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.

The Juice In The Can....

.....or the continuing saga of one O.J. Simpson. Former football player extraordinnaire, ersatz murderer, now convicted felon.

And my only question is -- what took so long for the justice system to get it right??????

And yeah, Juice, you got 99 problems all right... and "no bitch" is the best it's going to get for you for a long, long time. That is, of course, less'n YOU become somebody's bitch, which would be just about right, in my view.

Just about right.

I Think I'm Going To Be Phucking Philthy Sick....

And why GREEN vomit, you ask? You even HAVE TO ASK? Why, in honor of the big ol' goofy green head of none other than the Philly Phanatic, who frankly, I'd like to punch in his big fat nose this morning, that's how sick I feel. Sick, from the tippy top of my head to the bottom bottom of my feet. Sick to death of the Phillies and their Phans and their Pharrogance and their everything.

And how stupid does Carlos Beltran look now, after foolishly opening his yap early this past season and pronouncing that the Mets are the "team to beat?" Man, if Carlos was standing right in front of me....I'd slap the shit out of him, too.

Because face it, folks -- the Mets simply have no heart. They have no fight, no get up and go, no drive, no ambition... no nothing.

But if I were the Met organization, based upon what I've been hearing over the past few weeks, and how there's so much hating on the Mets apparently going on all over the league, I'd use it as major motivation for next year. Remember 1986? Yeah, the team EVERYONE, except the fans, hated. And look what happened. I know, we can't compare the two, but I'm just sayin' (as my good buddy Coop often says)....

So I vote that the Met Motto of 2009 be "Bring on the hate!"

As If Mets Fans Need ANOTHER Reason To Be Pissed Off...

...evidence the career and the success of one Scott Kazmir. Remember him, Mets fans? Now, I know he didn't win the game last night, but that's beside the point.

It really pains me to write this post, because I swore up and down that I would NEVER mention his name again vis a vis the Mets, because, frankly, I am sick and tired of listening to what seems to be every single Mets fan bring up the Kazmir for Zambrano trade ad nauseum as if it were a reason for breathing, or living, or hating, or anything.

But, alas, I find I must, at least once, revisit the trade, because it's so emblematic of what's gone on in past days with the Mets organization. Listening to the wrong people, making snap judgments, trading away the future for the present, and not even doing it smartly, logically, reasonably or in any way intelligently.

It's like the Old Boys Network... literally, which is what Mets fans inevitably end up with. The Old Boys Network.

Hmmm.... come to think of it, that's as fitting of a moniker as anything else for the Mets teams of the past ten years or so. The Old Boys Network.

Perhaps that's what Fred and Jeff should have used as a name for their network.

Well, So Far This Offseason....

Not much has happened on the Met homefront, but a couple of things are worth noting.

For one, the Phillies have earned the right to play in the Fall Classic, having soundly defeated both the Brewers and the Dodgers. And somehow, seem to still have the Mets and Jose Reyes on the brain. For the life of me, I just don't understand why they continue to need the Mets and Reyes for motivation. Or do they, really? Is there perhaps a tad of reverse psychology in play here? A continuing piss-off factor for the Mets and their fans?

I don't know, but what I DO know is that for the second year, the Phillies have won the NL East, both years overcoming late-season Met leads to do so.

Food for thought.

And here's some food for non-thought - Alex Rodriguez and Madonna. That's a real "ew" in my book, and I suspect in many people's books. Madonna and her hubby, Guy Ritchie, today announced their plans to divorce, and rumor has it that she and A Rod are "closer than ever," whatever that means.

Just another chapter in the continuing saga of A Rod and his weirdness.

I still believe all of these women are A Rod's consolation prizes vis a vis his crush on Derek Jeter, but hey, that's just me!

I'm still wondering what the Met bullpen will look like next year. And whether or not Carlos Delgado will still be a member of the team. God, I hope not. I know many of you will disagree with me, but I think a turnover of the locker room leadership is a necessity at this point. We have to find out if Wright and/or Reyes (probably Wright, as I don't see Jose as a leader type) can be the type of leader the team sorely needs. I'd rather find that out now than later, thank you very much.

