Two Windows Into Baseball's Dark Side

In the book, American Icon, Roger Clemens is portrayed as a fallen idol whose obsessive drive to be the best pitcher in baseball led him to rely on steroids and human growth hormone, choices that entangled him in a web of lies and eventually exposed him as a narcissistic cheat and, possibly, a criminal. It is a fascinating, exhaustively researched exposé of baseball's corrosive drug culture and the damage it did to Clemens, the people around him and, especially, to the game.

In the book, A-Rod, Alex Rodriguez is portrayed as a flawed superstar whose relentless drive to be the best player in baseball led him to experiment with steroids from an early age, a decision that would highlight both his vanity and insecurities. It is a revealing, salacious peek inside the bizarre, flimsy bubble in which Rodriguez lives.

Two books, nearly 700 total pages (the list of sources at the end of American Icon is as long as some driver's manuals), and by the time you're finished skimming through the tomes you'll wish man had never decided to hit a ball with a stick. This is no light summer beach reading. This is the sort of reading that makes you want to take a hot shower and vow off organized sports forever.

Baseball is hardly the only sport immersed in scandal, and the New York Yankees are hardly the only team to employ athletes determined to do whatever it takes to win and get rich, get famous, get groupies and, if they're unlucky, get humiliated when their sins are revealed. But if Clemens and Rodriguez had spent the bulk of their glory years with, say, Kansas City, their peccadilloes and illegal drug use might have remained secret.

Now, thanks to the four New York Daily News investigative reporters who wrote American Icon, we know that Clemens' perfect life is a house of cards; much like Barry Bonds, Clemens had a coterie of mistresses happy to kiss-and-tell and yes-men who lived in the shadows, supplying him with performance-enhancing drugs that would extend his Hall of Fame career and add an extra tens of millions to his bank account. But unlike Bonds, Clemens' trainer/drug guru chose to cooperate with federal investigators rather than go to jail. Brian McNamee, a former New York City cop who later became Clemens' confidant and trainer, provided some of the book's detailed revelations, while many more were culled from congressional depositions, medical files, interviews and thousands of pages of court documents.

(Full disclosure: I used to be a columnist with the Daily News, and Teri Thompson, one of the book 's authors, was my editor. The other authors are Nathaniel Vinton, Michael O'Keefe and Christian Red, and I'd stake my life on their credibility and investigative chops. The book, with the subtitle, The Fall of Roger Clemens and the Rise of Steroids in America's Pastime, is due in stores May 12.)


Now, thanks to Sports Illustrated's Selena Roberts, we know that A-Rod is extraordinarily insecure and divisive. This is key, even to fans who'd rather not hear a single thing about Rodriguez except for how he's doing on the field. While we still don't know Roberts' sourcing methods -- only excerpts of the book have trickled out; it hits the stores May 4 -- it appears the line of people willing to tattle on A-Rod stretches from Yankee Stadium to the Empire State Building.

I mean, really, Rodriguez demanded a clubhouse attendant load his toothbrush with toothpaste after every game in his three seasons with the Texas Rangers? This was the latest tidbit from Roberts' book, which coincidentally was leaked to none other than the Daily News Friday afternoon. One day earlier, the News reported that A-Rod, according to A-Rod, might have used steroids as early as high school and continued to use them after he joined the Yankees, contradicting his confession of using them only when he was with the Rangers, from 2001-03. It was Roberts, of course, who forced that admission, after she reported in February that A-Rod had tested positive for steroids in 2003.

The most egregious charge in Roberts' book, the one that has clubhouses around the league buzzing, might not have anything to do with PEDs. Roberts writes that Rodriguez tipped players from opposing teams to pitches in games that were blowouts, hoping they'd return the favor when he was in a batting slump.

A person close to Bud Selig told me yesterday that when the commissioner heard of Rodriguez' alleged quid-pro-quo with opponents, Selig buried his head in his hands, body language that shouted, "Please make the madness stop!" Selig is said to be fuming, considering this, too, undermines the sport's integrity, even if Rodriguez's intent was selfishly motivated and did not change a game's outcome.

In sections that cut to Rodriguez's ability to work within a team structure, Roberts skillfully nails A-Rod's neediness via anecdotes relayed by unnamed players. She writes that A-Rod's favorite pickup line at nightclubs was, "Who's hotter, me or Derek Jeter?" Either Rodriguez has the most disloyal entourage this side of the Gotti crime family, or his diva habits have alienated half of baseball. There is a reason his name is thus far the only one leaked from the list of 104 players who tested positive for banned substances in 2003.

A-Rod the book will be released a few days before A-Rod the player returns from the disabled list, no coincidence there. Publishers need to make money, too. Extreme conspiracy theorists already are screaming about how Rodriguez's hip injury was just a ruse designed to keep him out of the limelight for a few months or, for the tinfoil hat wearing crowd, a carefully concealed suspension by MLB.

While the seedy side of Clemens' life is nearly as scandalous as A-Rod's, American Icon exposes the Rocket's dalliances more as subtitles to a broader portrayal of a man whose ego knows few boundaries. Chapter one begins with Clemens asking McNamee, the former cop, "Can you help me? I can't inject in my bootie."

The authors write:

This is how Brian McNamee, the Toronto Blue Jays' new strength and conditioning coach who'd come to baseball after his days on the NYPD, remembers it all starting. He glanced up at Clemens, the pitcher's broad frame blocking most of McNamee's view of the rest of the SkyDome clubhouse. There were a few other Blue Jays players milling about the room, preparing for the upcoming series with Baltimore. Toronto designated hitter and occasional outfielder Jose Canseco was picking through his stall nearby, his back to Clemens and McNamee.

McNamee was slumped in his own stall. Why, he wondered, was arguably the greatest pitcher of his era suddenly asking for help in sticking a hypodermic needle in his ass?

There was a time when Clemens declared his innocence as vociferously as he threw a baseball, but now his defamation suit against McNamee has been pretty much gutted by a Houston judge, while a federal grand jury continues to investigate Clemens for possibly perjuring himself before Congress last year. Clemens has all the money in the world, and some of the most esteemed and publicity-crazed lawyers on his payroll, but there are no rumblings of a libel suit against the authors of American Icon.

Rodriguez has enough crisis counselors and PR gurus to field a fantasy league, but there are no indications his people plan to sue Roberts, either. The strategy seems to have morphed from denials and smear campaigns on Roberts, to hoping nobody reads books anymore.

To be sure, there is still spontaneous joy, integrity and fairness to be found in baseball, which is why many of us continue to adore the game despite its wretched underbelly. But for the moment, until the shower water turns steaming hot, perhaps the last word should go to -- of all people -- Barry Bonds, who was quoted in American Icon via the New York Times, Roberts' former place of work.

"When you come to the ballpark, you're walking into a place that is all deception and lies," Bonds said, tying together this circuitous mess.