The Many Faces of Armando Benitez

A few weeks ago, I had a post entitled "This Man Is No Longer A New York Met. Rejoice." That one was after our old friend melted down in San Fran after being put in a tie game in the 9th inning against his old club. In light of that performance back on May 9, it made perfect sense for Giants manager Bruce Bochy to bring him into a save situation on the road against that same club, with 47,000 fans screaming for his blood.

The result? Walk, balk, balk, blast, ball game.

I must say, these Benitez performances are infinitely more enjoyable when he's wearing a different uniform.

In any event, what a classic ball game that was. I was lucky enough to be in attendance for all 12 innings (section 102 of the field level), which means I finally broke "The Curse of the Tostito" in grand fashion. (As you know, I had been 0 for 4 on the year. Ugh). What a way to get off the shnide. You had great starting pitching, outstanding defense, a couple of long balls, some timely hitting, and some intriguing high-pressure confrontations on both sides. Of course you had to know that a good, clean game like that would get decided by a total psychotic meltdown on the mound. Regardless, just a great night at Shea and one that I will not soon forget.

(1) Here's my pathetic cell phone pic of the scrum welcoming Delgado at home plate. Apparently when you use the "zoom" feature, it shrinks the entire picture. Damn you, Motorola.

(2) This Lincecum fellow looks to be the real deal. He was lighting up the radar gun in the first few innings, and then wheeled out this ankle-breaking 77-mph curve that made more than one Met look foolish. I was impressed. Kid can't hit for shit, though.

(3) In the first inning, Ollie was serving up more meatballs than Chef Boyardee at San Gennaro. Fortunately, only 2 left the yard, while three others somehow died at the warning track. After that, however, he was positively off the hook. Another stellar outing that shouldn't get lost in the shuffle when we look back on last night.

(4) Oh, and while we're at it, hats off to Heilman again. He's really turning into Willie's go-to guy with men on base in the late innings. It's when he starts innings that I get nervous, but when he comes in with ducks on the pond, he's been damn near automatic (see, e.g., Jeter, Derek). As you all know, I'm not a Heilman guy, but you gotta hand it to him lately.

(5) After all these years, Omar Vizquel is still a fucking wizard at shortstop. Seriously, they should just let him play shortstop wearing one of those wizard hats.

All in all, there was a terrific buzz at Shea last night that just seemed to grow and grow as the game progressed. And as soon as Benitez threw ball one to Reyes, the whole place started going nuts, since basically everyone knew what was about to happen.

God bless you, Armando.

Filet-O-Fish

Well, that was a fun weekend.

After winning in the sloppiest, ugliest, most indifferent manner possible on Friday night, the Mets righted the ship with two of their more efficient, crisp wins of the season on Saturday and Sunday. The weekend was highlighted by Delgado launching two titanic blasts that landed somewhere near Sarasota, a jaw-dropping comeback from The Duque, and an actual pinch-hit RBI from Julio Franco. Equally important is that the Braves got their doors blown off in 3 straight games, allowing the Mets to inflate their NL East lead to 4 games. The rest of the NL East should be saying "uh-oh" right about now.

Some weekend thoughts:

(1) Last season I thought the Fish were going to be the next-best team in the NL East for the foreseeable future. Oh, how wrong I was. They can't pitch, they can't field, they have no bullpen and no closer, Anibal Sanchez is MIA, and their best player is fat, lazy and stupid. Other than that, their future is bright.

(2) A couple of under-the-radar good starts from Maine and Sosa. Not eye-popping (like The Duque on Friday), but good enough to wash the filthy taste out of my mouth from Maine v. Yankees and Sosa v. Braves.

(3) Friday night was as unpleasant a win as you'd ever hope to see. If you missed it, you had Wright not running out a squib that curved fair in front of first base, Delgado admiring a shot that careened off the left field scoreboard, resulting in him being gunned down at second base, and Beltran lollygagging a throw from center resulting in Olivo turning a routine double into a triple. Really pathetic baseball. I know Willie shrugged it off in his press conference, but I'd like to think he was being kind of coy with the media there. I'm sure he let his guys know what they did was not acceptable.

Finally, a good weekend for the Yankees. I saw some good signs. Plus, there was this gem of a quote from Johnny Damon, which had me shaking in my boots:

“There is no way we think this is over. Some teams are going to pay, and we can’t wait for that day.”

Hear that, rest of the league? You're going to pay for what you've done to the Yankees. You've been warned.

p.s. I would like to point out that in the 30-odd years I've been going to McDonald's, I have never eaten a single Filet-O-Fish sandwich. Not one. Thank you.

House Money, We Hardly Knew Ye

Yesterday I ruffled a few feathers when I declared that the Ollie Perez victory on Wednesday made last night's game a house money game, inasmuch as, win or lose, the Mets would leave Atlanta up at least two in the loss column, which is a fine place to be.

But then they go out there last night and piss away about more scoring opportunities than I could count and get totally jobbed by the umps on at least two calls, leaving me good and ornery. What's the fun of having house money when it hurts just as much to lose it? I think I'm done with that analogy.

(1) Well, my worst fears have been confirmed. Willie is apparently tying his ship to Julio Franco, sink or swim. I personally could not even begin to comprehend how you pinch hit Franco with the tying runs in scoring position in the 9th, and not Damion Easley, who's been crushing the ball in late-inning pressure situations all season. I mean, c'mon - this one wasn't that complicated, was it? I think I have an idea of what Willie will say about this decision. It'll rhyme with "I thrust my thighs."

(2) Reyes had an absolutely brutal series. Just hideous with runners on base. And it's really remarkable that when he slumps, the Mets lose. Just like clockwork. You can't really say that about anyone else in the lineup. Looking forward to seeing him get back on track real soon.

(3) That called third strike on D. Wright was off-the-charts awful, and probably meant the game for the Mets. Obviously there's no guarantee he gets a hit there, but he's been their best hitter for the past week or so, and to be deprived of getting him a shot with the bases loaded sucked beyond compare.