I wonder if Luis Castillo has begun packing up in preparation for the move that is undoubtedly going to come.

I wonder if Willie Randolph is still laughing his ass off at the same old late season crappy Met finish. Listen, I was no big fan of Willie's, but at the time he was fired, I said that I did not think that in the end, the problem with the Mets was solely Willie, and that appears to indeed be the case.

I wonder if we're really going to miss Shea Stadium. It's kind of sad to see the pics of the old girl being dismantled, piece by piece.

And I hope wherever that stupid apple is, it gets lost - permanently. Hee, hee hee!

Reflections....

Now that some time has passed since the Second Annual Met Collapse, I thought I'd share a few of my thoughts, in completely random order.

I was thinking the other day about Carlos Beltran having shot off his mouth about how the Mets were the team to beat in 2008, and I remember saying, at the time, that considering what's happened since he's been here, and his own hand in it all, I thought that his statement was a little ridiculous and a tad premature, especially since the Phillies were the reigning NL East Champions, irregardless of how they laid down and died in the NLDS last year.

So I was just thinking about that, in general, and wondering the identity of the next Met to shoot off his mouth and look like a horse's ass sooner or later.

I was also thinking about how pissed off I am, in general, and more specifically, about Omar's new contract. And maybe even Jerry's. I just can't wrap my head around the retaining of Omar, considering some of the boneheaded things he's done lately, like bringing back Moises Alou, giving Luis Castillo a four-year deal, failing to help the bullpen when others helped theirs, and honestly, because of the collapse the last two years.

Now, I like Jerry Manuel, he's fun, he's hip, he's cool, he wears nifty glasses, and he even seems to have the support of the players, which on this team, is no small feat, I suspect. But he's been around during the past few years, and has been through the collapses, and frankly, I'd like to see the Mets go into a new stadium with a nice fresh start, and some fresh faces.

And here's to hoping Tony Bernazard gets that GM job with Seattle. He seems like a little twerpy blowhard and a control freak, often times rumored to be a "bad guy," and that's the last thing the Mets need is a bad guy. Or another bad guy, as the case may be.

And the more I follow this team, the more I come to realize what shitty owners the Wilpons are. They seem to put image and money before winning, and don't seem to understand that you can have them all. Is it because they're too stupid, or because they just don't care? And does it really matter, if the end result is the same?

I think it was somebody on metsblog.com that had an interesting piece the other day about closers, and how the big money guys aren't necessarily the biggest winners. I've been thinking about the closer and the closer role a lot since Billy Wagner went down, and I think rather than going out and getting one of the big boy closers, if I were the Mets, I might develop one in house. I've always thought that teams could and should develop closers in house more often, and if the Mets have the intelligence and wherewithal to find a guy within their organization who has the stuff and mental makeup to fill the role, well... why not?

I still don't want Delgado here next year. Or Castillo. I want a real left fielder (see below), and a decent bullpen. One that, you know, can get three outs without giving up more runs than outs once in a while.

And Manny can be Manny all he wants... on the New York Mets next year.

I don't want the old apple displayed anywhere prominent in CitiField. It's a relic, and should be relegated to relic status.

I can't lie -- this year really, REALLY stings. Maybe even more than last year. Because we're a team built to win now, and have basically reached the end of the line with some of the players acquired for the purpose of winning, and we've run out of excuses for failing to make the postseason. So now, it's put up or shut up. And I mean that. I don't want to hear any excuses or any other crap from anyone associated with the Mets. I don't want explanations or caveats. I don't want to hear how close we were, and how we "battled."

It's going to be an interesting off-season, I think.

Wake The F*ck Up, Jerry....

...and sign that deal before they offer it to someone NOT named Jerry Manuel. I mean, really, what does he think he's going to get? Listen, I like Jerry -- he's fun, he's good with the press, he seems to have a decent rapport with the players -- but the bottom line is, face it -- he's no Joe Torre. Or Lou Piniella. Or Terry Francona. Or even Dusty Baker, whom I loathe, for the record.

