"Yes Joe, It's Toasted."

Ladies and Gents, Your 2010 N.L. East

2010-04-11T10:00:00.003-04:00

National League East
Team	W	L	Pct.	GB	Home	Road	East	Cent.	West	L10
Philadelphia	4	1	.800	-	0-0	4-1	2-1	2-0	0-0	4-1
Atlanta	3	2	.600	1	2-1	1-1	0-0	2-1	1-1	3-2
Florida	3	2	.600	1	1-1	2-1	2-1	0-0	1-1	3-2
N.Y. Mets	2	3	.400	2	2-3	0-0	2-3	0-0	0-0	2-3
Washington	2	3	.400	2	1-2	1-1	2-3	0-0	0-0	2-3

May as well freeze these standings right here and save us the trouble of watching the next 157 games, because this is the way these horses are finishing. Nevertheless, ya gotta believe. I guess. Sigh.

Yay! They Stink Worse Than We Do!

2010-04-10T08:33:00.005-04:00

Well, it's always happy-happy joy-joy time around here when the Metsies muster a win, no matter who it's against. Which is why I'm ever so glad the Washington Nationals continue to exist. Games against the Nats are why we're not allowed to complain about having to play the Yankees 6 times a year - we get to play the Nats even more than that. (Having said that, I'm fully aware that these DC bastards essentially kept us out of the playoffs in 2007, so a pox on them).

A few quickies from last night's game, as I gird my loins to watch Bozo the Clown try to pitch today. Sigh.

(1) Four home runs? In ONE game? That was a monthly total for the Mets last year. Very nice to see.

(2) For all the shit decisions Omar has made over the past 2-3 years, this Barajas move looks like a winner. All the pop of a Molina at like 1/8th the price tag. Seems like a good guy, too. Well played, Omar.

(3) Angel Pagan also continues to impress me. I really like his all-around game, and always have. Just stay healthy for once, you scoundrel.

(4) I have never seen a ball hit as hard as Wright's that did not go out of the ballpark. I kill players who don't run hard, but even I broke into a home run trot in my apartment on that one.

So today we get the aforementioned Bozo the Clown on the hill, along with some other guy who apparently used to play shortstop for the Mets a long, long time ago. Mike Bordick? Rey something? I don't know. My understanding is he's supposed to be pretty good. We shall see.

They Are Who I Thought They Were

2010-04-09T15:49:00.004-04:00

So yeah, here we are, a scant three games in, and the Mets are pretty much the team I thought they'd be: spotty starting pitching, poor situational hitting, bad baserunning, and a sub-.500 record. Ho-hum. Is it any wonder this is my first post in ... hm, let's see here ...holy shit... NINE MONTHS?!? Well, notwithstanding all that junk, I'm pledging to do my best to keep this here little site updated as often as possible as I await the Great Flushing Youth Movement of 2011. For the first time in a while, I'm actually not appalled at some of the talent that's percolating down in AAA.

I should also note that I attended Wednesday evening's freaking bizarro-world game at Citi (see below picture from our rather good seats). A few stray observations about that:

(1) McFaddens = sheer awesomeness. Even putting aside the Hooters element, it's roughly the size of an airplane hangar, meaning that you can comfortably hang out and knock back a few beers without rubbing up against some fat mamaluke from Rego Park sporting a Robin Ventura t-shirt and irrepressible body odor.

(2) Please, people, if you're going to spring for a brick on the Citi Field brick walk, at least have something sensible to say. I swear to Jeebus I saw a brick on Wednesday night that said something like:

"I WAS AT THE 2000 SUBWAY SERIES. JOEY C."

You were? That's dandy. What a pleasant memory that must be. And now it's immortalized in brick forever. Maybe I should get a brick that says "I WAS AT GAME 2 OF THE 1986 WORLD SERIES WHEN A COKED-UP DOC GOODEN GOT SHELLACKED BY THE BOSTON RED SOX. TOASTY J." Ahhh, memories. Sniff.

(3) Danny Meyer is a genius. I thought I'd be smart and wait until the 4th inning to hit the Shake Shack on Wednesday, thinking the line would be all but gone and I could cruise up and get a frozen custard. Spent two entire innings in line, and by the time I made it to the front, I figured I'd look like an idiot just buying a custard after all that time. So I sprung for a burger, too. Damn him.

(4) Nice game, Maine. You know, I'm no expert, but I've learned that when you go 3-0 on just about every hitter you face, your chances of success are, well, not so good.

Finally, I still hate you, Jorge Cantu. Bite me.

Welcome to 2004

2009-07-01T10:13:00.004-04:00

Picture, if you will, a time not too long ago.

"Lord of the Rings" was honored by the Academy. John Kerry-mania was sweeping the nation (kinda). Jerry Orbach and Ronald Reagan shuffled off this mortal coil. The pilot episode of "Lost" (a show I've still never seen a single goddamned episode of) premiered on ABC. George W. Bush muttered the immortal words "I hear there's rumors on the, ah, 'internets'" and lamented the apparent inability of certain American gynecologists to "practice their, uh, their love with women all across this country."

In other words, not too much was happening (um, except for that whole tsunami thing. That wasn't good).

Of course you know I'm speaking of 2004.

But let's flash back more specifically to July 1, 2004 - exactly five years ago to this day.

A certain unnamed baseball team (let's call them the "New York M's".... no, that's too obvious. The "N.Y. Mets") was:

(i) 38-39;
(ii) 3 games out of first place; and
(iii) stuck behind the Phillies and the Marlins, and hovering above the Braves and the Expos in the standings.

(I shit you not. Don't believe me? Take a look).

Sure, they were reasonably close to first place, but they were irrelevant. They knew it. We knew it. The rest of the NL East knew it. (In fact, the only ones who didn't know it were the front office nitwits who, thirty days later, thought it would be a swell idea to trade one of the best starting pitching prospects the team ever developed for a sack of horse manure because he enjoyed hip-hop music. But that's a story for another time). It was a thoroughly depressing time, to be sure, but also a fairly stress-free one. No pennant races, no nail-biters, no "meaningful games in September." You'd head out to Shea, down a few beers, watch Kaz Matsui wave lamely at a few pitches, see Jason Phillips run the bases about as fast as Nell Carter on quaaludes, go home, and count down the days until the Giants opened training camp. No fuss, no muss.

It is now July 1, 2009. These same "N.Y. Mets" are:

(i) 37-39;
(ii) 3 games out of first place; and
(iii) stuck behind the Phillies and the Marlins, and hovering above the Braves and the ~~Expos~~ Nationals.

Sure, they are reasonably close to first place, but they are irrelevant. They know it. We know it. The rest of the NL East knows it.

And you know what? I'm starting to get comfortable with this. No stress. No looming collapse. Just bad baseball with a pre-determined outcome day in and day out, as I count down the days until the Giants open training camp.

Oh yeah, it's 2004 all over again. And I'm ok with it.

Until I realize that this means we're going to hire Willie Randolph next year.

Your Weekend Recap: Toasty Joe & Wife Appear On TV. Little Else Goes Right.

2009-06-22T09:24:00.007-04:00

Yes, you read that correctly. The picture you see to the left (click to enlarge) was captured upon my review of Saturday morning's encore presentation of Friday night's Rays/Mets tilt. And yes, that circled couple in the CF stands (also indicated by the oh-so-subtle arrows) is none other than Toasty & Flitgirl. Interestingly, when we scored these seats, which are among the more remote reaches of Citi Field's expanse (just to the left of the home run apple), I had no inkling that we might appear on television. Hell, I had a hard enough time seeing home plate. But, there you have it.

Now, if you look hard enough at the picture, you might see that Flitgirl is doing something I'd wager none of the other 38,492 spectators is doing. You guessed right: knitting. In fact, I'll wager she polished off about 1/8 of a sweater between the 3rd and 8th innings. Which I guess is...what....good? By the way, this is the same Flitgirl who, upon attending a Brooklyn Cyclones game with me several years ago, openly wondered whether a batter is out if an opposing team's FAN catches his foul ball. She has improved since then, although:

1. She still thinks Tsuyoshi Shinjo and Armando Benitez are on the Mets.

2. She thinks the Mets acquired Ryan Church and Brian Schneider for someone named either "Miller Lastings" or "Lester Millings."

3. Her entire opinion of David Wright's 2009 season is that he does too much "man-scaping" on his eyebrows.

Well, lest this turn into a "tease the Flitgirl" segment, let me turn my attention to the actual games that were played this weekend. You know, as I posted last week, it's incredible how relaxed and numb I've become to these losses. It's really proving to be true - June 12, 2009 was a watershed moment. Everything else is like cream cheese now. But consider: the Mets are missing their lead-off hitter, their clean-up hitter, their #2 starter, their #3 starter, and their set-up man. How in god's name can any of you expect this team to be slightly better than .500? (Which, conveniently, is what they are). Call me nuts, but I think in a few months' time, the Phillies are going to sorely regret the fact that the Mets are somehow, some way, only 2 measly stinking games out of first right now, when by all rights they should be at least 10 games back. (Hmmmm, I'm not sure what this sensation I am having is - "optimism"? So that's what it feels like).

Incidentally, I was reading the Daily News Yankee blog this morning (call it schaddenfreude), and I discovered that there were apparently a few epic brawls in the stands at last night's Yanks-Marlins suckfest. Diligent reporter that I am, I immediately ran a search on YouTube for "yankees marlins fight." Oh, my. This is like the Citizen Kane of fan brawl videos. Seriously, you've got it all: Alcohol. Female involvement. Miami's finest arriving a few minutes too late. And, last but not least, a solitary, crying child, imploring daddy to explain why he's fighting. Scorcese couldn't have directed this any better.

OK, Enough of This Crap - I'm Posting

2009-06-19T11:26:00.006-04:00

Man, I don't know what the heck's going on with my blogger jones this season. Either the Mets finally killed it, or it died of natural causes. I think it's a little of both.

For those not in the know, I previously spent three full seasons offering insight, perspective, humor, and non-Sabermetric-related analysis of this here baseball team. So why have I chosen this season - in which so much has happened - to stand largely mute? Could it be the back-to-back horrific finishes the past two years? The crippling injuries this season? The shoddy defense or untimely hitting? The fact that our lineup is now packed with more scrubs than a Clorox convention? Oliver Perez?

Once again, I'm going with all of the above.

But fear not: I'm here to tell you that Toasty Joe is going to fight his demons. After all, what would a third consecutive year of bad baseball be if we didn't have gallows humor? And that's what I aim to provide.