So, now it's bye-bye to the Bravos until August. Let's build a nice 10-game lead by that point, so we can keep on losing to these jokers and it won't matter.

All Your Braves Are Belong To Us

Don't look now, people, but we have a Brave Killer. Yes, after years of Bobby Cocks parading out a slew of Met Killers - Larry Jones, John Rocker, Brian Jordan, Eddie Perez, and even Jung Bong immediately leap to mind - it looks like the tables have finally been turned. With last night's 7-inning butt-kicking, I think it's fair to say that ownership by Ollie Perez has officially been established.

(1) Last night was must-win, but tonight's game is house money. Win or lose, we leave Atlanta in first place, at least two games up in the loss column. That being said, I'd love another win just so we can inch closer to .500 against these bums. Also, Smoltz is a big smelly homophobe. Let him get his 200th win against someone else.

(2) Man, I have never, ever seen Larry Jones look worse in an at-bat against the Mets than he did in the 8th inning last night. Joe Smith made him look like an 8-year-old girl swinging a wiffle bat in her parents' backyard. Mr. Smith, as far as I'm concerned, the 8th inning is yours to keep. Go with it.

(3) As for Wags, he raised my blood pressure slightly by going 3-0 on the first hitter, but he rebounded nicely. 11-for-11 so far. Nice.

(4) Despite the win, the Mets really haven't swung the bats at all since Saturday. We were pathetic on Sunday, brutal on Tuesday, and last we night we scored one of our 3 runs on a throwing error by Braves catcher Jarrod Saltandpeppershaker, and another on a sac fly. I'd really like to see an explosion today, although I'm sure Mr. Smoltz will have something to say about that. Oh well, there's always Dolphins Stadium, our own personal batting cage.

Finally, Bob Raissman has a great rip-job today on Fatso and Nut Case about the Giambi thing. Best line:

"God bless [the Daily News] for their exclusive," Francesa said.

Wow, just what we needed. A blessing from the Sports Pope.

That line is just crying out for a photshop job of Fatso decked out in papal gear. Who's up for the task?

My Kingdom For A Clean-Up Hitter

Toasty Joe likes to think of himself as a patient man, but he has just about reached his limit with Mr. Carlos Juan Delgado. Last night, in his latest abominable performance - this time in a big game against a division rival - our "clean-up hitter" hung a 0-for-4 with one strikeout and a huge 4-6-3 double-play that squelched a potential early rally. He is now hitting a paltry .209 through 41 games with 3 HRs and 23 RBIs. (Yes, he has 23 RBIs. Do you remember any of them, other than the 2 against the Cubs on the ground ball single that barely made it into the outfield? I sure don't). And now there are rumblings from Willie himself that Delgado's skid is screwing up Beltran, as Carlos #1 is getting a steady diet of curveballs (kryptonite to Carlos #1) because pitchers have no problem facing Carlos #2.

Folks, 16 seasons, 1,700 hits and 400 home runs earn one a lot of good will. But how much? Two months' worth? Three? When is it time for Willie to reshuffle the lineup and try something new? When is it time for Carlos himself to take a few days off? I don't know, but all I know is, we aren't charging into October without a clean-up hitter. Who knows, maybe Carlos busts out this week in a huge way, making me look stupid (wouldn't be the first time), but at this point, I can't even watch his at-bats any more. Going to the bathroom and/or watching my toenails grow is a far more rewarding process.

(1) This whole "hey, check it out, we're the Braves' bitches again!" thing is getting old fast. I know it shouldn't matter so much, because, unlike 1992-2005, we're actually in first place now - but it still sucks.

(2) This one really felt like it was over in the second inning, probably after Delgado's DP, and most definitely after Sosa began to crack in his old stomping grounds. I do not think it's a coincidence that his only bad outing was in Atlanta. If he's anything like Glavine, we can expect Sosa to suck at the Ted for the next 3 years.

(3) I watched most of this debacle in the cozy confines of the Gael Pub on Third Avenue, engaging in a spirited round of Tuesday Night Bar Trivia with teammates Flitgirl and Friend of Flitgirl. Alas, much like the Yankees' destiny this year, we finished in fourth place. I was most disappointed by my performance in the Sports Round, wherein our team (the Bella Carmines) got only one right out of ten. Sounds pathetic, I know, but keep in mind that every other question was about horseracing, golf, or the olympics, none of which is my forte. I nailed the Tyler Clippard question, though.

Finally, I have to mention the big-time bush league play I witnessed last night by that nancy-boy third-baseman in the Bronx. For those of you who missed it, A-Rod slid cleanly into second base on a double-play ball hit by Jughead, but when he popped back up, he gave Dustin Pedroia a forearm shiver right into the family jewels. We'll see if Schilling exacts some revenge tonight. (Video here, until they take it down).

Interestingly, this is now the second time Alex has slapped at a Red Sox's ball.

Of All The Dramatic Things I've Ever Seen...It's Tuesday Linkage!

Nothing much to add today, so I thought I'd pass on some fun stuff to y'all.

(1) It occurs to Toasty Joe that he has not spent enough time plugging Rickey Henderson's outstanding, hilarious "Riding With Rickey" blog. Toasty Joe encourages everyone to read Rickey. Rickey is very funny, and Rickey's running diary of a disastrous bat mitzvah trip to Buttfuck, MA this past weekend made Toasty Joe laugh and, as such, is not to be missed.

(2) The rumors were flying around The Internets this weekend about this, but I didn't believe it until I finally read it in print from a reliable source (OK, Bob Raissman). Go here for the rundown on the Suzyn Waldman/Mad Dog Russo dust-up in the press box. Apparently Waldman told Russo that he "ruined her life" by making fun of her absurdly over-the-top orgasmic call of the Clemens un-retirement announcement, which she called one of the most "dramatic moments I've ever seen!!" This gal sure does love the hyperbole.