I thought today it might be fun to speculate on who we Mets fans would hire as manager if we had our druthers. And man, does saying that date me... but anyway, and assuming I can pick anybody I want whether or not it's realistic or feasible or logical, here are some of my choices.

Paul O'Neill, for one. Yes, the hated Met killer Paul O'Neill, who has often said that the single greatest thrill of his career was beating the Mets in the 2000 World Series. That Paul O'Neill, the one who hated, I mean, HATED, making an out. Any out. Any time. Any game. That Paul O'Neill, one of the biggest modern-day gamers I've seen lately.

And right now, he's sitting in the YES broadcast booth/studio, probably scratching his ass, thinking maybe he can still play, maybe he can contribute... and he can. Only I propose he do it for the Mets.

Or maybe Lee Mazzilli. Yeah, I think he's a prick. A dude with a 'tude. A guy who won't give a shit who likes him, or who doesn't. He has that New York kind of arrogance and belief in himself that the Mets sorely lack.

And face it, folks, we gotta get him out of the studio. His strange facial expressions and inappropriate grimaces have led me and DingoMets to nickname him "Yankenstein" in the past, in fact. So it's a win-win; he wakes up the Mets, and we get him and his Yankenstein act out of the studio.

Or how about the first manager by committee team? We can get Jerry, who's fun, gangsta, good with the press, liked by players, to be the kind of fun guy, the press dude, the daddy dude. Then we can put either O'Neill or Mazzilli out there to be the tough guy, the henchman, the straight and narrow guy. And then, maybe we can get Bobby Valentine (yikes! did I just suggest B.V. anywhere near the team? I hated him when he was Mets manager, didn't I? DIDN'T I?) But Deb, hear yourself out. For Bobby V is nothing if not a baseball head, a geek of a sorts, in some ways, an innovator and a maverick, and if we take all three, we have something pretty close to what the Mets need in a manager.

Kind of brings to mind the mythical hydra, the seven-headed monster, and although we've only put faces on three of the heads, I figure that the four extra heads leave room at the top in case anybody really fucks up. Or, if we give Omar Minaya a head and Buck Showalter a head (yep, I'm still on the Show Me Showalter for GM bandwagon), we still have two available heads in case as I said, somebody fucks up...

OR... simply hire one woman, since, after all, the women of the world are used to wearing and juggling so many hats...

I like it, I really like it.

My End Of The Season "Thank You" List...

...yeah, that's right, you read it right. I actually have some "thank yous" to write despite the disastrous ending to yet another Met season.

And they are, in no particular order:

First, a big thank you to Coop, DingoMets, Joe Janish, Metstradamus, Rickey Henderson, and many others for helping me with the blog, both in the setup, and the contributions. Without all of you, and each of you, it would have been difficult, if not impossible, to get the blog up and running, and continuing it, and you have all been an inspiration and a God-given gift to me. I want you to know how much you are all appreciated.

And to all those who helped, and contributed, and commented, whom I didn't mention, please know that I appreciate each and every one of you, and look forward to every day on the blog, sometimes in spite of what our favorite team is doing at the time. Sometimes because of, but mostly in spite of; at least, this past year!

Second, thank you Gary, Ron and Keith. If it weren't for you three, Mets baseball this past season might have truly been unbearable and unwatchable. Gary, you are a consummate professional, both in your preparation and in your delivery. For my money, there isn't a better play-by-play guy, nor a more informed and prepared one, anywhere. Ron, you are brilliant, simply brilliant, and manage to convey the nuances of pitching and of the game in general without sounding condescending and over-the-head of the average Joe Baseball Watcher. Keith, what can one say about you, Keith? The phrase "I'm Keith Hernandez!" is simply perfect, for you are nothing if not yourself. Your irreverent, comical, down-to-earth, truth-be-told style is constantly refreshing and entertaining, and your slice-of-life relationship with the New York fans is truly a lovefest.

I strongly believe the three of you will be in the broadcaster's wing of the Hall of Fame one day.

