Here's What I Just Don't Get....

...aside from post-season play, a million dollars a week, a manager who is actually coherent, a GM who is at least a half-wit, rather than a dim-wit, and an owner who actually realizes it's the METS he owns and supposedly loves, and not the Dodgers... *sigh*.....

OK, back to the post. Here's what I don't get - the big push by Mets fans for the return of Bobby Valentine to manage the team. What is it about Met culture and Mets fans that more often than not makes them long, yes, yearn, for a return to the past, the not-so-glorious past - a fact which most, if not all, of them, seem to forget. What is it that makes this so with Mets fans? For the life of me, I can't figure it out. Why don't they want to move forward, rather than in reverse? Why do they long for the return of players previously cast off by the team, retreads and has-beens cast off by other teams, and a general mish-mosh of past loved or long-past-their-prime players? It's not as if we've had some real glory days in the fairly recent past that invoke such nostalgia, such desire... in fact, if I recall correctly, Bobby Valentine was much maligned, somewhat disliked, a little hated and basically driven out of town when he managed here. So tell me, Mets fans, why all the love for B.V., suddenly?

In other words, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU????????????

Aside from the above, there are some very good reasons why Bobby V isn't even CLOSE to being the right manager for this team. For one, there's his ego. He's got to run the show, BE the show, and be basically worshipped by his team. Take a look at the present composition of this team - other than a few marginal guys who probably won't be here next year, identify one player for me that will worship the ground Bobby V walks on. Bobby V needs a young, compliant team - one eager to please, one who will buy into "Bobby Ball;" indeed, one who will buy into BOBBY, period. This ain't that team, folks. And frankly, other than a low payroll, very young team still wet behind the ears, Bobby V has no business managing in MLB at this juncture. He's basically a relic, an anachronism, a has-been who never really was.

Let's move forward, fcol. And if you think moving back is a good idea, I've got two words for you - Bobby Bonilla. Oh, and two more - Steve Phillips.

I Should NEVER Have Changed The Subtitle...

...of this here blog. You know, the SUBTITLE, where it says "Yeah, that's right, it's time for a new year, a return to the old name....hopefully, with better results!" I guess I shouldn't have changed the name back, either. What in Sam's hill could I POSSIBLY HAVE BEEN THINKING???!!!!! So I guess, if you want to blame anybody for this year's woes, I suppose you can blame me, because, frankly, I NEVER SHOUD HAVE DONE IT. Change the subtitle, that is. Or the name. Back.

What I ALSO never should have done is try to make the proverbial silk purse out of the erstwhile-proverbial sow's ear, a/k/a the 2007-2009 New York Mets. I knew, I simply KNEW, the day Carlos Beltran stood there at the plate, watching the ball whiz by, thereby ending the Mets' 2006 postseason hopes, that it was done, kaput, finis, ended, over, or, as my mom always used to say - fa-toot. Whatever fa-toot actually means. So why, oh why, did I try to deny it???? I guess I fell prey to the false bravado, the cockeyed optimism, the never-say-die, rose-colored optimism of the average, typical New York Mets fan. So I sold my soul, like all Mets fans do, soldiered on, and did what Mets fans always do -- swallow it, and continue on.

Until this year, that is. Now, I know it can be said that injuries have deccimated this team beyond all recognition, and some of that is, of course, true. Obviously, the Mets have suffered grave injury to most of their core; grave and incomprensible injury, in some cases (cough, cough Jose Reyes cough, cough). And that injuries alone are enough to account for the piss poor performances of the past few months, and some of that is also true. But what is more true, and more overwhelming, and more upsetting, is the culture of the Mets -- the culture which seems to value personality and media friendliness over actual intelligence and baseball acumen; the culture which allows the franchise to simply continue rather than to flourish and improve; the culture which apparently doesn't care that 99.99% of its team either doesn't know or doesn't know how to execute the most basic of baseball fundamentals; the culture that doesn't seem to mind that on most days, the team is utterly unwatchable; the culture that seems to believe that simply putting nine men on the field at any given time is enough to insure its own perpetuity; the culture that seems to believe it's ok (nay, indeed, totally proper) to charge exorbitant ticket and concession prices to fans of a team that is barely represented anywhere in its own ballpark.

You know, the Wilpon/Minaya, and later, Wilpon/Minaya/Manuel culture.

And I can't even watch anymore. I can't stand the sight of either Wilpon, or Omar, or Jerry. In fact, if I have to look at Jerry's smiling, laughing, bespectacled puss, or Omar's befuddled, confused expression, once again asking me if I know what he means, or Jeffy's half-witted spewing of Met non sequiturs one more fucking time this year, I'll, I'll, I'll....well, I'll turn it off, which I've been doing for most of this season.

So you can blame me for changing the subtitle, or you can consider the above and put the blame where it really belongs -- on a Met culture which has too long existed, and will probably continue to exist for a lot longer.

Dead Fan Walking....

...that's exactly how I feel, and almost exactly how I'd bet MOST of my fellow Mets fans feel at this point in time.

I'm thinking of selling these T-shirts, with, of course, the "m" in "man" changed to "f" for "fan," and putting the word "Mets" in front of it...."Dead Mets Fan Walking;" kinda has a ring to it, dontcha think? For as in the movie of similar name, it's really only a matter of time before it's all over, folks....we're just dead fans walking at this point!

Where Were We....

...when we last left off?

Oh yeah; the Mets sucked.

And they still do.

So I guess what I missed in the interim between blogposts was same old/same old, and more of it.

A bit overly simplistic fer ya? How complicated do you need it to be? Sometimes, it is just that simple. They suck, period, end of story. And what really bugs me isn't so much that they are losing, which is pretty understandable due to the fact that three of our four "stars" are MIA, two of the four MIA for quite some time now. Nay, 'tis not the problem. The problem lies in the shoddy, uninspired, insipid, boring, flat, tired, play of what's left of this team, and I continue to marvel anew each and every day over the lack of execution of even the most basic of baseball fundamentals, which is only surpassed by my daily marvel at how little the team seems to care how badly it sucks.

