Post-METtem

The indignities are finally over. MLB extra innings of course went from the final out of the Mets travesty right to the last strike of the Philmes clinching, a game that for some reason the expensive MLB package did not carry! So we had to watch the Phillies wife beater closer strike a gorilla pose after closing out the mysteriously sucky Gnats. This after enduring the Marlins broadcast instead of the SNY guys. Why carry the Marlins inferior feed, a team with a fanbase of 43 people mostly elderlys who forgot to turn the channel and think they are watching "This Old House"? Simple: MLB sucks. The Fishy pinheads crowed as if they had finished third or something. It was classless, just like the entire Marlins organization.

Not much to say, but there is some closure to be had from the game, on the bright side.

1) This team showed what it was made out of today. Cotton candy. Yesterday was a last gasp not a rebirth. I guarantee there is not a single Mets fan who can say the Mets deserved to win the NL East or get into the playoffs. The Mets did not deserve to win. Their stars failed. Their scrubs failed. Their management failed. The batboys are the only one's who did their jobs.

2) It was painful, but the Mets have to have finally exorcised Agent Tomahawk Chop, the toothless wonder, from this team. Baseball is an amazing game, a team sport that is still possible for one individual to play an inordinate role. Toothless' totally dickless "effort" should convince everyone of what I have been saying for years now, that Gl*vine is done. He can not survive on his guile or preparation alone and he is inferior at this point to Jamie Moyer, or any other young pitcher the Mets could replace him with. Don't expect to see that name on this site again, he is dead to me. If he is re-signed, Omar is not the GM we thought we had, and I will picket Sterling Enterprises myself.

3) If Charlie Manuel is the manager of the year, what does that make Willie Randolph? Sorry Willie lovers, the question has to be asked. Willie's claim to the job is not his strategic abilities. And his motivational abilities have to be called into question. Will he get fired? Hard to tell. But the stigma is stuck to him, and the Mets brass will want that stigma gone. The fish feed focused its cameras on Wilpon who looked like he was pondering which heads will roll.

Although I think the Phillies deserve their tainted title, they shouldn't get to high on themselves since without a monumental collapse they'd be nowhere. It occurs to me that all the Mets cockiness in the early season motivated and eventually rubbed off on the rest of the NL East. The Marlins are way out of line with their cockiness. They truly suck. And they have earned our hatred.

The embarassing starting pitching.
The listless and untimely offense.
The clown car bullpen.
The big-mouthed non big game closer.
The muddled management.
The not ready for prime time stars.
The head scratching lack of mental preparation in the field.

It's all history now.

So the season of bitterness has come. Followed by the cold winter. But spring is just around the corner!

You. Gotta. Believe.

does that look like Paul loDuca or am I crazy?


"We Worked To (sic) Hard, Let's Finish This." *

It looks like Billy Wagner, man of letters, is at it again. His inspiration? The frustration of illiteracy combined with the knowledge that you are squandering your talent in ways that your kin's kin will be a talkin' bout.

While its too soon to tell if the Philmes broke the heel on their glass slipper, we now know a few things. Let's review:

John Maine knows the Heimlich maneuver.
Lastings f*&#? Milledge is in the hizzy.
Reyes' catalyzing powers are still being studied by scientists. Can they be harnessed?
The Sillies can be pressured.
The Fish are a bunch of punks. Really.
HEAD and Thrillage, "no there place," and it's on the field.
Alomar's can help this team.
The fundamentals of reading and writing are not this team's strong point.

Chills are running down the thrills that are running down my spine. Ineffective Tom Glavine is due, but this team needs to be managed flawlessly tonight, and to me, that means HEAD behind the plate, and LM in the field. And Willy needs to know when to use that hook.

lets go. Mets. Drink that potion.



For handy reference.




*maybe I shouldn't be so hard on the Mets. Apparently Red Sawx shortstop Julio Lugo has a younger brother, "Ruddy" (pronounced Rudy) of the Oakland A's who can't even spell his own name right. But I digress.

Playoff Train Leaving, Mets Under it

wait, wait, but our team is so good...

I handled it relatively well last night, but the umpteenth humiliation, the loss that in all probability knocked our heroes from the playoffs for good, was a long time coming. This morning however I awoke in terror. The end is nigh. Baseball withdrawal is going to hurt a lot this time.

My friends what is there to say? All we have left is to try to describe the feeling using poorly chosen mixed metaphors. We thought our team was a bunch of winners. They think they are a bunch of winners. As Omar has said, "Winning finds Willie." Well folks, winning got off on the wrong exit somewhere, had its cell phone die, and is getting the tar beaten out of it by some local toughs. Meanwhile, this season has turned into a pumpkin. A pumpkin, I'm afraid to say, filled with losers.

These are miracle Mets too, in a way. It turns out that there are bad miracles too. Blowing a 7 game lead with 17 games left. The Mets got miracle whipped. Aside from some obvious design flaws, this team was constituted by likable, dependable talent, a far cry from the teams of yore. But more and more they do seem to be the opposite of Bobby Valentine's late 90's Mets, a team with far less talent but far more grit, battling superior opponents and sometimes beating them. And though it must be said that there is little you can accomplish without arms, these Mets beat themselves, not once, but a million times.

Olivers Army!

...with apologies to Elvis Costello

Don't start him walking
He could walk all night
Keep his mind from sleepwalking
While the Mets are putting the world to right
God let the Fish take the bait
Not to leave it up to Endy would be really great!

CHORUS:

Oliver's army is here to play
Oliver's army are on their way
And I would rather be anywhere else
But here today

There was a checkpoint Willie
He didn't crack a smile
But it's no dancing party
When you've been on the murder mile
Don't make us go back to Humber
One more win, one less magic number

NL East is up for grabs
Jimmy Rollins suffers from crabs
We could be in post season time
If not overrun by a cheesesteak kind
With the boys from the Dominican and Virginia and the like

Now we're in danger
Of crying in our beer
but fans could become derranged
With just a pitch in Mr. Cabrerra's ear
If you're out of luck we're out of work
We could send you back to Pittsburgh!