Now, having said all of that, I must tell you - from about 11:00 p.m. last Friday night to maybe 4:00 p.m. the next day, I was thoroughly and utterly convinced of something: The Mets, with help from Luis Castillo, had done something that I didn't think it was possible to do:

They broke baseball.

I don't mean they blew a game, broke their fans' hearts, and so forth. I mean they broke baseball. Permanently. As in, there is no longer any need or any point to me watching any baseball games. Not just this season, but ever. That's how soul-crushing, stomach-destroying, and mind-annihilating Friday night's turn of events was. Had I been updating this blog regularly, that would've been my headline on Saturday morning: "The Mets broke baseball."

But of course, they didn't really break baseball. (Although yours truly nearly broke his head slamming it against a wall). In fact, they somehow made it MORE tolerable. For example, after a splendid victory on Saturday, they went out and took a complete dump on the field in a 15-0 drubbing on Sunday. Did I give a shit? Not really. And then last night - they blow a 1-run lead in the 9th and lose the game. Did I gnash my teeth and stomp and curse? No chance.

For you see, I learned something last week: No matter how bad a loss is, it's not June 12, 2009.

In fact, how's that for next season's slogan?

"The 2010 New York Mets: No Matter How Bad A Loss Is, It's Not June 12, 2009. Get your season tickets today!"

Five Dollar Footlong

2009-05-28T16:15:00.004-04:00

Well, those privileged enough to be at the ~~cozy~~ ~~friendly~~ quirky confines of Citi Field last night (which does not include me) were blessed with one of the weirdest games this commentator has ever seen. Consider:

Johan Santana's pitching line. 6 innings, 120 pitches, 11 Ks, 6 walks. Say what?

Adam Dunn's 678-foot home run. Yikes pipes. I actually went and checked the roof deck of my apartment in Brooklyn to make sure it didn't knock over our new CB2 main-sail umbrella. (By the way, that's the same umbrella that threatens to do a Mary Poppins off the roof every time there's stiff wind. Perhaps we should've thought that purchase through a bit more).

Fernando Martinez petulantly rolling his eyes instead of heading towards first base on a pop-up that, of course, fell in. C'mon 'Nando. At least made a move towards first. At least start walking there. Give me something to work with here. That was HORRIFIC. If he's in the starting lineup tonight, it will be a disgrace of Willie-sized proportions.

Dan Murphy, a canary-colored Subway billboard, a clueless right-fielder, and Sheff being Sheff. I have now seen this replay about 25 times, and honest to God, I still have no idea what happened -- which means, in my opinion, the umps probably should've let the call on the field stand. But hey - we've still got a long way to go to make up for all the shit Angel Hernandez has pulled over the years, so I'm taking all the breaks I can get.

Now, speaking of video review, I have to weigh in on Saturday night's game up in Boston (which I haven't done yet because I've been a slacker of the highest magnitude). I said it at the time - I can't recall a more unbelievable regular-season win for this team since - well, maybe ever. Maybe. At a bare minimum, we surely learned at least two things:

(a) Omir Santos needs to catch every day. Every. Single. Day. I love everything about his game, from the clutch hits, gritty at-bats, game-calling, defense - everything. I'm so over Ramon and his flabby, enormous head, his strikeouts, and clueless catching abilities. Let Schneider come back and handle day games after night games, but it's Omir all the way.

(b) J.J. Putz stinks. He was lucky to survive Saturday night with his life. Plus, he's issued 16 walks to 18 Ks. That's good. You always want a multitude of guys on base when you're an 8th inning specialist. Is there anything we can get for this guy on the open market? Thoughts??

(Maybe I'm being harsh, but I am developing a serious Bobby Parnell man-crush. There's our 8th inning solution right there. Love that man).

Follow the Leaders!

2009-05-18T16:54:00.006-04:00

First up... you know him as the roly-poly maestro of over-pronunciation... a man who incapable of adding anything of value to any broadcast beyond pronouncing names like "Ramirez" and "Gonzalez" like some third-rate seventh-grade Spanish teacher... a man who voluntarily shows up on national television dressed like a fried egg (see picture, credit to Bronxbombersblog)... why, it's Jon Miller!

Next up... a Hall of Fame second baseman from the Cincinnati Reds... probably the stupidest motherfucking broadcaster ever to walk God's green earth... a man who once said "leadoff walks are worse than other walks, because you give the other team a better chance of bringing that run around." A man who prefaces every single observation - no matter how trivial, banal, or obvious - with "I've always said that..." Yes, it's your favorite and mine, Joe Morgan!

And, finally, ESPN is immensely proud to introduce a new addition to the already-impeccable Sunday Night team. A former GM and serial philanderer... a man who thinks Carlos Beltran needs to make more "game-winning plays" to be a "leader".... Steve Phillips!

Got a question about who the "leaders" are on the Mets, if any? You're in luck!

Hear Jon, Joe and Steve talk about the Mets needing a "leader" - for three hours straight!

Watch in awe as they discuss what it means to be a "leader"!

Listen in amazement as "leadership" qualities - none of which have anything to do with banalities such as batting average, RBI, OBP, slugging percentage, or hitting, fielding, and running abilities - are addressed in full!

Listen as Joe reports how Met fans "are still waiting for Beltran to get on a hot streak"! That's right...batting over .400 for the first six weeks of the season is for non-"leaders"!

Hear Steve destroy Beltran for a single at-bat that took place three years ago - and learn that a true "leader" bats 1.000 for his career, commits 0 errors, and makes 0 baserunning blunders!

Watch as Jon continues to resemble a fried egg....but a fried egg with "leadership" qualities!

It's ESPN's ~~Leader~~ Sunday Night Baseball! Catch the ~~leader~~ fever!

Oh, and there might also be a baseball game being played.

Leader!!

A Fella Could Get Used To This

2009-05-08T09:38:00.008-04:00

No, I'm not just talking about my seats for last night's game, which, as you can see from this picture, were, um, rather good. More on that later. I'm also talking about 4 straight wins, second straight series sweep against a division rival, fourth straight strong starting pitching performance, fourth straight save for Frankie, an actual home run explosion in Citi Field of all places, and so on and so forth. Tons of positive signs right now: D. Wright is most certainly out of his mind-bendingly awful slump, Beltran is so locked in it isn't even funny, Johan is ridiculous, Reyes may have gotten off the shnide last night (we shall see), the defense has been solid, Parnell is awesome, Perez is safely on the DL. All wondrous things. (Negative side of the ledger? Ryan Church looks lost right now.)

A few notes about the recent events:

1. Shane Victorino is a bush-leaguer who badly needs a fastball in the ribcage. I think everyone can agree on this.

2. The crowd really enjoyed the display of Jerry Manuel's temper last night. Good to see. I know he ain't perfect, but I still like him. Let's give him a full start-to-finish season under his belt and reevaluate him then.

3. If the 2008 Mets had just ONE of the (non-Feliciano) pitchers in the 2009 bullpen, they would've won the division by about 10 games.

4. A brief word about our friends, the Phillie fans. First of all, I never heard a peep from these fans for 25+ years until 2007. Not a damned word. And now that they've all oozed out from whatever rock they were hiding under, I have never, ever, seen a group of fans more obsessed with a team other than their own than Phillie fans are with the Mets. It's beyond ridiculous at this point. Just hop on over to the various comment boards on the 700 Level for a peek. Jeebus, their team WON THE WORLD SERIES! Yet all they think about, talk about, scream about, fret about, and worry about is the New York Mets. By point of comparison, I am a Giant fan. When the G-Men won the Super Bowl last year, do you think I actually spent the next few months pulling my hair out over every little thing that the Eagles were doing? They were like a small, dirty piece of gum on my shoe: barely regarded as anything other than a minor anoyance. So, by all means, keep it up, Philly fans. Your team can win 1,000 championships, but you still won't win any class.

(Incidentally, the irony of fans who all root for the Philadelphia Eagles talking about "choking" is simply delicious.)

5. So, as you can see from the above picture, we had some ree-donk-ulous seats last night. Just a fantabulous way to watch a ball game. The concession area behind home plate is truly something to behold. It's basically like a first-class lounge at the airport. A fully appointed bar, no lines for anything, a marble-walled bathroom with a hi-def TV, different food stations, etc. Plus Shake Shack delivered right to your seat. Oh so nice.

Finally, what do these players have in common? Manny Ramirez, Alex Rodriguez, Jose Canseco, Roger Clemens, Andy Pettitte, Gary Sheffield, Mike Stanton, Dan Naulty, Darren Holmes, Jason Grimsley, Chuck Knoblauch, Glenallen Hill, Matt Lawton, Denny Neagle, David Bell, Kevin Brown, Jason Giambi, Randy Velarde, Ron Villone, Ricky Bones, Rondell White, and David Justice? Well, two things:

(1) They are all known steroid/PED users; and

(2) They have all played under Joe Torre.

Just sayin'.

Open Letters Are Fun

2009-05-02T15:30:00.007-04:00

Prior to this weekend's games in Philadelphia (where the accompanying picture was snapped - see link here), you might've seen a hard-hitting piece of journalism in the Philadelphia Inquirer by one John Gonzalez. In case you missed it, you can click on the link above, but here's a sampling:

Dear Mets fans,

It's been a while since you last came to visit. You weren't missed all that much. We love to hate each other, sure, but it was kind of nice without you.

This is your first trip to town since last August. Philly has been a little busy since then. There was the World Series and the parade and the ring ceremony and, man, it just hasn't stopped. You probably saw most of it on TV since you didn't have much else to do after September. You remember all the pageantry that goes along with being a world champion, right? No? Well, maybe you have some faded pictures of 1986 in a shoebox somewhere.

Well, this whole "open letter" thing sounded like fun. His was pretty good, but I thought it required a few tweaks here and there. I think my version works a little better.

Dear ~~Mets~~ Phillie fans,

It's been a while since you ~~last came to visit~~ showered. You weren't ~~missed~~ educated all that much. We love to hate each other, sure, but it was kind of nice ~~without~~ chuckling at you.

This is your first ~~trip to town~~ parole hearing since last August. ~~Philly~~ New York has been a little busy since then. There was ~~the World Series and the parade and the ring ceremony~~ Broadway, the Met, MOMA, Times Square, Central Park, Lincoln Center, top-flight restaurants, the Guggenheim, Greenwich Village, SoHo, the Empire State Building, the Financial District, the Brooklyn Bridge, Prospect Park, the Statue of Liberty, four Super Bowl Championships, and two new world-class baseball stadiums and, man, it just hasn't stopped. You probably ~~saw most of it on TV~~ punched your sister since you didn't have much else to do after ~~September~~ getting out of the drunk tank. You remember all the pageantry that goes along with being a ~~world champion~~ first-class city, right? No? Well, maybe you have some faded pictures of ~~1986~~ 1776 in a shoebox somewhere.

