It's Mets For Me: Off-Beat, Tangentially Relevant Mets Ruminations

Off Base Since 2005! Mets commentary from the counter-intuitive to the unintuitive and all the intuitives in between. ** "Through the use of humor and gross inaccuracy...a certain truth can be gained." Rob Perri ** (pester me or follow me @itsmetsforme on twitter)

Monday, July 28, 2008

Fish are Terrible, but Mets are Uggla-ier

Really, why hasn't this team been contracted yet? Just for clarification, I am talking about the Florida Marlins, the opponents of your New York Metropolitan ball club last night. Jerry Manuel tried to lose this one all on his own last night, perhaps getting tired of all the Willie Randolph comparisons. When Manuel went out to question John Maine, then returned to the dugout, leaving Maine, concentration newly broken, in long enough to fucking blow the Met lead, then came and took him out, the game was probably lost. It was the most irritating fucking game in recent memory. In fact, if you didn't catch it, then I'll spare you the details. It's the humane thing to do.
Above, two of the dumbest jackasses to ever hold a microphone. And to the right, two donkeys with microphones.

Besides a horrible Met performance and losing to a bunch of AAA players, the worst thing was getting stuck with the Fish Feed. Watching the FSN broadcasters Rich Waltz and Tommy Hutton is like having two extremely unlikable douches who also happen to know next to nothing about baseball talk at you for 2-3 hrs during a baseball game. That is not a simile. Waltz and Hutton, if that's their real names, are like Fran Heely, drained of charm, insight and hospitality. I can't stress this enough, they suck big nasty round things. The worst part is on the rare occasion when the game turns in favor of the Marlins (the Mets win most of the games in Florida), the shit faces, in true coward-wanker form, start to bait the Metsfans in their audience. How could these prize asses even know we were watching? No one else watches the Marlins I guess.

Shownblow was the goat of the day, but that's nothing too new for him. Everyday Dan Uggla tried to throw the game away with his daily error. But the Mets pen could not do shit to stem the Fish comeback. Then the Mets proceeded to go meekly into high-as-a-kite Kevin Gregg, who thought he could fool us by donning sunglasses during a night game. The umps sucked. If you missed it, count yourself lucky.

Labels: , ,

Sunday, July 27, 2008

Sweet Dreams after a Long Night, Manny Being Met-y?

Saturday night's 1000 inning game was draining. Afterwards, I felt like Tony LaRasshat at a stop light in spring training--drained and a little hungover.

Watching that ball get launched into the night complements of the MLB's most arrogant player, the loss suddenly felt so obvious. With the Lite Knight starting, maybe it was a game the Mets had no business winning. But after Tatis' typical late inning heroics, it really seemed like the Mets would win. The team obviously thought so, goofing around in the dugout spending more energy inventing funny hats than pushing a godforsaken run across the godforsaken plate. Tossing and turning all night, most likely as a result of eating too much garlic with my beer, I couldn't help wondering if J-Man could have pitched around Poohole last night? Rather than let him launch one into Citifield? Hellman seemed to be obviously tiring/getting ready for his inevitable role as goat.

The chUmpires again played a role in last night's loss. The horribly blown calls against the Mets really are starting to add up. But there are many high profile shit calls in general, poor judgment and puzzling decision making. Rather than investigate the use of instant replay, something baseball hasn't needed for generations and generations, why not investigate why the umpires are suddenly so awful? Maybe fire a few? Because Bud Selig is a useless sack of shit, is my theory.

Then having to wake up to "news" that Manny Ramirez, that object of many an Omar wet dream, could be headed to the Philmes if the baseball gods are feeling particularly nasty. If that happened, the ludicrous Phillies could become the National League Red Sox, what with Manny and Howard batting in their order. That could very well suck the big one.

I prefer the idea that the Sawx will keep him, or somehow send him to the Mets for pennies.

Of course, I loved today's game. Johan Santana had an "S" on his chest, the offense raked, and the defense was outstanding. Unfortunately the Br*ves remain devoted to our misery.
Trying to put the Phillies in my computer's rear view mirror

I do not make the habit of sending my readers elsewhere via link dumping, not because I am taking a moral stand against the time-tested lazy blogging skill of space filling, but because studies show that introducing flat screen hi-def tv's to a population happy enough with AM radio is not good business.

However, a few recent posts from around town merit Met fan attention.


Item one:

Now that they're yesterday's news, the Phillies are becoming the whiny little bitches we always knew they could be. I have become a near-icon for my "I don't believe in Phillies" mantra copped from John Lennon which, up until a certain last September, served me well. The only thing remotely charming about the perennial NL East also-rans, is that their hateful fans turn defeatist and nihilist when the club has a taste of success. I have to admit, that's kind of cute.

But not cute? Not cute is the Phil's decrepit Manager C-Man criticizing Professor Jose's demeanor as he rounded the bases to collect his reward for sinking the Philme's into First Loser position, not when, as CSTB explains, Charlie has the behavior of his own celebrated shortstop with first name beginning with J to worry about. You let us handle the showboating narrative over here in Metsland, pal. As far as I'm concerned, the Mets and their fans have paid the karmic price for the hotdogging, handshaking, and dancing of 2007, and it's old news.

Item two:

Skewering Phil Rodgers' midseason reviews, particularly Rodgers' choice of J-Man as a manager of the year candidate, FJM invokes the scientific theory of "hard-core retroactive association" to explain the premature isolation of the Manuel Factor.