And David Wright is still mouthing cliches through it all, which is somewhat maddening, head scratching and fairly amusing at the same time. And as far as I'm concerned, so much for Wright As Leader proponents...this guy couldn't lead a squirrel to an acorn. Even if it were an inch from its nose.

Bottom line, kiddies? As Kurtis Blow once said (and boy, do they blow!)...these are the breaks.... BREAK IT UP, BREAK IT UP, BREAK IT UP! Please, oh, please, somebody....ANYbody...dismantle this pathetic mess. They're simply unwatchable, which is why I haven't been. Watching, that is. Or blogging, as my one-half reader has probably noticed.

So in that happy fucking spirit, here's my little rewrite of the Blow ditty:

Clap your hands everybody
If you got what it takes
Cause we all know, that the Mets, they blow,
And these are the breaks...

Brakes on a bus brakes on a car
Breaks don't make Dave a superstar
Mets don't win, Mets just lose
And Mets fans, they just get the blues...

And these are the breaks
Break 'em up, break 'em up, BREAK 'EM UP!

If Delgado don't come back this year
(That's the breaks that's the breaks)
And Jose Reyes, status unclear,
And Jerry Manuel, well, he wants to chat,
And he can't explain why he played that cat...

And Freddie Boy sends you a bill
For tickets that don't give you no thrill
And you borrowed money from your pop
Just so's you could watch this slop

Well, these are the breaks
Break 'em up, BREAK 'EM UP, BREAK 'EM UP!

Throw your hands up in the sky
And wave 'em 'round from side to side
And if you deserve a break tonight
Somebody say alright!

(All right) Say ho-oo!

(Ho-oo!) And you don't stop

Keep on, somebody scream!

(Owwwww!) Break down!

Breaks on a stage, breaks on a screen
The Mets, they make your wallet lean
The Mets run cold, and you run hot
And breaks is something you ain't got

But these are the breaks
Break 'em up, BREAK 'EM UP, BREAK 'EM UP!!!

Break down!

To the boys in blue, what's wrong wit chu?
(Break 'em up, break 'em up)
To the boys in blue, whatcha gonna do?
To the boys in blue, I'm tired a you!
To the boys is blue, a big f*** you!

Break down!

Brakes on a plane, brakes on a train
The Mets just make you go insane
Breaks in love, breaks in war
We got no breaks, we never score!

And these are the breaks
Break 'em up, BREAK 'EM UP, BREAK 'EM UP!!!!

Break down! Yo!

Just do it, just do it, just do it, do it, do it!
Just do it, just do it, just do it, do it, do it!
Just do it, just do it, just do it, do it, do it!
Just do it, just do it, just do it, do it, do it!

You say last week they played so well
(That's the breaks, that's the breaks)
And then it all went straight to hell
They promised us the stars in the sky
And instead, all we got to do is cry

Well, these are the breaks!

Break 'em up, BREAK 'EM UP, BREAK 'EM UP!

Break down.......

Pelfrey Comes Up Small, And Other Stuff

Talk about coming up small, Charlie Brown...we need speak no other name than Mike Pelfrey. After the banged up, hobbled up, crippled up and just plain throwing up version of the Mets lost the first two games of the Pittsburgh series, you would think, YOU WOULD THINK, after an unplanned off-day yesterday, that they might find a way to crawl out of their miserable hole and salvage the final game of the series....

Nada, nope, negatory, good buddy. Instead, Mike Pelfrey comes up way short and the Mets get swept by the Pirates. SWEPT. BY THE PIRATES. BY.THE.PIRATES. One of the worst teams in the league with an organization and management possibly worse than ours.

I say possibly, because lately, that's truly up for debate. In fact, I'm starting to think the Mets' organization has no clue how to manage medical issues, on top of the no clue they already have in the areas of manager, general manager, and owner. And while we're at it, we can throw in player and personnel management, here, if we want.

But back to the subject at hand, which is the piss poor pathetic performance of one Mike Pelfrey on an afternoon when his team really, REALLY needed him.

As Charlie Brown has been wont to say.... *sigh.* Yes, Virginia, today the Mets finally played some "small ball," but in typical Mets fashion, they eschewed the conventional meaning of the term and did what the Mets all-too-often do...they bastardize the meaning of the term into something exquisitely horrible and painful to watch.

And here's something interesting vis-a-vis our erstwhile division nemesis, the Atlanta Braves. As sports fans are now aware, the Braves pulled off a trade with the Pirates yesterday, giving up three prospects for outfielder Nate McLouth, which, when I heard it, caused me to have the following thoughts: (a) it's obvious the Braves had a need in the outfield, more particularly, in center field, since what they were getting out of CF this year was a pathetic interstate batting average; (b) amazingly, the Braves were ABLE TO IDENTIFY this need; and (c) they went out and filled the need with an appropriate player, a young guy with chops and a good track record thus far, not some crippled up old guy, or some cheap marginal guy, or some guy who has no idea how to actually play the position which he'll be asked to play on a daily basis, or some guy that probably can't play the position but they're going to force him into it anyway because they think he can be good, not that he's ever proven it, mind you; and (d) problem solved.

They also released Tom Glavine, thus ridding themselves of an ineffective and oft-injured player, in a decisive manner, understanding that they would have to eat the rest of his contract, but knowing that addition by subtraction is sometimes very wise. Very wise, indeed. Especially when you want to move strongly forward.

I ask you, Mets fans, when's the last time the Mets did something, ANYTHING, as simple and smart as what the Braves have just done?

Don't even answer that. Don't even.

A-HEM....

...not to gloat or anything, but I thought this one was worth a second look.

So much for the opinion of the masses as concerns one Gary Sheffield.

This only proves that every once in a while, even this blind squirrel finds a nut.

P.S. Gawd, I just HATE gloaters, don't you?????

Fra-GI-le

...yep, much like the pictured lamp from the wonderfully charming and heartwarming movie, A Christmas Story, this team is fra-GI-le. Only, unlike the movie, the fragility of this team is anything but wonderful, charming and/or heartwarming. They are fra-GI-le in so many ways, it's almost, well...let's count some of the ways, shall we?

