Jon Heyman has a silly and superfluous column up today in which he attempts to turn a couple of random recent news stories involving PED-associated ballplayers into some big trend piece about PEDs in baseball. He references two guys — Mark McGwire and Jason Giambi — whose PED stories are years old, and then name-checks Melky Cabrera and Bartolo Colon. But heck, even he’s only half buying it:
It seems half the positive news so far regards folks with positive tests. Technically, that isn’t true. But it does seem that way.
Whatever. Everyone’s gotta write a column. It’s not even the worst one we’ve seen from a famous national writer today.But it does contain one passage which is as odious as it is wrong, and Heyman should know better:
Meanwhile, the Yankees are waiting on former HGH user Andy Pettitte, who is due to tell them any day whether he’d like to return for what promises to be a substantial raise from the $2.5 million he made last year after he announced his comeback in spring training.
That’s no surprise. He performed very well on the field after he came back, much better than he did in the courtroom, where he testified he couldn’t really recall whether Roger Clemens told him he had used HGH only one day after testifying Clemens did, in fact, tell him he used HGH.
Odd that he recalled a 10-year-old conversation one day, then couldn’t remember the same 10-year-old conversation the next day on the stand.
This is flat wrong. The “Pettitte changed his testimony” line was widely parroted (including by Heyman himself) last spring when Roger Clemens was acquitted. Some even went so far as to accuse him of perjury. But as I demonstrated the very day it happened, Pettitte did nothing of the sort. He didn’t change his story. Not one bit. You can read the details of that here. The short version: Pettitte was consistent for years. The prosecution overreached, mischaracterized what he said and tried to contort it to its own ends, but Pettitte’s story never changed.
Heyman should have known this then. He should definitely know it by now. The fact that he still clings to the idea that Pettitte lied under oath or changed his story is repugnant and demands a retraction.
People are the absolute worst sometimes. The latest example: someone stole one of Jose Fernandez’s high school jerseys, which had been displayed in his old high school’s dugout for a vigil last night.
That report comes from Anastasia Dawson of the Tampa Bay Times who covered the vigil at Alonso High School in Tampa yesterday. Her story of the vigil is here. Today she has been tweeting about the theft of the jersey. She spoke to Alonso High school’s principal who, in a bit of understatement, called the theft the “lowest of the low.”
The high school had one more Fernandez jersey remaining and has put it on display in the school. In the meantime, spread this story far and wide so that whatever vulture who stole it can’t sell it.
In an earlier post I made a joke about the Indians starting Dennis Martinez if forced to play a meaningless (for them) game on Monday against the Tigers. On Twitter, one of my followers, Ray Fink, asked a great question: If you had to hand the ball to a Hall of Fame-eligible pitcher to give you three innings, who would it be?
The Hall of Fame-eligible part gets rid of the recently-retired ringers, requiring a guy who has been off the scene for at least five years, ensuring that there’s a good bit of rust. I love questions like these.
My immediate answer was Mike Mussina. My thinking being that of all of the great pitchers fitting these parameters, he’s the most likely to have stayed in good shape. I mean, Greg Maddux probably still has the best pitching IQ on the planet, but he’s let himself go a bit, right? Mussina strikes me as a guy who still wakes up and does crunches and stuff.
If you extend it to December, however, you may get a better answer, because that’s when Tim Wakefield becomes eligible for the Hall. I realize a knuckleball requires practice to maintain the right touch and subtlety to the delivery, but it also requires the least raw physical effort. Jim Bouton went well more than five years without throwing his less-than-Wakefield-quality knuckler and was still able to make a comeback. I think Tim could be passable.
Then there’s Roger Clemens. I didn’t see his numbers for that National Baseball Congress tourney this summer and I realize he’s getting a bit thick around the middle, but I’m sure he can still bring it enough to not embarrass himself. Beyond the frosted tips, anyway.
So: who is your Space Cowboys-style reclamation project? Who is the old legend you dust off for one last job?