Of course, FJM crew are not full-time Mets enthusiasts so they can afford to be unbiased. They don't need to find someone to believe in. But to pretend that Jerry hasn't been the recipient of mucho luck is to have the web-verbial Koolaid stain all over our mouth area. Let's just reserve judgment for now so when our hearts break later, we can still act all tough. The most we can say right now, following FJM, is that JMan "happened" to be in charge when the Mets went on a tear.

Onward and forward and upward and all that stuff. If he's out there, hopefully Cver can give us the big scoop on his trip to Shea. At the end of the week, I'm off to Houston for the series with the Astroturfs and hilarity is sure to ensue.

Thursday, July 24, 2008

In Ya Face, Mets take First Place

The scene in my apartment on Thursday afternoon.

First, bat flippin' Carlos Delgado got under the putrid skin of at-death's-door Jamie Moyer, then he flipped the winning double into the left field corner. Good Ollie stayed until the 8th inning. Countrytime didn't make it interesting. The Phils gave it all they had, but it wasn't enough, and the Mets have now bested them 9 of 13 times. Not much to say, maybe the best game of the year. Let's enjoy it.

The image “” cannot be displayed, because it contains errors.
Oh oh oh, Jamie's cryin.'

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Mets Hopes for NL East might be a Dead Endy

This performance merits a video exploding head. Click to relive the 9th inning experience.

The Hall Of Pathetic Met Performances has plenty of exhibits. Well dust off that shelf and make some room because last night's game is one for the museum.

The BAD Mets resurfaced last night, and blithely turned certain victory, first place, and a W for their purported ace into Phillie-enabling defeat. Who's the goat? Reyes and his 10 cent head? Endy who had the gall to run himself lamely into outs at the plate not once but twice (a play Jerry likes to call the "Dead Endy")? The new third base guy, whasisname? J-man for pulling Santana? It's an elephant and we're all blind men. And it really doesn't matter, cause this was a game you just try to forget.

Hating your team's bullpen is like hating a relative; they won't go away and there's little you can do about it. But I really hate this bullshitpen. There isn't a single guy in there I would mind seeing replaced. It's mostly the same guys from the collapse, which is a crime in itself. Adding Matt Wise, Omar, that's what you accomplished this off season?!? With Wagner apparently unavailable, these guys didn't step up and cover for him, they shat and pissed all over the carpet like a nervous puppy. Not a cute puppy either.

Ludicrous effort from leaderless losers. Who can blame the Phillies? I wouldn't want to share first place with these bozos either.

Labels: , ,

Sunday, July 20, 2008


This time, the Reds refuse to be beheaded easily.

Well the Metsies squeezed out* the win and the split today. I'd like to tell you that I never doubted them, but the truth is, I was ready to throw in the towel today and yesterday. I'm not a good fan. More on that in a moment.

But first, I have to say: Ramon Castro is a blogger's dream. His enormous head gives opportunity for Mike Myers-related gags, some with the Shrek moniker though I prefer my own homebrew "Head!" which I have amended to "sleepyHead!." When he is not taking dubious trips to the disabled list, Ramon spends his time "haulin' that gargantuan cranium around," supplying some occasional power that makes Brian Schneider's starts more headscratching than the original trade for him. Ramon's penchant for sleeping in and throwing the ball into centerfield are not as endearing.

Anyhow, while Argenis Reyes deserves some props, Jose Reyes made a tastey error sandwich with 4 hits and a groaner through the wickets, and Robinson "Caruso" Cancel played the hero, my star of the day is Head! because his home run in the third made me happy and I didn't know what was coming in the fourth, a disaster that I'll let the mlb describe:

Pelfrey allowed his second home run, to Encarnacion, after the Reds had scored twice in the fourth. Ken Griffey Jr. led off with an opposite-field double that left fielder Marlon Anderson lost in the sun. Phillips' ground-ball single to right might have been handled by a first baseman better equipped than Delgado.

Go to 1:37 of this video to unlock the secret history of Ramon Castro's best nickname.

Argh. There are troubling signs galore in this one, not to mention this entire series. I present them along with the bodily noises I made when they happened.

With the Mets threatening in the 5th after Pelfrey and Marlon Anderson's defense conspired to ralph the game lead right back to Schott's Soldiers, even HEAD couldn't get it done. Then Endy does what a fringe player does and lines into a pathetic double play.


In the 7th with the score knotted up again, I asked myself one tasteless question: would the Mets finally assassinate Lincoln? Tatis made it to first when a pretty good looking Lincoln curve ball got called a ball. With one out, the Mighty Head struck out. Followed by Chavez popping up the first goddamn pitch. Poor offseason planning=4th outfielders getting way too many at-bats.


Meanwhile, the Bad Reyes lets the easiest ball in the world go through the wickets in the 7th, signalling perhaps the return of Jerry's Kids, but then a friendly grounder turned double play helped the Mets get out of trouble.


Endy fails once more in the 9th with a man on 3rd and two outs after Beltran gets thrown out at third trying to steal.


Then a bunch of good stuff happened like Red's errors and they're back into first place.

*I have always been of the opinion that a past tense for squeeze, squoze, should be instituted.


