Week in Review: Rotten Fish Stink Out the Mets

 
 Yep.

This week's Fish tale was more than just some typical, humiliating late season losses to the Marlins franchise:

The Marlins have spent about $396 million on player salaries from 2000 through 2010, with 873 victories and a World Series title to show. The Mets have spent about $1.212 billion on salaries in those seasons, with 878 victories and no championships.
In other words, the Mets have spent about $816 million more than the Marlins to win five more games and one fewer title. It is a stinging indictment of the Mets’ efficiency and a glowing example of the shrewdness of the Marlins, who are so disciplined that they have a blanket club policy against no-trade clauses.

To recap: 
$1.212 billion=878 wins, no World Series victories. (That's the Mets.)
$396 milion=873 victories, one World Series championship. (That's a team that employs fat men as cheerleaders.)

The Marlins' main expenditure.

I don't know much about MLB revenue sharing, but my next thought was chilling.  I WONDER HOW MUCH OF THEIR REVENUE THE METS HAVE SHARED WITH THE FISH!!?? Can we get some numbers on this? I bet it would show that the Mets are actually paying the Fish to serve as the bane of their existence, and a "stinging indictment" to their entire management strategy.

Marlins' highest paid player provides same service at 2nd Mets get for $1,550,000 less. Mets win!

Also, the Fish know how and when to beat the Mets, so you have to add the devastation into the equation.  The Mets, in so many ways cannot compete with a team that doesn't care about winning or attracting fans, and STILL ACCIDENTALLY MANAGED A TITLE!! That is how bad the Wilpons are--they can't beat someone who isn't even trying.   This season, the Marlins have bought mediocrity for $81 million less than the Mets! And at least they suck in private, with no one at all to watch them, whereas the Mets manage to humiliate themselves in front of a large, if dwindling, fanbase.


***
At least the week's news wasn't all bad!

Rats.
Stinkers.
Crikey!
Ho-boy.

***
I have gotten to the bottom of how Jose hurt himself, originally. We all just keep paying for ESPN's sins:

Slaps Away! Ike Grabs More Than Just Victory

Pic brazenly stolen from AA. They'll never know it's gone.

Sometimes we watch a baseball game featuring an unforgivably bad team that we've given up on months ago just on the odd chance that something improbable or something we've never seen before happens. Last night, against the hated, but mostly boned Fish, we saw such things. And we liked it.  For the improbable, Luis Castillo, Luis Castillo!, rather than be a non-factor or doom his team with careless glove work or a slow turn at second, won the game in the ninth for the Mets with a hit. I enjoyed that, but will probably forget it soon.

What I won't forget is Met rookie first base man and minor cult figure Ike Davis slapping the umpire on the ass after he crossed the plate with the winning run.  Right before the Mets inexplicable treated themselves to the now standard "walk off win hogpile/pounding celebration" --a phenomenon that seems quite inappropriate when a team is battling to stay out of their division's cellar after dreadfully under performing their salary and talent level, and embarrassing themselves all season--Ike Davis subtly made his mark on the 2010 season.  Historical figures make history--they don't always know why-- they do what they did in the heat of battle.  They react, reach out, and take what is theirs.

Ike took his place in history by doing something I have never seen before in a baseball game.

He honked blue's buns.
Massaged his manly lumps.
Poked his posterior.
Smacked his saddle bag.
Walloped his woopie-cushion.
Dorked his derriere. 
Checked his cheeks. 
Fondled his fanny. 
Held his heinie.  
Caressed his keister.

I strain for the proper context in which to place this act. Is slapping an umpire's ass like patting a Supreme Court justice on the head? Or is it just like some incidental, embarrassing contact we blush at but forget, like innocently grabbing a nun's bosom to break a fall?  It is inappropriate.  But just how wrong? However history ends up remembering this, Ike and umpire Chad Fairchild are forever linked, like ass and hand. We can never go back.

Thanks For Playing: Some Lovely Parting Gifts for Omar Minaya

The climate out there in Mets land is pretty severe.  Kool Aid is no longer being served.  Currently, Met fans (and anyone else associated with this team) can probably be located somewhere on a scale that runs from embarrassment to outrage to resignation to apathy. This is not to say that our heroes aren't spreading joy. One star throws up. Another ejaculates on women when he hits the links. Another shares what might in some quarters be termed Latin passion with his family and other bystanders.  Another star, well, he just sees stars.

