How often do you think Roger Clemens gets those highlights touched up? Koichi Kamoshida/Getty Images

What else is there to say about Roger Clemens? How much more gazing at his navel can we do? I say plenty.

What the Rocket is doing at 42 is in many ways more impressive than the 24-4 season he strung together as a shaggy-haired lad almost 20 years ago. Around age 35, athletes' bodies usually begin to rapidly break down -- just ask Bernie Williams or Andre Agassi -- and yet Clemens, like Dorian Gray, seems immune to the passage of time. He recently blazed past Steve Carlton, adding winningest living pitcher to a resume that includes 331 wins, seven Cy Youngs and two 20- strikeout games. This season Clemens owns a Gibsonian 1.19 era through 10 starts solidifying his case as the best pitcher still huffing oxygen.

Do I think Roger Clemens is The Greatest Living Pitcher? That's a bit like asking me if Eric Clapton is The Greatest Living Guitarist (Note: As a junior in high school I decided that Third Eye Blind's Semi-Charmed Life was the best song I'd ever heard). Not only do I have no idea, it just doesn't matter to me. For Clemens' place in history, ask Joe Morgan.

What interests me about Clemens is his puzzling character. He seems to be a devoted father more interested in watching his sons play ball than his teammates, which I see as sound judgment. I won't read too much into the story his wife, Debbie, told about how when she was preggers and taking BP from her husband, she sprayed a line drive off his leg and on the next pitch he beaned her. In his defense, her belly was hanging over the plate.

The biggest mystery in Clemens' career is how to account for the period between 1993-1996? What's the difference between what he did in his final four seasons with the Red Sox -- going 40-39, averaging a 3.77 era, always reporting to camp out of shape, pitching well below expectations and generally conducting himself as a giant pain in the ass -- and what Vince Carter did last couple years for the Raptors? Like Vince, as soon as Roger crossed the border he rediscovered his groove going 88-35 over the next five seasons with an ERA more than half a run lower than his final four years with the Sox.

Then Boston GM Dan Duquette received the Bartman treatment for his "twilight" comments, which seem laughable in hindsight but at the time the Duke made them, Clemens was 34 and coming off a 10-13 season. Either he was washed up or he wasn't giving his all. And over the next nine seasons, I think he's proven he wasn't washed up.

My second question (and maybe the tint on my television needs adjusting) but is Clemens going with frosted tips these days? Of all of the highlights in Clemens' career, it's the ones in his hair that I am most surprised by. He's 42 years old! He has four children! Does Rocket Roger -- not exactly the manliest nickname when you think about it -- saunter into a Texas salon and order the tinfoil treatment for his locks? Do they even have men's salons in Texas? Do the other kids at school tease Koby, Kory, Kacy and Kody about their dad being the only one at Little League games who still pays attention to his hair?

Once these questions are answered we can resume discussion about whether Joe Torre starts The Rocket or The Big Unit for Game 1 of the playoffs.

SKIPPING STONES

Karl Taro Greenfield's recent profile in SI on Randy Moss answered a lot of questions yet seemed to omit one major one: Who is Moss' orthodontist? Moss is going on year seven with those same braces. Can we get a timetable for their removal? Keith Foulke had his removed. Dwight Howard is still an adolescent. Let's get Jim Gray on the case. ...

Chris Paul is listed at 6-foot. I met him last summer and we saw exactly eye to eye. I'm 5-9. ...

What a difference a year and a half makes. Rasheed Wallace has reinvented himself, transforming from TrailBlazer malcontent with a premonition for launching basketballs from long range off Boumtje-Boumtjes to a latter day Muhammad Ali. He's sporting a championship belt to games and backing up brash victory guarantees. The championship belt tickles me, almost as much as last season when 'Sheed wore his own "Wallace" Pistons jersey as he arrived at the arena, which I believe was a postmodern critique of the throwback jersey craze.

Look! It's Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn in a buddy pic. Did Ben Stiller lose a game of odd finger?