MIAMI - The walk was short, but achingly beautiful. Roger Clemens slapped his mitt, took 34 brisk steps across the field and walked straight into lore.
So maybe the end was a victory shy of glorious, but it was memorable all the same. In a World Series that had been short on drama, this was the moment to remember.
Clemens on the mound. Two strikes on a hitter. Thousands of flashbulbs popping in the hope of capturing the precise moment greatness left the field.
In what is expected to be the final start of his career, the six-time Cy Young Award winner walked off the mound in an unfamiliar stadium, with a scoreboard betraying his effort and a rival crowd calling his name.
"I think we all would have like to have been in his body at the moment to see what that felt like, walking off the mound for the last time," Yankees manager Joe Torre said. "To obviously be proud of what he did tonight."
The Marlins were winning 3-1 in Game 4 when it became clear the seventh inning would be the last for Clemens.
There were two outs when he ran the count to 1-and-2 on Luis Castillo. Anticipating his final pitch, a few hundred flashbulbs went off during his next delivery. Then a few hundred more for another. Castillo kept fouling off pitches and more and more fans began snapping pictures.
It took six, two-strike pitches before Castillo struck out in a blinding eruption of flashbulbs.
Clemens slapped his mitt and trotted off to an ovation that would not cease. Florida catcher Ivan Rodriguez slipped his mask under his arm and began to clap. The rest of the Marlins came to the front of their dugout in applause. Clemens came out of the Yankees dugout and waved to the crowd. Then he tipped his cap toward the Marlins and tapped his chest in gratitude.
For a pitcher who for 20 years, was all fire and fury, this was an exit both emotional and fitting.
"It was such an emotional thing when he came out of that game," Torre said. "It's the World Series and you look over and see the opposition standing and applauding. I think that's quite a tribute to him."
His career finally turned silent in the middle of a World Series.
And so today, in the absence of its obsession and in the wake of its rage, how shall that career be recalled?
Is it the power of Clemens you will remember, or the way he would wield it? Do you define him by his intensity or is it his intimidation?
Do we excuse his fury or should we applaud it?
You see, there was always an edge to Clemens. A fury he barely concealed. It is the impression of his resume, perhaps even more than the total victories, strikeouts or Cy Youngs.
He was always tough and often angry. He was going to work harder than anyone in the clubhouse and pitch harder than anyone in the park.
So, now that he has walked out to the mound for the final time as a starter, how shall we recall him?
How about as the most productive pitcher we have seen?
It is a grand statement, one not to be taken lightly. For sure, there have been others who have shined more brightly for a shorter time. Sandy Koufax is one. Pedro Martinez or Bob Gibson might be others. And there have been those who might be more dominating on a single night. Nolan Ryan comes to mind.
But no pitcher of the last half-century has been as prolific, and at the same time, as consistent as Clemens. In the only measure that truly matters, Clemens has been the very best.
A winner.
He has won at a greater pace and ratio than anyone of his generation. Or of any recent generations, for that matter.
Only three pitchers in the modern era have 300 victories and a winning percentage of at least .660. One retired in 1916. Another in 1941.
Clemens is the third.
He has been productive and discriminating. Not just hanging on to add to his victory total, but still winning two of every three decisions. That should be part of our memories. Not just the meltdown on the mound with umpire Terry Cooney in the 1990 playoffs. Not merely the bat-throwing drama with Mike Piazza in the 2000 Series. But all the moments that surrounded those episodes. And the intensity that made it all work.
He always had respect. He commanded attention. But widespread adulation did not arrive until the twilight of his career.
Clemens has enjoyed the rewards of his latest achievements, collecting souvenirs and talking freely of his excitement.
He also warmed up to the idea of being an icon. In recent seasons, he has seemed more willing to allow us beyond his rough veneer. And maybe that had as much to do with the ovation as the strikeouts and wins.
He is 41 and still among the best dozen starters in the American League. He could return next season and the Yankees would welcome him back. But Clemens has chosen this time and this place. He is leaving on his terms.
The game did not pass him by, but thankfully it paused on his way out.