This weekend, I read Tyler Kepner's professional, sympathetic and entirely misconceived article in the NY Times, which he concludes on this note of sadness: Omar "had nothing to do with so much of the mess at Citi Field, and he would probably leave the team in much better shape than most people realize." After this, I wondered if I can't be a little more gracious in my treatment of Omar. I mean, I can't add much more to Taco Ted Berg's interpretation; he'll shed no tears for a GM that has excelled at failure on all levels, and neither shall I. Or maybe I can add something.  See, the way I figure, the Met players are probably too lethargic (or busy in court) to come up with some really nice gift ideas for Omar's pending going away party.  Here then, are some suggestions for some nice parting gifts for Omar, other than of course, all that contract money for nothing (why in the hell are GM contracts guaranteed?).
 

Artist's interpretation: actual shards cannot be gazed directly upon by humans.


Shards of the Beard of R.A. Dickey
The use of the word shards is intentional. For this man's beard cannot be reduced to clippings or mere follicles. As far as I know, Omar is as responsible for finding this diamond in the rough and putting him on the diamond as anyone else, and no matter what his future holds, Dickey will always live on in Mets lore as one of the sole bright spots of 2010, perhaps even of the decade.



Perhaps one from Oliver's own collection?

Fine Leather Copy of $cott Bora$' book on Oliver Perez
Yes, we've gone over this in this space before, but what better token of our esteem could we imagine than the $36 million book? The binder, as you'll remember, compared Doh'P to Randy Johnson and Sandy Koufax, insulting not only the integrity of any GM that gazed upon it (reports suggest there was only one GM that showed interest), but also baseball as a pastime and America as a country. This keepsake can remind Omar that sometimes moves that look really really dumb turn out to be just really really stupid.

Somebody's daughter, not included.

A really big novelty ticket to the All Star game at Citi Field in 2013
The Mets inexplicably continue to skimp on the draft, one of the few no-brainer spots where a big market club is at a competitive advantage.  This cheapness (not entirely Omar's fault) has presumably allowed them to be more generous to the Alex Coras, Jeff Francoeurs, Luis Castillos etc. of the world.  Many have speculated the Mets generally stick to the MLB's draft guidelines for fear of getting on Bud Selig's bad side (ed note: does he have a good side?).  But why be relentlessly negative about it?  As a token of his gratitude we should make sure Omar has a seat at the 2013 Citi Field All-Star game (the Mets have not hosted an all star game since 1964). Omar will need tickets to attend, because he won't be able to get into Citi Field without them (how he gets out remains to be seen). And if the ticket is really big, it will be easier for the mob to find him.  It's the least we could do, and that's what he deserves.

Fred Wilpon Motivational Poster
The Wilpon family knows that nothing is more morale boosting than a endorsement from your boss, or even a contract extension, during times when your job performance calls for your immediate dismissal. So imagine how nice it will be for Omar to have a reminder of how, in the MLB, there is always someone who will hire you, no matter what you do.



Signed Adam Rubin Job Application
Omar is probably too shy to get his hands on a keepsake of what must be his proudest moment as a Met, his deft handling of the Tony Bernazard firing.  No need to investigate or LOBBY Omar, we'll get one for you.  Unfortunately, there is no way to package the opportunity to kiss Willie Randolph's &*#?! ass.



Picture of Met aces, courtesy of alternate universe.

Basket of mangoes from Pedro Martinez' tree.
Many still believe to this day that signing Pedro made many free agents suddenly consider signing with the Mets (it's probably closer to the truth to say that many free agents realized they could get whatever they wanted from Omar even if their careers were effectively over). Problem was, the Sawx were right and it was only a matter of time before Pedro's arm fell off.   Now Petey has all the money in the world, so much so that he could comfortably afford to come back for the Phillies and continue to criticize the Mets years later. How bout a fruit basket Pedro?

As Roidger Goes Down, Don't Forget Pettitte!

 

As contemptible as Rodger Clemens is, as much as the fact that everyone now knows he was a 'roided out liar--even Houstonians-- is satisfying, and as much as the Clemens-Piazza bat throwing incident can now be understood to have been exactly what it looked like, there is one part of this sad tale that apparently needs re-emphasis. Let me put it delicately:

Despite what the media continues to feed us, Andy Pettitte is a fucking liar and a cheat who threw his own family members under the bus when he got caught using PEDs and ONLY in comparison to Clemens could any reasonable person persuade themselves Andy Pettitte isn't a piece of Texas cow shit. Andy Pettitte and his media propagandists are bad for America.

Let me explain.