(3) This isn't a link, but I just heard a Yankee fan call into Joe B and Evan and announce "to all the doubters, the Yankees are BACK!" What a sorry state the Bronx has become when two wins in a row in May are a cause for celebration.

(4) For you baby picture buffs, head on over to The McFly for more pics of the newest Met fan, The Bookette. Awwww....

(5) Excellent recap of last week's Sopranos can be found here. Just a tremendous episode. Last shot, of father and son shuffling down the hall in the loony bin, gave me chills. And the Tony/AJ scene at the side of the pool was some outstanding acting by both Gandolfini (no surprise there) and Iler (big surprise there).

(6) Today seems like as good a day as any to resurrect Wally Matthews' rabid Mets-bashing column from the off-season. A highlight:

Clearly, the Mets learned nothing last year about the fragility and unreliability of old bodies on a baseball field. They claim to be "building" off their near-miss/collapse (your choice) of 2006, but the only thing they are building is a nursing home.

Good call, Wally!

(7) Finally, a great CBS Sportsline column by Larry Dobrow from last week about the changing of the guard in NYC, with a few gratuitous shots at Suzyn Waldman. Don't look now, I just ruined her life.

Start Spreading the Bruise

Well, the Mets absolutely did what they had to do this weekend, taking two out of three from the Bronx Bums (one in taut, crisply-played fashion, and the other in sloppy, nail-biting fashion), and putting some distance between themselves and the Braves in the process (thanks, Bosox). All in all, a job well done. Heroes from Friday and Saturday include the obvious ones: Ollie, Endy and D. Wright, and some not-so-obvious ones, including former Toasty Joe whipping boy Aaron Heilman, who retired Captain Courageous on a tapper to third with the tying runs on base on Saturday. Just a monumentally important moment in that game, delivered at a time where I think everyone in the world thought Jeter was somehow going to get on base there.

Which, of course, brings us to last night. Going into last night's game, I had a very, very strong suspicion that the Mets would flop. Why? Three reasons:

(A) A slumping John Maine going up against a lineup that may have awoken from its slumber the day before;

(B) The Mets would be facing some 16-year-old snot-nosed soft-tosser no one's ever heard of with zero major league experience;

and, most importantly--

(C) Toasty Joe would be in attendance.

I am now 0 and 4 on the season. That's right, in a season in which the Mets have torn up the league, scattering only 15 losses (against 28 wins), I have seen 4 of them. Wins? None. Losses? 4.

Remember when the Mets had their stirring opening day comeback victory against the evil Phillies? I was at work.

But when Ollie Perez had his hideous 2.2 IP/7 BB meltdown against those same Phillies two days later? Of course, I was there.

When the Mets walked away with an exciting 3-2 victory against the Nats, aided by some late-innings heroics by Old Man River? Not only was I not at Shea, I was two states away.

Oh, but when those same pathetic Nationals used El Duque for batting practice the next day? There I was, sitting in the picnic area, eating bad hot dogs.

Remember the day the Mets roughed up Anibal Sanchez, and Ollie Perez began the great roll he's still on? Great win, right? No, I wasn't there. I was, however, at Shea the night before, watching non-phenom Mike Pelfrey labor through the fourth in a string of his six shitty outings.

And, finally, I wasn't there for Ollie out-dueling Andy Pettite. Nor was I there for the Sugar Pants power display, No, I got to see Tyler "Cy Young" Clippard breeze through the Mets' lineup like a hot knife through rancid butter.

I really don't know what to say at this point, other than "are you freaking kidding me already?" Just keep me away from Shea, seriously.

***

Now, I do need to vent about one more thing before I let you go. As if last night's loss wasn't bad enough, after the game I fell victim to the Roosevelt Switch. For those of you who don't know, you can switch from the Manhattan-bound 7 train to the Manhattan-bound E or F express train at 74th St./Roosevelt Ave. The upside of the Roosevelt Switch is tremendous for Upper East Siders like myself - if you catch the E, it's a mere 3 stops to 51st and Lex in Manhattan, as compared to the, I dunno, 813 stops between Roosevelt and Grand Central Terminal. If you catch the F, it's even better - 3 stops to 63rd and Lex, which is even closer to home for me. The downside, of course, is that you have to get out of the 7, trek all the way downstairs, and risk waiting for one of those two trains when you could have been working your way back to GCT on the 7 at that very moment.

Ahh, the Roosevelt Switch. Like the lure of the siren's song, never what it seems to be...yet who among us can resist?

Usually I call an audible on whether to do the Switch, meaning I wait until the 7 train's doors open at Roosevelt and then decide. Last night, at around 11 pm, I went with the Switch. Made my way down to the filthy, disgusting E/F platform (another downside of the Switch). And waited. And waited. And waited some more. And waited. And fumed. And started to grind my umbrella in my hands. And waited. And waited some more. 20 fucking minutes I stood on that platform, listening to the rats (clearly Yankee fans) scurry back and forth across the tracks, with not even a whiff of a Manhattan-bound train. Folks, 20 minutes may not sound like that long, but when it's 11:30 on a Sunday night and the Mets just got their lunch handed to them by the Yankees, and Robinson Cano jerseys are milling around everywhere, and you're on a flithy stinking scummy subway platform, you just wanna go home, get in your jammies and turn the page.

Finally, I admitted defeat, charged back up the stupid steps (I hate this station now), and, yes -- I GOT BACK ON THE SAME FUCKING 7 LINE I GOT OFF OF 20 MINUTES EARLIER!

Eventually, I did get home, quite ornery and ticked-off. My lesson from this? I'm done with The Switch. Forever.

Ahh, felt good to get that off my chest.

Bookie Made A Person!