Ahhh. Much better.

Tale of Three Teams

2009-04-27T07:21:00.006-04:00

Picture, if you will, three teams. All three are on the cusp of a three-game sweep of a divisional foe.

The first team is looking to sweep out a team with the highest payroll in baseball, facing a pitcher who had been 17-1 (no joke) when his team was looking to avoid a three-game sweep.

The second team is looking to complete a tough sweep on the road against a first-place team who had come into the series with the best record in baseball.

The third team is looking to finish a sweep at home, in front of a sell-out crowd, against a rookie pitcher and an absolute joke of an opponent, by far and away the worst team in baseball.

Well, you know that first team? They fought back from yet another early deficit - as they had done all weekend long - to neatly polish off their opponent. Oh, let's not forget their straight steal of home, and the fact that a certain HGH-ingesting Texan is now 17-2 when his team is facing a sweep. In short, it has become clear that the Boston Red Sox would crawl over broken glass to win a baseball game right now.

And that second team? Well, they didn't even give their opponent a chance to get off the decks, scoring 2 in the first and tacking on continuously after that for a 13-2 victory. No fuss, no muss, sweep completed. It's what championship teams do, I guess.

Now, if the Red Sox could sweep a talent-packed team like the Yankees, if the Phillies could go down to Florida and crush the first-place Marlins for the third straight game, then surely the third team we've been discussing would cruise into a relaxing victory against a pathetic opponent, right?

Well, we didn't get a straight steal of home like we saw up in Boston, we didn't get a dozen tack-on runs against a team ripe to be swept down in Florida, and we didn't get a team that would crawl over broken glass to finish off an opponent.

Rather, we got a team that strolls casually to second base and gets tagged out.

Ladies and gents, your 2009 New York Mets.

Stupid Crap

2009-04-22T12:50:00.005-04:00

"Stupid Crap."
(stoo-pid krap)
n.

1. Unintelligent excrement.

2. The act of defecating. Yo, let's find a bathroom. I gotta take a stupid crap.

3. Meekly allowing oneself to get tagged out at home in the late innings of a tied baseball game rather than lowering one's shoulder and plowing into the catcher or, God forbid, sliding. Holy shit, did you see that stupid crap? Beltran, you're an idiot.

4. Coming out of the bullpen and giving up the tying run by way of a based-loaded, four-pitch base-on-balls. Nice work, Fossum. I cannot even begin to fathom that stupid crap. If I were the GM, he would be cut on the spot.

5. Incessant, pointless complaints about the decorations at a brand-new, first-class baseball facility. The outfield walls are black? There's not enough Met history on the walls? I couldn't care less about such stupid crap. If they field a consistently competitive team and play smart baseball, I wouldn't care if they painted the whole park neon lime green, renamed it "the Hamburglar Rotunda," and built a shrine to the other McDonaldland characters in the centerfield concourse. I really wouldn't. I'm not even kidding here.

Field of Blame

2009-04-17T14:22:00.005-04:00

QUEENS, NY. - The New York Mets have lost two out of the first three games they have played at Citi Field, their new luxury home ballpark. And to a man, the Met players place the blame for their lackluster defense, poor starting pitching, and lack of timely hitting on a single culprit: Citi Field itself.

"There's something about the place that's not quite right, man," said rightfielder Ryan Church, whose critical misplay of a ball in the first game at Citi Field on Monday night set up the winning run. "When I went back on Rodriguez's ball in the sixth, I thought for sure I had a bead on it. Then I remembered that there's no banner in the Jackie Robinson rotunda showing Jesse Orosco flinging his glove up in the air. After that I had no chance. None."

Lefty reliever Pedro Feliciano - who inexplicably balked home the winning run shortly thereafter - agreed. "I still don't know what happened there, man. One second I'm up 0-2 on Eckstein. Then it occurs to me that there's a Jackie Robinson Rotunda, but there's no Gil Hodges Rotunda. After that, a balk was inevitable, I guess."

Pitcher Mike Pelfrey, who started Monday's game, also blamed the new ballpark for his bizarre tumble off the mound while delivering a pitch in the second inning. "It might've looked like I caught a cleat or something," he said. "Actually, I was in the middle of my wind-up when I realized that Vinny G. from Rego Park was waiting for his food in one of the 2 or 3 places in the whole park where there's no high-definition flat screen TV showing a live feed of the game. It's tough to keep your head in the game after that."

Manager Jerry Manuel, while careful to praise certain aspects of the new park, was similarly concerned. "It's tough, you know," he said. "On the one hand, you've got delicious food and drink, more comfortable seats, a better playing field, superior aesthetics, hi-def TVs, bars and lounges, and state-of-the-art amenities of all kinds. On the other hand, I couldn't find a single picture of Todd Pratt jubilantly rounding second base after his game-winning homer in the 1999 NLDS. No wonder we can't catch a fly ball right now."

Pitcher John Maine, who allowed 5 runs to the Padres in the third inning last night, was thrown by the recent allegations of less-than-perfect sightlines in Citi Field. "I was cruising along there through the first two innings, but then I suddenly realized that Joey from Ronkonkoma up in Section 404 had a somewhat obstructed view of the far right field corner. I couldn't find the strike zone after that."

Third baseman David Wright placed the blame squarely on management's failure to properly honor the team's history. "Look, it's a nice park in a lot of ways," Wright said. "But come on. Apart from the banners running along the outer concourse depicting beloved Met greats from the past, the pictures of Mr. Met welcoming you into the rotunda, the Met logos running up each and every aisle of seats, the old Shea skyline in the centerfield pavilion, the new Home Run Apple, the old Home Run Apple, and the giant "LET'S GO METS" emblazoned on top of the gorgeous hi-def scoreboard, you wouldn't even know the Mets play here at all."

"Why do you think I left 4 guys on base last night?" he added. "It's all I think about."

Mr. Met....He's Just Like You!

2009-04-17T09:22:00.005-04:00

...He rides the elevator!

Took this picture during my first game-day visit to the new stadium last night, at which I ate a Shake Shack burger, downed a beer, shivered a bit, enjoyed exploring a bit more, and, let's see, what else? Oh yes, saw them lose. Again. Meaning my in-person record since Game 7 of the 2006 NLCS has got to be somewhere around 2-12. Literally. For a team that consistently finishes well over .500, that's extraordinary. Please, keep me the hell away from Citi Field, no matter how much I beg and plead.

By the way, the story behind the above picture is amusing. We saw Mr. Met wandering around the centerfield concourse near "Catch of the Day," when he suddenly ducked into an elevator. As I saw him standing there with his "handlers," waiting patiently for the doors to close like some stockbroker on his way to work on a Monday morning, I thought it would make a hilarious picture. So I scrambled to get the shot, but the doors started closing. I snapped it anyway, and was sure that all I got was a picture of a closed elevator door, and cursed myself for missing the opportunity. Of course, when I looked at my camera, I saw the picture you see above. I don't know, I find it hilarious for some reason.

Now, on to Citi Field. As you know, the big complaints lately have been the lack of "Met-ness" in the joint. "You can't even tell the Mets play here," the people are screaming. And looking around last night, these complainers have a point. Nope, I didn't see any indication that the Mets play here. None. Absolutely none. None at all. None whatsoever. How pathetic.

Moving on, we had some ridiculous seats last night, as you can see from this shot. I used to sit in the RF field level seats a lot at Shea, but here it basically felt like we were actually ON the field. (In fact, if this had been Shea, that where these seats would have been - on the field). Definitely got a great view of the whole place, save the far, far RF corner. But I'll take it. Oh, and we were a mere two rows - TWO! - from "Chad" the ballboy, who got roundly abused by the fans near us all game long. Poor bastard.

I must also profess my love for the center field concourse - not just for Shake Shack and Blue Smoke, both of which are great (had my first Shack Burger last night - drool....), but the whole atmosphere out there is really nice. I especially like the back of the scoreboard, which you can see here. I'm looking forward to spending more time out here when it's warmer. Oh, and as an added treat, we bumped into Danny Meyer himself, whom I never would have recognized had it not been for my dad, a true foodie. In fact, no one else seemed to recognize him either, which allowed us to chat him up for a few minutes in front of the Taqueria. Nice fella. Even let me take a pic of him with Toasty, Sr., which you can see here.

Ahh, and as for the game itself? In what has become a running theme this season, my answer is this: "Meh." On the plus side, the bullpen was outstanding, and you can live with getting shut down (save for the first inning) by one of the best pitchers in baseball. On the down side, Maine completely fell apart, and getting dominated by Heath Bell is no kind of fun at all. But hey, even if the Mets aren't playing well, at least you can enjoy a good Shake Shack burger. I know it's true because Danny Meyer told me so. (seriously, he did).

So Far, So Eh

2009-04-15T11:53:00.004-04:00

I've been positively dreadful and horrible at updating this here blog as we've gotten this season underway, so let's try to cram in some quick hits on the first seven games:

-I am going to have to find something else to do during Ollie Perez's starts this season. I really am. He is 100% unwatchable. That "something else to do" tonight is a trip to the opera with the wife - so while I'm yukking it up through the 56th screeching aria, you'll all be watching him walk in 3 runs in the fourth inning. I pity you.

-Levon made Omar look very, very smart on Saturday. Keep it up.

-I freaking LOVE Dan Murphy's approach at the plate. Almost never has a bad at-bat, even if he doesn't get on base. Unfortunately, his play in left field is a disaster, and I for one knew he was going to drop that ball on Sunday. No, really - I called it. (Unfortunately, it was in my head and there were no witnesses. But it happened).

-If Murphy continues to hit, this is a pretty f'ing deadly lineup 1 through 6. Yes, the LOBs are an issue, but I have a hunch if we keep those ducks on the pond, things'll get sorted out. Otherwise, perhaps we should think about cutting Hojo loose.

-All in all, mediocre start. The only loss out of the 4 that really, really pissed me off was Ollie coughing up a 3-run lead in Cincy. You can live with the others, which - if a ball had bounced differently - could easily have been wins. That said, if we get another piss-poor showing tonight from OP, it's time to start getting concerned.

Finally, certain fans have been flooding the airwaves pissing and moaning about the fact that Citi Field doesn't do enough to reflect Met history. Although I missed opening day, I was at the new joint a week ago for a team workout, and let me tell you something: These people are out of their mother-flippin' minds. The place is GORGEOUS. If the fact that there aren't enough pictures of Ray Knight on the walls is somehow interfering with your enjoyment of being here, I honestly don't know what to tell you. Perhaps you can start a campaign to have them rebuild that shithole that's now a steaming pile of bricks in the parking lot. There were lots of Met pictures in there. Oh, plus those snazzy neon figurines-whatever-the-fuck-they-were on the outside. I mean, you've got to be kidding me. Not enough Met pictures? Who gives a shit! If they win, the history will be oozing from these walls, pictures or no pictures. Now shut yer yaps and have a Shake Shack burger on me.

