Today in Slate, an open letter to former Red Sox pitcher (and tonight's starter for the National League in the All-Star Game) Roger Clemens, Roger and Me: Why I hate the greatest pitcher of all time.
But here's the real problem with your behavior: Fans like to think that players are giving it their all. All the time. I like to think that, anyway. But then I'm just a simple, good-hearted man, a man who wants to believe in heroes. How can I believe in heroes, Mr. Clemens, when the world is home to people like you? It's clear that you just try hard when you feel like it.
Sadly that seems to be the general state in sports these days, and why I tend to be a big fan of the hustlers still making names for themselves. I can relate to the author's anger. Also he calls The Rocket, "wicked fat." Ha ha ha. What is it with ballplayers? They're like the fattest professional athletes, with so many guts and bellies. I mean, if you're a nose guard, sure you've got a gut. But you're not supposed to dive and make a catch and run between bases. Wicked fat. Ha.