Beltran Knocks Fish out of Water

This post was almost titled "The One That Got Away."

The psychological torture one must endure to watch this team seems to grow with every passing game. I hate playing the Fish because that means a better than even chance I'll have to endure the Fish Feed, the broadcast equivalent of involuntarily listening to some dipshits public cell phone conversation. It is unforgivable that Major League (so-called) Extra Innings package would carry the SUN Sports/FSN Miami feed of the game. It can't be a conscious choice--the SNY booth wins Emmys, features knowledgeable former MLB stars, and provides incisive analysis while Tommy Hutton and Rich Walz (in matching outfits no less) have probably never won an office pool between them--to go with the network tweedledee and tweedledumbs who can't even draw fans to their stadium much less their broadcasts. I practice singing everyday in my shower, but that doesn't mean I deserve a national audience.

With their infantile style of broadcasting, characterized by over-familiarity with the players, idiotic nicknames like "Hammer," lame ill-informed homerism, and lack of anything interesting whosoever to say about the game of baseball, this bozos need to be kept in South Florida broadcast hell, not imposed on an unsuspecting national crowd. The Marlins--from the football stripes on the field to the announcers to the biannual ritual dismemberment--class all the way.

Marlins broadcast team in happier times. The village is missing two idiots, Sun Sports!

These guys just don't seem to be qualified for anything above the level of cable access shows with lavalamp designs and unexpected elderly nudity. For example, Hutton and Walz , untroubled by exposure to the division in which their team plays in, worried aloud at the awesome power of Aaron Heilman who, it turns out, has shut the Fish down a couple times this year, one of his most miserable. There was one high spot of the night's broadcast in the 8th, when the field reporter detailed tomorrow night's Florida transportation department-sponsored promotion at the Fish stadium, raising the interesting philosophical question of which is worse, receiving a ticket for not buckling up, or winning two tickets to a future Marlin game?

With news that Phils had already lost, life was playing into the Mets strategy. Just wait for the Phillies to lose their way out of contention and face the Fish on the field--not a place where fish are notable for their prowess. But when the Mets fell behind in the 3rd on a sacrifice fly that scored the pitcher, the viewer stress started to mount. They could go two up on the Phils, and all they have to do is best Chris Volstad.

But this is the Mets we're talking about. The third inning was dreadful. Reyes' dumb-ass error on PITCHER Volstad's weak grounder in the 3rd was temporarily mitigated by something I'd never seen before: Carlos Delgado more or less successfully fielding the ball and throwing it to second while a runner is in his field of vision. Nevertheless, a short time later, PITCHER Volsted would score the go-ahead run. When playing the Marlins, one is supposed to wait for them to make the crucial error (on the famous "Hit it to Uggla" strategy, more later) not gift them with your own.

Other sources of tonight's angst festival?

Usually, Ollie likes to get his money's worth when he loses. The Oliver Perez walk show made for unpleasant viewing, but it was an L that Ollie actually wouldn't have deserved for once. But tonight his offense sputtered. Actually it didn't even sputter it drooled. After whacking Volstad around the park in a appropriate manner the first frame, the Mets went super meek on his ass, actually reversing Volstad's pitch count at one point as Superman would have to fly backwards around the Earth to do. I mean the top of the order was as lame as the bottom of the order. Church's style at the plate can only be described as "concussed." Daniel Murphy has mostly abandoned the patience at the plate thing for a swing at everything approach. Cody Ross and his big stupid head tripled in the 6th.

Cody Ross ain't cried so hard since paw had to put his pony down. An he ain't been so low down since that cheerleader made fun of his spurs and big baby head.

David Wright, up with the bases loaded in the 7th down by a run--the pivotal point of the game-- probably should have been called out on 0-2 but thanks to schizo home umpire Jerry Layne's remarkably mobile strike zone, he was able to strike out on 3-2 instead. I believe FAIL is what they call that on the interwebs. David just does nothing for me lately.

Does Carlos Beltran hit anything but infield squibblers anymore (again in the 8th)? Nubtran? No nickname suggests itself. Even Tatis, the clutchiest member of the current club, could manage no more than a big fly to right. A reborn Murph the Hitting Smurf helped calm me down with a nice single to right advancing Nubtran to third. Then Jerry Manuel made the redoubtable decision to pinch hit Brian (Mr. Offense) Schneider with the less popular less successful rook, Nick Evans, and then with Endy Chavez the hitting Bambi, who then sealed the Mets' fate by weakly grounding out to the pitcher, something we know Schneid could have done without all the delays.

[begin interior monologue]

Sheet, this is not the Mets night: even the "Hit it to Uggla" strategy failed. If you can't hit it past Uggla, as Reyes tried in the 9th, then you can't win. If hitting it to Uggla doesn't win ballgames, I don't know what to believe in anymore. But with Wright and Castillo aboard with two away in the 9th, Kevin Gregg, he of the sunglasses at night, hits Delgado with a pitch. Bringing up...

Carlos Beltran, who on the first pitch smacks a grand slam. Holyfunking whoopdie wow!!

How improbable: Mets deliver with the bases loaded like fish ride bicycles.

Wow, what a relief! Sigh. Finally, its over, merciful heavens its over. You pays your money and you gets your rewards.

But it isn't over. No, I forgot one thing. That's right, the Mets have no serviceable relievers who are qualified to pitch baseballs to the Marlins in the bottom of the 9th. Oh yes there's that. In walks Luis Ayala. Somewhere John Franco is chuckling.

Two outs, two runs later, and no thanks to Ayala really, the Mets preserved their improbable victory and gave all of us Metfans familiar indigestion.