The hearing lasted nearly five hours, but Elijah
Cummings could have ended it after one.
Rep. Cummings, a Maryland Democrat, brushed Roger Clemens back with an
interrogation that destroyed what little credibility the seven-time Cy
Young winner had remaining.
Trainer Brian McNamee had told investigators that he shot Clemens with
steroids and HGH, accusations that are the linchpin of George Mitchell's
report detailing the use of performance-enhancing substances in
baseball.
Yesterday, Cummings repeatedly called Clemens on the fact that two
former teammates, Andy Pettitte and Chuck Knoblauch, gave sworn
depositions to the House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform
that corroborated Mc Namee's charges.
Pettitte also told the committee behind closed doors that Clemens
admitted to him as many as 10 years ago that he used HGH.
Clemens read his opening statement, which included the firm denial that
he had "never used steroids, human growth hormone or any other type of
illegal performance-enhancing substances."
Cummings opened his questioning by asking Clemens, "You understand you
are under oath. Is that correct?"
"I would agree with that, yes, sir," Clemens answered. Cummings
responded sternly, "Keep your voice up."
This was the Cummings version of the scene from the 2000 World Series in
which Clemens tossed a broken bat back at Mike Piazza.
Clemens would get his share of softballs from committee members - Rep.
Tom Davis might as well have been sitting between Clemens' lawyers,
Rusty Hardin and Lanny Breuer, for all the water he carried for the
pitcher during the hearing.
He got no such treatment from Cummings.
Cummings read part of Pettitte's testimony and heard Clemens praise
Pettitte as a good and honest friend.
Cummings said, "You just said he is a very honest fellow."
"I think he misremembers," Clemens replied.
Throughout his questioning, Cummings stopped to ask Clemens whether he
understood that he was under oath, almost incredulous that Clemens would
continue to deny using performance-enhancing substances in light of what
his close friend had told investigators not once but on three separate
occasions.
Cummings also brought up the fact that Pettitte's wife, Laura, also had
given them a deposition that supported the accusations. "Andy told me
Roger admitted using HGH," she told investigators.
One more time, Cummings looked at Clemens and asked, "Mr. Clemens, once
again, I would remind you that you are under oath."
"Andy is a fine gentleman," Clemens answered. "I think he misremembers."
It was all over then, for all intents and purposes.
A number of committee members attacked McNamee for inconsistencies in
his testimony and lies they caught him in during past activities.
But all that showed is that Brian McNamee is a liar.
The difference is Roger Clemens is lying.
Clemens had been working the committee members in the days leading up to
the hearing, meeting with many of them individually. It appeared to pay
off because Clemens could not have withstood many more Cummings moments
without a meltdown.
He did not, thanks to committee members like Rep. Dan Burton, an Indiana
Republican who excoriated McNamee for lying about his involvement in a
2001 rape investigation in Florida and for other falsehoods McNamee made
in promoting himself as a medical expert in his work.
"This is really disgusting," Burton said. "You are here, under oath, yet
you have told lie after lie."
Yes, that is disgusting. In fact, if this were a court of law, McNamee's
lawyer might have stood up and said, "Your honor, we stipulate that our
client is a liar." Because it really meant little, serving only as
misdirection from the issue.
Andy Pettitte, after all, is not a liar, according to Clemens himself.
And Pettitte gave McNamee all the credibility he needed for any
reasonable person to conclude Roger Clemens was lying up there under
oath.
Clemens' supporters made a lot of hay over the fact that McNamee had
testified in the Mitchell Report that he saw Clemens at a party at the
house of Toronto teammate Jose Canseco in 1998.
Clemens denied being at the party. Canseco, who kicked off the whole
steroid frenzy with his 2005 book "Juiced," gave a sworn affidavit that
Clemens was not at the party. Others interviewed by investigators also
said Clemens was not at the party - as if that meant anything.
That opened the door for Nannygate II.
McNamee said he remembered seeing the Clemens family nanny parading
around the party in a peach-colored bikini. Committee investigators
interviewed the nanny, whose name is being withheld to protect perhaps
the only innocent person in this entire affair, and she said she and
Clemens' family had been at the party and had stayed at Canseco's house
that night.
Chairman Henry Waxman, a California Democrat, then said the committee
had tried to get Clemens' lawyers to turn over the contact information
for the nanny, which they did not do for several days.