Third, thank you to Fernando Tatis, Angel Pagan, Nelson Figueroa and Ryan Church, to name a few, for leaving it all out there. Fernando, you were simply magnificent, and a joy to watch. Angel, we lost you too soon. Nelson, I'll never forget your family piled high above the field at Shea, in Billy Wagner's box in your first start, a truly magical one, cheering you on and bringing back memories of what many of us have felt is the true essence of fandom. Ryan, you were a brave soldier, and gave us much hope for the future.

Fourth, a special thank you to Johan Santana. You truly deserve the Cy Young Award this year, as well as the Met MVP. You are a true ace, a true animal (and I mean that in the best of ways), a true competitor with few equals in this day and age of baseball. I truly look forward to your future as a Met, and hope that you are able to capture the ultimate prize while a member of this team.

And finally, thank you, Shea Stadium. Your past glory will never be forgotten, and my memories of you will live in my heart forever. You will always be great in my book.

And Now, I Bestow The End Of The Season Go Fuck Yourself Award...

...upon the entire New York Mets organization, top down, everyone, everybody, nobody left out, all of 'em. Fred, Jeffy, Omar, Willie, Jerry, and the whole entire team.

Go fuck yourselves, boys, and I hope you don't enjoy it. Because you fucked us, and as sure as I sit here writing this post, it doesn't feel good, it surely doesn't. And not even Viagra would help the Met fan at this point.

Fred and Jeffy, here's to you. All you two care about, obviously, is the bottom line. You don't really care about winning, and care even less about producing a champion. Your gods are money and more money. In your pockets. You're more worried about Citifield, ticket prices, and your network, and the team is but an afterthought. So, fuck you.

Omar, here's to YOU, buddy. Your nose is so far up Fred's ass that you may as well be part of him; in fact, you probably are. Your fondness for over-the-hill oft-injured has-beens has been duly noted, and if I see Moises Alou so much as within a 30 mile radius of CitiField, your ass is its grass. Same goes for Luis Castillo and Pedro Martinez. But then, you work for a guy who simply cares about revenue, and I suppose there is lots of money to be made by exploiting the fan's fondness for fading stars.

And this here is the flag that ought to be flying proudly and grandly over CitiField next year.

Willie and Jerry, here's to both of you, as well. Willie, ya never should have been hired, and Jerry, ya probably should be fired. I'm sorry to say that in Jerry's case, because I genuinely like him, but I think he's not what this team needs right now.

And a special "fuck you very much" to the entire New York Mets team, with the exception of Johan Santana, who's probably scratching his ass right about now and wondering why the fuck he came here in the first place.

And a very, very special "fuck you" to David Wright and Jose Reyes. Here's what I want from you, boys -- you're now officially the Eli Mannings of pre-2008. In other words, it's time to put up, or shut up. It's time to step up and take the team. It's time to man up. It's time to put your guts, heart, talent and mettle in front of your mouths. It's do or die. It's lead, follow, or get the fuck out of the way.

Fuck you all, fuck you very much. We are all well and truly fucked.

The Party's Over...

...it's time to call it day, a Shea, another season.

And all I can think to myself right now is, boy, they deserve it, those Mets, but boy, Mets fans sure don't. They surely don't.

I hope the powers that be are paying attention to the last two years. And I hope they are realizing, slowly but surely, that they simply can't bring back the same team next year; that it's time for some serious soul-searching changes to this organization and this team, and that it's time to give Mets fans something to do but shed tears on the last day of the season.

That's it, that's all, I just can't say anymore right now. I think I said it all before, anyway. And taken a lot of heat for it.

And right now, as sure as the sun will come up tomorrow, the Brewers will be playing October baseball, and the Mets will be going home, I wish I was wrong, I really do. Because you, the Met fan, deserve so much more....so much more.

Pussy-Free Zone Yesterday...

Not much to say except that if we had an Anti-Pussy Award here, Johan Santana would have won it for his performance on Saturday...

The definition of "CLUTCH" in the dictionary has a picture of Johan next to it.

And the Mets are still alive for another day...

"He's Got The Whole World...In His Hands..."

..."he's got the whole world, in his hands...he's got you and me brother, in his hands...."

And today, Johan Santana has the whole world in his hands. And how appropriate to show the colossal image of the Atlas in Rockefeller Center, New York. Because today, Johan, you are New York's Atlas, having held the fragile hopes of Mets fans in your hands, and on your shoulders, and having brought them to the dawn of a new day.

