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Open Letter To Roger Clemens
Dear Roger,

Unless people have been living under a rock, they've been hearing about you, seven-time Cy Young Award-winning pitcher and future Hall-of-Famer, Roger Clemens, and whether or not you're going to pitch in 2006. They've been hearing it a lot, actually. It's getting kind of old. Like Tom Cruise old.

Remember when you retired back in 2003, your last year pitching for the Yankees? Then you came back in 2004 as a Houston Astro? That was kind of like when KISS embarked on their Farewell Tour in 2000. And remember how you said you would only sign as long as you got special treatment? How you would make the highest yearly salary ever given to a pitcher, but would not travel at all, except when you were pitching? That kind of made you look like a big pussy.

So you pitched two years with the Astros and are currently a free agent. You're the prettiest girl at the dance, and the Yankees, the Red Sox, and the Astros all want to sign you sometime during the 2006 season. I sure hope you've been enjoying the gift baskets.

But you say you may not pitch. But then again, you might. And if you do pitch, it'll only be for a winner. Because Roger Clemens is a competitor and a winner. But now it's mid-May, and you still haven't said when you'll come back if you do decide to pitch in 2006. I mean, that's lame. That's like being allowed to place a bet on the Kentucky Derby during the final furlong.

Your family needs you, you say. But if they warm to the idea, you'll pitch, you keep saying. Your kids need you. That would be Kory, Kody, Kacy, and Koby. If you gave a shit about your children, Roger, you would not have given them names that will get their asses beaten on a daily basis. And the whole K thing. Jesus, that's really fucking clever, Roger. We get it. Your penis is throwing heat. Twenty three more and you've got a no-hitter. I am glad you went for four, though, because I was thinking for a while you were a Grand Dragon in the Klan.

Why don't you just wait until the World Series and pick a team then? Or shit, how about this? Wait until strike two of the last out in the final inning of Game 7 and sign with the team that's in the lead. You can throw one fucking pitch and then just pull your pants down and let the losing pitcher give you a handjob.

Roger. Please put an end to this prima donna bullshit. If you want to play, play. I don't give a shit. But play like everyone else. Sit in the fucking dugout, bored to fucking tears, when the other guys are pitching. Get on the plane and travel with your teammates. They did it for years and years when you pitched, you fucking ingrate. Pick a fucking team you want to play for and start at spring training like everyone else. Be there, in the locker room, on the sidelines, for 162 games like everyone else.

If you do choose to play this year, and you do end up playing for the team that wins the World Series, Roger, a friend of mine suggested that they saw your World Series ring in half before they give it to you.

You know how people get cancer and then they go and get it removed? And the doctors are pretty sure that it's gone, and then later it comes back? And they have to go and get it removed again? And by then they're so sick of it, and tired. And they hope and pray that it never comes back again? That's kind of like you, Roger.

Unless, of course, you decide to pitch for the Red Sox.


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post #44
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