Maybe I should see this as a nostalgic nod to an imagined by-gone era when media protected star athletes privacy and reputations, instead of going through their trash and checking their hotel records.  But George Vecsey ought to be ashamed of himself as he tries to tell us all those extra "Ts" in Pettitte stand for truth, tremendous, and terrific.  This pathetic attempt to whitewash history and obscure the memory of Pettite's true colors showing through strikes me as near absurd. Here are some excerpts:

Pettitte proved his independence early in 2008 when he recalled Clemens saying he had been injected with human growth hormone. The testimony from the humble Pettitte was a key discrepancy that led to the indictment of Clemens on Thursday.

What journalistic purpose, I ask, does characterizing a hypocritical and dishonest ballplayer caught in his own lie as "humble," without malice, and truth-telling? I ask seriously.  I have no idea. More quotations from the article:

A witnessing Christian, Pettitte is liked and respected in his clubhouse. He said he dabbled in bodybuilding drugs to help himself recuperate from injury; he admitted it to investigators, but he would not lie to protect his old training buddy. 

Without a vindictive bone in his body, Pettitte has helped indict his friend, now apparently his former friend...Without malice, by just telling the truth, Little Andy has helped indict Big Rog.

He might not lie to protect his friends, but he would lie, however, to protect himself. In fact he did. That is, until the feds got involved. What Vecsey and other old guard media are telling America's children with their dying breaths is that it is OK to lie, but you have to tell the truth when vulnerable to possible federal charges. Combined with the normalization of PEDs that is sure to follow the wave of public amnesia we will see after Clemen's and Bonds' tearful publicity-confessions, we have a perfect shit storm.

Here are some reminders from earlier stories from the Daily News. If you can see past the rote Pettitte ass-kissing, you can read below how when he knew he was about to get implicated in criminal drug activity instead of taking the blame for his own cheating or protecting his family--two things I think could be called honorable-- the saintly Andy immediately implicated his own, seriously ill father.

Family matters deeply to Pettitte. That's why the most painful passages in his Feb. 4 deposition before congressional attorneys come when he describes his beloved father, Tom Pettitte, whose serious health problems have included open-heart surgery.
Already aware the Daily News was close to reporting his ailing father's involvement with a criminal drug transfer in 2004, the Yankee pitcher revealed to staff attorneys of the House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform how the elder Pettitte procured human growth hormone from a trainer at a gym and then shared it with his son.
The committee published the deposition Wednesday upon concluding its madcap inquiry into Roger Clemens' denunciation of the Mitchell Report. In a remarkable act of candor, Pettitte insisted on making his story public by putting it on the record:
Q: Do you have any idea where your father obtained the HGH?
A: Yeah, I do now. Yes.
Q: Where is that?
A: The gym that he works out in. A guy that's the trainer there.

Of course, Vecsey is just dealing the same misleading character bs about Lil' Andy that the NY media has been dealing for years.  This garbage is everywhere. But I think this goes way beyond whatever opinion one might have of the effects of drugs in baseball and the status of those who used. Whether you care or not about that, you have to ask--what does someone have to do to be called a liar or a cheat, or seen as dishonorable in this country if Andy Pettitte, who covered his own use of PEDs with a thin story that shifted attention to his own father, is called none of these things? If Lil' Andy is a hero for confessing to the feds and implicating his friend only when called in front of Congress, well, I expect the Noble Prize committee to be getting in touch with me shortly, because I was all over this like Ray Ramirez on a head injury.  And I'm a mediocre, unpaid novelty sports blogger who is barely paying attention a good deal of the time. Here's what I said about Pettitte then:

Let's be clear. Mr I-love-Jesus lies to the press, recants his story, modifies it so that it incriminates his own father, and is somehow celebrated as a truthy guy? Andy's snow job is one of the more disappointing things to come out of this whole tempest, but hopefully he'll get some dirty looks in church because of it.

For Vecsey to metaphorically look us in the eye and shovel this horse shit into our laps, well, he must be sniffing Rocket fuel.

Accountable and Steadfast, the Mets Organization Marches Boldly into the Future

 
Watching this team is bad for one's complexion.

Many of your favorite Mets blogs got of the ground in 2005; your humble servant here got started bringing Met-style mediocrity to the wide world of webs during that year (hint: anniversary presents!).  Now that the team's story has followed its arc back to the laughable shambles it was in before the Yankees turned down Carlos Beltran's overtures, it is fair to say the Mets blogosphere faces its biggest challenge yet: staying interested in this crap.  And we're certainly sagging under the pressure.  In 2007 it was easy to believe the Mets would take the next step, in 2008 it was hard to believe they could do that again, in 2009 it was fascinating like a car crash, and here in 2010 we got what we expected: a listless circus of sometimes violent clowns underperforming even the lowest expectations we had for them. From the owners to the "management" to the "stars" the organization comes together to earn their place as the laughingstock of professional baseball.


