me.
Damn--I have a kid who's old enough to get laid. Scary.
|Tuesday, May 3rd, 2005|
Good game last night--Andy was cruising, and for once the team gave him some runs. There's nothing worse than pitching your guts out and getting nothing to back you up, which seems to happen to me every time I start these days. As far as Andy's problems with the split-finger, I think his elbow's still bothering him. Not as bad as before, but it doesn't take much. I've been damn lucky not to have had a serious injury, but I train my ass off and that helps. Oswalt sprained his foot the other night, and there's a new kid, Pistachio or something like that, starting tonight. I haven't talked to him--he's from the Dominican Republic and my Spanish blows.
It's family night--out to Angelo's for barbecue and then to Kory's all-star game. Koby's bringing his girlfriend Amanda; they started going out a couple of months ago. Debbie and I are kind of keeping an eye on it because he seems like he's really into her and his schoolwork's slipping a bit. I don't think they're having sex, but Debbie's all worried that they are. Hey, the kid's almost eighteen and he's off to Austin in the fall, he's going to get laid before the year is out. I know when I first hit Austin I had pussy coming out my ears. Those sorority girls, damn. I'll be a good dad and pop a box of Trojans in his glove compartment.
|Monday, May 2nd, 2005|
This laptop is pretty cool. Makes people think that you're doing important shit. No wonder Schill likes it so much.
Andy's pitching tonight, which is why I'm here at the park. He's doing something weird with his split-finger fastball and guys are just blasting it out of here, so I told him I'd take a look and see if we can make adjustments.
When the hell did Boomer get to be such a whiny bitch? I was messing with him and all of a sudden he got all serious and started using big words. I still think that's Nina, though, because she gets all touchy about stuff like that. Whatever. Boomer started the shit about me and Andy--well, him and that fucking Simmons twerp who writes for ESPN. Let me lay it on the line right now--if you want to be gay, fine, but that's not my scene. Andy's a good kid and a pitcher who has a chance to be one of the greats, and I enjoy coaching him and mentoring him. The thing with Houston was in the works for a while because I saw the writing on the wall and wanted to leave New York on good terms. And Andy didn't like New York at all and Steinbrenner was starting to get on his ass, so when I was talking with Houston I mentioned that Andy was nearing the end of his contract. And that's all it was. It's not like he sucked; he won 20 games his last year with the Yankees.
People will think what they want, so I don't give a shit. Boomer's just getting sucked into the Boston hellhole and not liking it. That's why I got out.
|Sunday, May 1st, 2005|
A good day. Got in nine holes, then came home and got out of going to Kacy's soccer game because I wasn't in the mood to sit around and watch spastic little kids running after a ball. Debbie was kind of pissed at me, but she'll get over it. If she doesn't, I'll just remind her how difficult it is paying ten thousand dollar Neiman-Marcus bills when your only source of income is trying to con people into buying ugly jackets. Thank God for pre-nups.
Anyway, I figured I'd try this blogging thing. Schill, before he got so incredibly fucking annoying, was always going on and on about it, carrying around that damn laptop. Shit, if anyone wants to hear a pitcher's opinion they should hear mine, because everyone knows that if it wasn't for me Schill would be a drunken washed-up asshole instead of a World Series-winning asshole. No one gives a shit what he thinks about anything except for those idiots on that Sons of Sam Houston or whatever that thing in Boston's called.
People have asked me how I feel about the Sox finally winning the Series. Here's how I feel--I FINALLY have stopped getting shit for Game 6 of the 1986 Series. True, Buckner got it worse than I did, but every time it came up people were whining about how I pussed out. Look, I had a fucking BLISTER on my throwing hand. You go out there and throw a ball as hard as you can when you have RAW SKIN ON THE END OF YOUR FINGER and see how it feels. Of course, everyone was going on about Schill and the bloody sock, but knowing Schill he was probably so tanked you could have gut-shot him and he wouldn't have felt it.
Screw it. It's Sunday, I'm not pitching and I have the house to myself. I'm gonna grab a beer and replay my "SportsCentury."