Remember way back...It must have been, oh...last week...when Yankee fans were positively giddy because the Sox had dropped 2-of-3 to Colorado? How they were all masturbating like Bonobo monkeys because the Sox lead was "down" to 8 games? Now, with those same Rockies having swept the Yankees, costing Roger Clemens his 350th win and returning the Sox's lead to double digits, I guess we can expect the phone lines to Mustard & Johnson to be jammed tomorrow morning with numbskulls in faded Paul O'Neill t-shirts saying "I guess I spoke too soon" in indescipherable New York accents.

On second thought...not likely.

According to the NY Post, here's what the Yankees paid Clemens to puke on his shirt yesterday:

• PER INNING (41/3): $213,414
• PER PITCH (90): $9,722
• PER STRIKE (55): $15,909

Of course, the loss is eating Clemens up inside. He takes no comfort in the 10 grand per pitch. He's all about the winning, you understand. And the teamwork and the friendships and the chance to mentor the young kids. At least that what he keeps telling us, and who're we gonna believe, him or 20 years of watching him chase money?

As a public service, we here at Barstool, who speak fluent Clemese, will, from time to time, take what Roger says and translate what he was actually thinking when he said it.

Running Clemens' latest postgame comments through The Stoolator:

What he said: "I expect to win, so it's disappointing. On the same page, I know it's not going to come easy. Nothing's going to come easy to this ballclub."

What he was thinking: Disappointed? Oh, yeah it's killing me. I made 875,000 frickin' dollars tonight, and got to the postgame spread before Melky Cabrera put his fingers all over the deli platter. I had a better night than anyone in Colorado, asswipe.

Said: "We lost, so it doesn't matter. You want to help win ballgames. That's what we're here to do."

Thought: Win or lose, I get Torre grovelling at my feet, George King writing fawning puff pieces about me and the chance to see Andy Pettite walk out of the shower, dripping wet. This is living.

Said: “Even when you are not hitting, you have to play clean games and we didn’t do that the last couple of game What did we have, five runs in three games?”

Thought: What the hell's happened to the "Best Lineup in Baseball?" How am I supposed to act like I came back here to be one of the guys when this bunch of dildos won't hit for me? If I wanted no run support, I could've stayed in Houston and carried on with my bizarre, fetish-like obsession for my sons.

Said: "I was taking deep breaths on the mound. My mouth got dry a couple times. That was the more difficult part. Heat or cold is not a big deal. The one inning a storm blew in and the wind changed direction. The wind hit my chest and caused me to throw the ball out of the zone. But I made the adjustment. Then, the wind started to blow straight out."

Thought: I can't believe they thought I could still pitch. Didn't anyone in the front office notice I look like "The King of Queens"? Then again, these are the same nitwits that gave me a retirement Humvee five years ago. Gawd, I love the Yankees.