I'll send you all into the weekend with a major congrats, Mazel Tov, and "Oy Oy Oy!!" to loyal commenter/ friend Bookie D, who, together with Mrs. Bookie, successfully produced a real live person this week. She shall hereinafter be known as "The Bookette."

Great job, guys. I will put the over/under on when Bookie will send me the first picture of The Bookette in Mets gear at 10 days.

Willie: Don't Listen To Me

What? On a day where you have to rest Reyes and Lo Duca and start a triple-A call-up, you decide this would be a swell time to rest Beltran and Wright?

Willie, are you freakin' nuts?

What?? You're fighting back from a 4-run deficit in the ninth inning, the bases are loaded with the tying runs, your bench is overflowing with big-time hitters, and you're going to send up....Ruben Gotay?

Willie, are you out of your flippin' mind??

What?!?? Gotay somehow scratches out a hit, and Shawn Green, possibly your most consistently productive hitter in 2007, is about to stride to the plate with the tying runs in scoring position....and you pinch-hit for him??

Willie....are you FUCKING CRAZY???

What???? You didn't listen to Toasty Joe????

Willie....nice work. Apparently I know nothing about anything.

Holy shnikes, what a win. While it would be proper to give shout-outs to Ruben, D. Wright, Delgado, and even The Amburgler for their performances, I would like to give a hat-tip to one Mr. Howie Rose this fine morning. For those of you (like me) who (a) were stuck at work yesterday, and (b) are not MLB.TV subscribers, you were treated to one of the most splendidly-called ninth innings you'll ever hear. As the Mets piled on hit after hit after walk after hit, Howie just kept amping up the juice, culminating in a fabulous call of the Delgado single. Go here to listen. Howie's calls are in the lower right-hand corner. (For good measure, you should also listen to his call of Wright's preceding pinch hit. "Five to FOUR, Chicago!" Nice).

Folks, we often talk about the Gary/Mex/Ron juggernaut, but never forget that Howie is the MAN. Seamlessly made the switch from "Mets Extra" host, to TV play-by-play, the back to radio without a single complaint. Also, he had to work with Fran Healy for many years, so he deserves some sort of purple heart. And I'd just note that we're more or less at the one-year anniversary of Howie's greatest call of all time, of D. Wright's walk-off against Mo Rivera. "Put THAT in your books!!!" If anyone can find that audio clip, I'd be glad to post it here.

***

By my count, the Mets have now knocked off Brian Fuentes, Armando Benitez, Chad Cordero, Ryan Dempster, and Jose Valverde. In other words, the Mets have played ten different teams this year and have beaten five different closers. (I don't think they even faced the Milwaukee, St. Louis or Philly closers, and they almost beat Wickman). What does this mean? Dare I say it: Bring on you-know-who.

***

Pounding the final nails in the coffin of that bloated, charmless team from the Bronx would be quite sweet. The pitching matchups on Saturday and Sunday look almost too good to be true, and that usually spells trouble. Just watch us beat up Pettite tonight and drop two to Rasner and Clippard. (You know you can picture that).

However, I feel a little differently about this one - almost as if they're playing the Orioles or something, where we can drop 2 of 3 and I won't give two shits as long as they bounce back strong against the Braves next week. And from the Yankee perspective, they just need WINS, no matter who they're playing.

That said, I'm sure this approach will go flying out the window the second the first pitch comes flying out of Ollie Perez's left hand tonight.

Put THAT in your books!

The Things I Miss When I Go To Sleep

You might recall I missed the Mets' stirring late-innings comeback against the D-Backs a few weeks ago, as I fell victim to the Sandman's siren song. Well, last night I nodded off in the 8th again, and although I didn't miss much hot baseball action, I did miss the scare of a a thousand lifetimes, as Jose Reyes pulled up lame after smacking a single to left field. Word around the campfire is that he's ok, although if Willie starts him today (day game after night game, wet track), he's got cream-of-wheat for brains. I don't see it happening, frankly.

As for yesterday's yummy baseball goodness, I am just FLOORED by Jorge Sosa. Floored, I says. For the third straight start, he was not only good, he was balls-out phenomenal. After a 3-hour rain delay, he charges out the gate throwing nothing but strikes, allows almost no rallies, goodnight, nurse, that's all she wrote. I don't know if it's blind luck, Rick Peterson's witchcraft, or Venus aligning with Mercury, but this has officially become surreal. I saw him pitch for the Braves last year, and he was a line-drive machine. If he keeps this up in anything resembling its current form, I think I'm going to officially have to get off The Jacket's back for the Kazmir trade (maybe). Quite a body of work so far for Mr. Peterson this year.

***

With football season long over, it's been a while since we had a good, dumb Filip Bondy column, so here you go. I'll save you the trouble of plowing through Fil's prose: Apparently the Mets are engaging in hypocrisy (or "hip-hop-crisy" as he calls it. Clever) by sternly rebuking Milledge's rap song while standing idly by as players are busted for steroids.

Let's see here. Milledge has not been suspended, fined, or cut from the team. In fact, all that has happened so far is this:

"I let him know that as far as an organization, we don't approve of the lyrics, the content of those songs," Minaya said. "I think he understood that."

Now, if Fil is willing to call the the Mets "hypocrites," I can imagine the organization has been silent regarding the steroid-related suspensions of any of its players, right? Not quite:

"These [positive tests], we don't like them. No team likes them," Minaya said. "Of course we don't like that. Baseball has the toughest policy of all sports and the policy seems to be working: These cheats are getting caught."

OK, so let's recap. Milledge records a rap song that gets picked up in a mini-media-manufactured (and slightly racist) frenzy, and the Mets respond by saying "we don't approve." A few Met minor leaguers get suspended by the league for steroids, and the Mets accept the suspensions and say "these cheats are getting caught." And the Mets are "hip-hop-crites."

Fil...I think there's a soccer game somewhere you should be covering.

