...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.