CHORUS

Oliver's army is here to stay
Oliver's army are on their way
And I would rather be anywhere else
But here today
And I would rather be anywhere else
But here today

Mets Commit Cardinal Sin***

Firing up the enormous system of tubes that is the wide world of webs is particularly difficult this morning, 'cause I know what's out there waiting for me. Angst and coffee don't go together. I guess I could make some eggs.

Miguel Cairo.

Our old scrappy, steroid enhanced, soul-patch enemies came into a lifeless Shea and quietly took care of business. And you thought the Cards were cursed? The St. Louis Phooies also delivered a message to the 2007 Mets: You are not the 2006 Cardinals. The Mets overcame a more or less solid pitching performance by apparently not even trying to score at all, to claim their loss. Note in your diaries, loss method #465.

I've spent September racing through all the well-known coping stages:

Vague sense of doom.
Over indulgence in sweets.
Jokey, confident rationalization.
Tic-developing disbelief.
Blind sputtering rage.
Deaf staggering rage.
Smug, finger pointing self pity.

Involuntary ground-kicking.
Mysterious bed wetting.
Muttering omnidirected hostility.
Pet abusing disgruntlement.*
Public tin-foil hat wearing.
Debilitating serial weeping.

Why is this all happening to me? Because I'm a human being, dammit.

There is only one thing left to do: live through it. This must be something like when your child paints a swastika on the school nurse. You are horrified, humiliated, and disbelieving, but it's still your kid and well, your kid is a good kid, even though its hard to see now or explain to human services. But what the f$!#@ is going on?

It was Nietzsche who first penned the now-cliche phrase "whatever doesn't kill me makes me stronger." For our Mets, it looks like whatever is killing them is getting stronger and just killing them. Incidentally, Nietzsche himself died, syphilitic and insane, before his work was fully appreciated by the public.



Please baseball gods, please.

*No animals were harmed in making this joke. I do not condone pet abuse, particularly by star quarterbacks. I do, however, sometimes miss the good old days when you could smoke at a cockfight.**

**joke stolen from very funny comedian.

***Cver i forgot the title you came up with. Forgive me.

Mets Bring Back Art Howe to Lead Team to Playoffs

excerpts from Art Howe's re-introductory press conference this morning:



Howe: Thanks Jeffey. Good morning everyone, and thanks for coming out. I want to keep my remarks brief, but I want to explain today's shocking events, and what the Wilpons have in mind in bringing me back just three years or so after they let me go.

Quite frankly, team evaluators have come to the conclusion that this team sucks outloud. It was time for a change. I have been hired to coach the last four games of the year in my own indomitable style.

I want to talk a bit about my qualifications. First of all, someone has to help the players explain their total collapse this season to the media, fans, and to the children. I helped Mike Piazza battle that gay thing so I figure I can do just about anything.



I had a relationship with pitching guru Rick Peterson when he looked even paler and more useless. In these next few days and weeks I will pummel his lifeless corpse until I get some answers. How can he be a guru if his entire pitching staff implodes at precisely the same point? And what in tarnation does this have to do with triangles?



And most of all, I've been asked to bring my fiery demeanor to bear on this club's motivation levels. Yes, I'm bringing battling back.



Thanks to my earlier experiences in Flushing, I know how to lose, lose big, and lose with grace. I'm the man for the job. If my players will buy into my system, I am confident that I can have the Mets back in contention by 2010. Now, repeat after me: "Howe just didn't have the personnel."

Mets Kicked in the Nats

The 2007 Mets are straining our abilities to believe. Keith Hernandez is pissed. Though there is little agreement over who to blame, everyone knows how badly the Mets bullpen has been stretched. But who is worrying over the health and sanity of the Metsblogging community? Willie Randolph and Co. are asking us to describe and re-describe the hot and cold, often bumbling and spiritless brand of baseball offered by Sterling enterprises, and the community is showing the strain. You just can't go to the well that many times before you find yourself writing posts with the words "sucks" and "donkey balls"! So far, all we have to thank the 2007 team for is making us root for the Br*ves. Thanks a lot.




'80s alum Howard Johnson was able to teach Jose Reyes how to hit again before the game, do we need to bring in Raphael Santana to remind him of how to play shortstop? For such a fast guy, Jose sure does tend to make his mental errors standing absolutely still. And as Carlos Delgado managed to coral a grounder Jose just stood there watching the pretty pretty baseball game. Covering second base never occured to him. Or he was ready to cover the pitching rubber, should it be attacked. I dunno. I don't care. I hates brainless baseball. Hates it.

Which brings me to bozo play number two. Paul LoDuca should be red faced in addition to Red Assed over swinging at the f*&$! first pitch in the ninth. This with a speedster who had risked it all to steal third, jockeying down the line. This with the Gnats thoroughly rattled; they gave up a lot of damn runs. The Gnats were Gnats. The Gnats were on the ropes. Don't ya just want to see if a wild pitch or some other event might happen? Aren't ya juuuust a little curious, Paul?



Ah and down the list we come to the starting pitching performance. Well, what hasn't already been said about the Tom-ahawk Glavine show? In fact I may have said it myself. The smoke is as gone as it is after a Great White concert in Rhode Island. The mirrors are cracked like after an angry Milton Bradley coke binge. I think anyone advocating re-signing Glavine for anything other than batting practice pitcher has to have their head examined. The amount of luck necessary for Glavine to have a decent start would not fit in Ramon Castro's cap, put it like that.

While the Mets still may be drinking Cham-pipple or perhaps some other boxed intoxicant come October, rather than the sweet sweet champagne Field General William Randolph waxed poetic about a few weeks ago, nothing hurts so much when combined with a Philmes loss. That that Philmes loss was provided by the resurgent and looming Tomahawk Choppers would be disconcerting if only the Mets weren't clawing (or at least pawing) for their lives. When the roof is on fire, no one worries much if the couch starts smoking.

