So it came as no surprise that his stab at expressing sorrow over unnamed misdeeds was as lame as his excuse for throwing Piazza’s shattered bat at the Met (“I thought it was the ball”) a few months after beaning him eight seasons back.

“Like everyone,” Clemens said through a spokesman, “I have flaws.”

Clemens can’t confirm that he’s got flaws, not without reminding the world that you have flaws, too.

He wasn’t apologizing for using steroids and human growth hormone as Rocket fuel, even though a mountain of evidence swears he did just that. In the wake of reports that Clemens carried on extramarital affairs during his playing days (at this point, wouldn’t it be news if a star athlete didn’t carry on extramarital affairs during his playing days?), the greatest pitcher of his day decided it was time to say he is sorry for who knows what.

“Even though these articles contain many false accusations and mistakes,” Clemens said, “I need to say that I have made mistakes in my personal life for which I am sorry.”

Again, Clemens can’t announce that he’s screwed up royally without reminding others that they’ve screwed up royally, too.

“I have apologized to my family,” he continued, “and apologize to my fans. … I have sometimes made choices which have not been right.”

Roger Clemens hasn’t made a single right choice since his former trainer, Brian McNamee, fingered him as a juicer in the Mitchell Report. Back when Clemens was talking in the Yankee clubhouse, struggling to give coherent answers to the simplest news media questions, it appeared he wasn’t the smartest guy who ever picked up a rosin bag.

Now that suspicion has been confirmed in neon lights.

By pursuing a hearing before Congress, and by pursuing a defamation suit against McNamee, Clemens has done more damage to his personal life and professional legacy than the Mitchell Report ever could’ve done on its own.

He talked his way into a federal perjury investigation and, just maybe, into prison. He also sued his way into an examination of his own character that inspired Daily News reports of marital vows left looking like Piazza’s Subway Series bat.

Clemens apparently admitted to cheating on his wife. That would be the same wife, Debbie, whom he acknowledged as an HGH user while denying he even knew how to spell HGH.

“I believe my personal life has nothing to do with the accusations of steroid and HGH use,” Clemens said through his spokesman in a statement first published in the Houston Chronicle. “I have already made clear that I did not use them.”

Testimony from McNamee and Andy Pettitte says Clemens did indeed use performance-enhancing drugs. If McNamee and Pettitte told the truth under oath, and it sure looks like they did, Clemens lied again while apologizing for sins he didn’t name.

His reputation is beyond saving now, even if he didn’t start a sexual relationship with Mindy McCready, country singer-to-be, when she was 15. Nothing good can emerge from the balance of this case, nothing except (hopefully) the death of hero worship as we know it.

Clemens. Barry Bonds. Mark McGwire. Marion Jones. Lionized athletes too often end up exposed as false gods, a trend that spans decades of misplaced adulation on the ballfields.

It’s better to avoid getting too close to your heroes; their warts are generally bigger than their biceps. A friend of mine, Mark Dymond, came to know Mickey Mantle after his playing career - his limo company shepherded Mantle around town. The Mick confessed to Dymond that he was too hung over during some at-bats to even see the fastballs and curves thrown his way.

At a fantasy camp in Florida, Dymond was once walking with Mantle toward an elevator when a boy about 11 years old approached.

“Mr. Mantle, can I have your autograph?” the kid asked.

“(Bleep) off,” the great Mantle responded.

Yankees’ officials will tell you that Clemens didn’t treat fans and minions that way when the cameras were turned off. They will tell you about the small acts of decency behind clubhouse doors, the steak dinners he bought for the low-level staffers, the people who weren’t in any position to help him.

Nobody said Clemens is evil, just that he’s dumb. If Clemens isn’t dumb, he sure does a Hall of Fame impression of someone who is.

Rocket is also the flagbearer of a culture of jock entitlement. He’s had his launching pad kissed for so long, he assumed he could do whatever he pleased and then throw high and tight heat at anyone who dared to call him on it.

“I realize that many people want me to simply confess and apologize for the conduct that I have been accused of,” Clemens said in his statement, “but I cannot confess to, nor apologize for, things I did not do.”

So this act of contrition was a little short on, well, contrition. Roger the Dodger isn’t as sorry about the reported infidelity and drug use as he is about the fact he has to answer to the reported infidelity and drug use.