COMMENTARY : For Once, Clemens Didn’t Get His Way

What Roger Clemens said to provoke his ejection from Game 4 of the American League playoffs Wednesday was not as disturbing as what he has become--and what the Boston Red Sox, to some extent, have permitted him to become.

Put it this way: The bravado of his performances is often overshadowed now by a personality that is pure brat. He is spoiled, selfish and self-centered.

The sign over his locker at Fenway Park reads “Possessed Rebel,” and he is just that. Possessed and obsessed. Driven by inexplicable demons. Wound so tightly he seems ready to shatter. Unable to enjoy his talent and fame. Respected by teammates who admire his competitiveness and ability, but not widely liked because of his intensity and abrasiveness.

As a veteran Boston player noted Wednesday: “I worry about Roger because he always seems ready to detonate.”

The profane message Clemens directed at umpire Terry Cooney Wednesday was just the latest in a series of strange vibrations emanating from the Rocket Man. Call them postcards from the edge.

Even before his ejection, while warming up in the bullpen, he threw a pitch into the right-field bleachers, in the direction of taunting fans. Later, he steamrollered a photographer without apology en route to the clubhouse.

He is considered one of the league’s leading umpire baiters, and there was a suspicion that Cooney was responding to a history of Clemens’ abuse rather than what was said in the second inning. Live by the mouth, die by the mouth.

Said teammate Marty Barrett: “The way this came down, it makes you think it was personal. I mean, Roger had been pretty loud the whole series.”

And so loud Wednesday that he could be heard in the dugout.

“Who can think with Roger Clemens?” Dave Stewart of the Oakland Athletics said as he criticized the Red Sox pitcher for his lack of control.

“There’s just no excuse for what happened,” Stewart said. “Baseball was here long before Roger Clemens and the Red Sox, and it will be here long after they are gone.

“The umpires are out there working as hard as they can, as hard as the players do. A strike should be a strike, a ball a ball.”

But at 28, with a 116-51 record for six-plus seasons, Clemens has his own zone. He has been allowed to stretch the limits of leadership. He is an icon to the Red Sox, who pay homage out of fear he will leave as a free agent when his contract expires after the 1991 season.

Consider:

--When Clemens complained about security and the seating location for players’ wives at Fenway Park, there were changes.

--When he and Dwight Evans stormed off a delayed team charter flight in Baltimore this season and complained about Jack Rogers, the Red Sox’s longtime, respected transportation director, Rogers was taken off the road.

--When Clemens demanded that media not be allowed on the team bus on trips to and from airports, the Red Sox agreed.

--When he told the club that he would speak with the media only after the games in which he pitches--and sometimes not even then--the Red Sox agreed again, failing to cite a clause in the standard player contract that requires players always to cooperate with the media.

--When it came down to deciding who would start Game 4 of the playoffs, Clemens made the call, Manager Joe Morgan agreeing with his choice of Greg Harris if the Red Sox won Game 3 and of Clemens if they lost that game.

Is it any wonder that Clemens thinks he operates from his own pedestal and should always have his way? Is it surprising that he would childishly risk his career by slamming his fist into a clubhouse door when Red Sox management made a rare stand and rejected his recent demand that the media be deprived of clubhouse access for 30 minutes after the team clinched the division title?

Is it also any shock that Clemens feels immunized against ejection, believing he can say anything to anyone, then deny what seems to be obvious--that he used profanity Wednesday and made contact with umpires Jim Evans and Vic Voltaggio?

It is symptomatic, of course, of an era in which umpires have virtually no accountability, and lifetime tenure after two big league seasons, that Cooney acted in haste, irrationally stealing the show, taking the game away from the players.

The cliche is correct. No one pays to see the umpires, but they continue to play a larger and more aggressive role, angering many owners who favor a hard-line stance when negotiations with the umpires’ union on a new collective bargaining agreement begin early next year.

Cooney owed Clemens, his team and the game a trip to the mound in an attempt to quiet the pitcher or to get a clear reading of what he was saying. Since it served his purpose, Clemens made his first trip to the playoff interview room to offer his side, but it didn’t jibe.

According to Stewart, Clemens told Cooney to “put his bleeping mask on and get his . . . behind the plate.” An Associated Press photographer claimed that he heard Clemens twice demean Cooney’s parentage.

The recollections of what he said vary, but the portrait of Roger Clemens seems clear and is not a handsome one.

Nor is there much to be said for the way the Red Sox worship it.