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 at:itsmetsforme@gmail.com or follow me @itsmetsforme on twitter)

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Subway Sign Gimme Game Makes Johan a Winner

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What exactly are they serving in the umpires' review lounge at Citi? Whatever it is, the Mets seem to be winning all the calls no matter how dubious. The umps must be getting donuts and massages in there, but at least it explains why it takes so damn long for them to return to the field. The Mets have come out on top so far, but it won't be long before the calls start going the other way. The long delays and reliance on bad inconclusive network camera angles are not indicative of a long term solution.

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Did this guy design Citifield?

This game finally gave me something to get angry about. It dawned upon me: CitiField is dumb. The signs (and other stupid design flaws masquerading as "quirks") make it difficult or impossible for the umpires to judge home runs. How stupid is that? The SNY broadcasters have an obstructed view seat. How foolish can you get?? The bull pen looks like a concentration camp. The few championship banners they have are hung somewhere in the bowels of the park. Some of these things can be changed I guess, but you have to wonder over the numb nuts that purposefully designed this. I think Mets fans should call upon Jared and Subway to demand the contrast of their advertisement be changed to something conducive to baseball.

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Adam Dunn, pictured above, can't believe his eyes when he gets a meatball from Johan and sends it over the bridge.

After Adam Dunn crushed Johan's pitch into the freakin bridge, I wasn't the only one who spent the rest of the game literally cowering in fear of Dunn's next at-bat with runners on base. Though he was retired successfully by Pedreadful late in the game, I scratched my hair out wondering why this guy wasn't worth Omar's time this winter. Meanwhile, it seems only Gary Sheffield among Mets can hit non-review home runs anymore.

***

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This bad omen has started to turn out in the club's favor. The positional starters on this club certainly seem cursed, and are logging Alou-ian time on the DL. But it won't be long before fans start noticing that these guys, the replaceMets, play a much more entertaining brand of baseball than the $140 million Met Zeppelin Omar put together on purpose. Small ball? You got it. Dramatic (hits that are called) homeruns? Oh yeah. Are they gonna bounce some playable balls off their heads occasionally? Sure. But Omir, Daniel, Angel, Fernandos, Ramon and HEAD, with a little help from their friends David, Luis and Gary, have got my attention. They may not run out pop ups either, but I never get the sense that these new guys are bored. Why the hell not?

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Livan the Vida Loca! Replace-Mets Triumph after Entire Team Undergoes MRI

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Rickey Martin accomplished much, but even he never tamed the dangerous Washington lineup.

Livan "El Otro Duque" Hernandez threw 187 pitches last night as the AAAA Mets, fielding a club similar to the one they'd have if the team plane went down, overwhelmed the AAA Gnats 6-1. This guy Livan is going to turn into a pumpkin soon, but it won't be against a team like the Nationals.

It was old school all the way. For instance, Hernandez calmly went the distance. Also, umpire Dan Iassogna let both pitchers plunk away, sending retribution pitches into legs, over heads, and into our hearts. It was so old school, Omar Minaya actually engineered an in-season trade albeit for Wilson Valdez, who's burro will spend time in left field, perhaps spelling greatest-Omar-signing- ever candidate Gary Sheffield. In an old tyme fashion, the game featured a top Met prospect playing in his first game...and he played for the Mets!

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And now, the Mets are thinking of adding Nick Johnson to their DL, uh, roster. Depending on what they have to give up, I say do it! He and Ramon Castro can trade notes as to the league's best manicure shops, videogame parlors, and paint-your-own-pottery stores. I'm all for it. What do we have to lose?


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Jose Canseco, shown here attacking his mixed martial arts opponent with a combination of cowering and head punching, now knows what Metsfans feel like every September.

As for the state of the fan, it took many acts of the baseball gods, but we suddenly have a situation where the team has left under-achieving behind to embark on a bold new path where over-achieving is the only option. For the foreseeable future, we will have to content ourselves to watching Fartinez' every at-bat with eyes trained by careful attention to past uber-prospects/ruined projects such as Alex Escobar and Lastings Milledge, and hope that all these serious sounding injuries to our core don't turn out to be season ending. I for one, plan to draw enjoyment from the continuing contributions of Omir "is Magic" Santos, the rotund little scrub catcher who always seems to do something valuable, or at least interesting, when he comes up late in the game.

Let's go Mets.

