Let’s have some fun at Roger Clemens’ expense. All jokes and drinks are on him. At $7,500 per pitch, “Rocket Roger” certainly can afford it.
Upon hearing New York Yankees boss George Steinbrenner was renting a rocket at a cost of $18.5 million this summer, I thought he had purchased a ticket for an all-inclusive vacation, including transportation and tips, to the dark side of the moon.
Silly me.
The Yankees are actually luring the 44-year-old Clemens off his couch, with an offer of part-time work that pays $4.5 million. Per month.
You do the math. It scares me.
Every time the big right-hander saunters like John Wayne to the mound for a start and begins firing smoke from the pitching rubber, Clemens will earn in the filthy-rich neighborhood of $750,000.
Geez, how huge a motor home does a semi-retired old goat need to drive across America? I didn’t even know there was a KOA Kampground outside Yankee Stadium.
Eighteen freaking million dollars?
You know what cheapskate Rockies owners Charlie and Dick Monfort call $18.5 million, don’t you?
The annual budget for the left side of the Colorado infield, plus all three spots in the outfield and every reliever in the bullpen.
Of course, $4.5 million per month does not go as far as it did when Clemens first started this business trend of skipping spring training and showing up fashionably late for the season.
For example: Clemens is scheduled to make a road trip to Colorado in June. On his salary, he would have to dig deep to buy a Happy Meal for every boy and girl in our fair state.
But, if you’re taking orders, Roger, my son likes the chicken nuggets.
The signing of Clemens is yet another sign of baseball’s apocalypse. It has not been a legitimate sport since long before Barry Bonds, the home run Giant with a fat head, discovered the wonders of flaxseed oil.
The former national pastime is little more than a boring board game played with funny money.
Like Monopoly.
Steinbrenner, the rich Uncle Pennybags of baseball, lives on Boardwalk.
The Monfort brothers don’t even roll the dice at greatness, refusing year after year after year to budge from their favorite spot on the game board: Free Parking.
Of course, money cannot buy happiness, much less a championship.
But big bucks can win the loyalty of Clemens, a pitcher with 348 career victories.
Since 1995, when the young Rockies moved into a home lovingly built for them by the good people of Colorado, the Yankees have taken six trips to the World Series, winning the championship four times.
And Rockies slugger Todd Helton has never taken one swing of the bat in a playoff game.
Maybe, if Helton is lucky, he will get the opportunity to hit against Clemens when the Yankees visit Coors Field, where the local ownership will jack up the price of tickets for the pleasure of long-suffering fans’ chance to witness a real major-league contender.
Clemens is back in baseball.
He has now come out of retirement more times than the cast of “Seinfeld.”
Can Clemens throw the Yanks back in the playoff mix? Steinbrenner was willing to pay dearly to find out.
Maybe the rich really are different from, you, me and Charlie.
When the Yankees wake up in last place, “The Boss” goes out and buys the best pitcher of our generation before lunch, then demands excellence.
While the Rockies doze in their customary spot, on an old cheap sofa in the basement of the National League West, the Monfort brothers scavenge between the seat cushions for enough quarters to buy a hot dog, and wait until next year. Again.
Hey, there is no crying in baseball.
So why waste tears about Colorado not having the money to afford Clemens?
I just wish Rockies ownership could afford to buy a clue.
Staff writer Mark Kiszla can be reached at 303-954-1053 or mkiszla@denverpost.com.
