Clemens saga has become a depressing punch line

Roger Clemens spent time signing autographs at Astros camp on Wednesday. AP

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KISSIMMEE, Fla. -- Roger Clemens climbed out of his Hummer on Wednesday morning, looked up at the dozen or so reporters waiting for him at an entrance to the Astros' minor league facility here and shook his head slowly, grimly, side to side. It was, undoubtedly, the most telling comment the embattled pitcher made all day.

This was another cold, humorless day for the one-time surefire Hall of Famer. A couple of hours after his arrival on a chilly, windy and overcast day, nearly 200 pitches into a batting practice that he was throwing to several Astros' minor leaguers, word filtered down that the Congress is requesting that the Justice Department look into whether he lied during his hearing earlier this month. The seven-time Cy Young Award winner, who has vociferously and tirelessly denied claims that he has used performance-enhancing drugs, will now likely join fellow players Barry Bonds and Miguel Tejada as targets of Justice Department investigations.

Clemens didn't say much on his way into the park, and after throwing a pair of batting practice sessions and signing several autographs for fans at the Osceola County Stadium complex, he declined to say much of anything afterward. As he hoisted himself into his Hummer to leave -- the huge vehicle was backed up to the building to make for a fast getaway -- and as reporters feverishly asked about the committee's request, Clemens simply said, with a wave of his arm, "See y'all tomorrow."

Where does this put Clemens, a 354-game winner who has been fingered by his former trainer as a long-time user of steroids and human growth hormone? For one, he is now, officially, in a world of legal jeopardy. The Justice Department, if it follows through with an investigation and finds that Clemens lied to Congress in his denials of steroid use and other matters (including whether he attended the now-famous party at Jose Canseco's South Florida home in June of 1998), could indict him and charge him with perjury or making knowingly false statements. If found guilty at a trial, Clemens could end up in jail.

"There is significant evidence to warrant an investigation into the truthfulness of Mr. Clemens's sworn testimony before our Committee," Rep. Elijah Cummings (D-Md.) said in a statement. "Lying under oath to the federal government is a serious offense, and it is my hope that the Department of Justice will be successful in getting to the truth of this matter."

Secondly, Clemens' already-crumbling reputation takes another in a seemingly non-ending series of body blows. Though his lawyers on Wednesday welcomed the chance to address the charges in a courtroom and to get them out of the court of public opinion -- attorney Rusty Hardin, in a comment to the Associated Press, called it the "circus of public opinion" -- it's evident that Clemens' story is unbelievable to more than the general public. The Oversight and Government Reform Committee clearly doesn't buy it, either, which is why it asked the Justice Department to step in. And it's a good bet now that the Justice Department -- which already has indicted Bonds on perjury charges and is looking into whether Tejada lied to Congress -- has some major reservations about Clemens' deposition and testimony, too.

Finally, Wednesday's news means that Clemens will probably have no rest from this maelstrom for months, or more likely, years to come. Bonds is charged to have lied to a grand jury in the BALCO trial in 2003. He's been indicted, but he has yet to face trial.

For whatever it's worth to Clemens, there are still people out there who believe him. Several offered encouragement as he moved from throwing outdoor batting practice to throwing in an indoor cage. (Among the batters who faced him: his son, Koby, a minor leaguer in the Astros' system.) "Leave him alone," one spectator yelled at the reporters and photographers waiting on Clemens. "You're ruining it for the fans," said another. A couple fans wore T-shirts that read, "Rocket Fuel Has No HGH."

Mickey Carroll, a cast member of the 1939 film The Wizard of Oz, was at the complex on Wednesday to offer support and give Clemens a miniaturized replica of his star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. (The star actually is for the Munchkins as a group.) "See if you can get him to give you $10 for it," Carroll joked to one of his companions.

That's what the Clemens saga has become: a punch line. It would almost be funny if it weren't so grim.