(Preston Wilson, left, and Roger Clemens, right, make plans to catch a Houston Comets game on one of the Rocket’s many days off)

As you may or may not be aware, despite my almost bi-weekly visits to Mondo Kim’s to complain about the paucity of their Comedy CD section, I do live and work in lovely Travis County, TX. In this part of the country (and most neighboring ‘hoods), the only debate surrounding Roger Clemens is something along the lines of

a) Is The Rocket merely the greatest pitcher of all time, or

b) the Greatest Human Living Human Being?

And in the spectre of that kind of unquestioning, all-encompassing lust for no. 22, I’m all too pleased to quote Mike of Mike’s Mets.

I’m really bored with Clemens’ comings and goings. He’s like an aging beauty queen still desperately drinking in the attention of men. My only hope with fatass is that sometime in the near future he will go away for good.

Calling Clemens “a complete phony”, TravelGolf.com’s Chris Baldwin goes a step further.

There’s no more money grubbing athlete in all of sports than Clemens. He’s always been up for sale to whoever would pay him the most, bend to his demands the easiest.

Clemens is a much worse example of athletic greed than Terrell Owens. Yet TO’s savaged while The Rocket is celebrated.

Please. Clemens drags out these so-called retirement decisions every year, just to pump up his purchase price. And bring out an extra perk or three hundred. The Rocket never planned to retire. Not when he took Steinbrenner’s Hummer, not after he squeezed another $22 million out of the Astros and a spot for his son in the minors.

It’s all a game for him and his agents and he’s played major league baseball teams in a way Ari Gold could only dream of. Can you imagine if Allen Iverson or Dodgers hothead pitcher Brad Penny decided that they only wanted to travel on certain road trips? They’d be crucified on sports talk from coast to coast.