Saturday, July 19, 2008

Mets Look Dead Against Big Red

Mr. Red hits the town to celebrate the easy pasting of the Mets

Last night the Mets battled the boys in blue and the boys in red, and lost on both scores. The chUmpires, if they weren't in fact on the take, picked a terrible night to defile the American pastime with incompetence, since Ollie Perez' wagon wheels are always in danger of coming off. Some of these travesties had an impact on the score, some not, but the bottom line is the Mets are drawing more than their share of shit calls. Bottom of the 5th, Tatis breaks his ass to catch a foul pop up, AKA "the third out" of the inning, Wally Bell jogs out, watches him catch it, and then declares it no catch. Top of the sixth Damion Easley grounds all feeble and shit up the middle with no outs and two men on, and the autopilot bozo on the first base line calls him out when he was safe by a mile. Don't get me started on the balls and strikes calls, those were dubious as well. But we can't blame home plate umpire Sam Holbrook, who, according to the SNY guys, was just filling in for John Herschbeck, who is ON VACATION. On vacation during the season? With these summer gas prices? This resolves any nagging questions you may have had concerning accountability for MLB officials. What if a ballplayer took a vacation during the season after having a whole winter off? Ha ha yeah I know, the Mets collectively took a September holiday in 2007, I was setting you up for that one.

Umpire Wally Bell accepts cash considerations from his Reds front office connection

This is not to imply that the Mets couldn't lose this game all on their own. No no, it was hard to hear oneself fume with all those ducks on the pond quacking away. The Mets made the Reds relievers, Affeldt, Lincoln, and Stormy Weathers look like Rollie Fingers, Dennis Eckersley and Jeff Reardon. Many game-changing RISPs beckoned, but the Mets stars demurred, preferring to watch strikes go sailing by. It looks like Carlos "I like to watch" Beltran has tutored Goldenboy as to how not to foul off close pitches that turn into called third strikes, and journeyman Whatshisname Lincoln was delivering some nasty pitches anyhow.

It was a pathetic effort. Worse, the Mets have reverted to the brand of baseball they are famous for. This trip to the Great American Smallpark is turning into a disaster.

Friday, July 18, 2008

Mets in First after Davey Hits Cincinnati Area Fat Man with Ball
The undead corpse of Marge Schott wanders the concourse last night with Mr Met ripoff handing out Nazi balloons to the children.

It was the annual battle of the Ball Heads. It didn't start well, but boy the ending was swell.

If you went into a coma, oh about 11 or 12 games ago and woke up in the 4th inning last night, you wouldn't have thought twice. For a good proportion of the game, the Mets looked real first halfy/collapsy, with suspicious starting pitching, suspect defense, and criminal relief. I admit to feeling totally deflated, which speaks to the faith I have in this club.

For a while last night, it seemed that the story today would involve how the Mets pitching staff, them of a .64 ERA through their last 6, realized they were being stingy and decided to start giving those runs back in bushels. But then suddenly the offense bailed them out. Again and again. At the risk of underplaying David Wright's contribution, and Carlos Delgado's rebirth, I must say this Fernando Tatis has been at the heart of nearly every good thing these guys have done lately. As I said before, it is truly better to look good than to be good.

Instead the story is this: The Phillies have CHOKED away a 7 1/2 game lead (June 13th) and the Mets are in first!! Why not?

Now to the subplots. The agents of a certain handful of Mets, the Convalescent Quartet of El Duque, Alou, Pedro, and Luis Castillo, tying up the lines at Sterling Enterprises with reports of the continued setbacks their clients are suffering. Pedro took a cortisone shot, and Old Duque left his rehab game with wheeziness and boo boo foot or something. Castillo has been sent to Florida with the instructions: don't call us, we'll call you. Every time one of these dudes gets back on the horse, it seems another of them gets run down by the wagon. We can only hope that Omar has finally crossed "Get older, frailer" off of his list of things to do. Chicks, it turns out, do not dig "That Old Man Smell." Pagan and Church to the setbackers and it looked like we were headed for a night of rotten news.

It looks like the Yankees plan to have Jason Giambi coach Richie Sexton on how to manage his post-steroid scandal return to productivity. The news that spread of Sexton and Joe Blanton joining the enemies, put a point on the coming dread: the Mets have no everyday corner outfielders and a pretty doubtful end of the rotation. In terms of what Omar Minaya might do, any Met deadline deal needs to be viewed with trepidation and Omar's regime is no exception, though this hasn't been their thing so far. What to do? Or more specifically, what not to do?

John Peterson has captured the fear and loathing quite aptly in his discussion of Raul Ibanez rumors. He has also posted a visual, immortal testament to the Ibanez fielding style, (click link if video doesn't work, or go directly to the Lookout Landing sidebar for Ibanez defensive gems), just in case you get the urge to kick the tires and fit Raul into your Met fantasy plans. What can a guy like Ibanez give ya in left? You don't want to know.

The image “” cannot be displayed, because it contains errors.
Do you want the Mets to take a chance on a guy who often doesn't seem to know where the ball is?

So who else is out there that we could tolerate? Probably nobody, if the continued decimation of the minor league system any satisfactory move would require is factored in.

I'm sure that Xavier Nady will be a popular target, seeing as Mets fans loved this guy more after he was dealt than they did when he was here. This farmer boy Adam Dunn, who has hit as many home runs as Ted Williams did at a comparable point in his career, is fresh in our minds. He could certainly chase his tail and flail away like Endy and Tatis in right field, while putin' some moonshine into his moonshots for the Mets. That is if the Mets don't mind a tractor full of strikeouts, livestock roaming the clubhouse, and rising post-game buffet costs. I can't promise you that Omar makes a move, I can only promise I will whine no matter what he does.