For those of you who don't know the legend, the myth of Atlas, remember Hercules? Well, one of his Twelve Labors involved the acquisition of some of the golden apples, tended by the Hesperides and guarded by the dragon Ladon. To make a long story short, Hercules went to Atlas, the father of the Hesperides, one of the keepers of the garden, and offered to hold the heavens for a little while in exchange for the apples. Atlas agreed, thinking it would be an easy task since he was, after all, the father of Hesperides. But little did Hercules know that once Atlas got the apples, he intended to try to Hercules into carrying the sky permanently by offering to deliver the apples to their ultimate destination himself. Hercules, suspecting Atlas didn't intend to return again, pretended to agree to Atlas' offer, asking only that Atlas take the sky again for a few minutes so he [Hercules] could rearrange his cloak as padding on his shoulders. When Atlas set down the apples and took the heavens upon his shoulders again, Hercules took the apples and ran away.

Well, the Atlas Santana set down the opposition, not falling prey to Herculean tricks, took the Mets upon his shoulders again, and did not falter...and any day you beat Hercules at his own game, well, you are the man, the Atlas.

And Atlas, contrary to what Ayn Rand wrote, did not shrug, nor did he run away, nor did he refuse to shoulder his burden.

When Atlas Santana kissed the shutout ball and threw it into the crowd, he stood proudly, and strongly, with the world in his hands.

Let's Go Mets. After today, how can one say anything else?

We Now Interrupt Your Regularly Scheduled Programming to Bring You a VERY SPECIAL Big Pussy Pick for the "New" Three-Game Season...

I was thinking that the BPPOW would be put on hold, you know, cause this is technically the last week of the regular season, but what I read today qualified for a special dispensation to include another round of Big Pussy's Pick for this upcoming "season" against the Marlins.

Now, if you are a Mets fan, but happened to be a.) stuck in a cave with no radio, TV or newspaper access, 2.) given up on the team in the last week or D.) cryogenically frozen and unfrozen during Spring training this week, the Mets collapsed with 17 games to play, with a 7 game lead. That said, the last week was particularly atrocious, dropping six of seven games down the critical stretch, and dropping of course 2 of three to the Marlins, who emulated their lives on being Scooby Doo's nephew, Scrappy -- Let me at 'em, I'll splat 'em!!

Never mind that the Mets were just HORRIBLE in NL East match-ups in 2007. Cripes, I remember so many games against the Marlins and Nationals just thinking, if they could have won just one more game out of those contests (which theoretically they should have been 900-0 in those games), then of course being absolutely owned by the Phillies, that if there was a team that should have taken the division, well, it should not have been the Mets.

We fans though, we watched the games. We went through the collapse, day by day, night after excruciating night. And we saw that even though the last week was painful, none of it would have mattered if the Mets won the games they should have won.

But of course, with our "ace" Tom Glavine not making it out of the first inning, recording only one out, and being on the hook for 7 runs...well, much like Beltran looking at strike three in 2006, that is what everyone remembers. Not the events leading up to that moment, events that should not have occurred in the first place.

Now a few weeks back, you may remember that I called poster-boy for Ritalin Cody Ross "BPPOW" because he is convinced Big Mike Pelfrey threw at him intentionally -- meanwhile, he stands on top of the plate. But boy, the big shit-talkers on the Marlins today...takes the proverbial cake. In fact, I hope that Jerry Manuel tapes this to everyone's locker -- makes sure they read it, and for those who's English isn't too refined, translate it in Spanish.

In the Orlando Sun-Sentinel today, Scotty Olson congratulated himself for his part in the collapse by having NY-style pizza after humiliating the Mets that day (um, he didn't start). Cody Ross, BPPOW winner, also says that "we are the last team they'd want to see."

But the icing on the cake is when former Met Mike Jacobs says, "I don't necessarily think they're worried because of what happened last year...They should be worried because we play them tough. … I wouldn't say we're in their heads, but they know they need to be perfect. If they're not, they're going to have a tough time."