Whee! And Away We Go!!

2009-04-06T17:06:00.003-04:00

...and with a burst of freezing rain, a chilly wind, and a limp-wristed toss from the palm of Nick Lachey, the 2009 season was underway.

So what did we learn today? I don't know about you, but I learned that I have severe, deep-seated emotional scars. Here we were, up by a run against - let's face it - a piss-poor team, and I'm nervous. Check that - I'm terrified. Just terrified. Why? Because here comes the bullpen. Oh lord almighty, the bullpen, not the bullpen, anything but that bullpen. Honestly, just the word "bullpen" gave me intestinal distress all winter. I couldn't even use the words "bull" or "pen." If someone told me a lie, I'd call them a "horseshit" artist. I did all of my crossword puzzles with a "bic." You get the idea.

Ah, but where there once was a Heilman, there is a Green. Where there once was a Wagner, there is a K-Rod. And where there once was a Sanchez, there is a Putz. (heh heh - that's one Putz joke down, 161 to go). 3.2 innings, zero runs. Freaking suh-weet. We'll see if it's a trend, but it will definitely take a shitload more of these performances to stop me from chewing my cuticles every time that bullpen door swings open. Bullpen. Bullpen. Maybe one day it might actually feel good to say it.

2009 Season Preview

2009-03-09T11:17:00.003-04:00

If you've been waiting for a season preview, well, wait no longer. With the unwitting help of a few old friends, I humbly present a peek into our collective baseball lives a few months from now:

Toasty Joe: My favorite baseball team used to be good. Really good. Now they're only kinda good.

Coop: (on the phone) Hold on, let me check the standings. Third place! Let me try this again. [exasperated sigh]

Rickey Henderson: (slapping his hand against the side of his TV) This team should be a lot, lot better. Mom!! This baseball team is SO...BAD!!

Metstradamus: (sad) I love my team. I don't know what happened! They're just not as good as they used to be.

Voiceover: If you're a GM and your team doesn't play like they're supposed to; if your pitching staff is unreliable, even on a so-called "elite" team; even if your brand-new free agents aren't as good as they ought to be, you might not have any real problem at all! Log on to "FinallyGood.com," take the free performance test, and find out how to make your team play well, the way they're supposed to! We'll immediately diagnose any hidden problems, and show you how to optimize your team's performance by automatically signing the players that most people don't even know exist! Learn how to make your team play like new by getting rid of all the nasty junk players - Tim Redding, Freddy Garcia, Livan Hernandez and Luis Castillo - who make even the best teams freeze and crash!

Coop: (still on the phone) They're playing great now! I'll send you the standings in an e-mail! Sent!

Rickey Henderson: (on the phone) Dude!! They're finally GOOD! FinallyGood.com!!

Toasty Joe: I booted up. What's that "URL" I should look at? "FinallyGood.com." Hey! My team's finally good! Finally! "FinallyGood.com"!

***
Editor's note: Not a guarantee of future performance. Hell, I could be dead wrong and they'll surge past the Phillies in April. Oh, and special thanks to Coop, Rickey, and Metstradamus for letting me use their names, even though I didn't ask them (so it's not like they even had a choice anyway).

Why Is This Man Smiling?

2009-02-09T16:43:00.004-05:00

Answer: Because the steroids made his nuts shrink so much that he was relieved when he felt them still hanging on for dear life down there.

It's been a while since I've posted, so I figured A-Rod Day was as good a day as any to get back in the groove. My question to you is this: what's your favorite A-Rod memory? Here are my top ten, in no particular order:

(1) Topless sunbathing in Central Park.

I love this one - exhibitionism, vanity, and just the slightest tint of femininity. Plus, I got a kick out of how the guy can't even hang out in a fucking park without screwing it up.

The verdict: I give this one four out of five shrunken testes.

(2) "Single White Female."

For sheer comedy, this is a pretty good one. Of course, the fact that Joe Torre hasn't a clue what the hell "Single White Female" was kind of took the fun out of this one. Also, why have I not seen a doctored movie poster yet? You photoshoppers need to get on the stick.

The verdict: Two shrunken testes.

(3) Joslyn Morse

You remember her. Muscular, hulking blonde with whom Alex stepped out in Toronto. Best part about that story is that it led to the revelation that Alex prefers "muscular, she-male types." You can't put a price tag on that kind of information.

The verdict: Four and a half shrunken testes.

(4) Slappy Slapperson

A personal favorite, made all the more better by the fact that it happened in the midst of the biggest postseason collapse in baseball history. Oh, and it spawned this photoshop, which is an all-time classic, the likes of which will never be duplicated.

The verdict: Five shrunken testes.

(5) "Ha!"

Speaking of bush plays on the basepaths, you can't go wrong with what happened in Toronto in May of 2007, when Alex decided the surest way to pad the Yankees' lead was to scream into Howie Clark's ear when Mr. Clark was trying to catch a pop-up. Real nice.

The verdict: Four shrunken testes.

(6) Madonna

For pete's sake, he can't even get a divorce right. It's one thing to run around with muscular she-males like Joslyn Morse when you know you're being watched by media at all times, but it's another thing entirely to do it with the most famous muscular she-male of them all (and a married one, to boot), Madonna. Very bright.

The verdict: Three and a half shrunken testes.

(7) "When people write [bad things] about me, I don't know if it's [because] I'm good-looking or I'm biracial."

A'Rod's ham-handed attempt to (sort of, kind of) play the race card during a 2006 interview with SI belongs on this list. It's just so pathetic and misguided, it makes Willie Randolph's "I don't know....it smells a bit" quote seem like something out of a Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. speech.

(8) The 2007 World Series

This is a fun one - he managed to screw up a post-season series he didn't even play in. Just in case you forgot, A-Rod thought the fifth inning of the clinching game of the 2007 World Series between the Red Sox and Rockies was a perfect time to let the media know that he was opting out of his contract with the Yankees. I'm sure this was all part of his campaign to be as widely despised as is humanly possible.

The verdict: Three shrunken testes.

(9) "FUCK YOU."

Let's see...he's screwed up the 2007 World Series....his divorce....cheating on his wife....hanging out in the park....how about just letting his wife sit quietly in the stands to watch him play? There's no way he can screw that up, right? No, there's just no....oh, crap.

The verdict: Three and a half shrunken testes.

(10) Steroids.

Yes, we close with the biggest news of the day, A-Rod's admission that he regularly took the juice from around 2001-2003. But, of course, he screwed up the apology by saying that he did it because he felt "pressure" after being made the highest-paid player in, well, history. Oh, boo-fucking-hoo, you horse's ass.

The verdict: One shrunken teste, just because I'm sick of it all.

Who Needs Football? I've Got Meat

2009-01-11T20:55:00.015-05:00

Since talking about football is obviously out of the question for, oh, say, the next eight months or so, and baseball is not yet on my radar screen, I thought I'd fill some time by sharing one of my favorite recipes. Yes, that's right, I cooked dinner tonight, and took pictures while I was doing it -- all for you people. Deal with it. (Inspiration for the following post has been provided by Rickey Henderson and his myriad interesting recipes over at the incomparable Riding With Rickey).

It must first be noted that I have at least one thing in common with Johan Santana: Both of our moms grew up in Venezuela. Being from Venezuela, my mom picked up an incredible meat/potato/egg concoction known to you Spanish-speakers out there as carne mechada, which, of course, can be loosely translated as"whale's vagina." What follows is a step-by-step recitation of how you, too, can fry up a batch of this heavenly manna in no time flat. Enjoy.

WHAT DO I NEED?

Basically, everything in the picture at left: About 1 and 1/2 lbs. of flank steak, an onion, an orange pepper (or green, if that's your thing), a potato, an egg, and - most importantly - a pressure cooker (at left in that picture). For years, the lack of this bizarre cooking implement was the reason I never attempted this dish. However, getting married gives one a perfect excuse to stock up on some free cooking junk via this whole registry scam, so I jumped at the chance. Fortunately, my aunt ponied up for it, and I became the proud owner of a Fagor (no jokes, please) Pressure Cooker.

OK, I'VE GOT ALL THAT SHIT. NOW WHAT?

First of all, watch your mouth. Second of all, trim away any noticeable fat deposits on the steak. Then, dump about 1 and 3/4 cups of water into the pressure cooker, and add the steak. Seal it up and cook that bad boy for exactly 40 minutes. Oh, and be sure you follow the directions on the cooker so that it doesn't explode in your face. (Side note: my Mrs. is afraid to use the cooker for this very reason).

OK, THE STUPID STEAK'S COOKING. NOW WHAT SHOULD I DO WHILE I WAIT?

Well, there's lots of things you could do that aren't recipe-related, but this is the perfect time to cut up your veggies. A mini-prep works great for the onion, but I would do the pepper by hand, as it tends to turn into liquid in the mini-prep. Just note that when you cut that pepper open, you may find a freakish little green pepper embryo growing inside, as I did tonight (see picture).

Anyway, put your cut-up onion, pepper, and potato in a bowl, cover with saran wrap, and stick it in the fridge. It's now time to check your, um, meat.

OH, BOY! IT'S BEEN 40 MINUTES! NOW WHAT?

Woo hoo! It's time for some hot shredding action. Get yourself two forks and a big plate or cutting board. Then basically just tear this sucker apart (my technique is pictured at left). The more long, thin threads of steak you create, the better. Picture a big pile of angel hair pasta, but made entirely of beef.

Now, very important note here: While this shredding process is taking place, any hungry dogs that might be in your vicinity will most definitely come a-callin', as mine does every time I cook this dish. I would suggest giving her a few small samples. Your dog probably needs a little more joy in her life.

OK, I'M THE PROUD OWNER OF A BIG PILE OF BEEF THREADS. NOW WHAT?

Good for you! Set that meat aside, heat up a non-stick frying pan, and add some olive oil. It's time to fry up your veggies. (You might want to do just the potato pieces first since they take longer, or you can do 'em all at once. You make the call).

Toss and turn this mixture until the potato pieces are fully cooked, since, as you probably know, there's nothing worse than an undercooked hunk of potater - bleah. Sample a piece of potato to make sure you can move on to the next step.

HEY, MY MEAT'S GETTING COLD!