They have a manager who seems to have an overly fra-GI-le ego. He seems to think he's better, smarter, faster than he really is; a manager who can barely put a coherent sentence together, let alone have a coherent thought; a manager who by hocus pocus, sheer affability, likeability and trickery has bamboozled many into thinking he actually knows what the hell he's doing; a manager who has made an art of the schmoozily breezy delivery of his long winded, poorly conceived sentences devoid of originality, any real content or any real coherency...which come to think of it, is probably as good a metaphor as any for this whole entire fucking team we call the New York Mets.

They have players who cannot seem to adapt, EVER, to the usual pratfalls and pitfalls that all teams incur during the long, 162-game marathon that is the baseball season; players who cannot adjust to changing roles, changing habitats, and just plain change; players who cannot seem to stay off the disabled list; players who don't know the first thing about the basics of the game; with a manager who while talking out of one side of his mouth, spouting his partially incoherent gobbledygook about stressing fundamentals, in reality continues to field and tolerate a team that does anything but.

Gee, Jerry, did you think we wouldn't notice... or did you think you could get away with this shit forever?

I guess you did.

And maybe you are.

The Strangeness Continues....

...and watching Mets baseball, lately, is kind of like watching The Twilight Zone; only you wanna change that channel, and touch that dial, and do something to get the strange and somewhat unreal Met team this year off of your cloud....!!!!!

In what has to be the strangest play of the year thus far, Ryan Church, while running the bases in the top of the 11th inning, scoring what everyone assumed was the go-ahead run, apparently failed to touch third base, a fact which an extremely alert Joe Torre happened to pick up immediately, appealing the play to the third base umpire by having his infield throw the ball to the third baseman, Mark Loretta, who was standing on the bag; the umpire then promptly calling Ryan Church out.

Sorry for the run-on sentence, but really, that's how it happened. Just like that. And if you think the sentence was confusing, cumbersome and poorly constructed; well, just take a good look at this team.

And frankly, that's the only excuse I can think of to explain why it appears that Jerry Manuel doesn't have a brain in his fucking head.

And if you think MY sentences are run-on and going nowhere in the pursuit of trying to convince you that I'm having a real thought or two, and have any clue at all that I know even a smattering of what the hell I'm talking about -- well, I offer you any pre- or post-game press conference, or for that matter, ANY press conference, featuring the aforesaid Jerry Manuel.

These not only make you scratch your head; they also make you wonder how the hell a guy who can barely utter a coherent thought, much less have one, could have possibly captured the reins of a major league baseball team in the largest city in the world.

Have we really regressed this far?

Seven Stolen Bases...

...in last night's game.

SEVEN.

And here's a question for you kiddies out there. And that question is, how many of those do you think Jose Reyes got?

And the answer is, of course - NONE! It's a trick question! Jose didn't play last night due to a sore calf, but as I said in my Quick Recap, one wonders if it it's his calf, or his ass, wherein the problem lies.

Or perhaps in his head, which is woefully devoid of good baseball instinct. While some of Jose's faux-pas can be attributed to the condition of humanity (i.e., we all make mistakes), and yet others can be attributed to lack of maturity, while yet others can be blamed on "injuries," there lies a huge pool of errors, bad judgments, mistakes, dudley-do-wrongs, foibles, potent poopables, gaffes, miscues and just plain bad baseball that goes on with Reyes that simply cannot be explained any other way.

Or perhaps, like the man in the picture, he is just confused.

Yikes.

Here's another thing - the Sheffield thing. Now, today I've listened to WFAN, and I'm hearing some of the show hosts talk about David Wright's taking of the reins of leadership last night, and Beltran's clutch hitting, and the team playing like a team, with focus, with thought, with something resembling (at last) good, or maybe just decent, fundamental baseball, and my thoughts turned to Gary Sheffield.

You guys remember him, right? The Fifth Outfielder, The Extra Man, The Man Without A Team, The Man Nobody Wanted?

And I'm thinking, not only is the game of baseball surrounded by and made up of a bunch of fools, but this is the kind of guy who could really make a difference in the clubhouse and on the field by the way he plays the game.

And last night, he did.

It's not Wright, dummies. Or maybe it is, but it isn't ONLY Wright. Nobody seems willing to credit the presence of Sheffield, with his quiet professionalism, his knowledge of the game, his desire to play it right, and his willingness to get down and dirty.

I'm going to be very interested to watch what happens to this team with Sheff on the field now that Delgado may be down and out for awhile.

Bizarro Jerry....

...and NO, I ain't talking about THIS Bizarro Jerry; I'm speaking, of course, about our very own Bizarro Jerry Manuel. Honestly, I kind of blame myself for his el stupido last night, because I should never have started the whole Bizarro Mets thingy, but, well...anyway...

Someone please explain to me why everyone in the ballpark, including the bugs, the stands, and the food in the concessions, knew that Pedro Feliciano, a lefty specialist, should NEVER have been left in (no pun intended) to pitch to a right handed hitter who, according to the announcers, absolutely kills left hand pitching...except, of course, the lovely Bizarro Jerry.

I swear, sometimes Bizarro Jerry leaves me scratching my head and other various and sundry assorted body parts, all of which I won't mention here out of good taste.

Even though Wright and Reyes made key errors (especially Reyes' error in the later innings, which opened the door for Bizarro Jerry to make his Bizarro non-move), lay this one at the foot of the Bizarre.

Or should I say, The Bizarro Jerry.

Welcome To The World Of The Bizarro Mets....

...as in, who are these guys, where have they been, where are they going, and WHAT HAVE THEY DONE WITH THE NEW YORK METS?????

Because, man, the team you and I have seen in the last week bears little or no resemblance to what some of us know to be the REAL Mets, except they play in CitiField (or is that Bizarro CitiField???), they wear Mets uniforms, and.... they even LOOK remarkably like the REAL Mets, man for man.

Bizarro.... totally bizarro!