"hell of a job, Frenchy!"

This is a bad team, one that plays offensive (it offends) baseball. What am I gonna do about it? Well, first things first, I'm going to run a lot of bad pictures of these losers with mocking captions. Then I'm going to rail against Omar Minaya. Then I'm...well see, there's not much else to do. We are right where we were, the early 2010s will resemble the early 2000s, only without the late 90s afterglow.



Accountability: it's the backbone of the Mets organization

So there is one part of the the wonderful, final number in 2010 Metastrophe Bingo (mishandled, season ending injury to star) no one's talking about.  Francisco Rodriquez, who suffered torn thumb ligaments while he beat his girlfriend's father steps away from the room where the Mets families gather, could end up in prison, right? He has been charged with assault (third-degree assault and second-degree harassment), which as I understand it, is a criminal charge. He's attacked at least 3 other parties that we know of in the recent past. What's going to keep him from a jail cell, from some time blowing more than just saves?

***
Somehow the national media has shaken off the disorienting effects of Jeff Francoeur's smile, and have joined the annual roast of the Flushing Failures. "Baseball's worst franchise" says noted Rocker-baiter Jeff Pearlman.  "Meet the Mess" guffaws SI (for you kids out there, Sports Illustrated was a magazine that used to matter, publishing decent writing and nudie shots once a year, til the internet relieved them of their duties), as they direct you to an "archive" article chronicling the recent history of this sad-sack franchise (warning: link not suitable for home...high Scioscia content). This is intuitive, crackerjack reporting. The Mets outdo themselves every year, so pull up a chair, mainstream media, while you still have one!

 
 Phase three of the Bruney "Replace Krod as the Mets Closer" master plan is well underway.

We'd like to believe that OK-Rod just did whoever takes the Mets over for Omar a big favor by undoing a bit of Omar's stupidity. They owe him $11.5 million for 2011, but the looming nightmare is if a healthy Rodriguez finishes 55 games next season, his contract vests for 2012 at a mind-befuddling $17.5 million.  This shitty team doesn't need an "all-star" "closer" and even if they did, they have to find this at a better price.  Now we've heard that the Mets aren't going to pay OK-Rod during his injury, and they appear to be weighing the option to void his contract. For now, they have placed him on the "disqualified list," and somehow made his contract non-guaranteed with a bunch of maneuvers I've never heard of.  Yay?

Of course, as (totally unbiased) Adam Rubin reports, Omar is not about to let his tongue stay in his mouth on this one; it's important not to keep your options open when dealing with enormous contracts you doled out that hamstring your team now and for the foreseeable future--what you really want to do is leave a paper trail of puzzling comments for the media/lawyers to follow:

GM Omar Minaya said the intention is to bring back Rodriguez in 2011. "Today we want him back," Minaya said.

Today? So TODAY, you're saying the Mets want him back in 2011? Why are you saying today? Because the Mets want him back and don't intend to try to take legal or contractual action against him? If that's the case then the word today is unnecessary.  Sure, maybe BB-Rod will recover from his injury, but what is going to change between now and 2011, in terms of things that the Mets could get out of his contract about?  Why say you want him back at all, if it is possible the Mets plan to get out of the remainder of his contract? You want him back now, but if he rapes a blind nun or clubs and eats an adorable puppy in front of a 3rd grade field trip, the Mets may not want him back?  Omar is known for making big mistakes, but he is also a micro-moron, adding unnecessary comments that don't do anything for the Mets' future negotiations, which hopefully he'll have nothing to do with.

***

"Ladies and gentlemen, your NY Mets Class of 2020 Hall of Fame inductees..."

Would you let the Mets anywhere near your school?

The Mets are competing against other MLB teams for a $200,000 Pepsi Refresh Grant. Their idea is to improve educational outcomes for low-income communities, improve attendance, behavior, course performance and civic involvement through a competition among 20 NYC public schools that encourages students to attend school everyday and to arrive on time.

 Of course, when Pepsi and the MLB got together on this, they probably tried to leave the Wilpons out of the loop. Both have both had their share of embarrassments and high profile fiascos, Pepsi and the MLB, but they really don't know what they're getting themselves into here. The Mets can't improve attendance, behavior, performance and civic involvement on their own fucking team from people they pay millions upon millions of dollars! Civic involvement for the Mets is having their star player ejaculate on some women on a golf course. Behavior is having your thug closer attack everyone whether they deserve it (Brian Bruney, Shirtless) or not (old geezer family members, bullpen coaches, vesting options). I hereby call upon the Mets to remove themselves from the Pepsi Refresh competition.

