Friday, February 29, 2008

Even Heroes Make Mistakes

I went to my first Yankee game in 1995, when I was ten years old and the team was on the rise. My parents and I got to the Bronx early in the day and waited by the players' entrance to welcome the team. These were not today's Yankees. I had never seen my Yankees win a World Series, much less a pennant, a division title, or a playoff game. The grounds crew had never danced the YMCA, Joe Torre was still known in New York as the failed former manager of the Mets, and Derek Jeter, Mariano Rivera, and Andy Pettitte were to the club what Joba Chamberlain, Phil Hughes, and Ian Kennedy are now. I saw my favorite player, Andy Pettitte, up close that morning, when I was ten and he was twenty-two and our places in Yankee history were roughly the same. Almost thirteen years later, Pettitte has won over 200 major league baseball games and has led the Yankees to four World Series championships. His greatest contribution to baseball, and perhaps to our country, though, came this week, when he taught our athletes, politicians, and celebrities the proper way to face their mistakes and he taught each and every one of us the value of the truth.


Before I launch into my celebration of Andy Pettitte, let me be clear: he cheated. Andy used HGH twice in 2002 and again in 2004. He is guilty of the offense for which we have vilified Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens, and his reputation will forever be tarnished. I am not arguing his innocence – only his character. The man made a mistake, as all men do, but the difference between he and his colleagues is that he took responsibility for his actions. He cooperated with the government. He faced the press. He admitted his guilt and chose honor over lies. A religious man, he swore under oath and his allegiance to Christ's law was greater than his allegiance to his friend Roger Clemens. This week, as the Yankees kicked off their spring training and Pettitte began his quest for a fifth title, he sat before the press and bared his soul. Andy Pettitte, October's hero, showed us a man unbound by law or lies. We heard his story. We saw his pain. He told us what he did, why he did it, and how it has impacted his life. Pettitte's is not the story of a drug addict but that of a man whose competitive edge got the best of his ethical principles. It's a story to which we can all relate.


Last Wednesday, the Congressional hearings were about two things: teaching our children about the dangers of performance enhancing drugs and filtering through lies. The hearings cost millions of dollars and hundreds of hours of members' time and in the end, we learned next to nothing. Andy Pettitte's press conference cost nothing and taught us everything. Questioned by reporters rather than congressmen, Andy walked us through his journey into drugs. He told us about his injury and how he wanted to earn his wage and help his team win. He told us about his friend, Brian McNamee, and how Mac even tried to talk Andy out of using HGH. He told us about his friendship with Roger Clemens, but would not divulge any information about Clemens' case. The government had a right to know, he figured, but Roger's battle with the public was his own. Clemens' actions in recent weeks placed tremendous strain on Pettitte's own family. Forced to testify under oath, Pettitte felt obligated to incriminate his own father, who provided him with HGH in 2004. When asked about this, Pettitte held what looked like tremendous frustration. But he refused to talk about it. Andy took his oath seriously and gave Roger up – but he wouldn't sell him out. Given the chance to settle the score, Andy did what he has done throughout this whole mess – he kept his honor.


We saw this week a man who had been through the ringer. Ashamed, embarrassed, and nervous, Pettitte was also relieved. He had lived with his mistakes for so long and he seemed glad to get everything off his chest. Andy will forever have to live with the consequences of his actions - he recognizes that his name will always been synonymous with the PED issue – but for now he just seems glad to have his life back. He is done living with the idea of being a criminal. He instead wants to have a positive impact. "I care what people think about me," he said. "I consider myself a role model." Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens, maybe the greatest hitter and greatest pitcher in baseball history, now face possible jail time for their involvement in the steroid issue (if Clemens is nailed for perjury) and almost ninety men were named in the Mitchell Report. Only one, though, admitted using HGH in an incident no one would have known about. Only one sat at a podium and answered questions until there were no more to be asked. Only one told us about telling his sons their father used drugs and talked about incriminating his own father and discussed his own relationship with his lord. Only one, Andy Pettitte, showed us the true cost of drug use.


Andy Pettitte pitched in seven World Series, but that press conference was his most important performance. He showed us in one hour what Henry Waxman and Tom Davis and Roger Clemens couldn't show us in the dog and pony show that they called hearings. We wanted Roger Clemens to be guilty. We wanted him outed. Clemens seems like a bad guy so we didn't care that he was sitting in the hot seat. But Andy Pettitte is a good guy – and that's why his words are so potent. The man isn't a prima donna. He's not a thug. He's a soft-spoken, church-going family man who happens to pitch for a living. He's a decent man, which is why his lesson is so valuable. Andy showed us how drugs interrupt the lives of decent men. When I first saw Andy Pettitte, he was younger than I am now. His arm was free of the problems that would later cause him to cheat and his face was free of the lines that the next thirteen years would bring. Since that day in 1995, Andy has become a hero to baseball fans everywhere. This week, he is a hero to all of us. I'm proud to have rooted for him for the last thirteen years and I was proud to root for him this week. We all make mistakes, he taught us, even our heroes, but his most important lesson was this: it's how we face those mistakes that matters most.

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