Still, waiting for the Phillies to choke the Mets into a playoff berth is exhausting. Although Phillies fans are expecting their team to come up small, going into history as the "team that got beat," we Mets fans draw no comfort from this. There is no comfort anywhere. Old Duque is saying "I threw very well today." Yeah that's nice grandpa, quiet down and finish your soup; JAG is coming on soon. If you behave, we'll let you jog in the outfield soon.

Maybe you'd prefer to focus on the squad's remarkable comeback against the cellar adjacent Washington team, but isn't a comeback like that like almost winning the Special Olympics when you are not otherly-abled (i see a movie idea in there somewhere, perhaps staring Johnny Knoxville)? No, a bit of gallows humor is appropriate for this occasion. If the Mets were swinging from a tire swing or say, a rainbow, well then we'd have a different kind of laugh, wouldn't we?

ha.

Mets Leave Florida on a Jai Alai!

Vince Neil was only one of several unfortunate ends the Mets avoided in Florida


The Mets are hanging from a ledge over a freeway with the villainous Philmes, and occasionally the rest of their sordid NL East conspirators, banging on Met fingers in hopes that our heroes grip will fail. The Mets are just hoping they can pull themselves up or at worse, drop down into the back of the passing playoffs truck.

Watching the Philmes-Gnats game, I knew that cheesesteak luck just had to run out. Chad Cordero, Met deputy for the day, was able to hold a 5-3 Gnat lead facing 2 men on in the 9th and as #32 struck out #21 to end the game, the Nationals were kind enough to set off a fireworks show in honor of the favor they just did the Mets. Here's hoping the Gnats can be as amiable tonight when they buzz into Shea's Pelfrey.

I am pissed that the pen once again made me gnash my teeth and lose hope after the Graybeard offense made my heart swell with it. But in this climate and with the Philmes ACTUALLY losing, a win is a win is a win. The pen is injured and/or overworked. The starters can not last into the games. Those are the facts, and if the Mets are going to pull off a miracle this year, these facts are going to be the context.

Omar Minaya made the news with a spirited and righteous defense of his centerfielder:

"If anyone questioned the guy's toughness, you're in the wrong business," Minaya said. "If anyone thinks Carlos Beltran is soft, go report on jai alai. Just going out there and going that extra mile. I've been around the game a while and I haven't seen a guy grind it out and tough it out like he has the last three years."

I for one, have never gotten over the improbable thrill of landing Beltran in the first place, and don't make a habit of criticizing guys who play with their heads bashed in. But this tendinitis (3 years of it?) has me a bit worried for the long term future. For the near future, I have the feeling that Beltran will be out there when it counts.

Mets Give Marlins an Ollie Pop*

Well, I'd love to describe what yesterday's game LOOKED like, but I had to listen to it on the radio, and not even real radio, internet radio, which is like a cruel poke in the eye to techno-fabulists that think technology always improves our lives. That's right, I paid MLB twice for a game in Florida, once for cable and once for internet, and I was still blacked out, in order that Fux Network could NOT show the game on tv anywhere near where I live. I live in California. I am not alone in my outrage. The day of reckoning is coming for you Bud Selg.

I understand the need of the Philmes to keep winning, but must they do it in dramatic, or late-game fashion?

Looking up from my own personal Met misery to read the Sunday papers, I see that the Cubbies are back in the playoff race. Great, now the Mets will have to deal with destiny as well as several superior pitching 1-2 punches should they make the playoffs. On the brighter side, I see the the Pads are still on pace to shut the Philmes out of the playoffs altogether. It's not that I don't think the Mets could take Philly when the chips were down, it's just I'm frazzled enough that I'd just rather play the Pads.

Some interesting copy over in Bill Madden's space, and by interesting, I mean it's stuff I have raised before. However, if the Mets brass is regretting not handing Many Acta the job instead of Willie (which sounds fanciful to me), then they are bonkers. Although I never put anything past Jeffy. In my opinion, Acta could barely coach third base in his tenure with the Mets, though it looks like the Cubs performance may rekindle the Sweet Lou bloodletting in Mets Nation. Madden makes the case for Willie in any event and is worth reading.

JOHN MAINE NEEDS TO STEP UP.


LET'S GO METS.


*title provided by Cver's Pet Rabies Testing Service "If Fido's Foaming, We'll be Roaming: Call Us!"

Going Insane, Beltran's Pain and Prayers for Rain

"Even mother nature can't bail out the Mets" (paraphrase of a poster on hotfoot chat last night)

As much as we love to watch baseball and win fair and square, I doubt there's a Metfan alive who didn't perhaps want the tarps to stay put and Pedro to be rewarded for his magic show last night after a 2 hr 20 minute delay. Since there weren't any Fish fans at the game, they might not have minded or even noticed.

If you don't recognize Martinez' getting out of a bases-loaded hell with one out in the fourth by striking out Cody Ross and Olivo looking as a turning point in the season, then perhaps you should. Losing this game would have put the Phillies and their stinky breath right down the Mets necks. The hemorrhaging of runs continues unabated, but there is no time now to apply the tourniquet. Although going to the pen right now is as safe for the Mets as hailing a taxi cab, the Mets pulled it out and gave us a night of more light gloom and less doom. Satan has yet to return for Jimmy Rollin's soul, but it is just a matter of time before the Phillies realize who they are.

Thankfully, the exhausted pen, exhausted perhaps by the Mets' dubious grand strategy of carrying a rotation full of 5 inning guys, old and young, held more or less firm, and the Marlins' volleyball-style defense did the rest of the work. Mota looked for a brief and shining moment like Roid Mota. Meanwhile this season's tale of two Carloses continues, although Gomez's Reyes-like boner getting thrown out trying to steal third should not be overlooked. While Delgado enthusiasts such as myself had to feel warm and toasty when he knocked one yard, it is clear as a Beltran that the Mets are in trouble if they are without their centerfielder. Our fingers might be cramped from crossing, but it looks like we have to hold our breathes a bit longer, like we would if birthday boy and rich food lover Tommy Lasorda passed one of his 80 year old farts.

