Arizona is for (Met) Lovers...Popcorn Pandemonium

The Mets need to get them some more D-Backs on their schedule. A trip to the Bob or the Bank, or the Chase or whatever they call it, has the cure for whatever ails the Mets. For a nice description of the ballpark experience, check out Joyce's dispatches over at Mike's Mets. When you do, you might be a little more persuaded that when a Mets fan dies suddenly this weekend, they might wake up in a place that looks a whole lot like Chase Field. In this ridiculous world, its comforting to have Chase to look forward to.

Now the funny thing is, the Arizona club is good this year! Solid pitching, and scrappy no-name talent make them at least wild card competitors, or competitors for the wild card consolation prize, otherwise known as the NL West title. Yet still the Mets seem unable to loose there, a quality that should be tested tonight against D back ace, Brandon Webb.

As Julio Franco swiped second base dragging his invisible IV pole, I couldn't help but reflect on how many moves have gone right for the Mets lately. It was just yesterday, or yester-Gen K, when it seemed that every thing Sterling Inc. touched turned to shit. In the time it takes Roberto Alomar to wipe the spittle from his chin, Omar Minaya through luck and a bit of moxy. has turned this franchise around. Of course, the Mets may be few senior moments away from dicey rotation and outfield situations, but you sense that they have the depth to recover. And the Ca$hman situation across town throws the changes into pleasant relief. John Maine (5–0, 1.37 ERA), meanwhile, looks less and less like a little boy whose puppie is missing, and more and more like a confident k killa on the mound. I'd be lying if I said I saw this coming.

Now onto the curmudgeony carping that you expect from me. I have been told that the New York television feed showed that Josejosejose was out trying to snag second in the fifth, but since the Arizona broadcast never saw fit to show the play from any other angles, I have to go with my lying eyes. Jose was safe to me. C'mon ump, the guy is trying to steal 100 bases and create runs like Fran Healey creates cringes, so cut him some slack. Worse still, you made him grumpy.



Jose Reyes frolicks with his puppie before a game.

Anyhow jump to the eighth. Amburgler rubblerubblerubbles into the game for his trademark uneven performance, but a sense of calm envelops Metsnation anyhow. Maine was competent and confident. Things are going smoothly because let's face it, that was not your father's Randy Johnson and the Dbags, as their uniforms sometimes appear to read, are going meekly into the desert night.

Then all popcorn pandemonium breaks loose!!


The crotch of Phoenix's Harold J. Becker gets unexpected national media exposure.

First, a quote to set the stage:

"It was a very uncomfortable feeling. My knee felt very unstable and painful." This is Grandpa Moises Alou quoted before the game.

The 8th inning Burgy allows Hudson to launch what appears to be a 2 run HR but then... Endy does a little endy dance and leaps, leaps up to rob another homerun. Except for the little punk with the popcorn in the picture. The umps call it a homerun, and Willie doesn't argue on his way back to the dugout. I say the popcorn hit the glove, not the ball, but I don't what difference it makes. But worse, when Endy eventually comes down, he seems to have hurt his leg. Alou is down. Milledge is down. And we're holding our breath.

Endy, a Metsnation turns its weary eyes to your ankle.

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