Saturday, May 23, 2009

ReplaceMets Put it All Together

Good things, for a change:
Shef went yard
Jerry and his bunters pulled off a perfect small ball inning
Johan harnessed his anger and handcuffed the Sawx
Parnell delighted us with his gas

It was JerryBall at its finest last night. Multiple errors, multiple injuries, and decent to excellent pitching, all presented by a cast of David Wright and his AAA friends. Both Beltran and Church added themselves to the "kinda injured" section of the Mets enormous injury list. Putz and his neck joined the "unavailable" section. Ramon Martinez and continued their reign's of error committing unforgivable fielding and baserunning blunders at a frightening pace. Some fans are indicting Razor Shines for waving Murphy into his suicidal attempt to take third base but Murphy's Law says that Daniel Murphy must commit a baseball groaner on a daily basis. The Mets would have no chance at victory if it wasn't for Johan Santana's mastery of the Sawx line-up. Even with a weakened, post-PED Big Pappi in their line-up flailing away, the Red Sox still represent one of the finest clubs in the big leagues, so it was an encouraging, even deserved win. It's probably too much to ask for a series win, but Pelf will take on Beckett tonight and give it a try.

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Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Off Day Blather: Dodger Blues

They say it's easy to blog. But we bloggers face challenges other than the dampness and mildew of our moms' basements. You think it's easy to be an astronaut whose rocket is grounded? A land-locked pirate? Try blogging about a team when it doesn't do much of anything.

Try blogging about this uninspired bunch, whose failures normally alternate between epochal and mysterious, when they just lose in a merely pedestrian manner. What am I supposed to write about? The Mets are losing because the AAA guys are already called up to assume their permanent positions. They're losing because this line-up should lose. Tonight they lost when one of their prize bullpen acquisitions gave it up late. All three games of this Dodger sweep were winnable but whatever get up and go the Mets had against the Giants had got up and went by the time the team flight landed in LA.

Jeff Weaver?

The Mets thought what better way to cap Monday's catastrophe but with two middling, totally run of the mill loses. After Monday night, I guess we should be thankful. The Mets finally hid Murphy behind first base and got through a game without error.

Jeff Weaver?

As I brilliantly predicted during the offseason, Delgado is del-done-oh, and its not the pitching that's losing the games. Beltran and Wright, who remain hot, need a play pal even when they are hitting in the high 300s and getting on base often and late in games. Some one like Adam Dunne, Manny Ramirez or gasp Raul Ibanez. O fer 10 with runners in scoring position last night. Nary a home run since Wednesday. I just don't see how they'll get it done. If they had remade the offense as I suggested this winter, everything would be hunky dory, peace would reign on earth, and kids would eat their lima beans without complaint.

Jeff Weaver?

***
I wrote the other day that Jose Reyes' condition was worrying me. Then he magically appeared back in the lineup. Before I could correct myself, he is injured again. As hard as it is to watch Ramon Martinez play, the Mets ought to keep Reyes out until he is completely healed. Martinez is adding absolutely nothing at short.

***
We should send our thoughts out to Scott Schoeneweis, now with the D-Backs, whose wife died of yet unknown causes yesterday. The guy just can not catch a break.

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Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Nobody Here Can Play This Game

Jerry's Kids Snatch Defeat from Jaws of Victory; Sean Green Demands Trade When Prevented From Blowing Game Himself
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I just got back from tonight's game. There are two ways to see this game, one that some are calling the most embarrassing performance in Mets history.

1. the Mets disrespect the very game of baseball

The highlights:
First inning, Tatis can't throw home from 15 feet away. And it could be added that Ramon Castro never saw a plate he blocked, unless you count Thanksgiving. Score one for the Dodgers.

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Ramon Martinez, apparently the 3d or 4th best SS in the entire Met system (a cause for tears in itself) makes like 14 errors. At one point, he tries to catch a grounder between his breasts.

Sean (aka DFA) Green, frustrated that he can't seem to blow the game from the mound, decides he'll throw the ball into right field in the 9th. His efforts are foiled, for the time being, by Luis Castillo.

The artist formerly known as "Concusso," Ryan Church, who shall henceforth be known around here as Unbelievably F*cking Stupid Church (UFSC), missed third. Angel Pagan, who did everything he could to win this game except dress up as a Dodger, sneak into the LA dugout and cap Joe Torre, lofted a beauty into the centerfield gap to finally give the Mets a chance to win this accursed game. Then UFSC took the go-ahead run and he sh*t it out his ass. He previously almost got himself picked off of first for good measure. He likes it in Jerry's doghouse and wants to stay there. You can hear Vin Scully actually chuckle evilly if you watch the replay, because it was unfucking believable. Church's new level of persona non grata-tude raises an excellent trade opportunity: Lastings Milledge for Ryan Church, straight up.