Speaking of older men, Delgado is starting to be more vocal in the press, and if he can return and contribute offensively and leadershipwise, it would be a tremendous lift. Delgado probably realizes this could be his last chance for a title and there could be no play for Mr. Gray. So Carlos, apply that Just for Men stuff to your beard and go out and give it one last shot. Just for Mets.

My (exhausted) gut tells me that Ollie is due to give an outstanding performance. Or run off the field crying Zambranistically. Quite simply, Ollie must not be Ollie today. He has to dominate, keep his pitch count down and let his defense help him.

Choke Sandwich, Hold the Malaise

Whatever the Mets did to piss off the Florida Marlins, somewhere Senator Al Leiter is probably chuckling.

That the Mets can't even collapse properly as the media is focused on the Red Sawx and their familiar decent into hell is cold comfort. I can't help feel my predictions of a Boston-Mets World Series might have brought this on. Luckily, Metsfans the world over won't notice my karmic blunder as they are too busy picking among forms of suicide. Leap from a tall place? Head in the oven? Poison? Bleed in the tub?

Thinking about yesterday's loss is like staring straight at the sun, so I will distract myself with a little weak armchair analysis. Future historians and philosophers will try to put the pieces of the puzzle together. There's many ways you can describe the current situation. No one explanation captures the whole picture but each has an element of truth.

A) The mediocrity of the Mets rotation, long denied by their boosters, is now starting to become apparent. It's the fall season, and El Duque is again wearing this season's hottest correctional medical footwear. The smoke has dissipated in Glavine and Maine's smoke and mirrors campaign and the mirror is shattered, revealing the 4 and 5 starters they actually are. Pedro is Pedro, but he ain't superman. And Ollie is a fine mess to have. Basically the Mets and their fans were lulled into a false sense of confidence in what they had, ignoring the warning signs during the season. The rotation performed just good enough to avoid a shakeup and now Omar has to dance with what brung him, and it is bucktoothed ugly.

B) Another argument is that Omar Minaya's failure to upgrade the bullpen doomed this team a long time ago. His gambles just didn't pay off. The bullpen, far from stellar anyway, was then mismanaged by one William Randolph. When arm burnout season came, adequate replacements were not found in the minor league system. Young starters were not given a chance to eat bullpen innings. Yada yada.

C) Others might argue that pivotal defensive mistakes, unforced errors by the club's core "stars" are the key to any good description of the current malaise. With all the bed shitting done by the rotation and pen, it is actually undisciplined baseball that is killing the Mets, breaking their spirit after momentum shifting offensive accomplishments. Mental and physical errors happening at the absolute worst times.

D) You could point to injuries, and the Mets have had more than their share. But this explanation isn't satisfying for why they are collapsing. The Mets had plenty of depth thanks to Omar's assembling an impressive bench, and if you watched this team play at full or near to full strength, I think you'd have a hard time accepting the injury excuse. Previously existing injuries such as Duanar Sanchez and Pedro don't really count because they were known in plenty of time to plan around.

Why is it happening? Will it stop? Will the Mets be forced to rely on the Br*ves to knock the Phils out for them? One thing seems clear: if the Mets are backing into the playoffs, we are getting to see a whole lot of their ugly backside.

PedroPower, take us away!!!

***

Kudos to the Mets organization for finding a young boy with Tourette syndrome to throw out the first pitch on the Sept 25 game against the Nationals. It would have been much easier to just ask any random fan to scream obscenities while throwing a pitch, but the Mets figured at least the boy wouldn't be tempted to aim the ball at Willie Randolph. Reached for comment about the Mets recent performance, the boy said: "Those m*therf&ing d*&chebags better g&d*mn well straighten out there acts and fly right or I'll ram my Vans so far up their a$$ it won't be funny. Sh*t. C**ksukers."



***

I recognize that in troubled times, we Metsfans need something to look forward to, to give us hope for a better tomorrow. I want to reward my loyal readers with scoops that they can't get anywhere else. To that aim, I have procured through my sources a copy of the actual patch the Mets will wear next year to commemorate the Shea Stadium Landfill for all its years of service. Enjoy!

Mets Take a Welcome Break from Collapsathon

Collapsathon.

Chokedown.

What is the Mets Tragic Number?

Would we soon be bereaving instead of believing?

These are the thoughts creeping into view as the Mets looked headed for a Sawx-like regular season collapse. With the Met-hating national media sharpening its knives and fans at wits end, Paul LoDuca, who is always welcome at my house so long as he doesn't spike my Mookie- Buckner ball, had to do something. So he shaved his head himself. I had to do something too, so I messed around with photoshop and then started this post before the game with the following sentence:

"Tonight the Mets bucketed the water out of the boat as fast as they could, and earned a vital win against the Gnats. They are battling."

And lo and behold, Pelfrey pitched competently, the left side of the infield mostly got its head out of its ass, the pen held things down. Though committing three more errors, the Mets got the breaks, other then (ch)umpires Tony Randazzo and Chad Fairchild's hideous call on a pitch that nearly ended Ct Red Asses' season (even baby-eater Don Sutton thought it was an awful call). Remind me to complain about this season's officiating again when the Mets have clinched.

Am I precognitive? Maybe. Am I a believer? Most definately. Either way, thanks in part to me writing that sentence, the Mets won and the Phillies lost to the Cardinals. What will I do for an encore?

Well here's my advice:

The Mets need to tape Moises Alou from head to foot, help him put his pants on, and send him up to that plate. If you saw the snake that bit Ken Griffey Jr., who pulled his groin while throwing a ball into the infield last night, you know that the oft-injured are playing in the shadows of a giant set of dice.

Carlos Delgado needs to sacrifice a virgin (but not Joe Smith please) to the baseball gods to let him heal.

And finally, the team needs to just win. They know how, they just got to execute.

Tonight against the D-minus Train, lets get this Zeppelin back on schedule!

"You guys know when the new season of Lost starts?"

"This is not Armageddon to us"

Here I am, my night's sleep is in the hands of St Louis pitcher Mike Maroth and it is the 14th inning, one out and a Phillie on second. Its’ around 10pm and I think I know how this one is going to end.

