It’s easy to see why Roger Clemens would want to do it this way – to take the deny-deny-deny route while so many others are admitting what George Mitchell has already told us about them. The evidence against Clemens in Mitchell’s report on steroid use is more extensive than that on anybody else (possibly excepting Jason Giambi, who provided his own), and Clemens has more to lose. He has the Hall of Fame to think about, and his legacy as possibly the game’s greatest pitcher.

But he’s wrong.

Denial isn’t the way to go here for Clemens. Not when everybody else, including close friend and fellow Brian McNamee client Andy Pettitte, is admitting to the letter of what was printed about them in Mitchell’s report. Not when everybody who’s been watching baseball since Pete Rose and Bart Giamatti were slugging it out knows what’s eventually going to happen.

Clemens’ statement Tuesday said he planned “to publicly answer all of those questions at the appropriate time,” which is a curious promise. It would seem that the “appropriate time” to address these questions was when Mitchell offered him a chance to discuss the evidence against him. But the end of the nine-page Mitchell passage on Clemens reads, “In order to provide Clemens with information about these allegations and to give him an opportunity to respond, I asked him to meet with me; he declined.”

Lots of players declined, and many of them now are coming out and admitting that what’s in the report about them is true. As more and more of them come forward, Clemens looks more and more foolish for denying.

Clemens would do himself and the rest of us a big favor if he came out and started talking – and didn’t stop until all the truth spilled out of him. Admitting to being a drug cheat isn’t necessarily going to help him get into the Hall of Fame, but the road he’s going down now isn’t sure to end at Cooperstown either.

Rose gambled on baseball – an offense for which the punishment is a permanent ban from the game. Because of that, Rose never appeared on a Hall of Fame ballot. Rose’s judges were members of the general public, who for years seemed generally to favor putting him in the Hall. But when Rose finally admitted, in an autobiography, to what John Dowd had found out about him in 1989, his public turned on him.

Mark McGwire had his chance to come clean – in a congressional hearing on March 17, 2005. But McGwire refused to answer questions about his own steroid use, repeatedly telling congressmen, “I’m not here to talk about the past.” The public, and the Hall of Fame voters, took McGwire’s silence on the issue as an admission of guilt. Last year, in his first crack at Hall eligibility, McGwire was named on just 25.3 percent of the ballots cast. A player must appear on at least 75 percent of the ballots in order to gain induction.

Then there’s Barry Bonds, who for years has done what Clemens has done for the past week – denied ever knowingly using performance enhancing drugs. Bonds even denied it in front of a federal grand jury, and that particular denial has him under indictment for perjury. That would seem to be a more serious problem than his Hall of Fame chances.

Clemens should learn from all three of them and stop the denials.

The evidence against him is clear and detailed. It comes from the same source that provided the information about Pettitte – information that Pettitte has grouchily admitted was accurate. Are we to believe that McNamee told the truth about Pettitte and made up all the stuff about Clemens?

As outlined on Page 167 of the report, McNamee cut a deal with the U.S. Attorney’s Office. If he told the truth, nothing he said could be used against him in future prosecution. If he lied, he would go to jail. Are we to believe that a man presented with those guidelines sat there and lied?

Of course not. Mitchell has Clemens cold, and everybody knows it, including Clemens. The longer he denies it, the more harm he does – to himself, to the game and to society.

Clemens has been scheduled, for some time, to be the keynote speaker at next month’s convention of the Texas High School Baseball Coaches Association. That group is considering whether to change those plans. Here’s a thought:

Clemens still speaks, but he spills his guts. Tells them all the truth – why he did it, why it was bad, what signs the coaches can look for to make sure it’s not going on with their own teams, how they can help convince their kids not to do it.

That, in the end, is the way the cheaters end up doing some good. Those who have done these drugs are in the best position to provide the information that will help society combat the problem going forward. But to do so, they have to talk about it. So far, they wouldn’t talk to Congress and they wouldn’t talk to Mitchell. But that doesn’t mean they’re out of chances.

By fessing up now, publicly, and starting an open, honest discussion of the steroid problem, Clemens can make a real impact in the lives of ballplayers and children.

And even to Roger Clemens, that should be a lot more important than the Hall of Fame.

Dan Graziano is a staff writer for The Star-Ledger of Newark, N.J. E-mail him at [email protected].