In fact, in a move that sounded one step away from witness tampering,
Clemens contacted the nanny and had her meet with him at his home before
she was interviewed by committee investigators.
"The impression it leaves is terrible," Rep. Waxman said.
"I thought I was doing y'all a favor," Clemens answered.
In one ironic and pathetic moment, Rep. William Lacy Clay, a Missouri
Democrat, asked Clemens, "What uniform will you wear to the Hall of
Fame?"
Clemens joked that he didn't hear the question.
If a perjury case is brought against Clemens, it could be prison orange.
I already had
promoted his appearance this morning, and his arrival was much
anticipated.
When Paul Lo Duca heard I had invited George "The Animal" Steele to the
Washington Nationals' exhibition game against the Detroit Tigers
yesterday at Space Coast Stadium, Lo Duca said, "You gotta bring him in
the clubhouse."
And when manager Manny Acta learned The Animal was going to be my guest
today, he said, "Bring him into my office. I'm not to the point where I
have celebrities come to my office like Tony La Russa brings Bobby
Knight or something."
But I had no assuranes he would show up as planned. He could have
figured the invite came from some lunatic wrestling fan claiming to be a
sportswriter and blown it off. After all, he is The Animal. He had been
in the ring with all the greats - Bruno Sammartino, Bob Backlund and
Hulk Hogan. He was perhaps the biggest heel in the history of wrestling
- certainly the most bizarre with a signature move of tearing up
turnbuckles with his teeth.
So it was a leap of faith to believe he would actually show up - The
Animal lives in Cocoa Beach - to watch an exhibition game with me.
I flipped up my cell phone, went to my address book and found the
listing simply called "Animal." He assured me he was coming, which was
good news or else I was going to have to show up in the Nationals
clubhouse with a shaved head, a much hairier back and doing my best
grunts of "Backlund ... break"
There was no need to fear, though. Jim Myers and his wife, Pat, met me
in front of the stadium, and after spending a few minutes with Myers, it
was clear he was a man of his word - and unlike his character, he was a
man who could speak more than one.
The man behind the character makes The Animal all the more interesting.
Myers, who is dyslexic, has a bachelor's degree from Michigan State and
a master's degree from Central Michigan. During his wrestling career -
which was part-time until 1986 - Myers was a successful high school
football and wrestling coach who is a member of both the Michigan High
School Coaches Hall of Fame and the Michigan Football Coaches Hall of
Fame.
And he is a big Tigers fan.
"I'm also a Lions fan, too," Myers said. "You think that's easy?"
He can remember players like Pat Mullin, a Detroit outfielder from the
late 1940s and early 1950s, and can recite the names of the 1968 Tigers
championship lineup.
"I won Game 4 for the Tigers in the 1984 World Series against the
Padres," Myers said. "I was doing a show at Cobo Hall in Detroit and had
a couple of cases of beer with me. One of the wrestlers was a good
friend of [Padres manager] Dick Williams. He said, 'I have the team
upstairs in the VIP room, so take them up to them.' Then I took the
manager, the pitching coach and a couple of the players out after the
show in Greektown and showed them a great time. We didn't get in until
about 4 in the morning. So I take full credit for that Game 4 loss by
the Padres."
The Tigers won that game 4-2 and the series in five games.
He is 70 years old and not long ago was diagnosed with diabetes. But he
appears to be in pretty good shape with hands still big and strong
enough to tear apart a turnbuckle or two. He took his massive hand and
shook Acta's. Acta told Myers as he entered the clubhouse, "Don't scare
any of my players."
They were hardly scared, though. Dmitri Young's eyes lit up when he saw
George "The Animal" Steele.
"I used to watch you all the time," Young said. "You are one of the
all-time greats. ... I used to love watching you eat those turnbuckles,
and your tongue would be all green How did you get it that way, sucking
on green LifeSavers?"
Answered Myers: "It was by accident. I had a few drinks one time and
threw a couple of Clorets [gum] in my mouth and went on live TV with a
green tongue, and everyone went crazy about it. I had the best breath in
wrestling."
Lo Duca, Nick Johnson and Johnny Estrada all gathered around Myers to
tell him how they all grew up watching him wrestle. Lo Duca asked Myers
how his turnbuckle-eating gimmick started.