And despite all my posturing about old guys, I have to say news of Manny Ramirez pissing off the Red Sawx owners yet again got me thinking of this guy coming out of left field... in Citifield. If the Sox don't pick up their $20 million options in the next two years, it would be awful tempting to let him be himself out there where Moises once (or twice) roamed. What's another $20 million boondoggle for the Wilpons? I don't know why I'd even consider that (other than the World Series rings Manny has helped deliver), but there you go.

Johan's terrible start last night is probably bothering me too much, but I couldn't help but notice that the Twins can't find a spot for post Tommy John uber pitcher Francisco Liriano in their rotation and are keeping him in AAA for a month! Damn. Some teams have all the luck/managerial panache.

For you folks that are interested, the New York Times had a snazzy little graphic comparing the first 32 games of the 2007 and 2008 Mets. If you like colored bubbles that indicate the size of a percentage by their size, this is the place for you. I guess I got to this late, and its only 32 games, but I'd like to see a comparison of the whole first halves, so to speak.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Break up the Mets!!

Wow, how bout them Mets?

That last series with the (c)Rockies sure was something! The Mets are among the hottest teams in baseball going into the break, so hot in fact, that the break was a real bummer for Mets fans. Surely even the hacks at the networks responsible for broadcasting Major League games would notice this team rising from the ashes? Unfortunately, no one told Jon Miller and Joe Morgan they were broadcasting from Shea and covering the suddenly-contending Mets, and they spent a good deal of the Sunday night broadcast discussing the wonders of the Yankees. I thought to myself, "ESPN, America is sick and tired of the Yankees. They can slap a mustache on a steroid cheater, but they can't fool baseball fans." I didn't know what I was in for. Let me elaborate.

If you can't sit still as I present the following random, if aggravated, thoughts on the Faux Broadcast of the All-Star game, here are what I think to be the main themes. They will be slightly familiar to my reader(s).

Joe Buck is anti-Christ.
The Mets were disrespected.
Fuck the Yankees. Really.

I tried not to watch this production, having sworn off baseball for the week to get other things done. Also, I was not the least bit curious as to how the American League would win, or how the dolts at Faux would fit the enormous Yankee Stadium member into their mouths for the purpose of broadcast fellatio. And, when I thought of how the "winner" would have home field advantage for the World Series thanks to Bud Selig, I could summon only anger.

But I admit that my rage against the actual Mets players has dissipated and I have come around to the idea that the Mets--particularly Reyes, Santana, and Beltran (Wright to some degree too)-- were sorely disrespected this time around, leading to a slightly baffled rage directed at the NL manager and the Fan Voted All Star game itself (how exactly did people in various parts of Bumfuck outvote the less jaded fans in the greater NY metropolitan region?) So, unable to contain my curiosity over whether Daveyboy Wright had made it into the game, I tuned in to what I thought would be the end of the game, and lo and behold, it was only the 5th. Shit, I thought. I watched a while, then switched to something actually entertaining in the 8th after Big Game Billy Wagner shat away any potential Met World Series home field advantage, an episode of "The Wire". Damned if that game wasn't still on when I was turning off the dvd player.

Clint Hurdle is a new entry on my idiot list.

My hackles were raised when it came to my attention Hurdle thought he could talk down to Golden Boy. Gimme a break, your cRockies lucked into the final round last year where they were drubbed back to little league, so you can condescend to one of the top young players in the league?

"I spoke to David Wright," NL manager Clint Hurdle said after the game. "I told David, 'You were the last pick. I went and got you. Have you ever pitched in an All-Star Game?'

"I said, 'You wanted to be in this thing. That's all I've read, all I've heard for the last three days. You won't believe how much you might be in it here real quick.'

Who does Hurdle think he's talking to? What does it matter what the fan vote said? Unless you're blind, you respect Wright--let one of your shitty altitude-aided cRockies position players pitch. Fuck you Clint.

Now I was reluctant to vote for them when it counted, but the parts of the game I watched mainly served to raise my Mets Nationalism to a fever pitch. Who are these guys? Kinsler? Huh? Upon sighting Cristian Guzman, I thought this is some kind of bullshit. You can play over David Wright (reigning Gold Glove, 70 RBI, slg .499 etc.) by doing nothing other than hitting .313???? I think the Washington Nationals' mascot was more deserving of the token National spot than this guy. And yet Wright had to beg his way on to the team. And a ROIDER-CHEAT soon-to-be-has-been Miguel Tejada over Jose Reyes, who at most has been accused of ingested too much pop before bedtime? But the kicker and I mean the kicker has to be...

The fuck was Dan Uggla doing at an All Star game? Particularly one that Reyes and Beltran didn't qualify for?
Dan Uggla's hands, actual size

Even before his 9 errors I wouldn't trust Dan Uggla to catch his flight to suckville, I thought, fondly reminiscing over how many times my blog has traveled on Uggla's coattails: "That game sure turned Uggla!" I know Carlos Beltran could play second better than Uggla (he'd play really really deep). The MLB was quite obviously trying to disrespect the Mets was my conclusion.