***

Finally, I checked out a Cubbie blog (not Thunder Matt's) this morning. Some interesting observations by a Cubbie fan who apparently watched the SNY feed of the game last night. Here's what I learned:

(a) the Mets announcers are "attrocious" (sic);

(b) pretty much every run the Mets scored last night was cheap and unimpressive, save for Easley's HR;

(c) The Met fans are a disgrace for not showing up to Shea in droves after a 3-hour rain delay for a Wednesday night game against a sub-.500 team during the regular season, which happened to end at around 1 a.m.

(d) the Mets announcers are "by far, the most annoying broadcasters I’ve ever listened to."

I, for one, feel more informed. Thank you, good sir.

"Plug Away" With Kevin Burkhardt

Kevin: Live from the Pepsi Picnic Area, it's "Plug Away With Kevin Burkhardt!" My guest tonight is Matt Cerrone from the great website known as Metsblog.com. Matt, won't you please....plug a-way!

Matt: Thanks, Kev. I run Metsblog.com, which is...

Kevin: Matt....I hate to interrupt, but do you find Damion Easley attractive??

Matt: Uh, no.

Kevin: He just wants to be loved, is that so wronnnnnnnng???

(For those of you who have no clue what I'm talking about, go here).

You wanna talk about the Mother of All Double-Takes, I'm sitting there with one eye on the Met game last night, and one eye on the computer, when all of a sudden I hear good old Kevin B. tell us he's talking to some dude named Matt Cerrone from Metsblog.com. Sure enough, he is, with Anthony right behind him. (Someone has posted it on Youtube, get it while it's hot). Man. That was surreal. Terrific job, fellas, and I guess the lesson is, we bloggers DO exist! We DO matter! But the question remains: When are we gonna start getting free shit?

***

Not much to speak of baseball-wise last night. Maine was due for a stinker, and Zambrano was due for a great outing. How's that for hard-hitting analysis? I'll chalk that one up to my weekly Richard Mulligan, provided that we bounce back strong tonight.

More importantly, has everyone read this? Oy vey. Writer Ian Begley slips in a great line towards the end:

Milledge, who hit .241 with four homers in 166 at-bats last season, came to spring training last March with a more mature approach, suggesting that he got a bad rap last season. Now he's just producing bad rap.

Hee.

***

Finally, I saw this coming. I gave Chip Wesley a shout-out after the Mets' win on Monday, so he's returned the favor today. Stop on by Thunder Matt's when you get a moment.

Somebody Please Keep Chip Wesley Away From All Sharp Objects

I am guessing that last night's stirring comeback victory was particularly rough on loyal reader/Cubs blogger Chip Wesley (of Thunder Matt's Saloon). Well, I'm here to tell you, as Mets fans, we feel your pain. In fact, so much so, that I momentarily cringe every time any team, anywhere, walks in a run to end a game - even if it's against the frickin' Mets. And to see that punk-ass, pine-tar using, cheating, photographer-shoving dirt-bag flourish in the playoffs last year made the memories of 1999 all the more nauseating. (Well, except when he shut down the Yankees. That was kind of awesome.)

So, Chip, I say to you, take a chill pill, and get off the ledge. Today's another day. Besides, I'm sure Sweet Lou already extracted his pound of Michael Wuertz flesh on your behalf after the game.

(1) Unsung hero alert! Unsung hero alert! This one goes to supersub Damion Easley, for his sac fly, game-tying RBI in the 6th. I literally cannot remember the last time the Mets scored a run on a sacrifice fly (or a ground ball, for that matter) from 3rd base with less than 2 out. Have we done it all season? It's been a horrific trend that has to improve.

(2) Good to see D. Wright is officially swellicious once again. By the way, Chip, I must say Thunder Matt's effort in RF on the Wright homer was sub-par. I think he has a chance if he leaps there - that thing just barely cleared the fence. What say you?

(3) The Delgado at-bat was just tremendous. It was one of those ABs where you just kinda KNEW something good was going to happen one way or another. He was totally locked in after the 6th or 7th pitch.

Finally, I must point out that I was sitting at my desk last night, and I hear something frantically snorting and burrowing into the covers on the bed. So I turn around and this is staring back at me. Luckily, my camera was close by. (click to enlarge)

My apologies, I just had to share this one.

A Tale of Two Beautiful Wins and One Ugly Mulligan

OK, lots of hot baseball action to talk about today, so let's get right down to it. Fascinating weekend for the Mets, who sandwiched one brutal, pathetic loss around two warm n' tasty convincing wins against a top team. In fact, Friday night's de-pantsing of Jeff Suppan/stud outing by Jorge Sosa and yesterday's unmasking of Capuano/super-stud outing by Ollie Perez were both so good, I am giving the Mets a total, 100% mulligan for Saturday. Fortunately, I was nowhere near a television set during Saturday's game, which gives me even more reason to pretend it didn't happen.

(1) I am now officially on board the Oliver Perez Train. I've seen flashes of brilliance from him before, but nothing like this. He just flat-out baffled a hot lineup, and was in total command all the way through. An incredible performance. Of course, with Ollie, you always worry that he's gonna follow it up with a stinker, but I'm starting to feel this sheer confidence radiating from him every start now. Look out.

(2) Swell day for the kid, Carlos Gomez, in his first start in the bigs. But more importantly, the Mets now have three Carloses, two Pedros, and two Joses. It reminds me of the early '90s Knicks, when every player was either "Charles" or "Anthony" (Greg Anthony, Charlie Ward, Anthony Mason, Charles Smith, Anthony Bonner, Charles Oakley, Tony Campbell...). As old college buddy the disstraktor once noted, the Knicks really needed a player named Charles Anthony to complete the circle. Is there a Jose Carlos somewhere in the minors?

**EDIT - This just in. Apparently the Mets are showing interest in trading for Pirates' 2B Jose Castillo. That would make 3 Carloses, 2 Pedros, and 3 Joses. Pull the trigger!**

So now we've got the top of our rotation against the Cubbies, with the one weak link safely stowed away in AAA. In short, I feel good. Somewhere, Richard Mulligan is smiling.