Some of you may remember that Seinfeld episode, "The Bizarro Jerry," where Elaine meets up with three guys named Kevin, Gene and Feldman, who are eerily, oddly, freakily and bizarrely like Jerry, George and Kramer? Only they're not.... they're like polar opposites of the three, being everything Jerry, George and Kramer, aren't, and won't ever be, and all co-existing in a bizzare almost zen-like state of consciousness?

Well, that's how I feel about this current version of the New York Mets.

The Bizarro Mets.

And what's even MORE bizarro, is that in another strange and crazy twist, the New York Yankees are suddenly the former New York Mets, the REAL Mets, the hapless and hopeless and can't-get-out-of-their-own-way Mets.

The Bizarro Yankeemets.

Freaky.

And bizarro.

And the Big Pussy's Pick of the Month Goes To...

None other than Mr. Face-of-the-Franchise, Mr. Future-Mets-Star, Mr. American Idol, Day-vid Wright! (to be said like the Mets PA announcer at CitiField)

This fan exiting CitiField after Wednesday, April 29th's horrific game against the Marlins says it all - no one wants to admit they're a Mets fan, and no one wants to admit they have a David Wright jersey. No one wants to know him. Mets fans want to forget his name*.

It seems a bit unfair to be picking on "The Face" when he's done so much for the Mets in the past. In 2006, he was Yankee and Brave killer #1. In 2007, he was an All-Star starter and a Gold Glove. In 2008, he rebounded from an incredibly painfully slow start to put up great numbers.

Admittedly, Mets fans expect too much from him at times. We want him to rip the cover off the ball anytime there are men on base, we want him to make sparkling gems of plays at third base 24/7, to have an ear-to-ear grin on his face when they win and to lose sleep and cry with every loss. Not for nothing, I like say it's the FANS who are the Mets, not the mercenaries in uniforms. But D-Dubs. He's one of us.

However, ever since the late-season collapse once again in 2008 and the incredibly visible striking out with Daniel Murphy on third with no outs lead-off-triple in the bottom of the 9th against the Cubs (who had nothing to play for at that point), what does David Wright do?

Strikes out, leading to a dick move from Lou Pineilla to intentionally walk Dos Carloses, to get Brian Schneider to ground out into a fielder's choice and subsequently ends the mini-rally started by D-Murphy.

David got a lot of flak for that. And gave him the moniker "D-Wrod" which is a nod to another famous pussy-esque NY-based third baseman who seems more into padding his own stats and kissing his own image than helping his inflated team win a championship.

But David Wright is no A-Rod. A-Rod has, for all intents and purposes, proven his worth by hitting over-.300 each year, driving in lots of runs and winning MVPs every other year it seems. David Wright has a LONG way to go before being fairly compared to Alex Rodriguez.

It is NOT too early to see him cave under pressure and call him out on that, so let's do it!

David, you have to understand that while you wear your emotions on your sleeve, you play in New York. Mets fans want to see you succeed and your free goodwill pass has all but expired. The reason is not NOT coming through in the clutch, NOT letting key ground balls bounce off your chest at key moments in the game, NOT driving in many runs this early in the season.

The reason your free pass has expired is because you are soft, you are thin-skinned and we know it gets to you.

What else can I say that hasn't been said already about David Wright? Sure he's gotten off to a slow start and I know he is WAY too talented to fester all season. I have to believe as a die-hard Mets fan he will come around.

But I will leave you, dear readers, with this little anecdote. When The Coop was growing up, sure, she was always a Mets fan. But I used to follow baseball teams with my dad, Mr. E who played baseball pools. My favorite player was Cal Ripken, Jr. And when he retired, Mr. E and I went to Baltimore for his final game and number retirement ceremony.

David Wright, being from the Delmarva region, also has said "Rip" was his favorite player and will always try to play to his level.

But friends, I think we all agree he has a LONG way to go before becoming "Iron Man."

I leave you with this final thought. David Wright - I know Cal Ripken. And sir, YOU are no Cal Ripken.

And sir, you ARE a big fuckin' pussy. Grow a pair already and lead this team out of the doldroms and play some exciting baseball for fuck's sake.

The Tears Of A Clown.....

...with 40,000 people around....

Yikes! I guess there's no such thing as Good Ollie/Bad Ollie; rather, there's just Bad Ollie, and Worse Ollie, apparently. If his performance thus far this season is any indicator.

Which we have no reason to believe it isn't, considering the up and down history of Ollie Perez thus far in his major league career.

This guy is an enigma wrapped in a riddle wrapped in another enigma, surrounded by mystery. And the mystery is, how to get the enigma known as Oliver Perez to solve the riddle of pitching consistency, which is wrapped in the enigma of Ollie's mind... At this point, one has to wonder whether his spot in the rotation will be his spot in the rotation for much longer.

And speaking of the weekend, the Mets are the only team I know that can win a series and still make you want to put your fist through the television, radio, or face of any nearby Met or Met-themed object. They are singularly the most brain-dead, boring, lifeless, flat, listless and underperforming team east of...well, anywhere.

And Carlos Beltran must have forgotten how to slide, and his manager does not seem to have a real problem with that.

Metaphoric, allegoric.... I need the paragoric with this fucking team, already!

Panic in Detroi.... Uh, I Mean, New York??????

...yeah, yeah, yeah... we ALL know about the panic in Detroit these days (I wonder if Bowie knew all this was going to happen when he wrote the song???), but is there panic in New York? And if there isn't, should there be?

Well, according to some sources, like Adam Rubin, some of the coaches' jobs might be on the line if things don't turn around in Metsland very quickly. Which to me, is another huge metaphor for the blame-everyone-and-everything-else mentality that is so prevalent across society these days. It doesn't seem as if anybody wants to stand up and say, hey, it's on me, I'm not getting it done...If you listen to some of the quotes from some of the Met players so far this year, it sure seems as if nobody is willing to step up, take this bull by the horns, and lead the team out of mediocrity and downright lousy baseball playing into the land of baseball plenty. In fact, it seems as if the blame is being thrown to the coaches, the rookie (Murphy), the fifth starter (Livan), the acquisition of Gary Sheffield (for throwing the team into chaos, as if it wasn't already *eye roll*), and various and sundry other assorted red herrings.

