Dead Air

I have a confession to make.

I hate the Shea Stadium public address guy.

I don't even know his name (ok, it's Alex Anthony...thank you, Google). But I hate him.

I know what you're thinking. "What the hell, Joe? The poor PA guy? Why are you dumping on him today, of all days?" Good questions, all. I'll tell you why. My Shea Stadium record over the past two years has been abysmal. I tried to tally it up on the looooooong subway ride home yesterday afternoon, and I came up with a record of around 3-12 since Game 6 of the 2006 NLCS. (Throw in road games, and it becomes 4-14, but that's besides the point). And one of the most irritating things about seeing a loss at Shea is how, after a soul-crushing play like, say, a big home run by the opposing team, the PA guy does nothing but placidly announce the name of the next hitter. "Now batting, first baseman, Mike Jacobs." That's it.

Now, I'm not sure what I'm expecting. Maybe "it's ok, guys....we'll get it back in the next inning. Now batting, first baseman Mike Jacobs." Or perhaps "well, that sucked. Man, our bullpen reeks, doesn't it? Next up, first baseman Mike Jacobs." But I realized this was never gonna happen, so I kept my mouth shut.

But after what I witnessed at Shea Stadium yesterday, I don't know, somehow I needed more than what I got from Mr. PA guy. Best I can recall, as I was filing out of the right-field mezzanine for the last time, I heard something like "and now, the post-game report," or something like that.

No, no, no. Two straight seasons of blowing first place leads in September and losing to a scrub team with nothing to play for on the last day of the season? No. The fans who sat there in the mist and the drizzle and poured their hearts and souls into trying to will this team to one last victory, who basically were made sick to their stomachs over the past 2 weeks, and who sat there and watched game 162 of 2007 and game 7 of the 2006 NLCS rolled into one (as if that were possible)....we needed to be told more than simply "and now, the post-game report."

Here's what we should have heard from Mr. PA man:

Ladies and gentlemen, your final score, Marlins 4, Mets 2. The Mets and their management would like to thank all of you for putting up with us over the past two years. And especially, after what happened last year, we'd like to thank you for continuing to cheer us on this year. We wish we had a different ending this time.

On behalf of the Mets, I'm sorry.

I'm sorry we waited over two months to fire our incompetent, know-nothing, do-nothing manager, which probably cost us about 10 games in the standings.

I'm sorry our GM put together probably the worst bullpen ever to walk God's green earth.

I'm sorry he pinned much of our hopes this year on fossils like Moises Alou and El Duque.

I'm sorry for the utterly worthless performance you just saw today by your "marquee" third baseman when his team needed him the most. Worthless.

I'm sorry we can't plate a runner from third with nobody out if our lives depended on it.

I'm sorry that we kept handing Aaron Heilman the ball over and over again, despite the fact that he was personally responsible for at least 15 losses this year.

I'm sorry our first baseman dogged it for two months because he hated the manager. We hated that manager too, but that was out of line.

I'm sorry we insisted on dumping that pantload cancer Luis Castillo into the lineup just as everything was starting to fall into place.

And, most of all, I'm sorry that you're all now going to have to endure another 162 games' worth of taunts and mockery from bitter no-necked Yankee fans and mentally retarded front-running Philly fans.

You deserved better.

And I can only pray that we put a product on the field next year that's worth your time.

You're all humbly invited to Citi Field next year. But if you don't want to come for a while, if you need to stay away, we understand that, too.

I'm sorry.

Drive safely.