Absent witness’s words hit hardest
Thank goodness for Elijah Cummings, the congressman from Baltimore. His was the most rational voice on a day of petulant probing, political grandstanding and at times barefaced adoration from a House Oversight and Government Reform Committee pitching questions at Roger Clemens and Brian McNamee.
The circus on Wednesday took 4 hours, 41 minutes, but Cummings needed just a few sentences to say it all.
“If I walked in here,” he told Clemens, “and it was even-steven, you and Mr. McNamee, I must admit that the person I believe most is Mr. Pettitte.”
Forget about debating which witness appeared more credible, given statements on both sides are littered with discrepancies. McNamee is an admitted liar numerous times over. Clemens is a champion of selective memory who gave conflicting testimony in his deposition and avoided answering several questions directly Wednesday as he might a 3-0 count with the bases loaded.
But if you are going to believe Clemens’ claims that part of the Mitchell Report is false and that his former trainer, McNamee, didn’t inject him with steroids and human growth hormone several times between 1998 and 2001, you also must believe the pitcher’s close friend and former teammate, Andy Pettitte, lied when breaking one of sports’ sacred statutes.
And that, simply, isn’t believable for anyone not named Canseco.
Athletes are taught from a young age to honor a sort of bizarre code of silence and consider rats in a clubhouse the most despicable of all creatures. What they recognize as protecting the privacy of teammates often is viewed by the outside world as a pathetic excuse for not breaking rank, even when it supersedes doing what is right and, often, moral.
But it’s a policy embraced from the lowest levels of high school sports to the highest of professional teams. You can be accused of cheating, rape, theft, any such crime, and be assured teammates will have your back. Just don’t be tagged a traitor.
Pettitte wasn’t required to testify Wednesday, which is unfortunate. He supposedly was deemed a weak witness during deposition, but he probably was more an emotional wreck who last week admitted to taking HGH in 2004 after previously stating he used the drug on two occasions only in 2002.
But in that sworn deposition and later a signed affidavit, Pettitte said Clemens admitted to using HGH in a conversation 10 years ago.
It was in 2005 that Pettitte says Clemens changed his story and said his wife, Debbie, had used HGH and not him. “I said, ‘Oh, OK,’ or words to that effect,” Pettitte said in his deposition, “not because I agreed but because I wasn’t going to argue with him.”
Ask yourself: What motive would Pettitte have of throwing his best pal under a train of lies that forever have stained Clemens’ legacy by recounting a conversation only the two players and Pettitte’s wife knew about?
In the end, the one person you might have assumed would most protect and defend the seven-time Cy Young Award winner chose his conscience over some ludicrous code, the same person each side on Wednesday acclaimed for his honesty and sincerity. Good for Pettitte.
Bad for Clemens, who other than saying several times Pettitte misunderstood their conversation, had no solid response for why his friend testified as he did. Nor could he explain why his wife’s alleged use of HGH occurred two years after he told Pettitte about it. Really bad for Clemens.
Wednesday was predictable and peculiar and sad. Moments became heated. There was the drama of Clemens and his attorneys possibly tampering with a witness, a former nanny for the pitcher’s family. There was the split of most Republicans siding with Clemens and most Democrats with McNamee, which I suppose means more of those favoring red ties received autographed balls and photos the last few weeks. There were the typical star-struck egghead comments/praise for Clemens by shameful committee members.
But within all the nonsense stood the truth that one player refused to honor an absurd tradition of concealing facts for the sake of protecting a teammate.
“I have to live with myself,” Pettitte said in his deposition. “And one day, I have to give an account to God — and not to nobody else — of what I’ve done in my life. And that’s why I’ve said and shared the stuff with y’all that I’ve shared with y’all today — that I wouldn’t like to share with y’all.”
Elijah Cummings is right. If it’s even-steven between the two liars we saw squirming on television Wednesday, Pettitte breaks the tie.
Which is really, really bad for Clemens.
Ed Graney’s column is published Sunday, Wednesday, Thursday and Saturday. He can be reached at 383-4618 or egraney@reviewjournal.com.