Well, fortunately, it's time to add it to the pan! Get a good pair of tongs, and work those veggies into the beef, equally distributing it to the extent possible. Sure, your concoction may look a little bit strange at this point, but just wait - it's about to get really, really good. Add some salt and pepper at this point, and away you go!

From here on out, the tongs are your best friend. Just keeping turning and tangling this mess in the pan under a medium flame, and watch it get crispier and crispier by the minute. Try not to drool into the pan at this point.

BUT WHAT ABOUT MY EGG?

Ahh, excellent question. When your meat mixture is looking nice and crispified, put the tongs down for a moment, scramble that chicken embryo up real nice, and pour it into the pan. Pick those tongs back up and turn, baby, turn, until that egg is evenly distributed and well-cooked. Keep on turning until your dish has re-crispified.

And, well, you know what, folks? You're done! Your finished product should look roughly like this (click to enlarge):

Oh, LORD yes. I like it so crispy you can practically eat it like popcorn, but feel free to cook it to your own liking. Stick a wad of this stuff on a plate along with your favorite side dish (we made some bulgar wheat last night), and proceed to revel in the greatest meat dish ever created on God's green earth.

Let me know how your batch turns out!

Of Giants, Democracy, Rank Idiocy, and Social Networking Sites

2008-11-24T14:47:00.008-05:00

Yes, it's true....Toasty Joe is alive, well, and back by popular demand. And by "popular demand," I mean the two comments I got on my last post (which is now staler than a kaiser roll left in the sun for two weeks), asking me to post something, anything, dear God post something! Well, who am I to say no? We've got a lot of ground to cover, so let's get started.

Since we last spoke:

(1) ...the New York Football Giants have been putting on an absolute clinic. And not that bad kind of clinic with all the protestors outside. Simply put, they're a buzzsaw and the rest of the leauge is sawdust. They're a hot knife, and the rest of the league's butter. They're crap, and the rest of the league's a goose. (OK, forget that last one). They're clicking on both sides of the ball and have been dead-eyed perfect on special teams. They fall behind early every now and then, yawn, and then just steamroll the other team. They lose their best WR from a hissy-fit, a boo-boo, and/or a suspension, and they don't miss a beat. They lose their bruising RB to an injury, and roll out not one, but two unstoppable RB options. They rack up 200+ yards on the ground against the best rushing defense one week, then pass their way to a win on the road the next week against one of the hottest teams around. They embarrass Washington, humiliate Dallas, bitch-slap the Ravens, de-pants Philly, smack around Arizona, and make just enough plays to steal one in Pittsburgh. This, people, is a perfect football team. Last year was a fluke? Fluke you!

(2) ...the electorate of the United States of America finally, finally, Jesus H. Christ on a popsicle stick FINALLY, rejected fear-mongering, scare tactics, and mindless jingoism and elected someone who can actually read and speak English, who's read the Constitution, who's thoughtful and contemplative and insightful, and who commands respect. Oh yeah, and he's a black guy with a funny name. What the heck's going on around here? This is not the America I know. (Side note: Election Night was, without question, one of the greatest nights of my life. The Flitgirl and I live in Brooklyn, where it was sheer bedlam up and down the streets into the wee hours of the morning. I have described it to people as New Year's Eve crossed with the 4th ofJuly crossed with the Mets and the Yankees simultaneously winning the World Series. It was that incredible).

(3) ...I've discovered the wonders of a little program called "Mad Men." Never heard of it? Eh, you're not alone. Sometimes I think nobody watches this show except TV critics and a few hipsters. I actually attempted a Don Draper costume on Halloween, and, predictably, nobody except the wife knew who I was. But it's a really exceptional show, with a stellar cast and fabulous writing. Go Netflix season one on DVD and tell me you're not hooked. (By the way, if you're one of the 12 people who actually watch it, please refrain from disclosing any details beyond around the sixth episode from season two. Flitgirl and I are still catching up. Your cooperation is appreciated).

(4) ....I have become hopelessly addicted to Facebook. Somebody help me. Over the weekend, I formed a "group" of all people who went to my elementary school when I did, and I was giddy when I saw the group is up to 20 members. God, I'm pathetic.

(5) ....the Phillies won the World Series, thereby rendering Philadelphia sports fans 0.0000235% less miserable, but also rendering Met fans 36% more miserable. Dammit.

(6) ....we found out that Donovan McNabb doesn't know that you can play to a tie in the regular season in the NFL. I still cannot wrap my brain around this one. You play a fucking GAME for a living for 10 years, and you don't even know the rules? It's not like we're talking about memorizing the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure here, or even some really esoteric football rule that only comes into play once a century (like Neil Racker's "fair catch/free kick" yesterday). You don't know that there are TIES?? Of course, the best part came when Donovan kept on talking: "I hate to see what happens in the Super Bowl and I hate to see what happens in the playoffs, to settle with a tie." Sweet merciful crap, are you kidding me?

(7) ....my home computer has become besieged with spyware. FUCK! Is there anything worse than this? Adaware didn't get it, and I'm apparently too cheap of a bastard to buy something that will. Any recommendations, people?

(8) .....the Knicks apparently don't completely suck. I am so not even ready to address this yet. The stench of Isiah (who I guess sort of tried to kill himself recently) hasn't even come close to wearing off. Until it does, I'm not going to get myself in a tizzy about a few wins. However, if Jimmy Dolan gets hit by a meteor, all bets are off.

(9) ....I've learned that having a fireplace in your apartment kicks some serious ass, but makes your apartment smell like some serious ash. Seriously.

That is all for now. I will attempt to keep things a little more updated on a regular basis, though I'm certainly not promising anything along the lines of daily entries until Opening Day. Peace out.

Dead Air

2008-09-29T09:53:00.004-04:00

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.

Make It Stop

2008-09-26T09:48:00.004-04:00

Monday: OK, it was a tough weekend, but let's get up off the deck and take it to the Cubbies! They've got nothing to play for anyway. Man, that Jonathan Niese has a sick curveball, doesn't he? I think he's gonna be a keeper. Oh, crap. Well, the pitcher's up, so maybe we can get out of this inning alive. Oh, sweet merciful Christ. You have GOT to be joking. Has any team in history ever given up more grand slams to fucking pitchers? This is a joke. A sick fucking joke. We STINK. (Oh well, at least I can relax and watch my fantasy football matchup play out with Jets v. Chargers. Ahhh, a 5-point lead with 2 minutes to go. Good. This one's in the bag. What the....FUCK YOU, L.T.!! Argggggg.....)

Tuesday: Ugh, even with Johan on the hill, I can't bear to watch. They're so finished. I'll just peek in on my Blackberry. Christ on a crutch, down 2-0 already. Fuck this shit. I'll find somthing else to do tonight. Oh hell, let me just flip on the TV to see what's happening. 2-2, bases loaded, Reyes up? Well, let's just see what....YESSS!!!! That'll score 'em all! Joseeeeee, Jose Jose Jose..... Lock it down, Johan! Nice!!! We're alive, people! We're ALIVE!!

Wednesday: Man, what a performance by our ace last night. Just huge. I have a feeling we're gonna ride that wave tonight. Delgado's up and Zambrano's a mess right now. Whoa, mama, that's deep! That's DEEP! Grand slam!!! GRAND SLAM!!!!!! I love you, Carlos! I'm a first-class asshole for saying you should've been cut outright two months ago! Now c'mon, Ollie...nail it down baby! ...Fuck. Oh, fuck fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck. Well, first and third, nobody out, maybe we can...fuck. Here we go again! First and third, nobody out, I'm sure this time we can....fuck!! Nice, Murphy!! Leadoff triple!! Winning run on third, nobody out!! Again!! I'm quite certain this time that one of these flailing chowderheads can somehow produce a simple fly ball to the outfie....FUCK!!!

Thursday: I'm done. Finished. Spent. I cannot watch a fucking minute of tonight's game. Eh, let me at least see the score, and then I'll turn it off. Hmmm, 2-1 Cubs. Well, let's just see how this inning plays out. Hey, Kevin Burkhardt is interviewing Lenny Dykstra. I think Lenny might be mentally retarded. Shit, 3-1. Why am I watching this crap? I'm turning it off...hey, big hit, Church!! 3-3, baby! Pedro's hanging in there...nice ovation for him, probably his last game at Shea. That's really great to see. Ricardo Rincon, eh? Hm, well if he....FUCK!! Terry Pendleton....Mike Scioscia....Eddie Perez....Luis Sojo....Yadier Molina....and Micah Fucking Hoffpauir. I'm done. Finished. Spent. I cannot watch another pitch. Here, let me hand over the remote so the wife can watch "Grey's Anatomy." Jesus, I think a 9-year-old can write better dialogue than this. Seriously. I'm not even joking. OK, I'll go in the other room and check out the score on line really quick. Hm, 6-4, some ducks on the pond. What? Jerry's letting Ramon Martinez hit? How can he do that? 6-5. Hm. What? Jerry's letting Robinson Cancel hit? How can he do that? Ummm, 6-6. Well then. I'll just flip on the bedroom TV to see how the rest of this inning plays out....oh, goody, just in time to see Easley whiff. I'm sure the pen will let the Cubs plate another 3-spot now. Wow, nice work Smith. Hey, leadoff hit from Reyes. Well, I'm sure he'll be stranded. What the hell, Murphy? A drunken giraffe could bunt better than that. Up to D. Wright, yet again. Yeegads. Maybe the A-Rod comparisons are appropriate after all. Well, looks like Beltran will have to make something happen. Meh. 2-0. Well, maybe he'll get something decent to hit for.....HEY NOW!!!! We WIN!!! WE WIN!!! We're BACK IN BUSINESS, BABY!!! (Urgh, Ryan Braun grand slam. This sucks. This sucks. This sucks...).

I need serious help.

Refresher Time

2008-09-25T07:54:00.002-04:00

In baseball, a batted ball is considered a sacrifice fly if the following four criteria are met:

(i) There are fewer than two outs when the ball is hit.
(ii) The ball is hit to the outfield.
(iii) The batter is out because an outfielder or an infielder running in the outfield catches the ball (or would have been out if not for an error).
(iv) A runner who is already on base scores on the play.

As addressed within Rule 10.09(e) of the Official Baseball Rules[1], a sacrifice fly is not counted as a turn at bat for the batter, though the batter is credited with a run batted in.

The purpose of not counting a sacrifice fly as an at bat is to avoid penalizing hitters for a successful tactical maneuver. The sacrifice fly is one of two instances in baseball where a batter is not charged with a time at bat after putting a ball in play; the other is the sacrifice hit. However, a sacrifice fly still reduces a player's on base percentage, and a player on a hitting streak will have the hit streak end if he has no official at-bats but he has a sacrifice fly.

