Coffee Club Newsletter ©

Volume 18, No. 17 - March 27, 2008

Any similarity to persons actually living or events actually happening is coincidental. 

 TR: Good afternoon.  Are you Roberto Clemente? 

RC: No, sir, you have me confused with another famous athlete. 

TR: I’m sorry.  I got my notes confused.  You’re Roger Clemens. 

RC: Now you’ve got it right. 

TR: Were you expecting me? 

RC: My agent called me.  Come on in - grab a beer from the cooler over at the bar, right over there. 

TR: Someone must have told you…. 

RC: Told me what? 

TR: That I like beer. 

RC: No.  Everybody I know drinks beer.  I just figured you’re a sports writer so you must like the stuff too. 

TR: I’m not exactly a sports writer. 

RC: No?  My agent said you were with some minor league club.  

TR: It’s the Coffee Club.  I can leave if you want. 

RC: No, no, stay.  You came all the way here and I see you’ve already opened your beer.  Maybe you’ll see my side of the story better than the other papers. 

TR: You mean the New York Times?  

RC: I mean all of them.  To hear them tell it, a person would think I shot the Pope or something. 

TR: So you’re still saying you didn’t use steroids? 

RC: Never.  Why would I?  I had a trainer who built my body to such a degree that steroids were not necessary.  It would be like trying to bribe Bloomberg. 

TR: Bloom who? 

RC: The Mayor of New York.  He has so much money he could buy Manhattan ten times over. 

TR: I see your point. 

RC: Print that in bold letters. 

TR: I will. 

RC: Remind me to show you my trophy room after we’re done.  I have some letters from some Congressmen and Senators, too. 

TR: Letters of commendation? 

RC: No, letters asking for my autograph. 

TR: After they embarrassed you in that committee? 

RC: You’ve got that right.  They have no shame.  I’m sure you have enough experience to tell when someone is lying to you? 

TR: I’ve interviewed quite a few politicians. 

RC: That’s what I mean.  If you can tell, why can’t they? 

TR: They won’t like what you just said. 

RC: Well, don’t print it. 

TR: I won’t.  Give me another beer. 

RC: I’ll fix you a drink.  What do you want? 

TR: A Tequila Sunrise. 

RC: I forgot how to mix those.

TR: I’ll do it myself.  This is cool. 

RC: The funny thing in all this is – and this is what I told my lawyer – they drag out all this stuff from 2000 and try to make a case.  If the IRS wants to do an audit, they can’t go beyond three years past.  So, what gives?  What if I had used steroids in 1987?  Would they be whining about that? 

TR: This drink is good. 

RC: Have another, pal. 

TR: They shouldn’t have done that to you. 

RC: Put it in bold letters. 

TR: I will. 

RC: After everything I’ve done for baseball – Boston, Toronto, New York, even Houston – they used to cheer me on.  Now, it’s like they never knew me.  If I ever used growth hormones and they were working so well for me, why did I stop?  Does that make sense? 

TR: Nope. 

RC: My conscience is clear.  I’m not the most articulate talker so they think I’m guilty. 

TR: Your trainer said some bad things. 

RC: I used to take vitamin supplements.  He administered them with injections.  That’s not illegal. 

TR: They have character witnesses. 

RC: Yeah, all the batters I ever struck out. 

TR: So the bases are loaded against you. 

RC: The bases and the dice. 

TR: Will you ever go back to baseball? 

RC: I have no hard feelings.  I’ve applied for a coaching job in Cuba.  I’ll be a manager-coach down there.  It’ll be like a paid vacation. 

TR: And the Congressional Committee? 

RC: I think they should worry about Iraq.  Baseball is just a game.  They’re using me to distract the American public from bigger issues. 

TR: I’ll put that in bold letters. 

RC: Are you driving? 

TR: No, I always take the bus. 

RC: Have another drink.