Well, it turns out the NL squad didn't need adequate Met representation to go something like 0 fer 6 with RISP (a Met specialty). The team certainly didn't need BillyGoat Wagner to come in and prolong the game way past its expiration point. And David Wright (1 fer3) nothing of note that I saw, though to be fair he had Guzman batting after him, Guzman who robbed Daveyboy of any possible heroic role with a shitty bunt back to the pitcher in the billionth inning or so.

The image “” cannot be displayed, because it contains errors.

From the 5th to the 8th, I had my fill of the absurdities of Joe "What the" Buck and Timmy! McCarver. No matter how many times it is said, it bears repeating: these guys are just prize asses. Now I know for these dinkleberries, obsequiousness is the coin of the realm, but these two seem intent on two things: a) mailing it in and b) achieving the surreal and useless position of being homers for the MLB. Around the 7th inning, as I tried to choke away the tears of laughter after hearing Timmy! call Dominicans "Dominican Republicans," the two started blowing some serious smoke up Edinson Volquez' derrière. According to the twits, Volquez has "best change up in the big leagues." No qualification. Volquez pitches in the National League and his changeup isn't even the best there. There's a guy by the name of Johan Santana, who apparently gave up his seat in the All-Star pen for the likes of Brian Wilson and Aaron Cook, who would beg to differ.

To say these two bozos don't prepare for a broadcast is an understatement. They arrive on autopilot and leave on said autopilot. Here is the Buck/McCarver formula.

Variant A.
"Nobody in baseball has a better X than player Y"

Variant B.
"Nobody in baseball has an X as X as player Y."

Repeat 300 times. Ask Ken Rosenthal about it. Say absolutely nothing edifying about the game of baseball. Sprinkle in some staged contradictory blather by Timmy! and you have it, a broadcast that can best be described as an excruciation.

These guys don't even pay attention to their own monitors. Buck erupted in hysterics in the 12th when, on what was eventually ruled a foul ball, Even Longoria hit it to Guzman at third who then threw home to try to nail the runner, allowing catcher Russel Martin to make a fantastic pick in time to tag the runner out. Except for none of this probably happened. No, Faux's own replay showed there was much reason to doubt this call, mainly because there was no ball in Martin's glove--the ball seemed to kick away after apparently hitting the umpire. Now maybe the camera angle lied, but it certainly bears notice. But Buck was probably distracted by the idiotic "Tito will yank Kazmir no matter what the situation cause he's just that kind of guy"story line invented by the producers. Like Francona's going to use Kazmir delicately--fuck that, the guy threw 100 pitches like yesterday, his arm is held on with chewing gum, and his team is standing between the Sawk and world domination.

Of course, celebrating your corporate brothers is a key requirement of any Faux or ESPN broadcast. So oh so much Yankees this, Yankees that would be expected, even if the Yankees are not remotely involved (see above). But Joe Buck saw fit to actually spend my time making the argument that George Steinbrenner, convicted felon and proven liar, was deserving of a spot in the Hall of Fame. And though Buck dutifully repeated the chants Yankees fans directed at Jonathan Papelbon during the game, there were no comments whatsoever as to the sheer classlessness of booing at an All Star game, something I seriously doubt has happened before. I guess the only people sanctioned to befoul the history of the timeless wonder that is Yankee Stadium are the knuckle draggers that populate it. Seriously, booing at an All Star game.

I hope my eyes were lying, but I thought I saw Red Sox/All Star Manager Tito whatshisname actually give A-Rod, who has won exactly Zero titles with the Yankees or anyone else, the celebratory "removal from the game during the inning" treatment (as he then did with "Every Kind of Mo" Jeter). What kind of world is it when the Red Sox manager is bending over for the Yankees? It's not a world I want to live in.

The MLB enabled fawning over the Yankees demonstrates that Fox and Espn think baseball is about their fellow corporate bullies, bullies who haven't won a fight since the turn of the century by the way. These (athletic cut) suits think people want to hear endless re-tellings of the story of how Goliath beat the shit out of David. But they're wrong as acid rain. For all but the most casual thoughtless fans, baseball is about the small cities and the underdogs, say the Kansas Cities and the Mets for instance, its about gutting out the competition and the possibility of redemption and occasionally, transcendence.

Still don't think the MLB is out of touch? Check out the enormous white tank they gave to the MVP. Sure it was a "hybrid" and one can understand the timing of the desperate message from Chevy: "buy more tanks America, puleeze." Or maybe J.D. Drew needs an enormous vehicle to keep him from further injury. But my read is that it is scandalous at worst and tasteless at best to parade yet another giant SUV as a symbolic reward--message: this form of sad reproductive organ overcompensation is still cool-- while the environment goes to fuck and Joe Lawnmower can't afford a tank of unleaded. Of course Bud Selig doesn't care if Joe Lawnmower can take his brats to an actual game anymore either.

The game ended in what, to my mind, was a storm of ignobility. If you believe the Faux story, the managers somehow once again mismanaged their personnel, and the game was in danger of being called a tie. And I thought the game-ending play was a bit closer than they let on. It seems that no amount of vaginae or chocolate cake in the world would have prevented Derryl Morneau from calling Justin Morneau out on McCann's tag of Hart's very close throw home. Things like that are why this exhibition should no longer "count," and should never have "counted." It is an on-going crime against baseball by Bud Selig that the American League will get WS homefield advantage for the rest of eternity.