Paper or Plastic?

It's the only question remaining for Mets fans.  You see, if you are accustomed to donning a paper bag to, the 2010 season might convince you to fasten a plastic one over your head and then tighten it until the sweet kiss of oblivion ends this torture.  Of course, joking about suicide on a website devoted to this violent and depraved team might be in poor taste. But where else is there to go?

While other teams race for the playoffs, the Mets are too busy bailing their players out of jail.  All you need to do to understand the story of the Mets is open your (in my case out of town edition of the) NY Times.  The NY media never misses a Mets mix-up, but it's hard to neglect the Met's recent boners: a pitcher takes a $300 taxi, the shortstop disagrees with the manager about why he makes boneheaded errors, typical stuff.  There you'll find a note about how sabermetricians try to guess which teams will make the playoffs with 50 or so games left; guess what, science is telling us the Mets have no chance at the playoffs. 

Then you'll see another article on how the Padres bullpen has lifted the team to the top of the NL, specifically highlighting the contributions of one Heath Bell, or as Mets fans know him, Adkins-Johnson. This passage that caught my eye should be enough to get the flavor:

Bell made little impact in parts of three seasons with the Mets, who traded him in 2006 for pitcher Jon Adkins and outfielder Ben Johnson. The Mets had urged Bell to use a longer stride in his delivery, which he said never felt right. The Padres had a different perspective. 

Darren Balsley, the pitching coach, said he had watched Bell closely for years, impressed by the way Bell’s short stride seemed to make the ball explode from his hand. He worked with Bell on refining his natural mechanics, instead of revamping them.

 The Mets just weren't Balsley enough with Bell. They can't do anything right. Message received.



Then you get to the big news: the Mets "closer" Frankie Rodriguez beat up his relative on Mets' property. While there is no truth to the rumor that so-called K-Rod first tried to strike out his girlfriend/common law wife's father, but only managed to walk him, still, it hasn't been a good month for our Venezuelan Mets.

The Mets are almost never content to be losers on the field; they excel at off-the-field failure too.  It says a lot about my character too, that I can't stop thinking about how the Wilpon's could use these repeated violent and inappropriate to get free of this alleged future felon's enormous and pointless contract.  If Madoff left Fred any money for a couple of lawyers, I say fuck trading him--void the contract.

This team is an embarrassment on the field and off the field. And probably under the field and over the field if that were possible.  Only four or so years after the K*zmir trade wrought sweeping changes to the Wilpon's approach to running the Mets--at least we thought so--we are at that point again with this dysfunctional and pitiable organization.  If you have hope that it can only get better, remember, this is the organization that had to be told to display Mets related items in its own brand new stadium (you know, the one effectively paid for by taxpayers after its sponsor turned out to be one of the biggest criminals in the worst financial crisis of our lifetimes).  The induction of the felonious, domestically violent Gooden and Strawberry into the Met hall of fame may turn out to be the 2010 season highlight.  Every time you think it's the last straw, it isn't.

Mets Look Almost Smart for One Day: Cora Released, Tejada Makes Plays, Francoeur Brings the Lazr

 

Don't let Frenchy's fleeting success confuse you.

Sorry Jeff, but you still got to go.  However, we hope you enjoy your success and bask in the victory you gave the Mets with your dramatic home run last night. Your smile will be missed.

Isolated homers nor puppies can save this career.

11368 is a Joke--Wilpon To Metsfans: Minaya is like Global Warming, Get Used to It

 
The Mets 2007-2011 and beyond. No I do not know what the guy on the left is doing.

Last night's loss against the Phillies is another unremarkable one, other than it occured to me that this team has cemented it's status as the Washington Generals of baseball, with any and every team standing in for the Globetrotters.  The Mets are "pantsed" by teams great and small and they don't seem to know the joke is on them.  A risible ruin. A pathetic punchline. A Jerrible joke. Sure, we can argue over the precise moment the Mets crossed the (Adam) Rubicon to become the laughingstocks of the MLB, like when they extended their hapless GM in the middle of an epic collapse or mishanded every single injury that befell their star players in comical fashion, or...on and on. But they are there. The Mets are the Generals, only they just make children cry.

