A story about Roger Clemens
Picture this: Atlanta, 1994. A bar in Buckhead. I’m there with some girlfriends, celebrating something that I don’t remember anymore. Anyways, I’m talking with this very cute young man, when one of my friends comes up to me, almost squealing, “Oh my God, Roger Clemens is here, oh my God!” She was from Boston, and just lurved the guy. I had no idea who he was, just thought he was some low-level player from the Braves or something. Not intersted, whatsoever, was I. But he and his friends kept talking to us, seemed pretty nice, he took pictures with my friend. I was mildly confused about the big deal surrounding this guy. So he and his friends invited us ladies to go out with his gang and continue to “party.” I told my friend, no way am I leaving with these old, slightly cheesy guys that I’ve never met.
So we didn’t go, and her big night with the Rocket came to an end. Later on I found out just who this guy is. I feel kinda bad sometimes, she could have had one night of hot lovin’ with the Rocket, but at least she has a picture to remind her of what coulda been. Sorry Margaret.