This Man Is No Longer A New York Met. Rejoice.

Several years ago, I left my first job where I had been miserable. For months after I started at my new (and still current) job, I would be walking around, busy with something or other, and suddenly I would remember that I was no longer at the old job, and would never have to deal with (or do work for) any of those people at the old job ever again. And a little smile would creep across my face.

Any of this sounding familiar?

Watching old pal Armando Benitez melt down like a pat of butter in the Gobi Desert yesterday gave me the same exact vibe. Sometimes we forget he's gone, but guess what: He's gone! He's gone! Lord have mercy, he's gone! And listen, I know I've given Wagner some grief over the past 12 months, but watching Wags take the hill after Benitez's performance yesterday was like biting into a delicious medium-rare filet mignon with a warm red center, after years of being served nothing but gristly burnt hamburger meat (not unlike the hamburgers they serve out in the Pepsi Picnic Area, so I am told by Count Choc). So, rejoice, people. Free steaks for all!

(1) I am not going to say that Wright and Delgado are out of it just yet (I've been burned too many times before), but if they are, whoa nelly. Unfortunately, it looks like Beltran might be in a little bit of a shnide himself. Weird how that works.

(2) A big "thank you" to Giants manager Bruce Bochy for removing Bonds for a pinch runner in the late innings of a tie game. Why do managers do stuff like this? It's freaking retarded. The first thing I did after the Mets jumped out in front in the 9th is check when Bonds' spot was due up in the bottom of the inning, only to realize that Bochy had removed him from the game. Sure, his spot didn't come up again, but it was nice to see that we wouldn't have to deal with him. Torre does this sometimes with Giambi, and I just don't get why you would remove one of your best bats from a tie game. Absurd.

Finally, Roger Clemens apparently snapped at a Daily News photographer yesterday.
Listen, Rocket, here's the deal: When you announce your return to the Yankees from the owner's box during a game like you're The Lord Almighty, you're begging for attention. In other words, you have forfeited the right to whine and cry when a newspaper takes your picture.

Finally, enjoy the picture at right. I know I did.

David Wright....Needs A Haircut....Shawn Green....Needs A Haircut...

Let me say right off the bat that if you don't get the De La Soul reference, I don't want to know you.

Second, I would like to dedicate today's post to everyone's favorite de facto "ace," Thomas Michael Glavine. With all the hub-bub and hoo-hah over John Maine's dominance, Ollie Perez's flashes of brilliance, El Duque's ailments, and Mike Pelfrey's meltdowns, it kind of feels like Glavine's performance has been lost in the shuffle. The guy is kicking ass and taking names right now, and must be acknowledged. (As Martin Prince would say, "My geode must be acknowledged!"). He's 4-1 and could easily be 6-0 with a little run support. Keep it up, Tommy. 300 may not be as sexy to the general public as 755, but those of us in the know realize it's equally impressive.

(1) Lovin' the new buzzcuts. How perfect is it that Aaron Heilman initially refused to do it (apparently he did it after the game). Could this guy be a bigger drip? I mean, seriously. Anyway, it looks like the only holdouts were Heilman and Glavine (both did it after the game), Sele (family portrait scheduled), and Reyes (says he'll consider doing it tomorrow). (Lisa Olsen has it all covered). In short, it looks like the entire roster could be pie-bald by the time they get back to NYC. Love it. I always associate team buzzcuts with what the Knicks used to do before each playoff run under Van Gundy. Of course, the only holdout every year was Pat Ewing, who chose to cling to his circa-1989 fade-cut like grim death.

(2) Cerrone wrote about this already, so he's stolen my thunder, but is there a more annoying sight in baseball than Barry Bonds slowly dismantling his ten tons of body armor with all the speed of a slug on quaaludes after being issued a walk? What, the steroids aren't giving him enough of an advantage? The first thing I'll do when I am named commissioner (once I've abolished the DH) is to ban all body armor, without exception. Got a gimpy toe that you're trying to protect? Tough shit. Either suck it up or hit the bench, mister. (Yes, I know this implicates a few Mets as well, but that's fine by me. Get rid of it).

(3) When this series began, I said I liked our chances against Zito and Morris, but I wrote down the Cain matchup as a loss. Good call all around, T.J. I guess this means we'll lose today against Morris. Unless I just reverse-jinxed it again. Maybe I'll just shut up now.

Finally, the High Comedy Quote of the Millenium goes to none other than Roger Clemens, who said yesterday:

“If you think it’s about money, you’re greatly mistaken."

Sweet! As Suzyn Waldman would say, "Welcome home, Rawcket!!! OHHHHH MY GOODNESS GRACIOUS!!! RAWGAH CLEMENS...IS BACK!!!"

Whacking Days

[Sung to the tune of "Oh Christmas Tree," sung by the Springfield Children's Choir (click link to play)]

Choir:

Oh Whacking Day!
Oh Whacking Day!
Our hallowed snake skull-cracking day!

Boy:

We’ll break their backs
Gouge out their eyes
Their evil hearts we’ll pulverize!

Choir:

Oh Whacking Day!
Oh Whacking Day!
May God bestow His grace on thee.

Yesterday's loss notwithstanding, the Mets by and large put the annual Phoenix smack-down on the snakes this weekend, and I love-love-loved it. Lots of positives, including the performances of Maine (gutty win without his best stuff), Sosa (wow!! who knew??), pulverizing Big Unit for the umpteenth time, and Shawn Green, who continues to rake and rake and rake (and rake some more). Negatives? Sure. D. Wright has apparently fallen back into a shnide, Alou can't get on the field, Delgado is still scattering his hits, and Pelfrey is just downright aggravating. However, 3 out of 4 on the road is extremely difficult, so you best believe I will happily take it.