***

The sun will come up tomorrow is usually a hopeful thing to say, Fred


If the tabloids are to be trusted, Chief Dumbass Fred Wilpon has casually let it slip that we can expect Omar Minaya's tenure as Mets GM to continue for the foreseeable future, as we would expect the sun to come up in the morning.  I think this is probably the biggest news of the past few seasons. And it is bad news, almost too bad to verbalize or come up with witty things to say. It's a disaster.  I often hyperbolize for comic effect here, but I can't really exaggerate how terrible this is.  After his cavalier endorsement of his bumbling GM, Fred wasn't done.

To further infuriate his fan base, Wilpon also gave a thumbs up on the job performance by his son, team COO Jeff Wilpon. As Fred Wilpon ducked into a chauffeured automobile he was asked about the job Jeff is doing,
“Excellent,” Fred Wilpon said. “Everybody knows that.”

There are various ways to interpret these off the cuff comments as reported in tabloid outlets looking for stories, but I think the main take-away is that the Wilpons continue to be tone-deaf. That and the franchise is looking at 1-3 years more mediocrity at best.  I think the Wilpons will start to feel this in their pockets, whether or not the Madoff affair has affected their baseball thinking. Because if you take away hope, all you have is a terrible team, and no one wants to watch the careers of the couple of marginal stars the Mets have managed to develop being squandered in a morass of despair.  It makes me wonder very seriously if the Dodgers aren't going to go on sale soon after the McCourt's divorce winds its way through court. That might be the only way out of this.

 

Different segments of the fan community deal with the disaster that is 2010 in their own special ways, with their own particular rituals.  The irate radio caller community gets it's yayas out by denouncing the team's core players and their lackluster ways.  The sabermetric community consoles themselves by realizing they knew it all along, rejoicing in their special relationship with both randomness and objectivity. The young of heart imagine trades and other maneuvers that could bring the magic, nurture the hope that roster construction tweaks could solve all the current Met regime's problems. New fans, well I doubt this club has any recent converts.  Me? I just smurf the web, looking (to no avail) for obscene pictures of Little Orphan Annie to use in this post.

***
Impeach Pedro?

Sometimes athletes need to just say "no comment."  If this article is to be believed, Pedro Martinez thinks the Mets should have him in their rotation to babysite the likes of LOLiver Perez and Pelfrey. This sentiment is so unrealistic, so ex-ballplayer fantasy, it would be funny. Except for Pedro is also bitter at the Mets for failing to resign him. Pedro, just sit there and count all the money you took from the Mets while you rehabbed for most of your contract.  Sit there and keep quiet.  C'mon Petey, use your coconut!

***
If rumors have any basis in reality, some more insult will likely be added to our injury presently.  I dunno which Mariner F-Mart would be worth trading for, but I feel it is a dead certainty I won't like it.  Omar must be aiming for something like the old WWF wrestling trick of enraging the braindead fanbase by having characters come out dressed as Sheiks, minorities and whatever other stereotypes  enrage an audience white and other trash. Point being, it's not logical, Omar just wants to get a rise out of us, because he knows he can't be fired and that the Wilpon's no longer believe in accountability.  So get ready to have a folding chair smashed over your head and watch young, cheap potential be traded for old, expensive spare parts and a story.

Hisanori Takahashi Would Like Some Answers Please

Was yesterday's defeat at the hands of the Br*ves notable? Nah. Same shit, different season.

But I know my way around a box score more or less, and I can see this:  The Mets one through five hitters (the guys we like) got about two hits in 18 at bats.  The Mets "stars" were so careless in the field that the thought occurred to millions of Mets fans almost simultaneously: they are trying to get Jerry Manuel fired.  Of course, why didn't we see this before?

The sixth inning was as bad as any of the nightmares of the past 3 seasons. Down by only 3 runs, the scene transpired like this:

First it was Reyes, allowing Melky Cabrera to reach base on his second throwing error of the game. Then, after Omar Infante's single, it was Davis booting a ball to load the bases. And finally it was Wright, firing wide of second base on Chipper Jones' potential double-play ball.

After the game, Hisanori Takahashi wanted to know what the fuck kind of ground balls his infielders could field (my own translation).  Aren't the Wonder Twins established enough to start focusing on the game and stop treating us to cascading failures of defensive indifference and butchery?  As the team has gone down the 2010 shitter, the ol' Mets defense is back in the house.   It looks on some nights as though Beltran has added lackadaisical play (6th tool) to his greatly diminished range.  And watching David Wright (pansy arm that needs to move to 2nd base) and Jose Reyes (dreadlock brain lock???)  throw the ball with reckless abandon last night, I started to wonder how many teams have ever had each member of their infield commit errors in a single game.  If you're a betting person, you had to like your odds in the 7th with Luis Castillo the only one left without error--it's like hitting for the cycle when you already have the homer, triple, and double out of the way.  Anyhow, that's the kind of day dream this team inspires. Can you blame fans for thinking the Mets have "given up"? You'd have to find them first to blame them, and I think Shitty Field is going to be a good place to protect witnesses at in August and September.