"Years ago we did studio wrestling, and there were about 150 to 200
people in the studio," Myers said. "We used to give out gifts to get
people to come to the studio. One time they gave out these little couch
pillows. So one fan threw a pillow at me. I have a pillow in the ring
now, and there are about 200 other people there with pillows. So if I
throw it back, I'm going to get bombed with pillows. So I started
tearing it apart with my teeth. Later the guys in the locker room
thought it was a good thing going, and Tony Pugliese, Bruno Sammartino's
cousin, said, 'Maybe you could eat the turnbuckle, ha, ha, ha.'
"About two weeks later I am wrestling Chief Jay Strongbow, and the match
is going nowhere," Myers said. "So I quit wrestling and started eating
the turnbuckle."
Later we went up in the stands to watch his Tigers win 4-3. These days
Myers, who is devoutly religious, does a lot of charity work. He has his
own Web site, www.georgetheanimalsteele.com, and makes public
appearances, including at minor league games around the country with
other former wrestlers like Sgt. Slaughter. And baseball nearly changed
his life.
He played in high school and had said there were two teams that had
shown some interest in him - the St. Louis Browns, and, of course, the
Washington Senators.
"Two teams that are both defunct," he said. "Maybe I could have saved
them. But that could have been the kiss of death, too."
Jim Myers, of course, had a greater calling than saving the Washington
Senators. He was "The Animal.”
The Washington Capitals' coach will be one of the stories the networks
and national media will focus on as a first-round Stanley Cup playoff
series with the Philadelphia Flyers begins tonight at Verizon Center.
It will be Alex Ovechkin, the superstar, and Bruce Boudreau, the "Slap
Shot" extra, Mr. Everyman or, as the Philadelphia Daily News already
described him, "the man who looks more like a high school principal than
an NHL coach."
Is Boudreau ready to be an international folk hero?
"I don't know," he said. "I just stay in the house. I turn off the TV
because if I see myself, like most people, [they] wish they were 30
pounds lighter."
The packed houses at Verizon Center love seeing him on the video screen,
chanting, "Bruce, Bruce." He seems like he just as easily could be the
guy sitting next to them in the stands as the guy behind the bench for
the resurgent Caps.
"The fans were as starved as the players to win, and you get happy for
the people that have paid so much good money and supported you over the
years," Boudreau said after his team's 3-1 win over Florida on Saturday
night that gave the Caps the Southeast Division title and a playoff
spot. "I was happy for them."
What is ironic is that the qualities that make the 53-year-old Boudreau
such a fan and media favorite likely are the same qualities that kept
him in the minor leagues for 16 years as a coach until he was promoted
from Hershey on Thanksgiving Day to take over the struggling Caps.
Beneath the rumple and rough edges is a pretty good hockey coach.
When I asked general manager George McPhee whether people underestimate
Boudreau, he said, "I think that was probably the case because if people
knew how good he was, he would have been in the NHL a long time ago.
People underestimate him, but once you work with him, you understand in
a hurry that he is an outstanding hockey man. Michael Nylander said
after one week with him that he was the best coach he ever had in this
league.
"He is a lot like Dale Hunter: They talk hockey 24 hours a day. Bruce
probably couldn't tell you who the president of the United States is,
but he sure knows hockey. The way he played the game demonstrated great
instincts for the game, and it shows behind the bench."
Boudreau leads the league in self-deprecation but not when it comes to
hockey and coaching. He is confident in his abilities and is the voice
that is heard in the locker room.
Boudreau came here faced with a difficult situation: reducing the role
of a longtime star in goalie Olie Kolzig, particularly after the Caps
acquired goalie Cristobal Huet in a trade.
"He handled it as well as a coach could handle it," McPhee said. "One of
the many things that makes Bruce a good coach is that he is fair. He
gives everybody opportunities.
"When Cristobal came in, he platooned Cristobal and Olie. He played them
both. Then when Cristobal got hot, he went with him - not an easy thing
to do, but the results are there. It was the right thing to do."
Sergei Fedorov knew little about his new coach when he arrived in a
trade here in late February. One of the game's all-time greats, Fedorov
played for Hall of Fame coach Scotty Bowman in Detroit on three Stanley
Cup squads, so he has seen the best in the game and is not easily
impressed.
"The first meeting we had, when I walked into the coach's office, his
first words were, 'Hi. Nice to meet you. So are you ready to play 25
minutes?' " Fedorov said. "We broke up laughing, both of us. I said yes,
but I hadn't done it in a while. It will take a few games. He said, no
problem. We will get to that point. From that moment on, we had a
complete understanding of what we were trying to accomplish as
individuals and as a group.