A much tougher test awaits this week, as we face Zito, Cain, and Morris on consecutive days. Yikes. Why do I always feel that nothing good ever happens to the Mets in San Fran? Whether it's David Cone shattering his hand on an Atlee Hammaker pitch, Wags blowing a save to Barry Bonds, or Brian Bannister grabbing his hamstring circling third base, it always feels like doom and destruction awaits. I do feel ok about our chances with Zito and Morris, but let's mark down Cain as a loss already, shall we? Save me the trouble. Incidentally, it would be nice to see Delgado wake the hell up and plunk a few balls in the Bay. I won't hold my breath in the hopes of seeing him do it against Zito, though.

Now, what else happened yesterday? Ah, yes. The Yankees announced the signing of perpetual mercenary Roger Clemens in typically understated, subtle Yankee style yesterday afternoon, having The Man Himself interrupt the daily 45-minute "Yay America!" Seventh Inning Stretch Jingoism Spectacular with an announcement from the owner's box. By the way, if you haven't heard Suzyn Waldman's announcement from the radio booth, you're missing the highest of high comedy. It sounds like she was orgasming while having a heart attack at the same time. I am sure Mike and the Dog will replay it. ***EDIT - HERE IT IS. OHHHHH MY GOODNESS GRACIOUS!!!****

In any event, a question:

Which of the following persons did Roger Clemens most resemble yesterday during his announcement?

(A) Jesus Christ delivering the Sermon on the Mount

(B) Pope Benedict offering a papal blessing to the masses in Vatican City


(C) Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. at the March on Washington

(D) A shameless mercenary steroid cheat who "retired" long enough to get himself clean, skirt mandatory testing rules, and extort himself one last obscene payday

You make the call.

Driving Miss Easley

Hey guys, I fell asleep in the 8th inning, did I miss anything?

D'oh.

I mean, "woo hoo!"

I mean, d'oh.

I mean, "woo hoo!"

Seriously, what's the proper response here? Pissed that I decided to call it a night after 7 and 1/2 innings, after the meat of the Mets' order had been quietly set down in the 8th, or psyched as hell to wake up this morning and see a grinning Chris Cotter telling me the Mets came back and took yet another game at the BOB? I guess the answer to both is, yes.

By the way, apparently D'Backs' first baseman Tony Clark is driving Easley to and from these games from their respective homes in Glendale, AZ. (Hence, the title of this post). What do you think their conversation was like on the way home last night?

DE: Hey Tony, thanks again for this ride.

TC: No problem, D.

DE: So, um, how about that 9th inning?

(awkward silence)

DE: T? Uhhh, T, I think you missed the exit.

TC: I just gotta make a quick stop.

DE: T, this is kind of a bad neighborhood.

TC: I know. Good luck finding your way home.

DE: T, don't stop the car. T, what are you doing? Let's talk about this! T! T!!!!!!!!

And so forth.

Two quick notes:

(1) Careful Damion Easley. You're becoming this year's Endy Chavez. Seriously, I think I've figured out something. Omar has had some remarkable success with a few of these "scrap-heap" guys in the past couple of years, Jose Valentin, Darren Oliver, and Easley being the most obvious examples. This explains why he's always wetting himself over guys like Ricky Ledee, Michael Tucker, Gerald Williams, Jose Lima, Chan Ho Park, and yes, Julio Franco. A little success is a dangerous thing. So I guess my point is, let's try not to bitch too much about Omar giving some of these washed-up re-treads too many chances. You never know where the next Zorro will come from.

(2) Odd outing for Glavine. Looked totally dominant at times, but a couple of HRs did him in. Still, a good solid effort in a hitter's park.

Finally, congrats to the Yankees for their sweep, although I'm convinced you could dress up nine blind men in pinstripes and they'd still beat the tar out of the Texas Rangers. Seriously, what's their record against the Yankees over the past 10 years, including the playoffs? 2-72? Someone look this up.

Anyway, speaking of the Yankees, I occasionally check out the bulletin boards on the "official" team websites (e.g., Mets.com, Yankees.com) for a good dose of negativity. So I was wandering around the Yankees bulletin board yesterday when I saw a thread titled "Rate this D. Jeter poem!" Of course, I couldn't resist that, so I clicked. To save you the trouble, someone who's either a nine-year-old girl or a mental defective posted a poem he/she had written about Derek Jeter, and was seeking comments. Here it is in all its glory:

" Baseball Man "

There is a Baseball Man
You know the One I mean
He’s in New York
Wears white and blue
The One that lifts the team
There is a Man I say
I’ve seen Him for myself
I’ve seen Him days
I’ve seen Him nights
I’ve even seen Him in the twelfth
He rolls
He jumps
He lives for double plays
You really gotta see Him
You better not delay
There is a Baseball Man
You won’t believe your eyes
He makes the catch
He makes the stop
I’ve even seen Him fly
There is a Baseball Man
Some say the very best
Back in “95”
29th of May
This Man began the test
They test Him high
They test Him low
The tests they never end
But in Kalamazoo
They teach you well
This Man is not pretend
There is a Baseball Man
They call Him #2
His middle name is Sanderson
Throws and bats right handed 2
His name is not important
He’s always for the team
This Guy is to baseball
What baseball is to me!

As if that weren't enough comedy for one day, some Red Sox fan named "cmgeorge" posted his "response" poems, which left me in tears:

From the top of my head
To the tips of my toes
I must say your team
-like your poem - really blows

A poem 'bout the Captain
of a ship that is sinking
with its losses piling up,
it's fair-weather fan base shrinking

In to the water they go
Like a diver's half-gainer
In their need to blame someone,
"Hey - let's fire the trainer!"

And down to the cellar
with their last place ways
envious of the Orioles,
Looking up to the Rays

But I've one thing to say
I hope it doesn't sound hollow
Always remember - Jeter Blows
But A-Rod still swallows.

