Charlie Could Put A Real "Sheen" On The Mets - a/k/a "Winning!"

Hey, long time, no hear, huh? Well, frankly, I've been pretty disgusted/bored/apathetic/disinterested/uninterested with the Mets over this past year (well, to be honest, since the Carlos At The Bat incident of the 2006 postseason, pretty much), but in view of recent events, what I think is the germination of a great idea has just occurred to moi, yrs truly, fellow Met fanhater. "Fanhater," since I can't quite codify, define or even begin to understand my relationship, if any, to this shithole of a team. So, "fanhater" is my new term for the whole thing. You heard it here first.

Anyway, like most of my fellow fanhaters, I'm watching the whole Wilpon/Madoff/Picard saga unfold over the past year or so. And of course, being of the longstanding belief that the Wilpons weren't the brightest bulbs in the sockets of life, I wasn't really too shocked or surprised that they were up to their ears in this shitball of a mess. Nor that the fortunes, or continuing misfortunes, of the Mets, might hang on the ultimate resolution of this very, very messy, and very, very public debacle. And that the Wilpons, being what they are (not too bright, see above), might not necessarily steer themselves into the best possible solution of this here mess.

Now, we're dealing with all that, and then..... TA DA! Enter one very wired, fucked up, yet strangely and compellingly fascinating character named Charlie Sheen. I gotta tell you, it's like divine providence or something; like the universe has collided in a very cosmically important and significant way, to produce what I think might be the ultimate solution to the Met fanhaters' problems - meet Charlie Sheen, new owner of the Mets.

I'll tell you one thing - you have to LOVE his new mantra, "Winning!" No matter what this guy does, it's all about "winning." How, no matter how obviously strung out, hung over, weirded out or fucked up he is, he always claims to be "winning!" "WIN-NING!"

You just have to love that, if you're a Mets fanhater like me.

So before Charlie runs out of cash-ish (or hash-ish, whatever the case may be), why not reach out and give a hidey-ho and see if Charlie-boy wants to buy the Mets? If for no other reason, I am smacking my lips at merely the thought of some of the possibilities for promotion days. Things like "Smoke Crack With David Wright Day." Or "Two And A Half Kilos Day." You know, shit like that.

Of course, you might want to think twice before you bring your kiddies to the game, but really, don't you do that now???? I mean, DON'T YOU? Because if you don't, you should, exposing the little ones to all that negativity, all that Beltran and Ollie and Freddie and Jeffie and Bernie, and all. Why, it's almost enough to turn the kiddies off baseball for the rest of their lives.

And truly, "Winning," even in the likely Charlie Sheen version, might not be such a bad thing, after all.

The "If Only" Game

I know it's early in the season, but it's never too early to play a game. Just ask any baseball fan... but anyway, here's the scoop. Let's trying playing the "If Only" Game today, huh? You know how that one works....it's kind of a wishful thinking, find an excuse, use your imagination, spend a little time pondering kind of game.

OK, let's start off with this one: IF ONLY David Wright were as smart in his baseball game as he is in his off-the-field endorsements, say, like the recent one with Vitamin Water! Leads me to wonder if all the brains in the David Wright camp don't belong to David Wright. Now before you crucify me, I've been watching this kid for years now, and it occurs to me over the past year or two that he isn't the brightest knick knack on the shelf...he just doesn't seem to get it, sometimes. And he has that kind of vague, what-am-I-doing type of look on his face much too often for my taste. He's kind of got the Mike Piazza thing going on - kind of a vacuous, insular manner, a seemingly no cares exterior that sometimes drives a fan, well, bonkers.

If people (yes, that means any of YOU!) are expecting D.W. to be a leader on this or any other team, I think, well, IF ONLY you would see the writing on the Citifield wall, and get over it, already! This guy will never be more than a good/very good complementary player. He isn't a guy one builds a team around. He doesn't have the brains, charisma, leadership or other "outside of baseball" qualities that would earn him that right.

IF ONLY the Mets knew that. *Sigh*

So back to the game.

How about this one: IF ONLY Jose Reyes could stay healthy. IF ONLY he had a better attitude and outlook. IF ONLY there would have been a banana peel in the path of Jerry Manuel's ascendance into the manager's job. IF ONLY Omar Minaya could utter one.single.sentence not including the words "you know" or even better, "you know what I mean?" This guy has got to be the most ignorant sounding GM out there. And if he isn't, I want to know who is.

IF ONLY we could make even one solid #2 starter by combining John Maine, Oliver Perez and Mike Pelfrey.

IF ONLY Fred Wilpon were as bright as he is well meaning.

IF ONLY I had something more interesting or positive to say so I wouldn't have to write this pap.

IF ONLY.

The Name Game.....

Y'all remember that song, "The Name Game," from the 1960s, that went something like this: Shirley, Shirley, bo-birley, banana fanna fo-firley, me mi mo-mmirley.. Shirley! Y'all remember that, right? Back then, we had simple fun with names. We had simple names then. And simple songs. Names like, well, Shirley, for example. Or the ubiquitous John. Or Howard. Or Glen. Or Moe. Or Larry. Or... well, you get the picture. And songs like "The Name Game." Or "Yesterday." Or "Strangers In The Night." You know, simple. And nice. And uncomplicated. Ones that actually made sense, were properly spelled, and were appropriate and, well, nice, and non-embarrassing, and were simple and uncomplicated, in the scheme of things.

Let's turn the clock ahead, shall we? Now, we have names like, well....Jenrry. Which, of course, is pronounced as if it were spelled "Henry." So my question is, why ya spellin' it that way? Why can't you just.spell.it.right????? Why is it that today, everybody's gotta have a cutesy original spelling distortion for a downright ordinary name. Like Jenrry. For Henry. I gotta tell ya, much like Rush Limbaugh and his ilk, this is the kind of stuff that's bugged me for a long time.