Bottom of 11th, Stokes of course walks the lead off batter, like they teach you to. Beltran runs into Pagan who has called for and is trying to catch a routine fly ball, putting Mark Loretta on third with no outs. The bases load up, Crazy Jerry pulls the goalie (bringing in Beltran to stand by second so he has 5 infielders), the plan works... the Mets get a pop up and a easy grounder. But Jeremy Reed can't throw home and Jeremy Reed can't throw home. He can't throw home. He can't throw home. You can't go home again. Mets lose.

2. The game where Crazy Jerry Pulled the Goalie















Here's a picture, courtesy of ashamed Metsfan Keyser, of the five man infield defense Jerry threw out there in the 11th. If they had to lose, at least it was an innovative loss.

***

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Even zombies Metsfans' heads exploded last night

This is a kind of season-defining loss. It's not that the Mets should have won. They certainly weren't sending their best players out there tonight. But the serial ineptitude, clusterfucked management, and players who refuse to get their heads in the game are the mark of the 2009 team. After the game, there was plenty of room under the bus. The beautiful way Jerry and Beltran have supported their teammates makes me wonder if this game won't drive the whole damn team apart.

Let's not forget Omar in all this. Bad news is everywhere. This team is in shambles. Carlos Delgado is, as ANYONE WITH A QUARTER OF A BRAIN KNEW, is old, broken and will likely have a harder time coming back from hip surgery than A-Rod, who took six weeks, did. How Omar could have thought he was the answer at first, or come anywhere near last season's production is beyond me. Jose Reyes is in rough shape and we should be worried, especially with his history of leg injuries. Alex Cora, the guy that Omar signed up at a hefty price to back up Reyes will be considering surgery on Friday that might keep him out two months.

If Jerry wants to be a gangsta, he needs to sit these gagstas down tonight to watch, as long as he is able to field a team. Green needs to sit, Church needs to sit (Jerry won't mind that), Beltran needs to sit, Reed needs to sit. Watch this game from the pressbox.

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Thursday, May 07, 2009

"You're Next": My Night with Darryl Strawberry













On Tuesday night, I met Darryl Strawberry. Ok, well I didn't meet him, but I did shake his hand. Darryl was a bit late, but when he got there he was very kind and pleasant. Darryl graciously "broke the rules" and offered to sign memorabilia for the crowd that gathered in the Los Angeles Barnes and Noble. You can't tell it from my pictures (bad chainstore lighting) but Straw looks good for a guy his age who has done as much damage to his body as he has. He has that recovering alcoholic blotchy skin thing going on, but before I saw my pictures, I was saying he looked better than I thought he would. He kind of glowed.









Darryl wasn't really my favorite 1986 Met, and I didn't really prepare for the encounter very well, as I would Keith Hernandez or something like that. In the 80s, my feelings for Darryl as a fan sort of blended in to the blur of Mets between Keith and Doc on the one hand, and Sisk and Teufel on the other. Don't ask me what Teufel ever did to me, I just didn't like him. Honestly, I didn't care for Ray Knight either. I became a Met fan right as Darryl was coming up and it was an exciting time for me. That sweet swing he had, he just loped the ball right out of the place. And then he got real real tragic. Like the value of our 80s baseball card collections and the Mets dynasty in general, the bottom just fell out.

So something kept me from getting too excited or bringing my fan A game. Maybe it was that I had to leave the Mets beating Atlanta in the 8th to go see Darryl, who was exactly as late as would have let me see the end of the game. Maybe it was because the last time I saw him, it was pathetic appearance on Pros vs Joes where he stood on a platform to hit flyballs to contestants who gamely pretended they were intimidated ("that's pretty impressive Darryl"). Or maybe it was the Yankee thing.

Aside from bringing no memorabilia (a baseball would have been a smart move), I really had nothing. I made some pretty lame, unengaging small talk as he signed my book. And I didn't get up the guts to ask him to inscribe my book "You're next" as I had dreamed up the night before, or even ask him if he really said that.

You see, Darryl is a big guy; as I learned when he walked by the signing line, he towered over me and I'm 6'2. Plus, he seems to have found peace and god and all that stuff--I could feel it-- so I didn't want to risk it bringing up my favorite legend about the 1989 team picture brawl. He covers it in the book (which I hadn't read before the signing) but it comes off a lot tamer.