Speaking of Bud Selig, that miserable fuck, he was shown once as Fux cut to commercial. He was in his traditional All Star game pose, head miserably held in hands. For once, I know how he felt.

Labels: ,

Wednesday, July 09, 2008

J-Man's Crew are Giant Killas

The image “” cannot be displayed, because it contains errors.
The resurgence of Mike Pelfrey (pictured above) and the Mets offense leads to good things.

Holyfunkinwoopdiewow!! The Mets have now won 4 (four) in a row. I had wondered what a streak of good luck felt like.

Although the Mets got some bad news about the extent to which Church got his bell rung, it was hard to ignore the rash of swell happenings yesterday. Mike Pelfrey continues to develop, this time giving us 7 scoreless, walk-less, curvebally, 3-hit innings. Who knows if its just Mets new pitching coach Whatshisname propaganda, but media reports that Rick Peterson had made Pelf abandon the curve ball--a thus far effective addition to his repertoire--might end up bestowing Professor Rick with a new nick: "The Straitjacket." Hard to tell so soon, but Peterson's regime might have become stale, not allowing the pitchers any personal growth.

The streaky Carlos Beltran and the Mets awfulfense seem to have finally turned the corner, just in time for a week lay off!! (I do have to retain healthy skepticism). In the process of bashing the Giants brains in, the Mets schooled babyface pitcher Tim Lincecum, an event which certainly could not have been predicted. Too much could be made of this pasting of the Washington Generals-like San Francisco club* but the Mets need to beat the bad teams. They climbed a mammoth two games above .500. And they put the fear into the Philmes, who lead them by a margin small enough that the Mets could end up in first place going into the All Star break. So shovel up what's left of your exploded head and root these guys on to a San Francisco sweep!

Chastened by a statistically astute reader of this blog, I went to the MLB site to cast as many votes as possible for Davey Boy. A few comments. First, baseball and democracy are supposed to go hand in hand, no? Well, then, it's unnerving that one can "vote" as many times as one likes. You can no longer legally vote "early and often," even in countries who just adopted the practice, so why can you do this for an all star team? What's that you say? The MLB probably realized they couldn't stop people from voting multiple-wise and figured they'd just institutionalize the practice, giving in to the vicissitudes of technologically-based mob enablement. Not good enough MLB. This is like giving in to state trooper harassment of the black vote in Florida, or unreliable voting machines with no paper trail. America has enough problems, Bud Selig you bastard, we don't need corporate baseball to undermine the only decent thing we ever came up with (besides jazz and chipwiches, of course).

Second, according to the scroll down bar, if you were born this year, you can vote. Um, voter fraud anyone?

Finally, honest multiple voters will inevitably forget to uncheck the boxes whereby MLB can spam your email boxes with bullshit. Sneaky bastards.


The image “” cannot be displayed, because it contains errors.

Although the media has yet to carry an emotional statement by Jose Valentin, this time the Yankees have gone too far. First, their closer steals our closer's entry music, and we forgave and forgot. But then they build a new stadium next to the old one just like us, and now they are trying to take the stash?? The pinstripe line needs to be drawn.

To make matters worse, Jason Giambi, a player who just three years ago the Spankers wanted to unload after he was caught with the roids, is the vessel for this unholy campaign. The Yankees,

who ban facial hair below the lower lip, will celebrate hair above the upper lip with an impromptu promotion on Wednesday afternoon. The first 20,000 fans to arrive at Yankee Stadium will receive replica mustaches, complete with a wire for shaping, according to the package.

Further examination of the dubious proposition that gay porn-style mustaches are a slam dunk indicator of manliness aside, the Yankees want us to believe that a shrunken testicled, admitted drug using, man who faces competition by cheating should be celebrated with a tongue-in-cheek (or hair on lip) promotional giveaway as a a fun guy to emulate? If they just want to distract us from the philandering of their bazillion dollar third baseman, who for all his bucks can't find anyone more discrete to fool around with than Madonna, then there has to be a better way. What message does this send to the future arrogant, entitled, battery throwing douche bags that will become the Yankees fans of the future?

For young, uncommitted, pubescent NY-area baseball fans, the correct path is clear. If you want to revel in all that is masculine facial hair, then the Mets are your team. If you want to hide your insecurities by nurturing labial growth, your team is the Mets. Let history be your guide. The fact that Keith Hernandez' stash is legendary while so-called Donnie Baseball's is just an afterthought is of course mostly due to the wide gulf in abilities between the greatest fielding first baseman that ever lived, and some Yankee that never won anything. But we also have to factor in the simple truth that the stash tradition--handed down from Keith, appropriated briefly by Bobby Valentine, and carried on with preternatural panache by Jose Valentin--is a true Met tradition.

*For you youngsters, the Washington Generals were the exhibition basketball club known for losing to the Harlem Globetrotters. So "Washington Generals-like" as in, yeah, they show up, but you really ought to beat them. The Generals' wikipedia page has a great story about the time the Generals--at the time called the New Jersey Reds-- actually (and inadvertently) beat the Globetrotters:

The Reds defeated the Globetrotters 100-99 on January 5, 1971 in Martin, Tennessee. It ended a 2,495-game winning streak – and was Harlem’s only loss between 1962 and 1995. Klotz credits the overtime win to a guard named Eddie Mahar, who was team captain. Harlem's captain, Curly Neal, did not play in this game.