All designed, of course, as red herrings are, to take our ears and eyes off the REAL problems in this organization, which are, in no particular order: Fred Wilpon, Jeff Wilpon, The Shadow of Bernie Madoff, Omar Minaya, Jerry Manuel, The Fucking Nutcase Formerly Known as Ollie Perez, Every Starting Pitcher Not Named Johan Santana, and The Four Horsemen in the middle of the order, who look as if they've been thrown from the horse.

For fuck's sake, the coaches are so far down on that list as to not even be on it.

So my only real question here is, who is kidding who? Or is that WHOM? Regardless, I surely hope that Met fans aren't so stupid as to believe there isn't something, maybe even more than one something, fundamentally wrong with this team. This is the same type of uninspired, unagressive, flat, boring, un-fundamentally sound type of play we've seen for much of the past several seasons.

As I said last year, as much as I wasn't a fan of Willie, changing the manager wasn't the answer. I think that's been shown to be true to this point.

It's the players, dummy; it's the team make-up. The core is flawed. Some major changes need to occur. Something better be breaking up that old gang of mine. Because it doesn't look for all the world as if any one of the core (Reyes, Wright, Beltran, Delgado) is going to step up and lead this team.

Which is one of the things it surely needs.

And one more thing -- you know what really galls me about the sweep by the Cardinals this past week? Not the sweep, not losing the games.... not nearly as much as having to look at the competence, preparedness, inspired play, grit and talent of what I consider to be the premier organization in major league baseball - the St. Louis Cardinals. You know, the organization that can turn pitching shit into pitching shinola (Braden Looper, Chris Carpenter, Kyle Lohse, just to name a few recent shit to shinola transitions), they can turn pitching shit into outfield shinola (Rick Ankiehl), and can keep the top player in the game (need I mention his name???) motivated and alert and attentive. Not to mention that having to praise LaRussa as probably one of the best managers in the game today is going down a bit rough.

And tonight, we begin a three-game series with a team so pathetic it can't even spell its own team name properly on its game shirts.

At least we can still do that.

The Big Ditto....

Why even bother writing a post today about last night's game? It's The Big Ditto -- poor pitching, worse offense, another loss.

Ditto, fucking ditto.

The Big Fucking Ditto.

Gawd, they suck, don't they?

U - G - L - Y.....

....they ain't got no alibi; they ugly, hunh, hunh, they ugly!

And even the image in the picture, as ugly as it may be, doesn't even come CLOSE to how ugly New York Mets baseball has gotten. From Good Ollie/Bad Ollie, to lack of fundamental execution, to outfielder(s) falling down on the job, literally, to seasoned, established veterans failing to slide into home plate, to the manager basically falling asleep, much like the team.... ay yi, yi... it ain't pretty, to say the least.

In fact, it's downright ugly.

So before you wonder about the SIZE of the image I've posted.... remember, Mets fans, that's how BIG the ugly is in Metsland these days.

Poor performances to the side, there is simply NO EXCUSE for the failure to execute fundamentals in the field, at the plate, and on the bases. These guys, for the most part, for almost the ENTIRE part, are seasoned veteran players. How can they not know or care about these things? Has the state of New York Mets baseball gotten that pathetic that it is almost akin to watching AAA ball, or worse?

I have several questions, but the most pressing one, at this point, is why the so-called "brain trust" of the Mets is allowed to remain at the helm. Because folks, while they may not be causing it, the net effect of what they've brought in and allow to happen on the field speaks for itself.

Dog Day Afternoon...

...at Citifield yesterday, the Mets losing a very lacklusterly (is that even a word??) game to the equally lackluster Brewers in pretty much of a sleeper (that is, one you could just about sleep through and not miss anything).

Which, unfortunately, describes most Met games these days, and even going back into last year. Lackluster. Dead. Boring. Unimaginative. Nothing happening. Ho hum. Unexciting. Channel surfing. Whatever. Who cares. The only reason I'm still watching this team is because they bear the Met name. Otherwise, I feel no ties to the team, and I'm sure, they feel no ties to us. Their fans. Their non-adoring public.

And even their adoring ones.

I wonder sometimes; why am I wasting my valuable time following a team that I don't even like? Because I don't, and haven't, for a while now.

And the only answer I have is that they are the Mets, and I'm a Met fan.

Okay, enough of my angst. Here's a hodge podge of some stuff I've noticed and thought about thus far in the early season.

For one thing, the new Yankee Stadium seems to be a launching pad of sorts. Even Yankee shill extraordinnaire (Mike Francesa) is sort of panicking about the fact that 20 home runs have been hit in the new stadium in four games. Perhaps he's more worried about the fact that OTHER TEAMS are hitting them, and has conveniently forgotten that his team, the mighty Yankees, has even more opportunity to do so, seeing as how they'll play half their fucking games there every year.

Or perhaps, this is indicative of a greater worry -- that the Yankees are just not that good, period.

I'd be much more concerned about Chien Ming Wong, if I were Mikey, and the likes of A-Rod, Texeira and Posada, not to mention an aging Jeter, who is being treated by his manager with the kiddest of kid gloves thus far this season, having received a very early hook in every blowout both in favor of and not in favor of the Yankees thus far this year.

For another thing, it seems as if Ryan Church is the Most Hated Guy on the team in the eyes of Met brass. All the guy does is play a great right field in a park where that's going to be crucial, hit the cover off the ball, and what's his reward? Riding the pine. Unfuckingbelievable. And the Prodigal Son Boy Wonder Daniel Murphy seems to be living the life of Riley with the same Met brass. Unfuckingbelievable. Do we need any more signs that the Mets have no fucking clue about how to run a team?

And all Nelson Figueroa gets for his strong effort yesterday is gone.

Although I do think the Mets might have something in this Santos guy. So far, he looks strong behind the plate, seems to have a clue at the plate, and can even run the bases.