"Bruce brought back to me a lot of freshness and hockey sense. It has
been rejuvenating talking to him every day about something about our
club."
Perhaps most importantly, Ovechkin, the franchise player, seems to love
Boudreau.
"He always finds the words that we need," Ovechkin said. "Before a game,
he says the right things, and it helps us concentrate on what we have to
do. It is good when you have a coach who can say the right things."
Those "right things" are not rehearsed. They are the instincts that make
Bruce Boudreau a good coach - and an unlikely media star.
One fear about all the attention: You don't want Boudreau to start
wearing Armani shirts or Brooks Brothers suits. You don't want to see
him doing Nutri-System commercials. You want to keep the guy who opens
the biggest postgame news conference of his career with the following: "Okie
dokie, fire away."
McPhee is not worried about his coach going Hollywood.
"I don't think we have to worry about that," he said. "If we start
seeing that, I think everyone would get a kick out of it because they
would know it is not him.
"Besides, he could wear Brooks Brothers suits and still find a way to
get ketchup stains on it.”
Game 6 feet under
No love for LeBron, the District's villain
It was Washington, D.C. vs. LeBron James, and it was fun while it
lasted, wasn't it?
Nothing like a good hate to get the juices flowing, and by game time
last night at Verizon Center, Wizards fans had the blood of hate and
injustice rushing through their veins.
By the end of the 105-88 beating at the hands of the Cavaliers,
eliminating Washington from the playoffs, that blood still flowed. Hate
and injustice were still the only reasons to care after the Wizards'
disappointing performance in such a key home game.
The hate of LeBron, fueled by the superstar's whining about being played
so tough, combined with the fact that he is indeed great, is perhaps the
most intense we have seen in this city since the Cowboys-Redskins glory
days.
Maybe Danny White, or maybe even as far back as Roger Staubach, but you
would be hard-pressed to find an athlete that the most powerful city in
the world rose up against with such animosity as Washington did against
LeBron.
If the Wizards had somehow managed to win last night and then again in a
Game 7, the city would have continued to embrace the playoff run, but it
would have been missing the villain.
There would have been a player singled out with each series, but none
with all the baggage LeBron carries for opposing fans - the image of
being protected and pampered by an NBA with credibility problems.
The Cavaliers have left town, but LeBron will likely remain the most
despised athlete in this city for years to come.
When asked after the game if he had any response to the animosity,
LeBron said, "We advanced. We won the series 4-2. That speaks louder
than anything I can say about the fans here."
He was already the target of the boos from the fans at Verizon Center
every time he touched the ball, and the focus of "Crybaby James" signs
that popped up in the arena.
Then, as game time approached, fans learned the league had suspended
Wizards forward Darius Songaila for last night's game as a result of his
slap in the face of LeBron when both players got tangled up in the first
half of Game 5. It appeared to be an accident, as Songaila seemed to be
trying to get loose of the arm lock between himself and LeBron.
But NBA warden Stu Jackson determined it was enough to suspend Songaila,
and all that did was feed into the notion in Washington - and throughout
the league - that the league was protecting LeBron, and that if the
roles were reversed, there was no way Jackson would have suspended
LeBron.
So fans came to arena armed with their "Free Darius" signs, and a chip
on their shoulders that it was poor little Washington, D.C., against the
entire NBA. The Wizards did all they could to fuel the persecution by
introducing Songaila separately in the pregame ceremonies, with the
sidelined Gilbert Arenas holding up a Songaila jersey.
LeBron finished with 27 points, 13 rebounds and 13 assists, while his
team scored about 50 FOL points - Fear of LeBron points, where his
teammates benefit from the opposing team's fear of anything that LeBron
will do with or without the ball.
The NBA's golden child will move on to the next round, but in a league
where questions should be raised with every call and decision in the
wake of the Tim Donaghy referee betting scandal, it is developing a
LeBron credibility issue.
The season ends in Washington with the perception that NBA commissioner
David Stern is LeBron James' godfather.
LeBron was asked if he felt Songaila's suspension was warranted. "I am
not sitting in the front office with David and Stu Jackson looking at
the video tape," he answered.
He calls him David. How nice.