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The book itself is typical ghost written, subtly self-aggrandizing athlete fare. I don't know why these guys pay ghost writers if all they do is transcribe the athletes' direct verbiage into clumsy, overly conversational text. So I wouldn't counsel you to run out and read this particular book. If you have a low tolerance for Jesus stuff, the last 50 pages won't be your cup of tea either. You may want to buy it since a portion of the proceeds will go to a child autism organization and presumably, to keep Darryl off the streets. But since I read it, I figure I'll share

As I read the book, I couldn't help think that apparently, whatever program Straw has gotten help from encourages people to take responsibility for their actions, sort of. I read all the way to the end just to see if he finally owns up in a real way, and to see what program he endorses (it turns out to be the good lord--he claims that he no longer attends AA or NA because the meetings are lousy with sex fiends). The fact that his dad was a violent drunk with no interest in his kids is presented as the key to Straw's lifetime of bad behavior and as far as that takes us, it's probably to blame. His dad told him he'd never amount to anything, and drove the point home with ritual beatings and whipping sessions. But the theory loses some air for me when Darryl, like many of us, continually pins his life's problems on others out of one side of his (ghostwritten) mouth while owning up to them with of the other: his first marriage was his best man's fault, his signing with the Dodgers was his new agent's fault, etc. They are his mistakes he says, but usually only after he mentions the other culprits. Who knows if its ever really possible to take responsibility for one's actions in an ultimate sense, but Darryl has tried as much as any athlete, spoiled by talent and luck, can.

By his account, Darryl was a shy kid, who did well in school and was more interested in sports than chicks, that is, until his meteoric rise through major league baseball and his unfortunate with the alcohol and bad attitude-fueled, largely bad apples that were the mid-80s Mets. With no father figure to guide his decisions, Darryl falls in with the tough partying assholes at the back of the Mets charter plane, and acquires a drinking habit that will largely seal his fate. In a very real way, the Mets ruined this guy.

In 1991, after leaving the Met family and signing with the Dodgers (which he says was a big mistake) and finding LA boring and the fans passionless, Darryl starts smoking crack and is exposed to born-again community (the reader can decide which is worse). From clubhouse amphetamines with his morning coffee after an all-night binge with David Cone, to crack, coke, booze, unsavory ladies, and finally prescription pill addiction, Straw lays it all on the line. His body starts to break down early in the LA contract, and he is forced to go to rehab after rehab, trying to recover from injuries while feeding his addictions at the same time. The selfish destructive behavior he chronicles throughout the book is familiar to anyone who has an addict in their family: he burns through countless wives, stays in rehab, prison sentences, relapses, agents. He also faces the death of his mother, the death of his beloved agent, many divorces, and two bouts with cancer. Grim stuff.

But sometimes, Darryl is awfully hard to sympathize with. For one thing, he hit a lot of ladies. By my count, Darryl hit three different women, one of them pregnant, and sometimes he was brandishing a pistol. And his horizons just aren't that broad to extend the tragic scope of his book beyond the tragedy we already are familiar with. But well, he didn't have to make something of himself in the end either I suppose. I'm not going to begrudge Darryl his redemption, but Barkley's Law is timeless: athletes are not role models, and you have to be out of your mind to think so. This guy is at least trying.

As for Mets related stuff, fans won't find too much new here, although the lengths George Steinbrenner went to support Darryl were news to me, as was the role the Yankers organization played in his recovery years. By Darryl's account, Steinbrenner really stuck up for him and supported him long after it was reasonable to do so. I don't like to think much about his connection with three Yankees world titles, Jeter, and the rest. There is very little about Mets baseball here, and monumental historical Mets events get only passing mention.

However, as a side note related to current events, the book brings home the point that there was a qualitative difference between those beloved 80s Mets and the disappointing bunch of talented choir boys we have now. Even if you poo-poo heart, grit and the lazy 1990s-2000s sportswriting that spawned such fairy tales, you can't deny a few things after reading this book. The book presents a more partial, tame version of the familiar stories of Mets debauchery from "The Bad Guys Won," but is a reminder: these fuckers had an edge. Darryl and Cone playing drunk, Photoday brawls, Kevin Mitchell literally trying to commit homicide in every pile up, etc. There has to be a happy medium between actual criminals wear your laundry, and bland players on a team with so little personality they're prone to remark that they're not devastated after monumental historical collapses.