With love from the top of the standings,
George

***

Georgie had an awful team
they racked up many losses
And though he wants to fire the coach
A shame he can't fire the Bosses

So from the basement comes their cry
"This thing 'aint over yet!"
But come October, their season done,
we'll hear 'Yanks fans: "Let's go Mets!"

Swell Hire, Brian

After losing a rash of players to mysterious hamstring ailments, the Yankees finally fired "strength coach" Marty Miller yesterday. ("It got to the point where the perception is there's a problem here," General Manager Brian Cashman said. How's that for some classic GM-speak.)

Prior to being hired by the Yankees, Miller had not worked in baseball for 10 years, and for the past eight he had been director of fitness at the Ballen Isles Country Club in Palm Beach Gardens, Florida, presumably figuring out ways to allow arthritic senior citizens to play nine more holes before entering the Great Hereafter.

Clearly, Marty Miller was both utterly incompetent AND totally unqualified for his position. In other words, I hoped to see George Steinbrenner throw his arm around him during a press conference and declare "Millie, you're doin' a heckuva job!"

***

As for the Metsies, a nice tidy win on Getaway Day/Salvage Day, a day on which the Marlins appeared to have no interest in doing anything other than catching their afternoon flight. Swellicious to see D. Wright continue his recent uptick, Ollie was fabulous again, Miggy Cabrera is still fat, and what else can I say but Endy Endy Endy!! (oy oy oy!) We always seem to play well down at the BOB, so I expect good things this weekend. Well, except for this awesome matchup on Saturday:

Park (0-1, 15.75) v. Webb (2-1, 3.21)

Score!!

Awakenings

Like the dead rising from the grave, or perhaps like a mush-brained Robert DeNiro arising from a coma with the help of an extremely furry Robin Williams, a number of Mets awoke from their slumbers last night. A loss? Sure, but lots of things to like.

I like Pelfrey bearing down and giving 5 really solid innings after yet another brutal 1st.

I like the floodgates potentially opening on D. Wright's season with a 3-for-4 night, including his first jack, of the opposite-field variety, no less.

I like Delgado notching two hits of his own, and an RBI.

I like another lights-out performance by Joe Smith, he of the "0.00" ERA.

I like the quietly-slumping LoDuca getting 2 hits.

And I LOVE Willie's new batting order, which is not too far off from the one I requested yesterday. I want him to go with this one for the foreseeable future. It certainly seemed to jar Wright loose.

Now, what's to hate? Can't get too down on Reyes for a tough night at the plate. Can't get too upset at two runners being thrown out at home, since I like the aggressiveness. Can't get too made at Pelf for the loss (see above).

So what's left?

Oh right. Aaron Heilman.

I've been saying it for the past 12 months. I can't stand the guy. Sure, he had a hot streak last September. But keep in mind that the Mets had that division well in hand at that point, so those were really meaningless games. As Tony Soprano would say, "has he ever really been put to the test?" Actually, yes. Ask Yadier Molina. I just can't stand his body language, his whining about not starting and not getting a parking space, his whole demeanor. They should've sold high and shipped him off over the offseason, Duaner be damned. I've had it. So what should be done about him? Don't ask me, I just want to complain.

***

I was in attendance last night, and I have concluded that (i) I suck at going to games this year (we're 0-3), and (ii) Mike Pelfrey is tall. But I also decided to do something I hadn't done in at least 10 years: Keep score. I'm sure some of you do this on a regular basis, but it had been a long time, and I wanted to give it a shot, and I perservered, even when the raindrops started falling in the 9th. Luckily I was at the game with my dad, the one who taught me how to keep score lo those many years ago, back when Kelvin Chapman was patrolling second base. Anyway, here's a picture of how the old scorecard looked with the Mets hitting in the 8th. Click to enlarge, and let me know what you think.

I know everyone keeps score differently, but dammit, this is my way and I'm sticking to it. What say you?

***

p.s. Today is the Flitgirl's 27th birthday. Wish her well.

Crappy-Headed Ho

I liked this quote from Chan Ho after last night's game:

"I don't know exactly what happened," Park said.

Psst! Chan Ho! I do. You stink.

Not to toot my own horn too much, but I posted the following comment on Mets Blog yesterday:

"Somehow I have the feeling that Chan Ho is either going to pitch the first no-hitter in Mets' history tonight, or give up 7 runs in 2 innings."

Yowza! 2 innings, 4 innings, what's the difference. The important thing is I got the 7 runs right. And for that, I deserve kudos in mass quantities. Yes, that's right. I predicted that there was a very strong possibility that Chan Ho Park would suck. Someone build a statue in my honor.

As for other matters, the injury list is growing. Duque and Zorro, and now Goldfingers will have an MRI today. Ouch. However, I refuse to whine and cry about injuries to those guys. When you're relying on a few old fossils as your go-to guys, you have to accept this possibility. I'm more intrigued which direction the Mets will go if Goldfingers misses serious time. 'Stings is on the DL, so does Endy get the nod? Newhan? Do they bring up a kid?

Finally, if you ever find yourself home alone watching a game, I highly recommend stopping by the Hot Foot Bleachers, which can be accessed by going here. As many can attest, I was one ornery S.O.B. in the Bleachers last night. I think I have seen one too many pathetic, pitiful at-bats from Delgado and Wright, so I made many unflattering comparisons to Doug Mientkiewicz. Enough already. Willie really has to think about shaking up the lineup so at least we don't have two automatic outs in a row. Maybe be a little creative. How does this grab you (just thinking out loud here):

1. Reyes
2. Wright
3. Alou (assuming he's ok)
4. Beltran
5. Delgado
6. Lo Duca
7. Green
8. Easley/Gotay

Willie - you don't have to do this exact lineup, but just do me a favor: Take Taco Bell's advice and think outside the bun, will ya? Because I can't watch this massive black hole in the middle of the lineup for much longer.

Toasty has spoken.