Bat-chucker's rampant butt talk

Roger Clemens' butt, the source of so much attention, before he apparently worked it off and put it on the line.

I’m worried about Roger Clemens.

Oh, not about his alleged steroid use. I don’t think too many people are surprised by those stories.

No, I’m worried about his apparent obsession with butts -- both his own, and those belonging to rodents.

I’ve worked with middle school youth groups, and I’m painfully aware that boys of a certain age develop a fascination with the hind quarters and all of its assorted functions. Backsides become a frequent source of humor a handy insult.

Now that I work with high school youth groups, I sense that the boys have outgrown ass antics and have moved on to other obsessions, mainly dodge ball.

But Clemens, for all his riches and accolades, appears to have been unable to take his attention away from butts.

Let’s look at the record.

The real fornt page of the Trentonion. You just can't make this stuff up.

Former strength and conditioning coach Brian McNamee told George Mitchell that he injected Clemens at least 16 times with steroids and human growth hormone in 1998, 2000 and 2001.

Clemens acknowledged receiving injections from McNamee, however, he said they were vitamin B-12 and the painkiller lidocaine.

Where did he get these shots? You guessed it, in the butt. I don’t know about you, but I like my vitamins in pill form. Never once did I ask to have my Flintstones chewable ground up and loaded into a syringe.

And when I get a shot, I generally try to take it in the arm. It doesn’t hurt that much.

"Dude, keep your hand off the butt. It's sore."

I would note that the list of people I would allow to inject me with anything anywhere is pretty short and limited to doctors and nurses. A strength and conditioning coach doesn’t meet that criteria. But I digress.

Then we have Clemens’ unusual press conference-meltdown show Monday evening.

Forget for a moment the surreal 17-minute phone call where Clemens called McNamee and didn’t once say something like, "Brian, why did you lie?" One could argue that would be because he knew that McNamee didn’t, but we can discuss that later.

Because the more frightening thing happened after the phone call. The topic of conversation quickly turned to, you guessed it, butts.

Silly sports writers. They wanted to talk about steroids. Clemens would have no part of it.

"Do you think I played my career because I’m worried about the damn Hall of Fame?" he said, according to a published report. "You keep your vote. I don’t need the Hall of Fame to justify that I put my butt on the line and I worked my tail off, and I defy anybody to say I did it by cheating or taking any shortcuts, OK?"

So Roger both put his butt on the line, and then worked it off? If he worked it off, where did it go? And what if he needed to put it on the line again? I realize it would be sore from all those vitamin and pain-killer injections, but to go through life buttless would be tragic.

Then the silly writers again wanted to talk about steroids, when whether the allegations would harm the legacy for which Clemens so dramatically sacrificed his butt. Having surrendered that behind, Clemens then turned his attention to varmint heinies.

"This is not about records or heroes or numbers. I could give a rat’s ass about that."

All this butt talk was apparently too much, because Clemens then ended the show and huffed out.

All this gives me a new appreciation for Shawn Estes, the former Mets pitcher. Actually. I previously had no appreciation at all for Estes, considering the 4-9 record and 4.55 ERA he gave us during his one year with the team.

But Estes was on the hill when Clemens made his return to Shea in 2002. Clemens, of course, by that time had drawn the wrath of Mets fans for his beaning of St. Mike Piazza, and hurling the broken bat Piazza’s way in Game 2 of the ill-fated 2000 World Series.

Joe Torre made sure that in subsequent interleague games, Clemens only faced the Mets at Yankee Stadium, where American League rules allow pitchers to avoid facing retribution for their head-hunting.

But Clemens finally had no choice but to pitch at Shea in 2002, and Mets fans — mostly me — wanted Estes to deliver a high hard one that would knock some sense into Clemens’ dome.

Estes apparently was under orders from Bobby Valentine to do just that. He didn’t, angering all of Mets fandom.

Today I give Estes credit. He wanted to nail Clemens where it would really hurt him, the spot apparently so important to Bat-chucker that it dominates his every thought and is the target for his fortifying vitamins.

Yup, Estes threw at Clemens’ butt.

Sadly, he missed. He is, after all, Shawn Estes. Maybe he should habe taken some B-12.