Does scrappiness matter? The debate rages among fanboys and Fire Joe Morgan disciples. The players, even those not brainwashed by on-air duties, seem to believe that hustle, grit and heart make a difference. But it also could be that hangovers make a player perform like nothing else, until it catches up with them. Straw puts a fine point on it when he describes the 1988 playoff let down against the Dodgers: "The difference this time was that the Dodgers were the scrappier ballclub. They had more fire in their bellies. And, who knows, maybe less beer" (p.107).

So believe it or not, Darryl Strawberry now lives somewhere in suburban St Louis, plays a lot of golf, does a lot of Jesus loving, a bit of instructing for the Mets, and fronts an admirable organization for autistic kids. He still smokes cigarettes. And he still has to go out of his way to avoid temptations. By the end of the book, its hard not to root for him again, seeing as he reconstructed his life (at least for now) and is doing some good in the world. In the book, Darryl claims to have found peace, and he certainly had a glow about him when I saw him this week. I hope he can keep it up.

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Wednesday, May 06, 2009

Right Side of Infield's Fiendish Plot Foiled, Mets Semi-Sweep Br*ves

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Carlos Delgado: "Two hands are for pussies!"

I don't know what can help Luis Castillo charge a routine ground ball so it doesn't eat him and his albatross contract up. But Carlos Delgado just needs to dial up the interwebs on his notebook computer, I think this site should solve all his woes.

Putting aside both his monumental fielding failure and his nice stroke up the middle which earlier helped establish the lead that his error would nearly destroy, it seems to me Delgado has gone back to playing "impinged," and as anyone with half a brain (read: not Omar) could have told you his "bargain" contract option as a first baseman and as a big bat was a trap that the Mets fell right into. As a scholar and a gentleman, I can tell you that my love for the man did not blind me to the almost certain decline that would happen right about now. Hoping it doesn't, but well, it will, or I'm Alex Rodriguez' "cousin."

In happier news, ParnellPutzRodriguez seems to be worth hanging your hat on. Though the later two's velocities keep me up at night. Shouldn't they be throwing harder? I'm still convinced that KRod is John Franco without the dirty tshirt, mustache or mob connections.

We can call this corner turned if the Mets can provide some support to the Johan tomorrow, and put some Phillies in their places.

**
Coming Soon: my profound life-altering meeting with Darryl Strawberry.

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Tuesday, May 05, 2009

Mets Will Have To Learn about Bad Vibes Some Other Way

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Oh nooooo! Who let this issue into the clubhouse?


We have no idea what the Mets are thinking leaving Oliver Perez in the majors, but it looks like we know what Perez will be reading as he sits uselessly out there in the bullpen nursing his left uh, right sore knee and probably aggravating every adult in the vicinity. There are no funny pages in USA Today! so I imagine Oliver will just stare at the forecast for Buffalo on the colorful weather page.


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The Mets have downgraded Ollie's responsibilities, but can he even handle this?


So the tone-deaf Mets have allowed another pile of shit to hit the fan, this time inadvertently (or advertently its hard to tell with these clowns) restricting what bad news the players can read in their spare time, lending more credence to the widespread suspicion that these guys are softies with nice smiles whose fragile sensibilities have to be coddled. Did they really think the tabloids wouldn't pick up on this story, thereby creating another distraction for this oft-distracted bored not-devastated bunch?

The timing is great as usual. Just when the Mets disappearing "Jaywalker's Row" of hitters makes its triumphant return, just when one of their four struggling starting pitchers buckles down and delivers, just when they beat a hated rival in a park they always seem to lose in, that's when Mets spokesman Jay Horwitz allowed the tabloids to get their hands on enough to concoct a story out of nothing. Some part of this team is always failing somewhere, you just have to look hard enough.

Saturday, May 02, 2009

Looks Like its Ollie's Night in Buffalo

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Oliver Perez will be buying dinner for a new mascot soon

Well that was another fine mess you've gotten us into, Ollie. What is there to say about this?

Well Cora played well. Takahashi looked ok, but that will not last long. Santos has lost his shine in my opinion, as I really don't understand why players, fifth string catchers trying to stick with the team even, no longer feel that bowling over the catcher to make him drop the ball and win a big game against a rival is a realistic option. When is the last time a Met ran someone down who was in the basepaths? I bet you'd have to go back to the last decade.

Frankly, I'm too exhausted to talk about this game, since I spent my day incoherently spouting off here, and here. A slink off loss. We're used to it by now.


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Oliver buttons his shirt like a big boy!

Frankly we have no one to blame except Omar. This was his stupid stupid move. The only good option is to circumvent his agent and wage psychological war on Perez hoping to somehow trick him into declaring free agency.