Howard mercifully goes down on a check swing...Here comes Ron Barajas. I feel like I must have eaten at his restaurant at some point.
Maroth a strike on the outside corner.
Maroth allows a base hit to Barajas and the Phillies go on top.
It’s over.
Jason Werth triples, its 7-4.
Now its really over.

So I can reflect a bit.

The Maine is sunk.
The Mets were bested by the Grimace and Loog Noogie or something.
Alou is down as you had to know he would be.
The team is now 0-1 after pow wows.
Tom Glavine starting to feel like he really would like to spend some more time with the kids.
Fans are rioting, although mostly attacking each other (the nouveau riche are not known for their class).
There are headlines reading “Mussina stars as Yankees inch closer.”

I can only think in staccato. Are the Mets bending or breaking? When will they be done bending if they are just bending? How can a team with a pitching genius such as the Jacket in their employ mismanage their staff so egregiously. And fail to get a single decent throwing performance out of anyone save Pedro and the peanut guy. In the Steve Phillips era, there'd be heads rolling and the streets of Flushing would be filled with blood. It feels like a million years since Pedro had his W and his mojo flushed down the toilet. It is getting increasingly difficult to swallow Willie’s lame sounding talks, though, really what the hell is he going to say? Even if you believe that Willie is more a part of the problem than the solution, at this point, we’re really just rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic lifeboats.

Here's Willie trying to sound in control but sounding as out of touch as George HW Bush in front of a supermarket price scanner:

"When I'm with my players, I'm very passionate. And I get ticked off once in a while, and I get in their face and stuff like that. ... I spoke to my guys briefly just now, and I allowed them to have a get-together on their own ... just sit down together and talk about the game and what they're doing and stuff.

"What I do every day is interact with my team. There's some guys you have to get in their face, and there's some guys you have to give a soft hand to. We still feel good about where we are ... we, as a group, are going to keep things in perspective. For us, there is a calm and a feeling of wellness, even though we haven't looked that way."

This team sucks a pony. I am beyond venting to blow off steam. There isn't any steam left. Willie if this ain't Armageddon to you, then I hate to see what's coming.

Mets Looking All Washingtoned Up

Wow. What just happened? Will we look back on these days as the last few happy moments when our beloved team looked post-season bound, whether it deserved it or not? The next few games have an ominous feeling to them. It occurred to me watching today's game, and this is all I will say about the abomination I witnessed, that the Mets might not be headed for the playoffs at all, and I have been in a reality-denying stupor for an entire season. The reality is that the Mets have Jekyll and Hyded themselves from a complacent state to a barely racing state.

They are 30-30 against their own division. They have lost 1 million games to their closest rival. They look like they don't know what game they are playing. Hey these Gnats have bite, you're thinking. Hey this team still controls its destiny. Does this look like a team you want in control of anyone's destiny?

"Only two guys in here have the ear of almost everyone," one player said. "Moises [Alou] and Carlos Delgado. Maybe Paulie can help ... I hope so."

Cranky Marty Noble's vaguely ominous writing style is finally appropriate for the Omar Mets. And his quote captures something about the mysterious clubhouse. I'm not sure its something good. These guys need to be told?

The Mets seem to need some leadership, and the debates will rage on as to where that should be coming from. This swoon does not bode well for a manager increasingly known more for his poor in-game strategy than his motivation of men. Willie looks sadly overmatched to some, and proudly resilient to others. I note in passing that Omar has been awfully quiet for a NY GM. However, with all the shiny teeth in the Willie Randolph era clubhouse, it feels an awful lot like the Art Howe Mike Piazza era.

Um, is it time to make the relief pitchers do some fielding practice?

You could console yourself with the comforting points that great humanitarian, Mets Walk Offs , made the other day, namely that Von Hayes and Mike Schmidt tortured the '86 Mets too (the Mets were 8-10 against Philly that year) and that turned out fine. Or you could strip off all of your clothes and leap from a bridge into a passing garbage truck.

Metsblog is reporting that El Duque is wearing a boot. Not that encouraging huh? In other news Guilermo Mota has also been fitted with an apparatus to preserve his health:




This way, he may be able to sneak out of NY at the end of the season unharmed, blending in with thousands of Metsfans dressed the same.

The baseball gods are angry at Los Mets, my friends, and if you don't believe that, explain how the Phillies hung on to beat the House of Cards 13-11 in a game Philadelphia was leading 11-3 in the sixth.

Mets Entirely De-MOTA-vated, Drop Yet Another Game to Phillies

"Can't anybody here play this game?"



FIELDING
Errors: Lo Duca (8, throw), Reyes 2 (10, fielding, throw), Alou (2, fielding), Castillo (4, throw), Conine (5, fielding).

Fresh off of a game that the MLB decided not to share with national baseball fans comes a Mets game that we wish was never shown in public. Burn the tapes. Then light the torches and trap Guillermo Mota in a windmill. We can’t blame Ron “Mea” Kulpa or any of the umpiring staff. Nor can we blame Jimmy Rollins for his obvious use of witchcraft. Or voodoo as Gary suggested. The Mets are just flat out handing the Phillies a playoff spot.

I would flip out, but I’ve seen this so many times before I'm almost desensitized. Joe Smith, back in the majors, must have wondered if they sent him to the wrong team; surely this bunch of clowns isn't the big league club!

As for Mota, the Ass of the Mets, instead of burying him in the bullpen backyard, Willie just continues to throw winnable games down the shit hole. Willie defenders will point to the fact that the whole entire bullpen sucks. Yes, but Mota swallows. Unfortunately it seems that Willie is the last to know that Mota does not belong on a winning Mets team. Real Mets take performance degrading drugs, just ask Keith Hernandez! Just kidding, Keith, you know I love you.

At least that newly wed couple got a lot for their money. 3 hours of “Bad News Bears baseball” and… they got to see the entire Mets pitching staff to boot! The groom probably irrevocably compromised his marriage, but he got to touch Keith Hernandez and take a picture with the SNY booth. And all brides look hotter when they are Metsfans.

Why is this team so prone to losing its focus? It's a question Omar has to be asking himself as he tosses and turns in bed tonight.

