from MLB.com

NEW YORK -- Act 300, Scene IV. Exit stage right.

For a change, that's how everything went after Roger Clemens left the arena.

Right.

Raul Mondesi rocked a two-run homer through the suspense. And the Yankees bullpen handled with care a third consecutive lead Clemens had given it.

A checklist for eternity.

4,000 strikeouts. Done.

300 wins. Done.

A Yankee Stadium night none of the 55,214 in the stands will ever forget. Done.

It had started off feeling like quite a double feature at the Yankee Multiplex. "Groundhog Day," as Clemens kept reliving the try for 300. And "Play Misty for Me," a gray, wet blanket covering the Bronx.

By the time they ran the closing credits, there were bouquets for all. Even the weatherman. The heavier rains everyone dreaded -- "What if there's a rain delay and Roger can't return to the mound?" -- never came.

The light drizzle for most of the game served to cool off the feverish fans. They needed a cold shower, and were getting one.

"The feeling, the atmosphere were great ... the fans deserve a lot of credit," catcher Jorge Posada said, once the on-field group hugging was over.

There was an absence of lightning, but this was still an electric storm. You could've illuminated all of Broadway with a long extension cord, such was the level of electricity inside The House.

Every time Clemens came out of his windup, so many flashbulbs popped in the stands, it looked like an invasion of fireflies.

Yankee Stadium just keeps topping itself as a cauldron of drama.

Two days after one unprecedented event -- Houston's six-man no-hit relays -- here was another. Two events that rarely occur in baseball, both happening in one night.

Friday night's game was as charged as any regular-season affair in the storied ballpark's 80-year history, maybe more than even many of the postseason games that have unfolded here.

The convergence of Clemens' quests was just a start.

The first meeting in 39 years of the 1964 World Series combatants lent the game a historical perspective.

Then, there was release for New York fans' passionate affair with Tino Martinez, which flared anew with his return as the Cardinals first baseman.

The people came so prepared to salute Tino, in the second inning you couldn't tell where their roars for Clemens' 4,000th strikeout of Edgar Renteria left off and their reception for Martinez picked up.

Tino had prepared his teammates for what to expect both from The Stadium and Clemens.

"It would be a big thing to play here and face The Rocket under ordinary circumstances," Martinez had said before the game. "With him going for 300, it'll elevate the atmosphere that much more.

"It'll be a pretty good taste of playoff atmosphere."

Describing it and feeling it are two different things.

"To me, it felt like the seventh game of the World Series," said Chris Hammond, the first man out of the Yankees bullpen. "It was exciting, even a lot more exciting than I thought it would be."

The left-hander was speaking in code. "Exciting" must have meant "gut-wrenching."

He had to enter the game under a torrent of boos. They weren't meant for him, but for Joe Torre, the resolute manager who had just hooked Clemens. Same difference.

A half-hour after the game, Hammond had resumed breathing. "When I got the third out (of the seventh inning), a lot of pressure was taken off," he said. "Even more pressure came off when they told me I was out of the game."

The tide of human emotion had peaked a couple of innings before that, in the fifth. For Clemens, who had spent a lot of pitches getting eight strikeouts through four innings to bust through the 4,000 barrier, this was The Wall.

On the other side lay the 300th win. Without making it over The Wall, he wouldn't have the necessary innings, whatever the score.

Clemens had trouble getting a grip. With one out, J.D. Drew walked. Then Albert Pujols singled. Then the crowd got under Roger.

Even as he passed the 100-pitch mark, they carried him to a strikeout of Jim Edmonds, who had homered in the second. Still leaning on the crowd, lifted by its rumbling roars, Clemens also struck out Scott Rolen, on his 26th pitch of the inning.

Clemens walked off the mound shaking his head, wearing a puzzled expression. It said, "Man, I don't remember this ever being so tough."

The most amazing thing happened next. Clemens needed only nine pitches to get through the sixth, which left enough in his tank for two more outs in the seventh.

Then an even more amazing thing happened. Clemens left his lead, and fate, for the bullpen, which protected both.

With one out to go to immortality, Clemens returned to the bench to watch Mariano Rivera work on the last out. It was quick work. Miguel Cairo drilled the second pitch on a quick hop into first baseman Jason Giambi's glove.

Just like that, "Rocket Man" shook the walls and The Rocket shook his fist, bounding out of the dugout to embrace teammates.

It was a picture worthy of framing. Roger Clemens is not a sentimental man, a hard life having steeled him to most outward shows of emotion. But those were sincere hugs. When he broke his clench with Jorge Posada, the catcher's fingerprints remained on his neck.

Meanwhile, Koby and Kory Clemens were leaving their fingerprints on the edge of the mound, from where they were scooping souvenir handfuls of dirt into little plastic baggies.

And a sheet came off a section of the outfield fence, revealing a giant "Clemens 300 Win" logo. It was identical to the miniature one that adorned Clemens' mitt the first time he went out for No. 300, on May 26.

The Boston Red Sox made him get rid of that logo. Ain't nobody removing this one.

Tom Singer is a reporter for MLB.com. This story was not subject to the approval of Major League Baseball or its clubs.