And I have to admit, Ollie is lessening my outrage by saying things like this:

...a red-faced Perez, now sporting a 9.97 ERA after landing a three-year, $36 million deal in the offseason, indicated he wouldn't put up a roadblock to his second demotion since 2006

"If I need it, then I have to go [to the minors], because right now I don't help my team," said Perez, who was similarly demoted by the Pirates after a woeful start three years ago. "Right now, I don't feel I'm doing my job."

Yes, Oliver, you're a bad boy. Why doesn't someone, I dunno, take him aside and teach him how to pitch?

Well, what can I say that's good about Ollie? I do not, as of this writing, hate him as much as I did Steve Trachsel.

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Who is going to replace Oliver in the rotation? Does it really matter?

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Friday, May 01, 2009

Some Guys are Happy!

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Happy, Serious, and Blue (collar) with their friends No-Slidey, Too Oldy, Wiffy, and Murphy

Occasionally I ask rhetorically if Omar Minaya is planning to do or say anything during a regular season. When the games start, he just disappears, much like the collapse-addled teams he puts together during rotiss--uh, winter. Of course, that he doesn't go all Steve Phillips on our asses is a good thing, but I've been waiting to see whether he'd light a fire, make a trade move, fire a third base coach. Just cause, well, as embarrassed as we all are of this team, he has to be feeling it a little bit more.

Apparently the wait is over, and its worse than that Jim, he's dead. Omar's recent comments addressing Omar's recent comments are apparently Omar's way of motivating, or something, and its so backasswards that its hard to tell what he's trying to do, other than talk himself out of a jam. But trusting your tongue in a tight spot when you're Omar Minaya is like going to the bench for Joe McEwing: they'll be some entertaining flailing, but in the end, it won't work.

Whenever you see the words "Omar" and "clarify" in the title of an article, you should know to reach for your pistol. Here are my fave parts of Doh'mar's comments:

"Some people see edge as leadership. Sometimes, you need a little meanness to your game. Some people perceive leadership as meanness. I couldn't tell you that we have that type of guy. We have leaders. But everyone's perception of leadership is different. ... We have good guys, solid professionals. There is a smile on David Wright's face, a smile on Jose Reyes' face. But there is not an edge to them."

I know who's got an edge. These folks are edgy. And wouldn't you rather have some inveterate smilers on your team than some roided out, tax cheating, STD spreader (seriously, if Jeter cheats on his taxes why wouldn't he cheat in baseball?)? Of course, this is the sort of debate that made the internet the finest expression of human excellence .

Asked about those comments Friday night, the general manager seemed to contradict himself, saying: "Let's be clear: We have an edge. Our edge is different from, maybe, other teams. There's different definitions of edge or leadership. We play the game different from other guys. Some guys are serious. Some guys are happy. Some guys are blue collar.

Some guys get paid too much. Some guys are signed too long. Some guys aren't Derek Lowe. Some guys aren't Manny at a bargain rate for short years, he could have said.

"It's all subjective. I'm in the trenches. I've seen our guys, and our guys play with a lot of passion, a lot of energy. Just watch us play."

Ok, buddie. I was with you until those last words. Thinking that maybe mean old grumpy pants Marty Pants Noble should just leave you be. After all, you don't know what you're talking about half the time. But then you said it. Just Watch Us Play. Why not say "the proof is in the pudding"? Has Omar watched this team play? The only thing that any time spent watching what Omar did can do is convince you that someone doesn't know how to put a team together. You have a best player who won't slide unless he's doing it for Puerto Rico. Honestly, I think "We look great on paper" has much more of a ring of truth.

Now, there's a great divide between the weekender WFAN caller "sign Eckstein" crowd and the fanboy "Show me the formula for tru grit all of baseball is chance" gang, and who am I to take sides? But two things are sure: this team has thus far been a disappointment for 2 years, and its the same as it ever was--same guys as last year and the year before. And if the GM has to come out and publicly assert that his players have passion, well...

He noted Friday the acquisitions of Gary Sheffield and Alex Cora were intended to address the team's grit.

"We brought in different guys who have been involved in some winning, and there's a presence about Sheffield," Minaya said. "He has a presence about him."

Presense alright. He's fucking crazy and perpetually malcontented. Only unlike Manny Ramirez, his career is about done. The Gritty Alex Cora has been involved in some winning, I grant you that.

Of course immediately afterwards, the Mets went out and beat the gritful, hearty (according to Noble) Phillies, so maybe they are motivated by this kind of stuff. Or maybe they just faced Chan Ho Parking Lot.

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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.