The Mets Recipe for Disaster included:
Physical errors
*Moises Alou, a charter member of what Keith Hernandez termed the “One Hand All Stars” blows a catch in the out field.
*Castillo and Conine stinking up the right side of the infield

Mental errors
*Ollie going to 3 balls on every batter, putting the leadoff hitter on, walking the pitcher, etc.
*Carlos Beltran throws to third in the 3rd, putting another runner in scoring position
*Willie brings Mota into a game at all
*Mets add to the 18 unearned runs they have given up behind their young impressionable, occasionally unfocused pitcher (by the way, if Pedro tells you to focus, you focus!)

Now, if this weekend isn't bad enough, the Mets decided to start Brian Lawrence against the Gnats tomorrow. I don't even want to think about this right now, but you can't like their chances.

"Consider the possibilities"

Weekend Rant: Empty Base Syndrome and an Imaginary Saturday Conversation with Bud Selig

Another frustrating Saturday. I admit it, I’m crabby. Blogger is a piece of shit software. And I continue to suffer from Empty Bases Syndrome. MLB and Fux Network have combined to shut out baseball fans, keep us from watching the broadcast of Pedro *$@!* Martinez pitch in a September game between division rivals with playoff implications. Buy “Extra Innings” package they told us, and we did.

And to paraphrase that famous American, 'Otter' Stratton, “We fucked up. We trusted MLB.”

Getting upset about the total fucking of out-of-town fans perpetrated by the MLB may be futile, but at least it keeps me from asking really torturous questions like "Aaron Heilman, why god why?” or “How can a team that can only muster runs in a bases-loaded situation with no outs against Kyle Lohse by getting hit by a pitch conceivably get anywhere meaningful in the playoffs?” Or “Why does it seem that Rickey is running this team not Willie, when Jose Reyes gets thrown out trying to steal third in the 6th inning when he was already in scoring position with two outs and David *&!# Wright at the plate?”

For American sports fans, passive acceptance is often a way of life. The dictates of loyalty and tradition preclude the benefits of flexibility, and the rest of the scam is supported by subtle rules. Don’t bring in outside food to the ballpark, otherwise prices can’t be fixed at 300% of normal prices, a practice that would be quickly undercut by the workings of the actual market that more obtuse capitalists believe protects them from harm. Some fans confuse the hallowed traditionalism inherent in baseball culture with quietism. They don’t like to hear criticism of anything perhaps because it makes them start the process of reflecting on their situation, which is probably why they enjoy the escapism of being a sports fan in the first place. Others cuddle with their copies of Ayn Rand and lecture us about capitalism while secretly hoping that the system doesn’t fuck them over too and they can point to their luck as proof of their beliefs. Hey the ballpark is a rough place now, filled with drunken and sober idiots throwing things, but at least we don’t riot like European soccer fans right? To each his or her own.

But as a society, we already let pro sports get away with a lot. Go ahead, build your new stadium with public largess even when studies show it brings few of the economic benefits to the area promised. Go ahead, bullshit us with reduced seating in the name of “intimacy” when you build that new ballpark. Who needs to be able to afford to bring their family to the park anyway? Corporate suits need to relax after a long hard day being corporate suits, don’t they?

But even blockheads who have no problem with this line of reasoning have to be startled by the Saturday broadcast policy MLB is asking us to accept. Even if you acknowledge MLB’s right to charge extra for improved access to their product, you have to wonder how they can justify not delivering the access after you pay a premium for it? Of course this is a company that would, if not for government intervention (!), would have sold off the viewing rights of a public institution for short term gains and less viewership! But I can’t help imagining a conversation with Bud Selig although it wouldn’t end well…

Me: “Why can’t I watch the game on MLB’s so-called Extra Innings Package? I paid for it.”

Selig: “Well Fux Network owns the rights to those Saturday games, whether or not they choose to televise them to the fans.”

Me: “How did they get those rights?”

Selig” “Well they paid us for it. Plus, otherwise Joe Buck calls me at home, and I can’t have that”
Me: “But didn’t I pay you for these games when I dropped all that cash on the Extra Innings package that you didn’t want me to have in the first place?”

Selig: “Yes, but seeing as how out-of-town fans have a harder time coordinating their protests and will probably just blame the nearest scapegoat—their cable operator—we figure the uproar will be easy to contain. We are counting on weak minded passive fans. That way we can sell the same product twice without actually delivering it. Sure we could work out a deal with Fux, but why bother spending the energy? See how that works out for us?

Me: “Why can’t Extra Innings carry the Fux broadcasts as part of their negotiated deal, or when there is no Fux broadcast, carry the game from SNY or wherever? Isn’t the game ultimately property of MLB? Why would you write a contract preventing fans from seeing the games they paid for?”

Selig: “Perhaps I wasn’t clear during the preseason controversy over selling exclusive rights to Directv-- I don’t give a flying monkey shit about the baseball fan. Did I stutter?”

Me: (strangles Selig with ugly yellow All-Star jersey)

Ass of the Franchise

When the always tiresome ESPN has trotted out their "Face of the Franchise" feature a few weeks ago, I thought it was only fair to provide fans with a legitimate alternative. But I held off, not wanting to commit any karmic offenses after the Phillie Sweep. Most of the commenters picked Jose Reyes as representing all that is Wright, er, right, with the Mets. As for the competing meaningful body part, there were not too many candidates.



I give you...

Guillermo Mota, Ass of the Franchise!

Claim to fame includes...

known steroids user, whose best recent performances happen to coincide with period of drug use

Has two year contract from Omar

Performance has ranged from ineffective to outright suck, and this after having a whole half a year off, due to the suspension he served

Giving fans no earthly way to support him by continuing to fail in big spots

Has Willies' support, because his stuff is so awesome!

Has two year contract from Omar. Wait did I say that already?

Reminds us all of Armando, which we don't deserve

Mets Maine-tain Victory Win Series Despite Another Pen-tastrophy! *

The Mets evened out the season series with the Br*ves at just the right time, sending the banjo-plucking bastards back to their off season varmint skinning huts in shame. It seems like just yesterday that the Atlanta club had a hex on the boys in Blue and Orange, but that sacrificial voodoo chicken has flown.