The sacrifice fly is credited even if another runner is put out on appeal for failing to tag up, so long as a run scores prior to the third out. In the case of a fly ball dropped for an error, the sacrifice fly is only credited if the official scorer believes the run would have scored had the ball been caught.

You fucking get it now, dummies?

All Aboard The Lollygag Express

2008-09-23T10:30:00.003-04:00

Manuel: [throws an armload of bats into the shower] EV'RYBODY INTO THE SHOWER!! ANYBODY AIN'T IN THIS SHOWER IN TEN SECONDS IS GONNA GET FINED A HUNDRED DOLLARS!! Sandy!

Alomar: One Mississippi! Two Mississippi! Three Mississippi! Four Mississippi! Five Mississippi! Six Mississippi! Seven Mississippi! Eight Mississippi! Nine Mississippi! Ten Mississippi!

[the players file into the shower]

Manuel: [disgusted] You guys....you lollygag the ball around the infield. You lollygag your way down'ta first. [does a mocking, mincing dance] You lollygag in an' outta the dugout. Ya know what that makes you?! Sandy!!

Alomar: Lollygaggers!

Manuel: Lollygaggers. What's our record, Sandy?

Alomar: 86-70.

Manuel: 86-70. How'd we ever win 86.

Alomar: It's a miracle.

Manuel: [seething] This...is a simple game. You throw the ball. You hit the ball. You catch the ball. YOU GOT IT?! Now we have got six games left in our season. Team bus leaves at 6 in the mornin'. [exits, muttering] ...God-DAMN sonofabitch motherfuckin' SHITHEADS!!

Curse This Cursed Blackberry

2008-09-22T10:11:00.003-04:00

So there I was at the Meadowlands, on a gorgeous day, the sun beating down on us, watching a thriller of an overtime football game between my World Champion New York Giants and the Bengals, and all I could do is keep hitting "refresh" on my stupid Blackberry to see the stupid bullpen give up stupid run after stupid run, letting the stupid Braves chip away, chip away, and finally go roaring past the stupid Mets, as the stupid offense decided to stop scoring any stupid runs after the stupid second inning. Stupid.

I've called them finished so many times, I can't even bother any longer. I'm officially adopting the "whatever will be, will be" posture at this point: if they make it, great, if not, well for pete's sake, my football team is 3-0! I have bigger fish to fry.

But I will say this: If Aaron Heilman pitches to another batter this season in anything even remotely resembling a meaningful or important spot, I will pay for Jerry Manuel's psychiatric examination myself.

Glengarry II - Jerry's Revenge

2008-09-18T08:02:00.008-04:00

You might recall last year around this time I posted what I humbly consider my best work of all time. I fear it's time for a sequel. However, the purpose of last year's speech was motivational. I think we're long past that. Yep, we pulled out a win last night, but given recent events, I think it's time for outright, unmitigated abuse directed at someone in particular.

Thus, I give you...

Manuel: You stupid fucking cunt.

You, Wright...I'm talkin' to you, shithead.

You just cost me four games in the standings.

(pause)

Four games. And one divisional title.

That's right.

What are you gonna do about it?

What are you gonna to do about it, asshole.

You fucking shit. Where did you learn to play, you stupid fuckin' cunt?! You idiot.

Whoever told you you could play with men?!

Reporter: Could I...

Manuel: I'm going to have your job, shithead.

I'm going upstairs and talk to Fred and Jeff, and I'm going to Omar.

I don't care whose nephew you are, who you know, how big your contract is, what round you were drafted in, how many ads you're in, whose dick you're sucking on...you're going out. I swear to you, you're going...

Reporter: Hey, Jerry, let's get this done...

Manuel: Anyone in this game lives on their wits...

(to reporter)

I'm going to be with you in a second.

(to Wright)

What you're hired for is to help us--does that seem clear to you?

To help us.

Not...to fuck us up.

To help men who are going out there to try to earn a living. You fairy.

You company man.

I'll tell you something else. I hope we don't make the playoffs now, I can tell our friend here something might help him blame you.

(starts into the room)

You wanna learn the first rule -- you'd know if you ever spent a day in your life.

You never chase a pitch in the dirt when all we need is a sacrifice fly.

(pause)

You fucking child.

Uncomfortably Numb

2008-09-16T10:18:00.003-04:00

The title of today's post is in honor of the late Mr. Richard Wright of Pink Floyd (pictured, at left), despite the fact that Rick probably had about as much to do with "The Wall" as I did. (Roger Waters = infamous meglomaniac). In any event, uncomfortably numb is a good way of describing where I am as Met fan on September 16, 2008. Now that it certainly appears that they're tanking yet another divisional title, I think my entire psyche has retreated into shut-down mode. This is clearly a self-defense mechanism, designed to insulate myself from the soul-crushing pain inflicted by last season's debacle.

What does this mean, you ask? Honestly, after getting crushed by the worst team in baseball last night, I wasn't even that upset. Can you believe that? Was just kinda like, meh, oh well, let's check out some MNF. Geez, they are clinging to a razor-thin divisional lead in mid-Septemeber, and they went out and got CRUSHED by an AWFUL team...and I don't really care? What the hell is wrong with me?

I think I understand what's happening here. I finally snapped. I hit my stress limit. I'm maxed out. Finished. Can't invest any more emotion in the outcome of any of these games. Cannot do it. There's been one 9th-inning blown lead too many, and I can't take it. I'm going into every game expecting to lose, and lose handily.

Ladies and gents, I give you: Heilmanitis.

This Team Is Making Me Physically Ill

2008-09-15T13:32:00.002-04:00

So sorry for the prolonged absence, but it's hard to write when you're sick to your stomach. Look, every team loses games. Even great teams, and even to bad teams every now and then. And even great teams lose entire series to bad teams. It does happen.

But I don't believe that any team, at any time, has had the insane number of gut-busting, nausea-inducing, stomach-punch-level, go-for-a-walk-and-clear-your-head level losses as the 2008 New York Metropolitans. Losses that make you not want to buy a newspaper, turn on the radio or the TV. Losses that make you contemplate why the hell you became a sports fan in the first place.

5-run, 8th inning lead? Gone.

2-run, 9th inning lead? Gone.

7-run, 3rd inning lead? Don't make me fuckin' laugh. Gone, baby, gone.

How much more of this can I take? Bookie and I were at the Friday night loss to the Phillies about 10 days ago, where Brett Myers twirled 8 shut-out innings, but the Mets almost rallied to come back against Lidge in the 9th. That's a loss you can live with. Tip your cap to the pitcher, rally hard but come up just short against the closer. So be it.

But honestly, how many Met losses this year have been of that variety? Ten? Seven? Two? The Mets would rather put 3 or 4 runs up early, snooze while the other team chips away, maybe get another run or two late, and piss away the whole lead in the 9th. (I'd say they need a 10-run lead in every game to even have a chance to win, but they'd probably blow the 10-run lead as well).

What'll happen over the next few weeks, you ask? I suck at predictions (recall that I wrote off the Giants last year after 2 games), but here's my thought: If and when the Phillies take back the NL East lead, that'll be that. Good night and good luck.

A few other notions:

(1) The Giants looked positively gangbusters yesterday. By all means, keep talking about Favre.

(2) My fantasy football team sucks. Really, Derek Anderson, that's the best you can do? Really, TJ Housh? T'anks for nuttin'.

(3) Aaron Heilman, much like my fantasy football team, sucks. That 2-run blast he gave up last week was so predictable, if I were keeping score, I would have written it down in my scorecard before he even threw a pitch. I think we're just about done with him at this point. Go haunt someone else's dreams next year.

(4) Luis Castillo is the Aaron Heilman of infielders. The aforementioned Friday night game Bookie and I attended feautured our man Luis striking out looking -- THREE TIMES. Yeah, he struck out looking three times. He really did. Thrice. If Easley is hurt, just put Argenis in there. He doesn't really hit either, but the lineup was clicking when he was playing, and at least he feels like something of a spark plug. Castillo plays like he's on quaaludes and brings absolutely nothing to the table. In fact, all he does is remind me of 2007. Not good.

Finally, as several of you may know, our friend Matt Cerrone (of the incomparable Mets Blog) has gotten himself in a little bit of a pickle by electing to post the Mets' "magic number," for reasons I cannot possibly begin to fathom. Let me be clear: Magic numbers are not for teams in first place by one game with two weeks left. They are for the 1986 or 2006 Mets, the 2008 Angels, teams so far in front that there's nothing else to do but count 'em on down. I implore him to reconsider this decision.

When I Am Commissioner...

2008-09-04T13:53:00.002-04:00

Been working on this list in my head for a while, and I figured an off-day after a stunningly uplifting 3-game sweep was as good a time as any to roll it out there.

(By the way, I know what you're thinking: How could I, a lowly fan and blogger, ever get elected to the office of the Commissioner of Major League Baseball, one of the most prominent positions in all of American sports? What experience do I have that might qualify me for a critically important job that requires comprehensive knowledge of not just baseball, but also anti-trust laws, unions, big business, marketing, broadcasting, technology, and so on and so forth? Well, I once ran a 12-person fantasy football league. Thus, I have "executive experience." Jeez, if anything, I'm over-qualified. Get my office ready.)

Anyway, when I am Commissioner....

...Joe Morgan will never be allowed anywhere near a microphone ever again. And this will not be limited to baseball games. I'm talking ANY microphone. For instance, when his daughter gets married, Joe's wife will have to give the toast. That's how I'll roll.

...While we're on the topic of broadcasting, in the postseason, instead of rolling out the same tired, two-man band of incompetents (ahem, Buck and McCarver), each nationally-televised game will feature one broadcaster from one team, and another broadcaster from the other team. In other words, you'll have two guys (or gals, if Suzyn Waldman is picked - yeesh) who've watched every game the team has played and who actually knows stuff about the team. Anyone remember when that horse's ass Steve Lyons was broadcasting the Mets/Dodgers series in 2006, and he said that the Mets were starting Jose Valentin for his defense? Good grief, you freaking imbecile. That series should've been called by Vin Scully and Keith Hernandez. End of discussion.

...Hank Steinbrenner must wear a microphone at all times. Even when he's taking a dump.

...Anyone who does the "fake charge" toward the mound after being hit by a pitch, or, alternatively, waits until his 25 teammates are on the field to charge the mound, will be subject to an automatic 30-game suspension. Conversely, players who simply charge the mound without hesitation will only be subject to a 5 game ban. Call this the Pussy Edict (or perhaps the Cody Ross Doctrine).