Washington hates LeBron for that, as well as for being so great, and for
bouncing their team from the playoffs for three straight years.
That hate will have to keep the juices flowing in this town until next
season.
When Andy MacPhail was hired as president of the Baltimore Orioles, I
asked Washington Nationals president and part owner Stan Kasten whether
he was a friend of MacPhail's. He said he was.
"Then why didn't you tackle him before he walked into the B&O
Warehouse?" I asked jokingly.
Turns out it was Kasten who may have needed the mercy takedown when he
merged with the Lerner family in the bid to buy the Washington
franchise.
Kasten's legacy as one of the most successful sports executives of his
time during his tenure running three Atlanta sports organizations - the
Braves, Hawks and Thrashers - is in danger of earning a tarnished
asterisk with the Nationals.
If Kasten is not steering this ship - and it's difficult to believe that
he is - then he needs to find a life preserver and jump because, as the
great Micheal Ray Richardson once said, "The ship be sinking."
The franchise has become a source of bewilderment and amusement
throughout the industry, the butt of jokes and the subject of
embarrassing national media reports of mismanagement within the
organization that are all too evident to those who have watched this
debacle unfold here.
The team has been abysmal, on its way to a 100-plus losses - the worst
record of any team opening a new ballpark since the Camden Yards era
began. Sure, the Nationals have been hit hard by injuries, but it
doesn't explain the poor play and the wasted money on those players who
have underperformed when they were on the field.
They have squandered the benefit of opening the new ballpark and are on
pace to draw 2.4 million, which would rank as the second-lowest figure
for any first-year ballpark since Camden Yards. They have been fortunate
that the ballpark itself has been so well received or else it could have
been worse. But ownership has even poisoned that positive vibe, with the
Lerners refusing to pay the District rent in a contract dispute.
No one is watching on television, with ratings so low that baseball is
investigating the numbers because they are so difficult to believe. And
it turns out no one is listening on the radio, either, again with
shockingly poor radio numbers for a major league team.
The Nationals have gained a reputation throughout the game of being
difficult to deal with when it comes to money, with reports of delayed
payments for the smallest of items and micro-managing financial
decisions. The atmosphere inside Nationals Park is one of despair and
resignation, not hope and excitement.
The front office has touted its plan to build the franchise through
player development and last year made major strides in that direction.
But the momentum has slowed toward that goal this year. The team failed
to sign its first-round draft pick, and even if the blame should be on
the shoulders of Aaron Crow and his agents, how does that explain the
lack of financial activity in the international market? I know this may
be a sore subject, given the federal investigation going on, but where
is this summer's Smiley Gonzalez?
If the Lerners are not spending the money on payroll, not spending the
money on high-priced draft picks and not spending the money on
international signings, then where is the money going? There is money,
lots and lots of it, even with the mediocre attendance figures because
of the dramatic increase in revenue from the luxury boxes, higher priced
tickets and ballpark sponsorships and ads - and don't forget the MASN
money Peter Angelos is forking over, even though no one is watching.
And as a rule, I have found that if things seem really bad from the
outside looking in - they're actually much worse.
Kasten has maintained a positive party line. He would chew broken glass
rather than reveal any internal turmoil. But it is clear this is not the
work of a seasoned sports executive, especially one as highly regarded
as Kasten. In a 2006 article in The Washington Post, NBA commissioner
David Stern declared, "They've gotten themselves a first-class sports
executive. It's fair to say it would be hard to replicate somebody with
Stan's wide range of experience and his successes."
The decisions and operations of this franchise do not mesh with the
track record of a sports executive who ran what was considered the model
organization in baseball for years, the Atlanta Braves. Between the
Braves and the NBA's Hawks, he helped them to 30 postseason appearances.
No, the fingerprints that are all over this franchise now are those of
amateurs - the Lerners.
The most asked questions from visiting team officials and players,
besides those about the ballpark, have been these:
"What the heck is going on here?"
"What is up with Stan?"
The first question is because it is difficult to believe that
intelligent people could be blowing such a golden opportunity that has
presented itself - baseball returning to the nation's capital with a
fully financed ballpark in one of the richest areas in the country.
The second question is because it is difficult to believe Stan Kasten
would be part of it.
Juan Carlos Robles doesn't need any additional advertisements to convey
the message he's a tough guy.
The cruiserweight boxer from Staunton, Va., looks formidable enough with
his tattoos and Mohawk.
