Mets get into the driver's seat, dispatch LA

Watching the game broadcast yesterday, what could have been an embarrassing case of the befuddled interviewing the impaired turned out ok. It was nice to hear Tim McCarver and Ralph Kiner reunited, chatting away during the third inning while Kenny Albert adjusted his tie. I didn't even know Fux Network was capable of nice touches, but judging by some comments, fans rediscovered the charms of a Joe Buckless TIMMY; he was for me, a voice of the Mets until the brass forced him out. Meditate on Ralph's assessment of David Wright's current season compared to last years: "Maybe even closer to being greater." I think that about says it.

I was worried that I would have to add Dodger's catcher Russel "Gaybeard" Martin to my shit list. I have coveted him since he became LA's main catcher and offensive force; hey the Dodgers got rid of Paul loDuca right? But yesterday he came off as kind of a hothead, apparently taking issue with El Duque's apparent taking issue with him waving his elbow in, trying to get hit by a pitch. I caught him making a macho fake throw down to third with the basesloaded latter that made me arch my brow. However, he sounded professional and mature in his postgame comments.

Yesterday's warm, but strange, moment came when Carlost Delga'doh came thruough big time upon receiving a standing ovation from the crowd. First of all, why fans boo Delgado is beyond me. But why they suddenly decided to throw their vocal support behind him, I really don't know. Then, to make it even more bizarre, the Shea public address system played "Domo arigoto Mr. Roboto." What am I missing here, I thought. Matthew Cerrone has cleared this up with his theory that Roboto rhymes with Delgado. But sometimes it seems that it is just as likely that Delgado's career has crossed the River Styx, or that he will be playing in Japan next year.

Tonight we will probably get to hear Joe Morgan's expert take on David Wells' pitching, and how he once wore an antique Yankers hat on the mound when he was a Yankme. This will no doubt lead into some incisive ruminations about Derek Jeter. Luckily I won't hear any of this because the sound will be muted on my tv set. For our suffering, I ask the baseball gods, please let John Maine survive the 6th inning.

The past week's events--the Mets improved play combined with the implosion of its nearest competition--have led some to conclude that the NL east race is over, and led nationally oriented commentators to take the Mets seriously as a league wide contender for the World Series. It is fun to enjoy this team jelling offensively and overcoming its pitching setbacks. But I don't know if I recommend savoring this until there is a stake in the heart of a certain team from Atlanta.

If the Mets do pull away, I'll be spending more time rooting for the Mariners to retain their small lead over the Yankees. This postseason, I want to party like its 1986.

I just got one of these; seems like required equipment for the creative fan, though I'm not sure what to do with it.