...SNY will be forced to immediately cancel the abysmal "Beer Money" program, and replace it with a weekly game show featuring broadcasters Howie Rose and Gary Cohen squaring off on obscure Mets trivia. I'm talking Danny Napolean/Pat Tabler/Kelvin Chapman-obscure. What Met fan wouldn't watch this? Who would even win? No clue. Proceeds will go to charity.

...Pete Rose will never, ever get reinstated. Fuck 'im. No one made him sign that piece of paper making himself ineligible.

...Dig up Robin Ventura, call Luis Sojo, and send out an APB for Rey Ordonez: The 2000 World Series will be replayed in its entirety, and any player who appeared in the Mitchell report will be ineligible. In other words, the Yankees will have to soldier on without Roger Clemens, Andy Pettite, Mike Stanton, Jason Grimsley, Jose Canseco, Dave Justice, Chuck Knoblauch, Glenallen Hill, and Denny Neagle. The Mets lose Todd Pratt. Good luck! (By the way, if the Yankees are unable to field a full roster, we can always go with my adjusted results from last December).

...The DH and the All-Star Game/home field advantage rule? Both gone. Goodbye.

...Anyone caught propagating the falsehood that St. Louis is the "best baseball town in America" because the fans never boo will be subject to public flogging. A better baseball town than New York? Boston? Chicago? You've got to be kidding me with this St. Louis crap already.

...I will seize control of the space/time continuum, and force Derek Jeter to play out his entire career toiling in obscurity on the Cincinnati Reds, while Barry Larkin plays out his career at shortstop for the New York Yankees, winning 4 championships behind the pitching prowess of Rivera, Clemens, Wells, Pettite, Cone, Key, Stanton, Wetteland, Nelson and so forth. Larkin is subsequently hailed as a Golden God first-ballot Hall of Famer, while Jeter is said to be "a pretty good player."

And, finally....

...every single baseball fan in the United States of America will get a chance to kick Joe Morgan in the nuts.

Yes, Apparently, We Can

2008-08-28T07:53:00.005-04:00

My dad, who fell on hard times, always told me, though, "Champ, when you get knocked down, get up. Get up." I was taught that by my dad. And, God, I wish my dad was here tonight.

But I thank God and I'm grateful that my mom, Catherine Eugenia Finnegan Met, is here tonight.

Mom, I love you.

You know, my mom taught her children -- all the children who flocked to Shea Stadium -- that you're defined by your sense of honor and you're redeemed by your loyalty. She believes that bravery lives in every heart, and her expectation is that it will be summoned. Failure at some point in your life is inevitable, but giving up is unforgivable.

As a child in the early 1960's, I was a terrible team, and she lovingly would look at me and tell me, "Metsie, it's because you're so polite you don't want to offend the other teams by winning."

When I was not as accomplished as that richer team across town, she'd look at me and say, "Metsie, oh, you're so handsome, honey, your fans still love you just as much as their fans."

And when I got knocked down by the Philadelphia Phillies in 2007, and when I blew a 7-0 lead against them on Tuesday -- and this is the God's truth -- she sent me back out and said, "Bloody their nose so you can walk down the street the next day."

And that's what I did.

%$#@#@!

2008-08-27T09:32:00.003-04:00

It's a good thing I learned a long time ago not to let my mood be affected by a game played by a bunch of strangers wearing Met uniforms. Otherwise, this team would have made me kill myself a long, long time ago.

Instead, it's far more enjoyable to dive right into the latest quiz!

Who's with me? Hah?

1. Complete this sentence: The Mets' bullpen ____________________.

(A) Might be their Achilles' heel.
(B) Sorely misses Billy Wagner.
(C) Sucks.
(D) Is the worst, most pathetic bunch of has-beens, choke artists and junk-ball castoffs ever assembled in one place, and is easily responsible for a staggering 80% of their team's total losses in 2008.

2. Please identify the following sequence of numbers: 310000000

(A) The construction cost of Citi Field.
(B) A typical Met nine-inning line score.
(C) Jayson Werth's lifetime OPS against the Mets.
(D) The number of times I want to pound Shane Victorino in the teeth.

3. Complete this sentence: The very sight of Aaron Heilman makes me want to ______________.

(A) Puke.
(B) Shit my pants.
(C) Turn off the TV.
(D) Pound Shane Victorino in the teeth.

4. Why did Toasty Joe turn off the game in the 8th inning last night, with the Mets leading 7-5?

(A) He wanted to catch some of Hillary's speech at the DNC.
(B) The Mets were clearly never going to score again and the bullpen was most definitely going to give up at least 3 more runs, so why bother?
(C) The Daily Show was about to start.
(D) All of the above.

5. Has there ever been a bullpen this bad in the history of organized baseball?

(A) No.
(B) Never.
(C) No fucking way.
(D) Yes. Ours may stink, but the 1898 Louisville Colonels had the deadly triumverate of Nick Altrock, Dad Clarke, and, of course, Frank Todd. Now THAT was a bad bullpen.

Answers are below.

5-4 correct: Congratulations, you're the 10-run lead the Mets had against the Phillies back in July. They tried their best to blow you, but inexplicably failed. Final score? 10-9 Mets. Whew!

2-3 correct: Not so good. You're the 6-4 lead the pen blew against the awful Padres on June 8. Final score? 8 to 6, Pads. Eight!!

1 correct: Terrible. You're the 4-0, 8th inning lead that Billy Wagner and Aaron Heiman combined to blow back on June 12. Final score? 5-4, D-Backs. Sweet.

0 correct: Shame on you. You're last night's 7-0 lead. You got blown by everyone in a Met uniform. You slut. Final score? 8-7, Phillies.

Correct answers: 1.D, 2.B, 3.C, 4.D, 5.C.

It's Just Me, Mike Pelf, and I

2008-08-26T09:00:00.006-04:00

Ladies and gents, Mr. Michael Pelfrey has officially gone berzerk. He's passed from frustrating, to competent, to effective, to very effective, to stellar, to fucking balls-out ridiculous. That was just a silly performance last night, one which went quite nicely with his silly performance last week. I wish I could say I never doubted the kid, but after watching him over the past few years into the early part of this year, I simply failed to see what the Mets' brass was so excited about. Yeah, he was a big guy who threw hard, but....meh. Chalk another one up for me.

(1) You want to chat about injuries? Our #2 starter AND our closer AND our left fielder out for the year, not to mention losing our most productive bat (Church) for the better part of two months....take that, Hankenschmuck.

(2) I was amused by all of Mets' nation wringing their hands after two straight losses following an extraordinary August run. Folks, you lose two games in a row sometimes. It happens. Unfortunately, it coincided with a Phillies' sweep, but what can you do.

(3) Has anyone else noticed that the entire Mets' infield, Delgado included, has played literally flawless defense for nearly an entire month? If they've even made a single error, I must've missed it.

(4) It was good to see Aaron Heilman recover from his unsettlingly effective appearance on Friday night and bounce back with another in a long line of shitty, game-blowing performances on Sunday. After all, consistency is the key to success.

Finally, has anyone noticed that in the latest Derek Jeter Ford ad, Captain Intangibles is promoting his Ford website, where one can apparently view "outtakes" from his Ford spots? You hear that? Outtakes! As if the unending bombardment of his regular Ford ads wasn't enough, we can watch the "outtakes"! One can't help but imagine what's on these "outtakes":

Woman: Derek Jeter? He's got an edge. Why, just last night, when he bounced into that rally-killing, 4-6-3 double-play, he hustled all the way down to first base.

Director: Cut!! Try it again, please.

Woman: OK, OK.

Director: Annnnd....action!

Woman: Derek Jeter? Why, he's got an edge! Just look at how he's overcome crabs AND syphilus in back-to-back seasons!

Director: Sigh....cut.

Dear Mr. Delgado

2008-08-22T09:49:00.005-04:00

OK, it's time.

I owe you an apology.

Earlier this year, I thought you were finished. And oh boy, I wasn't shy about it. Not one bit.

I called you washed up.

I called you D-U-N done.

I called you Carlos Delgawdawful.

Well, clearly, you're not "dun." You're piling on hit after hit after hit as your team gets win after win after win. We're talking hits all over the field: into the shift, over the right field wall, away from the shift, into the left field corner, hot shots up the middle, soaring liners in the gap - just everywhere. And many of them are of the - dare I say - clutch variety. It's really been a sight to behold.

Your defense? Well, it'll never be great. But you're not fumbling, flubbing, and Roger Dorn-ing every other ball that comes your way anymore. And those vintage 2006 fist-pumps after your fellow infielders (who have also played PERFECT defense lately, by the way) turn another sparkling double-play really seem heartfelt.

Look, I still don't love you. I maintain that you outright quit on Willie Randolph. Many folks will disagree with me and say "why would Carlos Delgado quit during a contract year?" But I know what I saw. Lame, effortless at-bat after lame, effortless at-bat, not to mention easily the most lackadasical, indifferent first base "defense" I've ever seen - I'm talking stuff that would make Robinson Cano say "dude, you gotta give more effort than that." To be sure, Mr. Randolph was a stubborn incompetent who deserved to be fired, but your actions were inexcusable and I won't soon forget them. And I want you off my team in 2009.

But for now, I'm truly enjoying this hitting clinic you're putting on. No, Mr. Delgado, you're not "dun." And somewhere, Willie Randoph is quietly fuming about it.

***

Bonus observation: Has anyone else noticed that we could very possibly have a postseason this year that features the Mets, Cubs, Brewers, D-Backs, Rays, Chisox, Twins, and Angels? Three words that you didn't hear in that list: Yankees, Red Sox. Freaking hallelujah. Jeanne Zelasko will be crying into her pillow. You know, the one that has Derek Jeter's shmegma stains over it.

***

Double-bonus observation: Has everyone read this story (and seen the video) by now? Easily the funniest story of the year. Ahh, poor Tiki. Incidentally, this morning I've re-named my fantasy football team "Total Medal C*nt," much to the Flitgirl's dismay. Hee.

Jo Jo Reyes, Your Team Is Sucking

2008-08-20T10:11:00.005-04:00

Howdy, folks, it's been a while. When last we spoke, the Mets were gagging up a sure victory against the Pittsburgh Pirates on a Monday afternoon. Well, they strung together a whole bunch of wins after that, and then they....well, they gagged up a sure victory against the Pittsburgh Pirates on a Monday afternoon. 'Round and 'round she goes.

Which leads us to last night. My goodness gracious, is there anything in this world better than beating the crap out of the Atlanta Braves? Actually, yes. Beating the crap out of the shitty, completely irrelevant Atlanta Braves. I don't think we as Met fans have been savoring this enough. Just think about how all those times from, say, 1992 to 2005 we were the ones who were irrelevant (save for '99 and '00) and looking up at them. I know it's not that big a deal when we're fighting for this division, but it brings a smile to my face when I realize that, for the 3rd year in a row, there's no way in holy hell that they're going to win it.