But if you take a closer look at Robles, you see something that raises
tough to a whole new level - a piece of a finger hanging on a necklace.
"It does draw a crowd," Robles said before his fight Friday at the
Maryland Sportsplex in Millersville.
Let's take tough, though, and magnify it by a few degrees. The dried,
cured piece of finger hanging around Robles neck isn't from someone
else. It is his right pinkie - which he cut off himself.
Who would want to fight this guy?
Robles, 30, is a bona fide tough guy without the amputated digit. But
cutting off his finger puts him in the Tough (or Crazy) Hall of Fame,
ahead of former NFL safety Ronnie Lott, who had the tip of his left
pinkie removed following the 1985 season after it was crushed during a
tackle.
Lott had a medical procedure. He had doctors and nurses and surgical
supplies.
Robles had a chisel and a 15-pound weight.
"I did a good job," Robles said. "It healed perfectly. The doctors were
impressed."
Robles performed the Home Depot surgery to get back into the ring after
an April 2007 motorcycle accident put him out of commission for nine
months. He was driving home early one morning on his Suzuki 1100 when he
skidded going around a curve, and the motorcycle fell down a ravine and
hit a culvert.
"I was laying in a ditch with a broken arm and my knee all messed up,"
Robles said. "We [Robles and his trainer, Bruce Frank] were going to go
to the Patriot Center that night to watch a fight."
Robles managed to get his cell phone out and call Frank to tell him he
was lying in a ditch all banged up.
"I said, 'Don't call me. I didn't go to medical school," Frank said.
"Call the hospital."
He did, and it turned out Robles had a broken right kneecap, dislocated
right elbow, broken right forearm and road rash on his right ring and
pinkie fingers.
"My pinkie finger was torn up really bad," Robles said. "All the skin on
the inside from the very inside crease up to the top was torn up. It
stayed all curled up. I told the doctor we had to do something about
that."
Robles, though, didn't have insurance and didn't have enough money to
cover the cost of the pinkie amputation. Doctors told him of a program
at an area hospital in which he could have it done for free, but he
would have to wait several months.
"I couldn't wait," said Robles, who works full time for an excavation
company. "I was out for a while. I needed money, and I had a fight lined
up."
So he went home, put towels over the kitchen table and blocked off a
working area with several two-by-fours. He put gauze around the area and
twisted soldering wire around his right pinkie to slow the flow of
blood.
"Then I put a wood chisel on it and dropped a 15-pound weight on the
chisel," Robles said. "The piece shot out about six feet like a
missile."
He called Frank and said, "Bruce, I took care of my little problem."
Robles' wife, Ginnie, took him to the hospital to get stitched up. First
he told the doctors it came off accidentally. But the doctors had heard
about Robles and suspected he had performed amateur surgery.
"It was giving me a problem," Robles said he told the doctors. "If you
had took it off in the first place when I asked you to, I wouldn't be
here. So I left it at the house so you wouldn't try to put it back on.
They looked at me like I was crazy."
Can't understand why they would do that.
Robles had posted a 9-0 record before the accident and quickly gained a
reputation as a good, competitive fighter who gave fans their money's
worth. So he managed to get a shot at the World Boxing Council
Continental Americas cruiserweight title in March, his first fight back
since the accident, against veteran Rob Calloway, who had a 68-7-1 mark.
Robles was stopped in eight rounds and then lost a six-round decision to
William Bailey in August. But he looked good Friday in forcing Tommy
Washington Jr. to quit after three rounds.
Robles doesn't want to fight much longer.
"I fight because I enjoy it," he said. "But there's other things I want
to do besides fight. I'm getting restless. I want to travel."
He took a trip to Hollywood recently to audition for the Versus boxing
reality show "The Contender." Show producers had heard about Robles'
story and invited him out. He lasted two days.
"I gathered they thought my attitude would cause conflict for the show,"
he said.
One of the concerns producers had was about fighting among contestants
away from the ring, Robles said. He was asked what he would do if, say,
one of the contestants tried to take his finger necklace.
"I said I would cut their finger off and use that as a necklace," Robles
said. "I wasn't joking. I went through too much for this. There is only
so much I am going to take. I won't allow that. They do a personality
profile, and I don't think my attitude, personality and temper was what
they were looking for."
He may be better suited for the Do It Yourself Network anyway.