While the Globetrotters were entertaining the crowd that day, they lost track of the game and the score. They found themselves down 12 points with two minutes left to go. Forced to play normal basketball, they rallied back, but couldn’t recover.

The Reds secured their victory when Klotz hit the winning basket with seconds left. Then Meadowlark Lemon missed a shot that would have given the game back to Globetrotters. The timekeeper tried to stop the clock and couldn't. When the final buzzer sounded, the crowd was dumbfounded and disappointed. Klotz described the fans' reaction: "They looked at us like we killed Santa Claus.

Labels: , , , ,

Tuesday, July 08, 2008

Eaton Alive, Phillies and Ump Friends Mount Comeback

Geez, does anyone remember that Adam Eaton started this game?

Perhaps improbably, this series saw the Phillies finally reprise their "team to beat on" identity. This thought occurred to me watching the Mets' 15th or so hit, lashed to left by Easley, soar over J-Roll's head. The Mets had pummeled the Phils into submission. Pedro had avoided getting lit up for the first time in a while and everything was swell. I would point to the NOT home run as the turning point of the game--the Mets season could have gone much awry-er--but can we blame Armas, Hellman, and Billy Goat for wanting to give the Phillie fans a show for their money, let them leave the park with a little spirit? Who knows how many Philadelphia-area dogs escaped thrashings thanks to the trio's efforts?

Concerning Pedro's performance. I think it is now clear that Pedro needs a new midget. Some people treat this as a joke, but since wee buddy Nelson de la Rosa disowned Pedro and kicked the coffee can, Pedro's performance has never been the same. Just check the stats--with de la Rosa and without and ask who's laughing now? From October 2006, Pedro has won only 6 games for the Mets. Before? 206! He appeared in 13 playoff games with the midget's support and none without. I hope Omar is reading this.


Let's not forget the chUmps in this game, fucking the Mets over again---Delgado's May homerun being called back, the ump bumping of J-Manuel, and now this. I know a lot of geniuses and not one of them could tell me the logic used to come to the conclusion that the correct call should be reversed last night. MLB doesn't need instant replay, they just need to develop some competent umpires!! least J-Man learned the lessons of Willie and got himself tossed.

As for the Mets taking the series, who knew that Ryan Howard, NOT-home run and 6 or so RBIs aside, would have an impact on the series more like Ron Howard? Who knew the Phillies would have no answer to Fernando Tatis? Who knew?

It was ugly, but the Mets were able to get over .500, win another series (momma said that's all that matters), secure their hold on the season series with the Phils, give us poor fans more false hope, and maybe shut Billy Wagner up for a few days. Plus, who knows, maybe they'll get another apology letter from the MLB and its lousy umpires.

Monday, July 07, 2008

The Farce is Strong with Billy Wagner

Ohh, they have done it now. Due to the performances of Oliver Perez, Carlos Beltran, and Fernando Tatis, this post won't be entirely dedicated to ranting about the mess that is Billy Wagner. There goes the well developed, Star Wars-themed entry I had planned to run that would have let me pull out a line about knowing who Pedro Martinez' father, er daddy, is (answer: just about everyone right now). So thanks a lot Mets, you screw me over even when you win.

It's too early to throw confetti, but it should be noted that Ollie overcame some seriously crappy defense (Marlon Anderson calling off Beltran so that Marlon can wave his glove at the ball, Delgado ruining Ollie's pick off play, etc.) and other stuff that would normally have thrown him off his rocker and hung in there pretty good. Now that the bullpen has roles, we can clearly see how each of them are doing in their new positions, and it ain't pretty. Anyhow, I'm still convinced that, after staring into the abyss that is Ollie's overall performance (from erratic to shellshocked) the Mets GM (whoever that turns out to be) will not be meeting Scott Boras' demands and Ollie will go on to frustrate some other franchise. Which makes his recent performances tragic. Which, in turn, makes Ollie's recent sucesses make sense, since we will be tortured either way. Or maybe it's just the new facial hair.

One things certain, if the Mets ever need someone to stand in front of their locker, they have their guy in Billy Wagner. However if they need someone to come up big in the very situations he is paid millions to do so in, they might want to look elsewhere. Statistically, yes he’s a good closer and yes, the Mets could do worse. But the “BLOWN FARCE” is strong in this one.

Thinking about other team’s strategy sessions before facing the Mets. “ Look at those Mets, aren’t they adorable how they put all those base runners on? It’s cute how they leave them there without scoring any runs."

When I got an email from the Mets yesterday, asking for my help "Get David Wright to the all star game" my first thought was "what, can't he afford his own ticket?" Sorry David and Jose, it looks like Mets fans are not going to stuff the ballot box in your honor if you don't perform at a level that moves us to something other than disgust.

Labels: ,

Friday, July 04, 2008

In Make or Break series, Mets Break

There is only one man in the world who still has confidence that the Mets bullpen can do their job and close out games, or keep them close so the Mets mighty offense can strike like a coiled cobra. Perhaps unfortunately, that man's name is Jerry Manuel. And he manages the NY Mets. So, armed with this confidence J-Man yanked supposed all-world pitcher Johan after 95 pitches, and stuck in a very dirty Sanchez in the 9th to "try to tie." As Gary Cohen reminded us, this was the game to win if the Mets are going to win any--the Mets ace vs. some guy in a Phillie uniform. Well fortunately, baseball doesn't always work that way. But unfortunately, the Phillies are exhibiting the exact qualities the Mets lack in spades--the ability to bury their opponent when it really counts. I don't know what else to say about this game, and it is tough to type while hanging my head.