Reyes is showing signs of coming out of his mini-slump, and Johny Maine pitched like he wants to see the first inning of a playoff game. With the fragile Old Duque's ever tenuous status, it helps to have a "backup plan" of the level of Maine. Still, there is a certain uncertainty haunting the Mets rotation: old guys who perform well IF the stars(and starts) align. Fans love El Duque but he is just not reliable. It's like having a great dad that doesn't show at your birthday party at the roller rink cause he pulled something cleaning out the gutters on Sunday. That's what you have to deal with if you sign the ancients, as the makers of the coming Indiana Jones movie will find out. It can be a glorious gamble, but some days, well, that boulder catches up with you.

And then there's Mota, the name that strikes fear in the hearts of every Mets fan. His failures are so numerous that I spend his warm-up tosses wishing that Mike Piazza had caught Mota when he chased the little bastard through that spring clubhouse (in an effort to get his grown man on after taking the Clemens beaning like it was some sand in his shorts) all those years ago. There are no more Armando comparisons to be made, no more steroids jokes to be hatched. Just resigned disappointment. And re-signed disappointment. As many fans have pointed out, if Heilman and Feliciano don't shit the mound, maybe it never gets to Mota.



*title and promotional considerations provided by Cver's Libertarian Check Cashing Hut: "We'll Never Sell Your Personal Information to the Government"

Shhh! Mets Working on Secret Retirement Present for Cox

While Keith Hernandez was setting new standards for masculinity, changing his own tire on the way to the ballgame, the Jones brothers were pulling up lame, making this game a kind of must win. See, I'd hate to lose to the Br*ves when they are playing without their biggest stars.

Tim Hudson pitched well enough to win; by the end of the 4th, second baseman Prado had bagged 7 straight ground ball put outs. But it wasn't meant to be for the Br*ves, and you could see the beautiful looks of demoralization on their straw chewin' faces. They weren't dreaming about the playoffs, they were thinking of an October washing their monster trucks and fixin' road-kill lasagna with their illegitimate children, or piling into the General Lee to go impregnate poor Hooter's waitresses with premature ejaculate. Watching Cox shrivel in the dugout like a slug in a beer shower was a distinct pleasure that frankly, I deserve. Retirement beckons Bobby, don't keep it waiting.

At one point it was mentioned that Ollie had good stuff but it didn't look that impressive to me. Still, until the McCann homer, he was looking invincible. And, for all the butterflies he chases, Ollie's 6th inning pick off of Hudson of second base was damn near heads up! The baseball gods help those who help themselves.

The Br*ves now face a day of reckoning, as in I reckon their winning ways are over. Still, with their Satanically savvy GM, 2 dominant starters, cast of good young players, and fertile farm system, you have to hope that the coming off-season travails just spiral into a spate of management retirements and free agent losses, otherwise they will certainly rise again, hick style. Thirteen straight division championships is quite enough.

But one step at a time...Let's keep the sweep in order!

"Houston, we have a laugher!"*

The Mets seem to be cruising down the stretch, stirred by the recent Phillie beatdown into a rennaisance. Nothing but encouraging signs after soundly finishing off the sweep at Shea today.
The remaining drama may be provided by Pedro and his surgically repaired mojo, who survived another outing today, and the health of Carlos Delgado, who raked in last year's playoffs.

The Astros seem to be mentally headed to pasture. How else to explain Toothless shutting them down, taking a perfect game into the sixth? Or the Mets manhandling Oswalt giving the SNY guys space to place calls to their football bookies?

The first game of the set featured the Mets waving Wandy all over the place and showcased LMillz, hitting in the neighborhood of 280 and playing an improving right field. Not too shabby. And maybe the run suport will give the Pelf some much needed confidence to go with his two wins. The Mets are off to a great start of September.

As Milledge recently rapped, "We've been in first place forever."

Magic Number: 15.




* title supplied from Cver's Quality Carpet and Flooring Emporium: "Our Prices will Floor You!"

Astros Come to Town, Bring Giant Field Rat

Tonight the Mets take on Junction Jack and the Astros. Are you a-scared? This guy looks more likely to chew through your powerlines than wreak havok on your pitching staff.

Juust a bit outside

Just how do you make the transition from "Major League" pitcher with the yips to a bash brother-type outfielder? Well it may be that human growth hormone can play a role. No truth to the rumor that, after getting caught redhanded with the substances, Rick Ankiel is considering coming back to the majors as a slick-fielding slap single-hitting shortstop.

Put in perspective, we can see that the curse Carlos Beltran put on the Cards this winter continues:

Contacted by the News, Ankiel's agent, Scott Boras, said he wasn't aware of the allegations. Walt Jocketty, the Cardinals general manager, told the newspaper: "This is the first I've heard of this. If it's true, obviously it would be very tragic, along with everything else we've had happen to us this year."

The Cardinals, who defeated the Tigers in five games to win the World Series this past October, have been beset by off-field problems and injuries since then.
It began with the DUI arrest this past March of manager Tony La Russa and reached its zenith a month later when reliever Josh Hancock was killed in an automobile accident in which he was also driving under the influence. Along the way, former Cy Young Award winner Chris Carpenter, pitcher Josh Kinney, third baseman Scott Rolen and outfielders Juan Encarnacion and Preston Wilson were all lost to serious injury. Those five players are currently on the 60-day disabled list.

Cry me a (St. Louis) river. I'm pretty sure that drinking and driving or injesting performance enhancing drugs so you can cheat at a game do not qualify as tragedies.


Arr! the Pirates know they blow!



new GM candidate?

After a "thorough review of the organization," Pittsburg Chairman of the Board Bob Nutting and the Pirates have decided to make GM Dave Littlefield walk the plank. I mean I feel for Littlefield as a fellow Umass grad (I think), but what about "suck" requires an eight month analysis?