Oh, you done did it this time, Mikey. No, the Marlins and the collapse is not in their heads. The only reason people fucking remember it is because idiots like YOU refuse to let it go. Mind you, save the core of Carloses, Wright and Reyes, new guys who have been integral help this season in Evans, Murphy, and even Church weren't even on the fucking team last year. Oh yeah, we also have a true ace, on the right side of 30, a legit Cy Young candidate each year, who happens to be starting Sunday. So put that in your hairy bagpipe and smoke it, mister.

Olson says in this article that it was fun to hear 55,000 people being so quiet. Yes, he must be used to it, with the 55 people who show up to his starts -- that's 9,945 less than the walk-ups we'd get whenever Pedro pitched in 2005.

Scotty Olson also starts on Sunday. Oh yes, he of his 8-11 record, and 1.33 WHIP. Verrrry intimidating. Hmmm, maybe Johan Santana, after you know waxing his ass in the matchup, will be nice enough to send him a Mama's of Corona's sanguich before booting his ass on the next plane to Miami.

But the piece de resistance on this is the ever-famous quote from the mildly (okay, incredibly) insignificant former Mets catcher Paul LoDuca: "It was not a good memory...And I'm hoping we can make it not good memories for them again this year."

I'm sorry BLODuca...how many games have you played in this year? Do you actually think you are relevant?

I would like to apologize for past wrongs and potentially perceived as future wrongs to the Marlins.

You did your last shit talking of the season. Don't you guys have anything better to do, you know, like makes plans to golf with Grandpa? Cause you know, at least the Mets have something to play, other than being spoiler.

As one of the great sages in modern cinema said in Little Miss Sunshine: "There are two types of people in this world. There are winners. And there are losers." Substitute "Pussy" for "Loser" in that last line, and it still makes sense. Nothing says "Loser" or "Pussy" more to me than trying to deliberately ruining the chances of a team that is destined to make the playoffs.

Yeah, I said it. I'm a winner. Sue me. But on Sunday, when Scott Olson is crying into his Cel-Ray soda, and Mike Jacobs is home changing diapers, and Cody Ross is trying to get Grandpa out of the assisted living facility to play golf on Tuesday...well, I just hope they enjoy the celebrating on the field that is going to occur...

You know...cause we are celebrating the last regular season game at Shea. Of course that's what I meant. *wink, wink*

"Oh, What A Night..."

...late September, in 2008;
Carlos Beltran stepping to the plate;
What a finish, what a night!

And yes it was, what a night, what a finish... it actually made me think, just for one lovely moment, that the Mets could, they would, they might, they shall....

But today, I don't really know what to feel. All I know is that the great Rickey Henderson is right -- strap in, buckle up, get y'er vomit bags, and get ready for the ride of your life, the last weekend of the 2008 regular baseball season, when anything can, and probably will, happen.

As much as I've maligned, snickered at, pooh-poohed, criticized and genuinely have hated this team this year, if you're a Mets fan, you can't help but to be thrilled to your toes about this weekend, even if perversely. You're either waiting for them to excel and propel, or to flop and drop.

Either way, it's as exciting as hell.

"...I Don't Know How Much More Of This I Can Take..."

...as I said a couple of days ago in this post.

Honestly, I'm almost at a total loss for words. I think I've said it all, anyway, over the past few years, as I haven't liked the construction or attitude of this team since the day Carlos Beltran stood at home plate with the bat on his shoulders in Game 7 of the 2006 NLCS.

Shoulda told us something.

And by now, I'm sure Johan Santana is strongly questioning why the fuck he came here. This isn't what was represented to him, I'm sure. Hell, it's not even what was represented to the general public.

I feel so flim-flammed, so used, so lied to, so mislead, so conned.

And probably, so does Johan. Only difference is, he gets paid a lot of money to assuage his disappointment.

We don't. Au contraire, we have to SPEND IT, and add insult to injury.

And Omar Minaya gets a four-year contract extension.

Well, whoop-de-fucking-doo!

I don't know how much more of this I can take...shoot, shoot, SHOOT!

And The Big Pussy's Pick of the Week Goes To...