So, the Phillies clearly are the better team--not by much--but better. It's not enough that the Mets are a mediocre, poorly conceived mess and are probably going to stay that way. No, this team seems intent on embarrassing itself too, whether its horrid infield defense, unspirited play and bounteous mental errors, $140 mil worth of unclutchiness, temper tantrums and glove throwing, or allowing your prize free agent to lose 6 games in a row, that sound you hear is Mets Nation, cutting the eyeholes out of a million paper shopping bags/new headgear. And that they have come so close to taking the series against the Cardinals and winning tonight's game just makes it more devastating. I think it's safe to say this is the series of the year, barring a ridiculous and improbable second half comeback. When you wake up Tuesday, there will be no avoiding the truth about these bozos. And that's kind of sad.

Mex tells Jose to get his grown man on.

Number 17 gets his man nap on.

After [Reyes] slammed his glove to the ground, Hernandez said, "Well, he's got to get over that. Enough babying going on now. He's a grown man. He's been around a long enough time. Take off the kid gloves."

Hmm, well let's see, other than a devastating loss, what else of note has transpired in Metsland? Oh yes, that's right, the Mets greatest past position player (and noted feminist) Keith Hernandez has locked horns with the goofy but talented player who should become the Mets greatest future fielder. There really isn't much to note here that hasn't already been said. I'm on Mex's side, of course, even if he is overstepping his bounds a bit--he's Keith Fucking Hernandez! If you are told to be a man by the epitomy (for better and for worse) of Metro-masculinity, you better smile, thank him for his time, and step up to the plate. All that is left to do for Jose is to piss off Tom Seaver or fall into the papermache apple accidentally.


Wednesday, July 02, 2008

Even Steven Mets Beat Cards

The Post's headline description of last night's game: "A Very Jerry Win." Indeed. The past few weeks I have been posting less, but if it makes you feel better, I have been pointing at the TV more often and saying "see? it's Even Steven theory!" to nobody in particular. See, I'm personally convinced that, as trite as it may be to overcome writer's block by quoting an episode of Seinfeld, the Manual Mets are on Auto-pilot: they will immediately give away anything they achieve, or achieve anything they give away, thus remaining fabulously .500. For instance, despite a rough beginning, I knew the Mets would end up prevailing over the Cards last night. How? Is it because I know that Ramon "sleepy Head" Castro, who any 12 year old fan knows needs to be platooned with waste-of-money starting catcher Brian Schneider, was going to do some hittin? Is it because I could feel a competent spot start coming from Tony Vargas-Armas Jr. whatever-his-name is? Nope. So how did I know?

Well, they lost the night before. It's just that simple.

So why am I sharing this? Well, I looked more carefully into the episode, "The Opposite" and realized there is more wisdom to be had here.

I put this to you, dear reader: could not the following lines easily be uttered by Omar Minaya?

"Why did it all turn out like this for me? I had so much promise. I was personable. I was bright. Oh, maybe not academically speaking, but I was perceptive. I always know when someone's uncomfortable at a party. It all became very clear to me sitting out there today, that every decision I've ever made in my entire life has been wrong. My life is the complete opposite of everything I want it to be. Every instinct I have in every aspect of life, be it something to wear, something to eat... It's often wrong."
- George Costanza, in "The Opposite"
So if J-Man is going to manage this club to Even Steven land, when will Omar start doing the opposite?


Apparent Mets pitching coach Dan Warthen is putting a mouth to my feelings/crazy dreams that Pedro actually looks good even when he looks so bad.

"His stuff is better than it has been in two years," Warthen said yesterday. "He's in the low 90s, and all of his pitches are in order. He still has pinpoint control. I'm telling you, he's about to take off."

I was really happy to see Petey throwing above 90--until it appeared that his opponents were batting with the trunks of mango trees, swatting his pitches all over the place. Pedro will be going tonight, forgoing an extra day of rest so he can regain his touch, according to J-Man.


Biggest news of the day: supposed infield coach Sadly Alomar Jr. has noticed all the errors piling up! Hooray! Does this spell an end to the Mets' Marlin-like interior defense?

Smallest news of the day: El Duque, it seems, has not yet retired and is "on track" to rejoin the club towards the end of the month, forcing us once again to write his name. Most fans have finally given up on their sad Old Duque fascination, one that crippled the club (and it's GM who resigned the old bastard), and I don't have any higher expectations (I'd prefer to see him disappear) but there is one note of interest in the NYTimes: "Hernández has modified his pitching motion slightly so that pushing off the rubber does not place as much pressure on the strained tendon in his right foot." Well now, is that the same modification he made for the incredible, un-treatable bunion that slowed him this spring? Cause that modification surely didn't work. Is the bunion still there? Is he just distracted by the pain from the tendon/arthritis/dusty bone syndrome? I'm sure Orlando is hoping to let the club down one more time in a big spot, and who am I to stand in the way of an old man and his dreams?

Reading about the Padre's recruiting in Latin America makes me wonder how the Mets are doing on this score.
This blog is meant completely and entirely in jest, unless you count the angst, and is not meant to offend anyone, unless you are a Br*ves fan. It's not affiliated with Sterling, the Mets, common sense, good taste, or anything really.