 
This play looks much better after last night's shittery.

It has gotten so bad that the Mets management now routinely announces how it is going to buck common sense and do the wrong thing, the questionable thing.  They actually come out and tell the media Oliver Perez will not be asked to report to the minors and they won't be cutting him either.  Carlos Beltran will play centerfield the rest of the season on bad knees.  Sure, there's an argument to be made at this point for each decision, but it really seems as though they are just sticking it in our faces, like a Pyrrhic "victory" pie delivered by Cogz4Pie.

If anyone was paying attention, I recently posed the question, what are we Mets fans to do, now that the season is effectively over? That two months of getting our hopes up only to have them dashed in the most painful manner imaginable? Well, we won't have that this year.  Here are a few suggestions I came up with:


Backman, shown here obliging Omar Minaya, could be the next contestant on Real World Flushing.


1. Ask: What's Next?

The franchise has achieved a level of dysfunction that, in our culture, is inevitably graced with its own "reality show."  So let's make it happen, right? Not coincidentally, the post-apocalyptic future is already on view: Playing for Peanuts is apparently a reality show* featuring Mets management heir-apparent Wally Backman (shown here already grandstanding for the media in true nauseating reality show fashion), almost ex-Diamondback and current Cyclone manager, when he was a fine addition to the Met tradition of making a mockery of baseball in new unpredictable ways.  This is what they are planning to dangle in front of us this winter to get us interested again? Is it a new kind of fucking embarrassment?  Yes. And that alone makes it possible.

***
 
Look who's being measured for the Met's dugout.

We've got to start wrestling with the idea of Backman as manager, leaving his DUI, domestic disturbance and worse, reality TV background aside. The media seems to have sniffed out the Wilpon's plan and is running with it.  As of right now, my ordered preferences for next manager are:
a) as yet unnamed great manager
b) Bobby V. redux and
c) Backman

What does Backman bring to the table?  Well, I'm not sure.  He loves to teach young players to bunt.  Rejoice, fans, for the return of top-of-the-order scrappiness!

Darrell Ceciliani, just turned 20, was a lefty power hitter back home in Oregon, but in his first batting practice in Brooklyn, he felt the offshore gale blowing in from right field, straight from Iceland, [editors' note**] and decided he might have to place the ball.

“I never bunted at all,” Ceciliani said. “It was tough at first, but he kept working with me.”

Ceciliani learned how to push a bunt down the third-base line, messing with the fielders’ minds, and on opening night he ignited a late rally. He is now batting .379 , leading the New York-Penn League. No homers but around 10 bunt hits.

If he gets the job, Backman will yell, use curse words, and get in the face of whatever's left of the Mets' current roster. I admit that will be vicariously satisfying for a while since this team often comes off as lethargic and somehow complacent--who wouldn't love to scream at this team?-- but will in-your-face antics result in a better Mets team? Will throwing stuff on the field and attacking banquet tables whip this sorry crew into shape? Will kicking dirt on umpires make up for poor roster construction, piss-poor on field decisions, and top to bottom organization rot?  Color me doubtful.
 
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2. Continue to revel in the franchise's glorious history

I can imagine Jeff and Fred Aol-mailing each other the following: "Hey can we sell some more tickets with another Hall of Fame celebration?  What are Pat Zachry and Todd Pratt doing this weekend?"

If the Wontpons want to dredge up some more ex-Mets, they need only check the scandal sheets.  Spitter and career bed-shitter Roberto Alomar is being accused of domestic violence (story by way of CSTB) by his wife, María “Maripily” del Pilar Rivera, who plans to file for divorce. What do many ex-Mets have in common, besides a life of crime?  Well, apparently, odd forays into business. Alomar is involved in a company that sells hearing aids.  Which is downright laudable, compared to other ex-Mets ventures in car washes, sexual harassment and bold investor scams, and trying to steal the Mets manager's job.

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3. Fuck it.  Go watch Japanese TV (NSFH)


* Speaking of reality shows, there's this nugget from DohPee:

Team sources maintain that they are not considering releasing Perez, or sending him to the minor leagues.
"I wish I had a reality show," Perez said. "Then you could see how hard I'm working."

** hey, Vecsey, Iceland is near Europe. You want Greenland.  Or the North Pole. Or Vermont.  Look at a fucking map, you old fartface.