Mets fans in general. Myself included.

True, this week was a test of our strengths and very fortitude that makes us Mets fans. Losing two out of three to the Braves. Splitting a four-game series with the Nationals earlier. Losing ANOTHER two out of three to the Braves prior that. Etc, etc. Hi-sign. Etc.

And then losing the first out of a four game series (for those of you counting at home -- a three-game losing streak) to the, you know, NL Central champs the Cubs was more than we could bear.

I, myself, claimed on my Facebook homepage that the season was in effect over. O-V-E-R. Real over. I could not even fathom the Mets even taking one game out of the Cubs series (although our ace in the hole with Johan was in the factor), let alone the next three. Not to mention the many stars aligning with a Phillies team that just does not seem to lose this time of the year, plus the Brew Crew (although they have been in a downward spiral), playing the worst of the worst, the Pirates.

And not to mention the state of the team. Barring the odge that the bullpen tends to give us on a nightly basis, even with like a 20-run head start, Luis Castillo seems to loaf during the early years on his contract, David Wright was thought to be "unclutch" and our version of "A-Rod" with "meaningless" stats (you know, like 122 RBIs), then you know, after Carlos Delgado, there's no threat in the line up, therefore he does not see good pitches anymore.

But boy, what one night will do to you. And boy, was I wrong.

It's far from over. Henny Penny, the sky is not falling. As I said last night walking out of the stadium, when there is light, there is still hope. And what's a Mets fan without hope? A Yankees fan (another reason to be happy, being officially mathematically eliminated last night with the Sox win).

So Mets fans, it's not over. This team (unlike 2007) will find ways to win, even those that seem to defy convention. So buck up, pull yourself up by your bootstraps and let's enjoy this race while we can.

You big fucking pussies. And I say that with much love.

"This Is The End..."

..."beautiful friend; this is the end; my only friend, the end; of our elaborate plans, the end; of everything that stands, the end; no safety or surprise, the end..."

I can't think of anything but these immortal words of the great Doors' classic this morning, folks. I just can't. Last night, what I saw in the Mets dugout, on the field at Shea, and sitting on the bench, was a dejected and defeated team; one that knows it is, indeed, the end...

And I know a lot of you are going to hate me for this, but you know what? I almost hope it is the end; the end of this team as we know it. For there is something fundamentally wrong with the structure, the culture, and the attitude of this team, something not quite right, something that desperately needs fixing. And if the Mets make the postseason, none of that will be addressed, and it will be risky business as usual for the organization next year.

I'm almost hoping this is the end, friends....

"But They Can't Be Wounded, 'Cause They've Got No Heart..."

....and thank you, Elvis Costello, for giving me the line which spawned the title to this post. They've got no heart, these Mets, they have no clue, these Mets, they send invisible shivers running down my spine, these Mets; I don't know how much more of this I can take, and I'm frankly filing my nails while they're losing the thing...it nearly took a miracle to get them to stay in it, it's only gonna take my little fingers to turn them off.

So much for my Elvis Costello moment. But frankly, the tone and tenor of that wonderful song from which I heavily borrowed the lines of that paragraph feels exactly like what I'm feeling today. Melancholy, a little haunted, a little sad, a little perplexed, and a little frustrated. In fact, I was going to subtitle this post "It's The Bullpen, Stupid!", but I thought that was another overly simplistic statement masquerading for real thought when it comes to this current version of the New York Mets. For it's MORE than the bullpen, folks; it's the total culture of the team, the total failure of the team to pick each other up, the total failure of the team to play like a team on anything approaching a consistent basis.

Just like watching the detectives...only they're NOT so cute, this time!

And I guess the Mets can't beat the Braves unless a pitcher named Perez is starting the game.

I'm starting to think that the Mets have their own version of the "open door" policy -- they open the door for other teams, and the other teams just walk through it.

Just like watching the detectives....shoot, shoot, shoot...I get so angry when the teardrops start, but they can't be wounded, 'cause they've got no heart.

Prove me wrong. Stop leaving so many men on base; stop failing to execute; stop failing to play solid fundamental baseball, and shut that fucking door, already, once and for all.