Move over Barry, Roger now Baseball's Biggest Jerk

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Step aside, Barry Bonds.

You are no longer Baseball's Biggest Jerk.

Sorry, Barry. You had a great run but it's time for you to relinquish your crown to Roger Clemens.

Goodbye, Johnny Flaxseed. Hello, B12 Rocket!

You've been a memorable Baseball's Biggest Jerk, Mr. Bonds. Years from now, when the greatest baseball jerks are saluted, their accomplishments will be described as Bondsian.

You've left some big shoes to fill, but that won't be a problem for Clemens, because he's like you - he keeps expanding.

The BBJ committee would ask you to make a public appearance to pass the torch to Clemens, but we'd be disappointed if you showed up. Maybe you could videotape a tribute to him and forget to send it. Or just tell us to go take a flying hike.

Privately, I think you'd agree with the committee that Clemens is a worthy successor, although if you did, it would be the first time you've agreed with a sportswriter. So I won't ask.

It was shaping up as a close vote, but Mr. Clemens blew you out of the water with his phone call to his former trainer, Brian McNamee, whose son is gravely ill.

"He said his son was sick and dying," Clemens said. "That's why I reached out."

The last time someone reached out to me in such a warm and caring way, my urologist was snapping on a latex glove.

A couple of springs ago, Barry, you ordered the media to zoom in their cameras on your son to see the pain the media had caused him. It was a memorable moment, but child-exploitation-wise, you can't carry Clemens' jock.

Clemens kept the "reach out" portion of his call to McNamee mercifully brief, moving right along to the more important matter of Clemens' sick and dying reputation.

Clemens neglected to mention to McNamee that the phone call was being taped, but my guess is that McNamee, knowing the kind of dude he was dealing with, suspected what was up. Because both of them danced cleverly around the key issue of who's lying about what.

It was hilarious! If Clemens follows through with his threat to retire from baseball, he has a great future as a radio shock-jock, one of those guys who make the nutty prank phone calls.

But credit where credit is due, Barry. Even though Clem has out-jerked you, he learned a lot from you. It's like he's stealing your act. McNamee, in the phone call with Clemens, offered to go to prison. Imagine if McNamee and Greg Anderson wind up sharing a cell. What a riot!

Speaking of comparing notes, maybe you and Roger some day will talk about how crazy it is that you both had trainers who were juicing their clients, yet neither trainer ever juiced his No. 1 client, even when that client was in career-crisis mode.

Barry, you and Roger are practically brothers. You both experienced remarkable, stunning career resurgences in your late 30s. Both of you have worked out hard all your lives, but both of you suddenly pumped on an extra 40 or 50 pounds of power muscle.

I heard a radio interview in which a sportswriter who has known Clemens for a long time said the basic difference between the two of you is that Clemens is a better teammate. No way!

The writer gave an example of a time when Clemens' teammate was drilled by the opposing pitcher and Clemens' teammates, including the guy who got hit, begged Roger not to retaliate, because to do so would jeopardize the team's chances of winning.

What did Clem do? He plunked the next batter he faced. Because venting his anger, and being true to baseball's ancient code, was more important to Clemens than winning a game his team desperately needed. That's a special teammate.

Barry, you always demanded, and got, preferential treatment. No mandatory stretching with the team. Extra clubhouse space for you and yours. The right to leave the ballpark early and to veto pinch-hitting requests on a whim.

Clemens outdid you. He demanded a contract allowing him to work only part of a season, and not requiring him to travel or be with the team, other than when scheduled to pitch.

When fans look for true jerkyness, Barry, that's the kind of originality they appreciate.

It must be sad for you to give up your crown, but you have to tip it to the Rocket.

And remember, Barry: If for any reason Clemens is unable to fulfill his duties as Baseball's Biggest Jerk, we'll be counting on you to make a comeback.