Just Like Olden Days: Hicks Molest Johan While Mets Go Through Motions

It's that time again. Time to trot out old photo shopping.Time to lose to the Br*ves.

In my memory, the Mets of the late 1990s and early 2000s used to lose habitually to the Br*ves too, but often times it was a bitter struggle to the death.  Often times, the Mets were just the less talented team.  Your 2010 (and '07, '08, and '09) Mets are a different story.  They don't know how to hit or score.  But instead of focusing and doing the little things right to make up or this, they loaf and get distracted, make mental errors and take days off.  They look to walk with the pitcher spot up next and two outs.  They la-di-da to the ball in the outfield on base hits, allowing the opposition to take extra bases.  They take their time on potential double plays. The Mets never threatened in this one, so you couldn't call it a heart-breaker.  What hurts the heart is that, supposedly, these Mets don't lack for talent, some $120 or $130 million of it.  They just have no idea how to win a baseball game, and on nights like last night, don't look too troubled by this flaw.  This isn't that remarkable since they are well paid, and it is only a game.  But you'd think anyone who performs a great deal of their job in public under so much scrutiny and relative accountability would show a smidgen of pride, perhaps altering their approach at the plate or making plays as crisply as possible so that the little, less visible mistakes don't add up to yet another loss.  There's no fight in this team and the 2010 Mets are done.  They aren't worth your time and they aren't worth mine.

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Good god y'all. Success is a nuisance. (The Pretty Good Sports Show stolen from Metsradamus by way of CSTB). I don't know what the fuck that is, but I do know that it looks like Jason Bay is going to have a lot more ice cream date time with Ron Artest than expected.

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If you're tempted to pity Jeff Francoeur after reading this, just think of how cruel sportswriters have been to enable Frenchy's fantasy that he is anything more than his current production suggests. I wish him well, but he belongs in the minors somewhere, where maybe he can catch on as a fourth outfielder on a fourth division club (just not mine!).

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What are we Mets fans supposed to do for the next two months?

Hall of Shame, Mets Got No Game, Plenty of Blame

The glory days are now long gone.

Are you one of the three or four people in the world unaware of the Omar Minaya regimes' utter and complete failure to develop a competitive baseball team, even with all the resources of a major media market? Or maybe you're a sober believer in consistency and think a revolving door of managers might temporarily sooth the fanbase but does nothing for a club's long-run success.  Well perhaps you tuned into yesterday's matinee, which your favorite organization used to once again throw the club's past, fleeting successes into relief with the dire straits of its present and the muddleheadedness of its doomed future.  After viewing the latest shenanigans, if you went to bed unconvinced that ownership needs to get what they can for anyone that makes it through waivers, experiment with the rest of the season and reconvene in the winter with new management team, well, then I'm a monkey's uncle.


Oliver to Mets fans: YuR WeLcome!

Yesterday was a perfect Mets game, a real treat for the fans.  As usual, the club could not handle the stress of having a 1986 celebration and a home game on the same day, and promptly shit the bedroom with their pitching, lack of offense, and horrendous, careless defense.  So not only did the Metz attempt to ruin this blog's FIVE YEAR ANNIVERSARY, but they also took another steamy dump all over what little tradition Mets fans can lay claim to.

 
A run for their money?

Normally nice Niese made it four innings or so before abdicating his responsibilities for the day, starters Frenchy and Cora ("FranCora") turned in their normal roster-spot-occupying performances at one point or another, Wright and Reyes were MIA, the LOLPen was unfathomably dreadful. And of course the ritual Ollie appearance (at $1 million a pop) after the game was well out of hand.


The last meaningful thing Omar and Jeffey did?

Complaining about Jerry's managing is like complaining about the catering during a Chernobyl picnic. So I will only say that rehashing the 1986 Mets' success is getting old, really old.  Some have rightfully defended Omar's pat stand at yesterday's trade deadline, arguing that he really can't be giving up future farmhands for the future of a team that is in such a present predicament (read: season effectively over).  But he's in this predicament partially because he has no plan to speak of. Why the Wilpons haven't had the locks changed yet is one of baseball's great mysteries.


Like this picture, there is no way to fix the mess Omar has made.

Frank Cashen, who along with Doc, Straw and Davey made an diverting appearance on Sunday's SNY telecast, was recently asked to give Omar some advice:

Cashen was asked whether he had any advice for Minaya.
"Other than hanging in there? With a particular emphasis on hanging," Cashen said, laughing.

Exactly.

A vision of the near future at Shitty Field.