Roger Clemens has lumbered out of retirement and joined an independent league team, the effervescently named Sugar Land Skeeters. (Presumably, the team owners looked at the shocking merchandising success of the Savannah Sand Gnats and said "We want some of that", which tells you exactly what we're dealing with here.)
Of course, it seems highly unlikely that Clemens is going to be satisfied to compete at this level. Various baseball outlets noted that the Houston Astros, one of Clemens' former teams, had scouts watching him beSkeet himself, and let's face it, it's not like the Astros have anything to lose this year by turning the ball over to a 50 year old suspected PED user whose strikeout fixation was probably a severe hindrance to any of his kids getting laid in college. (Kody? Kory? Koby? Kacy? Thank God they didn't stop at 3).
Now, if it were Curt Schilling making the comeback, I'd understand it: Curt kinda needs the cash after heroically flushing $75M Rhode Island tax dollars down the mighty Woonasquatucket River. But Roger? What's his angle?
I can think of one. Getting onto the Astros' roster, even for a day, resets the countdown on his Hall of Fame election. Five more years means five more years of separation from Mark McGwire and Barry Bonds on the ballot. It means five more years for the electorate to come to grips with what the hell PEDs actually mean, and five more years to forgive/forget/shrug their shoulders.
And five more years for writers to decide that they didn't know what the hell they were talking about when it came to PEDs, and to vote Roger in on the first ballot. Because his ego will let him wait five years after making a comeback, but it won't let him wait a couple of years on the ballot to be let in.