Votta Awful Game!! Reds Grab One Back

Yesterday was not John Maine's day. By the middle of the game, the only reasons left to watch were to hear what outlandish things Keith would say, and to watch Humber (pronounced Um-ber) pitch in mop-up duty. At least one of those things was satisfying.


Those that stuck around during this "day game preceeding a night game" or whatever Keith called it against the "Red Legs" in Keith-speak also got to listen to Mex:

*push the NFL
*tell Gary his voice was boring
*talk with no sense of irony about the massage therapist giving Reyes "a full body massage"
*admire his own career, particularly a home run he hit off of Glavine
*share that his dog doesn't need grooming, and women, ahem, moms are good at combing hair
*divulge his off-day plans to hit Java Nation for coffee and then laze by the pool


Humber, who I desperately want to like, was "humber-whelming." He showed flashes, but seemed unable to get the curve over anything other than the batter's head.


My post yesterday was a bit irrationally exuberant. Maybe I saw too many perfect gamedays in a row (Mets win, Br*ves lose, Phillies lose, Yankee's lose, Red Sox win, Mariners win). Taking the sage words of Misery Loves Company, "Conflict, pathos, and sputtering rage are so much easier to chronicle than benign happiness" to heart, I hereby adjust my tone. I see now that a 5-5 road trip only looks good because of what the Phillies did to us. I now note that there is little comfort from the realization that the Reds, though losing the series, molested Mets' pitching for 18 runs in three games. I now realize that despite his wins, John Maine might be the best option for post-season bullpen reassignment, even assuming that Old Duque is not injured.



The Mets awful-fense reared its head again today, though it is fair to mention this was the B-squad. Carlos Buntran earned his nickname with an attempted bunt in the 4th with 2 men on and none out. Either he has an unnatural faith in Jeff Connine, or Carlos was feeling an aftershock from his concussion. Beltran's running into an easy out at third did little to dispel the appearance of mild confusion.



For comfort, I thought I'd watch the Br*ves try to mount a comeback against the Phillies and take the sting out, but it was a game I turned off when, the score 5-2 with 2 on in the 6th inning Andrwuw Jones struck out to end the inning. The Br*ves have nothing to play for. The Br*ves are done. The Br*ves are so done, I thought smugly. But maybe I should have watched the end anyhow.

Among Omar's goals in the off-season must be to keep decent starting and relief pitching the hell away from Philadelphia. Keep them frustrated. He he.

So neither of the two NL East teams scare me much. But I'm trying to decide who I want to face least, Arizona or San Diego. I have to look at some numbers on that one, but would it not be interesting to see Arizona on the way to seeing the Sawx in the World Series, a sort of combination of some of the great playoff match ups of bygone Mets playoff glories? Sigh, if only the Astros were in the mix.


But here are some things to worry about in September anyway:

*4-5 game lead
*Castillo's knee
*Ollie and Maine getting hit again (it rhymes)
*El duques body
*Delgado's hip
*Milledge's rookieness

"Watch the game": Larry Jones and the (ch)Umpiring

I agree with Larry. I think. I mean I hate his guts and he is obviously crying sour grapes to accompany his team's new journey into oblivion and irrelevance, but still, the (ch)umpiring has really caught my attention this season as I have brought up before. And they say that if you notice the officiating, something is wrong. They do say that.

Anyhow, it isn't just redneck Hooters patrons that are up in arms. C.B. Bucknor's Monday Aug 27 performance got our own hero hot under the collar.

From Wednesday's 8/29 Daily News:

David Wright, ejected from Monday night's game after being called out on strikes three times, checked the video after the eight inning that night to make sure plate umpire C.B. Bucknor's calls were off before continuing to complain. When Bucknor looked into the dugout before the ninth inning began, Wright barked at the ump to watch the game. That prompted the third baseman's second career ejection.


***
Off-day today so we can start looking forward to Sunday's match-up Pedro vs. Oswalt and the Astros. Now that one better be on TV.

Pedro-fied!!

Let the "Pedro stage" of the 2007 Mets season begin!!

If there is a regular season situation more exciting than Monday's, I have no idea what it would look like. The Mets, having practically written themselves out of any heroic admirable tale with listless and unlucky losses to the Dodgers and (gasp) Phillies, promptly wrote themselves right back into my heart by doing the improbable, and doing it with style. After the four game pasting, even I was starting to doubt my John Lennon-inspired mantra, "I don't believe in Phillies."

It's old news now, but it is worth savoring. They did the only thing that could fully redeem them in my eyes, they swept the Atlanta Br*ves in Atlanta and drove a stake through the heart of their eternal main competition. Read that sentence again, the Mets demoralized the Br*ves and sent them to the golf courses, or to cheat on their wives, or whatever Br*ves do in the off-season. Not the other way around. That's big.

Then, against the backdrop of the Br*ves and Phillies beating on each other in a win-win situation for the Mets, here comes Pedro, he of the surgically repaired arm, well-rested toe and magical powers of persuasion, to deliver what might be some saving grace. During the late stages of his rehab, Pedro had alternatively talked a big game and kept expectations low. No one with any sense pinned the Mets playoff hopes on Pedro, but when no one is looking, we all maneuvered our Pedro action figures on our desks and imagined the potential paradise of Pedro (ok maybe not all of us). What would we get?

We got it all. A decent start, a "W" next to Martinez' name, another game gained on the poor Phillies, and Pedro wakes up feeling great the next day.

Now we just sit back and enjoy the ride; the starting pitching catching its breath, Wagner is getting power from his legs, the hitters starting to rake, Endy is in the house (imagine Endy and Marlon on the same bench!), loDuca is regaining his pride through the magic of RBIs and post-game comments, and the brooms are starting to sweep in the Mets' favor. The only cause for concern seems to be the hip of Carlos Delgado. Delgado had finally found the path after a season of wandering in the forest. I'm fixated on news about Carlos Delgado's tweaked hip because his rebirth (looking less like Mo Vaughn and more like, well, Carlos Delgado) is what is making watching the Mets winning streak really really fun! Even if the MRI shows only a strain, it might be enough to knock Carlos out of his nice little groove, and that would be a tragedy.