And enough with the Jerry Manuel lovefest, already. He's just not a great manager, and still not the right manager for this team. But, as I said last year when the team fired Willie, it ain't the manager, folks. It's the team, but more than that, it's the Mets, period. With all the money they have to spend, they continue to produce an also-ran, year after year, and manage to bore the shit out of most (well, at least some) of the fans while doing it.

In short, another year of Met baseball. Ho hum. Tweedle Dee. Or should I say, Tweedle Dum... and Dumber!

Don't Hand Me No Lines....

...and keep your hands to yourself! Or so the old Georgia Satellites classic goes...and too bad more fans all over baseball don't take heed of that refrain, and keep their hands to themselves!

I'm speaking specifically, of course, about the fan's touching of the Daniel Murphy double in last night's game that kept Jose Reyes from scoring, the touching causing the ground rules to take effect on a ball Reyes could ordinarily have easily scored on from first base.

I'll never understand how people who claim to be fans of a team would do anything in the stands to hurt the chances of their supposed favorite team winning. This includes idiots who heckle the home players every chance they get; idiots who throw things on the field; idiots who snap photos in the eyes of players at crucial moments; and yes, Virginia, idiots who for whatever reason have to reach out and touch someone...or something. Like balls such as the one Daniel Murphy hit last night. I don't know, maybe it's a reflex thing, or maybe it's a selfish desire to catch a keepsake or become a part of the game... but if I'm in the stands and I'm paying attention to the game, I'm not doing or touching anything that would put my team behind the eight ball.

So if you're a fan, at the game, and you wanna reach out and touch someone...or someTHING... please save your irresistible urges for foul balls, bats which accidentally fly into the stands, paper flying past your face, or the hot guy's as...... er, I mean, uh, never mind.....!!!!!

Whew, ok, now. That being said, this offense is really grating. It's almost as annoyingly bothersome as is the whole Ollie Perez Jekyll/Hyde thingy. While home runs are nice, they're not the only way to score runs, hint hint, Mets! And frankly, with the Big Bopper mentality, I think sometimes the players don't think as much about Small Ball as they should. And they tend to get on base and wait around for someone to smack the big one.

Right now, the Mets are just not putting it all together. They're off kilter a bit, and need to settle down and get down to business.

So, as Kool and The Gang once said... GET DOWN ON IT!

Sometimes, I just crack myself up!

And Ollie Wakes the F*** Up!

...after The Big Sleep of Monday night, Oliver Perez wakes the fuck up, as does the offense, and the Mets get a much-needed win over the Padres last night at Citifield.

A couple of things.

First, I'm getting tired, already, of wondering whether Oliver The Good or Oliver The Bad will show up for work. It's like, flip a coin, already -- you never know what you're going to get with Ollie. But when he's good, he's real good, and when he's bad, he's...well...real bad. This is enough to drive any Met fan crazy, and I'm thinking of starting a self-help group for Met fans driven nuts by Oliver Perez. You know the drill - it goes something like this: "Hello, my name is Deb. I am a Mets fan that's slowly being driven out of my mind by Oliver Perez. I've had this problem for some time now, and I've finally realized that I need help; I can't go it alone...."

Anybody else wanna join? We could call it, uh, Ollieholics Anonymous, or something like that.

Or just plain Self-Help for Dummies, because I sometimes think I have to be an idiot to let that nut case known as Oliver Perez continue to drive me off the deep end.

As I previously said, the offense woke the fuck up last night, as well, and actually looked as if it showed up for work. Apparently, our boys DO know how to move runners, run the bases, steal bases, and situationally hit. Perhaps they are afflicted with a touch of off-again-on-again Ollie-itis?

Nah!

Rubber game tonight at Citifield. Stay awake, boys!

The Big Sleep....

...is exactly the terminology I'd use to describe the Met season thus far, at least from a fan's watching standpoint.

The Big Sleep.

The Big Yawn.

The Big Nothing.

Welcome to another season of tantalizingly sub-par Mets baseball, courtesy of the poorly constructed Met lineup and the blazing ennui of most of its participants.

The Big Sleep.

I've said for a couple of years now that I dislike the make-up of this team; Gary, Keith and Ron so much as agreed with that, and stated so publicly, during the post-game broadcast of the last 2008 Met game. Anybody else but me remember? Because, boy, it sure seems as if Gary, Keith and Ron don't! I specifically recall all THREE of them opining that the core of the team needed changing...and what do we have this year, Mets fans? The same rotten apple core we had last year, and the year before that. Now, I grant you, taken individually, most of these guys seem, at least on paper, to be genuinely solid and borderline spectacular players, but taken together, there is just something missing.

And Omar & Co. just don't seem to get it. Or if they do, they seem to operate under the assumption that working on one part of the team at a time is enough. Or perhaps, more accurately, is all they're capable of doing.

But let's deal with what we have at the moment, shall we? More specifically...the lineup. We'll start at the bottom -- Brian Schneider, Luis Castillo, and the pitcher du jour. Schneider, in my opinion, should be batting eighth, period. Batting Castillo eighth, regardless of his somewhat checkered past years, is a huge waste, not to mention it doing nothing for his ego, which is equally troublesome, again, in my opinion. I still believe he belongs second in the lineup, behind Reyes, if for no other reason than those two really seem to work well together and feed off each other.

I still don't like The Two Carloses back to back, and I don't like David Wright in the three hole, period. At least, not thus far this year, and maybe not ever.

And while we're at it, I still don't believe Jerry Manuel is the right manager for this team.

And in case you don't believe this team still isn't a team, witness Johan Santana's remarks about Daniel Murphy after yesterday's game. Although he doesn't really throw Murphy to the dogs, he basically blames the loss on Danny, and conveniently forgets about the fact that the rest of his fucking team managed to score only one run and basically look totally lame and lacking while doing it.

The Big Sleep. Yawn. I'm already bored to tears, and it's only the first week of the season.

Ollie Jekyll and Ollie Hyde....

....strikes again. Or should I say, "strike" again, since syntax-wise, I suppose the latter is the correct verbiage, or so the "and" in the title of this post would indicate.