And I have no answer for it.

Let's take other names. Like "Anfernee." Tell me, what the hell is "Anfernee" all about, huh? Sounds to me like the person doing the naming couldn't speak properly, and the person writing it down for all posterity couldn't spell properly. The net result of these two faux-pas being "Anfernee." Ugh...it's funny, and sad, and dumb, and ignorant, all at the same time.

So you can imagine that if this is what I'm blogging about today, I'd really rather not discuss last night's game. My friend Thomas did a good enough job of that in his comments to Monday's post.

E(xtremely) S(tupid) P(eople) N(etwork) and O(pening) D(ay)

I really hate to piss on the parade of cockeyed optimism even the most jaded fan (yrs truly) feels on Opening Day, but I just had to comment about the ESPN pre-game show last night.

What the fuck WAS it? In other words what, exactly, was THAT?

Is it just me, or did any of the rest of you wonder what in hell Dr. Dre, Lebron James and Mr. Whozzywhatsis Big Deal Record Exec were doing on the broadcast? Hyping their "Beats" headphones? I had to look at the channel to make sure the dog didn't accidentally hit something on the remote and flip the TV over to an informercial, fahcryinoutloud!

Look, I fully realize that ESPN has been somewhat unwatchable for a long time, like almost, forever, but last night really, really took the cake. What, exactly, do Dre, James and Mr. Who-zzy have to do with baseball, exactly? If anyone here has the answer, please speak up!

As if all that wasn't bad enough, what was also with the lovefest for No-MAH Garciaparra? Self-promotion and hype at its absolute worst...and for No-MAH to admit that he played in Fenway for, oh, what, eight years? and had never seen the inside of the Green Monster was a little...strange and off-putting, and a real metaphor for how much some of the modern player types care about the sport and its history, really. I mean, I don't know about you, but if I were fortunate enough to wear the uniform of a major league baseball team, playing in an historic venue such as Fenway, I'd be like a kid in candy store. *Sigh* But, I suppose, that's just me, and neither here nor there.

Anyway, Opening Day is here, finally. Despite myself, I actually am looking forward to listening to the game on the FAN today, since I can't watch it. As the New York Lottery is fond of saying, you never know, and as many have said throughout the years, hope springs eternal.

I did have one good laugh this morning on the way to work, though. And that was in listening to the parody of the wonderful Fogarty song "Centerfield," in which Al Dukes laments that "Jerry's our coach," and asks the question that eternally mystifies most Mets fans - "What did he say...today..." and goes even one further, asking "who will play, shortstop, and centerfield?"

Who will play, indeed? The mystery continues, but for today, it's Mets baseball! Batter up!

Send In The Clowns....

Yeah, yeah, yeah....I haven't forgotten about the blog. It's just that, well, honestly and truly, I just had and have very little interest in the 2009/2010-to-come version of the New York Mets, and grew a little tired of posting only negative things about this...this...this...team (she spat contemptuously).

Anyway, I saw something the other day that just made me hafta comment.

I was channel surfing the other evening, and happened across a Met spring training game being played in Tradition Field. Which reminds me; why do the Mets have to steal EVERY idea from the Yankees? You know, of course, the Yankee spring training home is called "Legends Field." I guess the Mets just had to have a meaningful name for their spring training home, as well. But "Tradition Field?" I'm not sure about you, but I'm mightily concerned about pretty much any and all Mets traditions, including, but not limited to, players that can't seem to stay healthy, ever; management that makes absolutely awful decisions; lousy trades that for some unfathomable reason are often repeated...with the same player (need I mention names here?); managers that can't deal with the heat of the New York press and/or the heat of the New York fans; managers that can't speak coherent sentences, let alone words; managers that wear funny glasses; managers named Jerry Manuel... and.... well... others.

But I digress, as my friend The Coop often says. What brought about this particular post, as I started to say in the last paragraph, was the occasion of my viewing a glimpse of the Met spring training game at Tradition Field the other evening, where I happened to notice the Send In The Clowns logo sign in the outfield.

And I just had to laugh...I really did.

I had to wonder; was it some kind of subconscious masochistic impetus on the part of the Met "braintrust" in the choosing of this particular sponsor in the last few years? Was it a half-hearted effort to be funny? Was it a sad commentary on the state of things in Flushing? Was it stupidity (which gets my vote)? Or was it, rather, a coincidence? Which I really don't believe in. Coincidences, that is. And the Mets, as well, sad to say.

And the fact that apparently, Send In The Clowns has been a sponsor of the Mets for at least a year or so now, and I did not even know it - in fact, I just noticed the sign the other day. Pretty sad, and pretty telling, of my lack of interest in the Mets over the past year or so. Used to be in the day I could name every Mets sponsor off the top of my head, in alphabetical order, with the locations of the various brand logos in the stadium, when their ads would appear in the broadcasts, both radio and TV, and how long it would take Bob Murphy to transform the pronunciation of Manufacturers Hanover Trust into Manufacturers Handover Trust, which I always thought, and still do, would be a pretty funny but accurate name for a bank. Handover, indeed.

So, Send In The Clowns. We shall shortly see them every stinking day once the 2010 season begins. It's indeed become a circus at Citifield, where we Send In The Clowns, rev up the circus, and ride the merry-go-round, around and around again, expecting to get somewhere. It's rather like having one foot nailed to the ground, and furiously attempting to run with the other. And not knowing any better, or being able to stop.

Bozo and Homey The Clown ain't got nuttin' on the Citifield version, that's for sure.

Send In The Clowns, and let the games begin.

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.