Anyway, enough with the English lesson. The REAL point of this post is, of course, the Two Natures of Oliver Perez. Both of which we actually saw yesterday; one of which ended up winning out, causing Ollie Hyde to give up enough runs in few enough innings that the Mets, realistically, had little or no chance to win the game, even though the offense pretty much gave it a valiant effort.

Look, we knew when we re-signed Ollie in the off-season that we were actually giving the money and the contract to TWO DIFFERENT GUYS. So if you didn't know better, you'd think; okay, we're getting two for one. But, Mets fans, here's the rub -- we're getting Ollie Jekyll and Ollie Hyde, and we never know which one we're going to get from month to month, week to week, game to game, and even inning to inning, as we saw yesterday.

Now one can argue that a big deal can't be made about yesterday because it is, after all, Ollie's first start of the season, made in pretty lousy weather, after an abominably and ridiculously long spring training, and pitching in general is pretty up and down in these cold, early season months. And we did know what we were signing on for, after all.

But man, I don't know about you, but doesn't this just grate on your last nerve, already, at this point? As Yogi Berra once said, "Ninety percent of the game is half mental," and I'm beginning to believe that Oliver Perez is, indeed, half mental.

Ninety percent of the time.

Another One for the "Stuff of the Monumentally Stupid...."

And thy name is Mike Francesa. Yes, you miserable rat bastard....

I don't know why I let this over.... uh, bearing, yeah, that's right, overbearing, overstuffed, blowhard of a windbag take up space on this here blog, but today, I thought he truly deserved another mention.

I'm on my way up to north Jersey last night, to Ft. Lee, to be exact. Never mind for what..... anyway, I'm listening to Francesa on the FAN, talking about the Yankee/Oriole game then in progress. The score goes from 6-1 in favor of the Orioles to 6-5 in favor of the Orioles rather quickly, and Francesa is sitting on his oversized throne, glibly extolling the non-virtues of the Oriole bullpen (i.e., they have none), loudly proclaiming in peacock tones and tenor that the Orioles will have their hearts broken by the [insert favorite Francesa adjective for the Yankees here] Yankees.... and no sooner the shit was out of the shinola than Yankee middle relief coughs up four runs and the "non-existent" Oriole bullpen shuts the door on the [insert favorite Francesa adjective for the Yankees here] Yankees.

And them, folks, is all she wrote.

It's really hard to believe anybody takes this [insert your favorite adjective for Francesa here] idiot seriously.

The "Sheff" Of The Future????

No, kiddies, I ain't talking about Ralph and Norton, they of the wonderfully hysterical and timeless Honeymooners' sketch....

I just wanted to let y'all know, in case you're living under a rock with no cell phone or radio or TV or snail mail or friends or enemies, even...that the formerly great Gary Sheffield is now a New York Met. That's right; you heard me. He's a New York Met.

And I say this with some surprise, because frankly, he's not the kind of guy I thought the Mets would ever go for. Considering his personality, his ego, his baggage, and all. His "me me me" attitude is definitely a "no no no" with the Mets.

But there is one reason, and one reason only, that the Wilpons went for this deal, and I'll give ya three guesses why, and the first two guesses don't count.

Okay, now that you've guessed MONEY - DING DING DING DING DING!!!!! That's right, The Sheff has been had on the cheap, having been unceremoniously dumped by The Tigers, despite the $14M they still owe him, at the 499 home run mark.

Now THAT, my friends, is some really nasty shit. I wonder what ol' Sheff did to piss them off that much.

Speculation aside, there is no way anybody can convince me in the slightest that this is not the steal of the decade for the Mets, and an answer to a long-existing problem in the lineup - the lack of a truly significant credible power threat from the right side of the plate. You simply slide Sheff in there, and whammo presto - the complexion of the entire lineup changes, physically and mentally.

On both sides of the ball.

This is a GREAT move. And the timing is FABULOUS.

The GBU's Keys To 2009 - Rest and Flexibility!

And no, I'm not talking about sleep and gymnastics...I'm talking about what this team, this 2009 New York Mets team, needs in order to make it into postseason play this year. Because they certainly have, on paper, enough talent to get there...so what, my friends, will be the difference makers, the things that will bring the team from its all-too-familiar-of-late-late-season collapse to the postseason? That's right - rest, and flexbility!

It just occurred to me the other day that I've missed the obvious when it comes to the first one - rest. Now, I've said before on this here blog that it wasn't necessarily a good thing for the Mets to acquire "old guys," because of the fact that Willie, when he managed the Mets, had a tendency to unthoughtfully and unimaginitively throw the same lineup out there day after day...after day...after day. With nary a day of rest for anyone. In other words, he wore the fuck out of the lineup. Now, with young guys, this is risky enough, but with old lads, well...it's a certain recipe for collapse. As we saw. And it never really occurred to this pea brain of mine that there was a very simple reason why the team collapsed in the last two weeks of the season -- THEY WERE SIMPLY TIRED, WORN OUT, SPENT. I danced around it, sure, but now I'm coming right out and saying it -- off days for all! While it's nice that Carlos Beltran can play 162 games, or that David Wright HATES to sit even for one day, the fact of the matter is, folks, the baseball season is as much a marathon as it is an athletic endeavor, and we need to remember that when thoughtfully and intelligently considering our daily lineup.

Which Jerry Manuel is definitely capable of doing; which Willie for whatever reason just couldn't, wouldn't, and didn't.

Okay, so that's one.

Now for the flexibility thing. Let's say, for example, that Dan Murphy can't hit his way out of the proverbial paper bag in the two spot, while Luis Castillo smokes the shit out of the ball batting in the eight spot. And let's say, further, that this occurs for a few straight weeks. Now, if you were Willie, what would you do? That's right, you'd STUBBORNLY stick to Dan in the two and Luis in the eight just because that's what you had chosen, what you thought, hoped, and WANTED to work, and dammit, you weren't giving up on it.

And if you were Jerry, you'd be switching those two faster than a dress between two transsexuals.

See, now THAT'S what I mean by flexibility. Flexibility in thought, and flexibility in putting that thought into action.

What a concept.

Government, Heal Thyself!

A friend of mine sent this to me over the weekend, and in view of what's going on these days with the economy, the bailouts, the car industry, the bailouts, the government, the bailouts.... well, it occurred to me that maybe we ought to be looking at some other ways of correcting those things in this country that might, just MIGHT, need a little tweaking.

So government, heal thyself...and behold:

A guy goes to the Post Office to apply for a job. The interviewer asks him, "Are you allergic to anything?"

He replies, "Yes - caffeine."

The interviewer then asks, "Have you ever been in the military service?"

And the man replies: "Yes, I was in Iraq for two years."

The interviewer says, "That will give you 5 extra points toward employment." And then he asks, "Are you disabled in any way?"

The man replies, "Yes...an IED exploded near me and I lost both of my testicles."

The interviewer grimaces and then says, "O.K. You've got enough points for me to hire you right now. Our normal hours are from 8:00 A.M. to 4:00 P.M. You can start tomorrow at 10:00 - and plan on starting at 10:00 A.M. every day."

The guy is puzzled and says, "If the work hours are from 8:00 A.M. to 4:00 P.M., why don't you want me to here until 10:00 A.M.?"

The interviewer looks at him incredulously, and replies, "This is a government job! For the first two hours, we just stand around drinking coffee and scratching our balls. No point in you coming in for that!"

Oh...The Humanity!!!!!!

Oh, the friggin' humanity, the humility, the lack of humility, the downright humiliation of it all...

I'm talking, of course, about the recent "revelation" *snicker* about the use of steroids by A-Rod, and the recent revelation about ex-Met "star" Roberto Alomar allegedly being HIV positive. Although I do question the use of the term "star" after the phrase "ex-Met," because all Mets fans know that Alomar performed in anything but a stellar manner after he became a Met earlier this century...but I digress, as my good buddy Coop would say...

I was going to write about A-Rod, The Steroid Fraud the other day, but the only title I could come up with for the piece was A-Wwwwww Who Cares?, which I tossed around but frankly it didn't move me to write the piece. And then when I heard this morning about Roberto Shallow-Mar, I just thought to myself...oh, the humanity!, and BOOM, there it was!

Anyway, ENOUGH about me and my so-called thought process.

Baseball has really taken a hit lately, hasn't it? Especially New York baseball, and especially the premier organization in New York baseball that outfits its players in pinstripes for every home game since the turn of the century, and probably before(which actually might be very fitting since I believe prison uniforms have some kind of stripes on them, at least in the movies), which organization shall remain nameless. Myself, I've always said I didn't really care about steroid use in baseball, because, frankly, it didn't seem as if anyone in baseball did, since everyone associated with baseball either made ginormous sums of money off the backs of steroids or paid ginormous sums of money to watch these over-medicated players with egos almost as big as their muscles and paychecks even bigger play the game. Which is why I don't. Spend my money on it, that is. Or even make money on it. I use the game strictly for my own entertainment - hence, this blog.

And if the truth be told, frankly, I've always felt that baseball tried to wash its hands of the stink of the steroid scandal, and left the players out there high and dry to absorb the brunt of the public outcry that they, and the game, were "cheated." Gimme a fucking break, already. We ALL participated in the so-called "steroid era" of baseball. We should all take a good look at ourselves and our fandom, and our attitude towards our fandom.

And when are we going to learn, anyway? When are we going to learn that baseball players are no better or worse than people in any other walk of life? Why do we worship them as heroes, and thus set them, and US, up for a huge fall simply because they can hit home runs? Or steal bases? Or strike out 200+ batters per year? This fascination with and worshiping of celebrities in our society has gotten nuts, crazy, whacko, stupid. Perhaps these latest episodes are lessons for all of us.

Just think...it could be worse. We could find out that George Steinbrenner is a cross-dressing transsexual with a fetish for pink painted toenails, or that Brian Cashman is his, uh....ew!!!..... never mind!

Forget The Bill of Rights....

...how about this "Bill of Goods" Omar Minaya is trying to sell us about the Met offense and one Luis Castillo on the Boomer & Carton show on WFAN this morning??? Anybody else hear it? I'm sure some of you did.

So long story short, heree's what I got from Omar this morning: blah blah blah New York; blah blah playing in New York; blah blah it's hard in New York; blah blah mental; blah blah physical; blah blah it's different in New York; blah blah BLAH BLAH BLAH!!!!!!!!!

As if it were some sort of mantra of excuse for the downright poor play of some (*cough cough Luis Castillo cough cough*) and the just plain stubbornness and failure to finish the job of others (*cough cough Omar Minaya, Fred Wilpon, Jeffy Wilpon cough cough*).... you know what? I'm sick of it already, and the season, much less, spring training, hasn't even begun!

I mean, really, how can these morons think or believe, for even one New York minute, that the team has enough offense? What do they think they're going to get from Carlos Delgado this year, huh? I mean, let's be realistic. The guy is in the twilight of his career, and probably isn't, and hasn't been for some time, suited to the cleanup role he usually occupies in the lineup. And what about the need for a nice, credible right hand bat, which I know, you know, your mother knows, your father knows, your second distant cousin knows, the boyfriend of the girlfriend of your second distant cousin knows the Mets need, and have needed, since the departure of one Xavier Nady in 2006. Don't even try to tell me that since mid-2006, there isn't and hasn't been some right hand bat out there that could fill this need.... unlike some of the delusional Met brass, I don't think most Mets fans are THAT stupid *rolls eyes.*

So Omar, I ain't buying. If you've watched this team over the past two years, you should be very well aware that this team needs and needed not only the bullpen revamping you just pulled off, but it also needs an attitude adjustment, a right handed bat and something at the bottom of the lineup other than the scrap heap of the National League. Look, I'm not saying you gotta get this guy (*cough cough Manny Ramirez cough cough*), but address the issue in some kind of real way, and stop thinking about catching lightning in a bottle with all this crap you throw at us, okay????

So really, gimme a break. Much like the rest of the country, I ain't buying.