A few jazzy points from last night's stirring comeback:

(1) A most impressive outing from Ollie, who's only pitching like a Cy Young candidate at this point (yes, I know he won't win it because of his crappy start). I think that you, me, and everyone else thought that after he clearly didn't have his best stuff in the first 3 innings that he would be out of there by the 5th after giving up 6 or so runs. Wrong. He buckled down and somehow started stringing together out after out after out, giving the team a real lift. In fact, Ron Darling made a prescient comment in the 4th inning or so when Ollie was really struggling, something along the lines of "now that he's new and improved, I'm looking forward to seeing how he deals with it when he doesn't have his good stuff." Question answered.

(2) Has any Met pitcher ever had a better first pitch in a Met uniform than Luis Ayala, nearly decapitating poor Omar Infante in the 7th? I was like, FUCK yeah!! That aside, he did some tremendous work stranding two inherited runners and keeping it a one-run game.

(3) Speaking of relievers, I find it hilarious that even when he pitches a scoreless inning, Aaron Heilman finds a new way to suck. Walking a freaking relief pitcher with a runner on first in a tight one-run game? You, sir, stink.

(4) I officially have a man-crush on Damion Easley. After Delgado's bases-loaded double, I was ecstatic but also nervous about having to navigate the 9th inning with a slim 1-run lead. Well, up steps Easley who calmly blasts a 2-RBI single, blowing the game open. He may not be much of an infielder, but he hustles, has a good arm, and gets to every ball he possibly can. And the guy can just roll out of bed and rake. A great righty bat to have on the bench down the stretch.

(5) I would be remiss not to heap praise on young Nick Evans, whose 1-out walk in the 8th got everything going. Quality at-bats make the baby Jesus smile.

Finally, a shout-out to Jo Jo Reyes, whose name allowed me to dust off my old "Jo Jo Dancer, Your Life Is Calling" reference, one which I haven't been able to use since Jo Jo English of the Chicago Bulls fought with the Knicks' Derek Harper in a 1993 playoff game. Slightly amusing references to mediocre Richard Pryor films never die.

No, Thanks

2008-08-12T10:04:00.006-04:00

Pirates: Hey, Mets! I've been looking all over for you.

Mets: What's up, Pirates?

Pirates: I've been waiting to give you something for almost four months now. Here, take it.

Mets: What is it?

Pirates: It's a gift. Open it.

Mets: [opens it] Hey, you shouldn't have! [pause] What is it?

Pirates: You can't tell? It's a win! Enjoy it.

Mets: Oh, thanks, but I really can't accept this.

Pirates: No, see, look at it: I've staked you to an early four-run lead against a gawd-awful team on getaway day. Plus I threw in three Pirates errors! It's a goldmine. Have fun with it.

Mets: Thanks all the same, but you should really keep it.

Pirates: Me? I have no use for it. I'm like 107 games out of first place. I traded away my two best hitters and I'm basically fielding a double-A lineup. What the hell am I going to do with a "win"?

Mets: I don't know, but you should have it.

Pirates: Are you serious? What the hell is the matter with you?

Mets: See, I have no room for it. My closet is absolutely overflowing with stuff right now.

Pirates: Like what?

Mets: Well, take a look in here. [opens closet] See, I got a whole shelf full of leadoff walks. This next shelf is filled with HBPs. This next shelf? LOBs, tons of LOBs. And finally, the Heilman shelf: Screaming line drives and tape-measure home runs at the worst possible time. So you see, I got no room for this so-called "win."

Pirates: Maybe you can squeeze it in there behind the Duaner Sanchez velocity. That looks pretty small.

Mets: Hey, I got an idea. Here, take a few of these leadoff walks.

Pirates: You serious?

Mets: Sure! They're great when you're trailing by multiple runs in the late innings. Make sure you give a few to Luis Rivas. And while you're at it, here, have a few HBPs, on me.

Pirates: Gee, thanks!

Mets: Oh, and see that Heilman shelf? Go nuts.

Pirates: [stuffing his pockets] I don't know how to thank you for this!

Mets: Don't worry about it. Let's meet up again at your place next weekend. We'll have a drink.

Pirates: Until then. Hey, wait! You forgot your win! You should have room for it now.

Mets: Nah, you hang onto it. I'm expecting a whole crate of new meltdowns this week, I gotta save room.

Pirates: OK, then. See you next week.

Mets: Bye! Aaron Heilman sucks!

[scene]

3 Weeks 'Til Football...3 Weeks 'Til Football...

2008-08-11T16:47:00.002-04:00

3 weeks 'til football...3 weeks 'til football...3 weeks 'til football...3 weeks 'til football...3 weeks 'til football...3 weeks 'til football...3 weeks 'til football...3 weeks 'til football...3 weeks 'til football...3 weeks 'til football...3 weeks 'til football...3 weeks 'til football...3 weeks 'til football...3 weeks 'til football...3 weeks 'til football...3 weeks 'til football...3 weeks 'til football...3 weeks 'til football...3 weeks 'til football...3 weeks 'til football...3 weeks 'til football...3 weeks 'til football...3 weeks 'til football...3 weeks 'til football...3 weeks 'til football...3 weeks 'til football...3 weeks 'til football...3 weeks 'til football...3 weeks 'til football...3 weeks 'til football...

Dan The Man

2008-08-07T17:41:00.011-04:00

I come not to speak of a David Wright walk-off or another exquisite catastrophe from our big, fat joke of a bullpen. No, today I come in praise of Dan.

As several of you know, my real first name is not "Joe," nor is it "Toasty." In fact, I share the same first name as a certain wunderkind named Daniel Murphy, he of the gritty hustle, sweet swing, and .467 batting average. Yes, Daniel Murphy has the potential to be -- wait for it -- the Greatest Dan To Ever Put On A Met Uniform.

That's a bold statement, you say. No doubt. But let's recap, shall we, his competition. The following, courtesy of the life-changingly helpful Ultimate Mets Database, is a list of each and every Dan, Daniel, or Danny to ever don the orange and blue, ranked best to worst.

1. Danny Heep. See, when your toughest competition is Danny Heep, you've already got a leg up. Mr. Heep was a capable utility outfielder for the mid-80's juggernaut teams, and....well, that's about it. His most memorable moment came in the ludicrous 19-inning, 4:15 a.m. marathon victory over the Braves in 1985, inasmuch as he can famously be seen crumbling to his knees as he watched dumpy Braves relief pitcher Rick Camp's unfathomable game-tying home run sail over the left field wall in the 18th. Lifetime stats in 395 games for the Mets: .263, 21 HR, 108 RBI. Mr. Murphy, top that!

2. Danny Frisella. That's how bad the Mets' "Dans" are: Danny Frisella is number TWO. This gentleman took the mound in fragments of six different seasons from 1967 to 1972, meaning he, like Mr. Heep, owns a championship ring. However, Frisella had even less to do with his ring than Heep, inasmuch as he did not record a single postseason statistic in 1969. Lifetime stats in 158 games for the Mets: 24-26, and a pretty good (for the late '60's, that is) 3.08 ERA. Bonus fact: According to Wikipedia, he was killed in 1977 in -- wait for it -- a dune buggy accident.

3. Dan Wheeler. From Frisella, the drop-off is quite steep. Mr. Wheeler was one of Art Howe's "we battled" guys, logging 101.2 IP in 2003 and 2004 to the tune of a not-completely-atrocious 4.25 ERA. Good enough for the #3 spot.

4. Dan Norman. Another guy from before my time, Norman logged parts of 4 seasons in Queens from 1977-1980. He'll always be known for coming over from Cincinnati along with Pat Zachary, Doug Flynn, and Steve Henderson for one Mr. Seaver. And that's good that he'll be known for something, because his stats with the Mets are, well, they're not good: 139 games, .230, 9 HR, 30 RBI.

5. Danny Garcia. Another one of the talentless drones from the dreary Art Howe era, I had all but wiped this guy from my memory until I set about compiling this list. Got a really good chunk of playing time at 2B in 2004, but when you look at the numbers, you have to wonder why. His stats in 77 games with the Mets: .227, 5 HR, 23RBI.

6. Dan Schatzeder. Hey, I think I had his baseball card! Why, you ask, is a guy who had a sparkling 0.00 ERA for the Mets so low on this list? Maybe it's because he only logged 5.2 IP for the Mets in 1990. Still, that's some nice work, Dan.

7. Danny Boitano. Any relation to Brian? Anyone wanna look it up? Anyway, he (Danny, not Brian) pitched for the Mets for one year (1981), logged 16.1 IP, a 2-1 record and a 5.51 ERA. Not exactly Schatzeder material, but not awful.

8. Danny Graves. His stats are comparable to Boitano's, but he once flipped off a fan in Cincy, so he gets buried on this list. A late-season addition to Willie's 2005 pen, he gave us 20.1 IP to a Heilman-esque 5.75 ERA.

9. Dan Murray. Apparently he pitched two innings for the Mets in that charmed year of 1999. I have no memory of him whatsoever. His stats in those two innings? 4 hits, 3 ER, two BB, 13.50 ERA. Awful, but not as bad as #10 on this list.

10. Danny Napoleon. Our final "Dan" played parts of the 1965 and 1966 seasons with Mets, and his stats are the stuff nightmares are made of. 130 AB, 0 HR (that's ZERO), 7 RBI (that's SEVEN), .162 BA. Despite having the coolest last name of anyone on this list not named "Schatzeder," you, Mr. Napoleon, are the worst Dan ever to wear a Met uniform.

And, there you have it. As you can see, through a mere five games with the Mets, Daniel Murphy has already passed about 90% of the names on this list. All I have to say is: Watch out, Danny Heep, you've got company!

I wonder if that sentence has ever been written before.

The Committee Will Come To Order

2008-08-06T09:48:00.004-04:00

Manuel: Fellas, welcome to the first meeting of the New York Mets Closer-By-Committee. Let's have a roll call first. I'll be doing these in alphabetical order. Jose Feliciano?

Feliciano: That's Pedro, not Jose. Here.

Manuel: Ahh, sorry. I always screw that up. Aaron Heilman? Aaron? Anyone seen Aaron?

Smith: He's in the bathroom throwing up.

Manuel: Gotchya. Eddie Kunz?

Kunz: Here. And ready when needed.

Manuel: Duly noted. I'll get to ya. Ruddy Lugo?

Lugo: Here.

Manuel: Is that a name or a skin condition? Har, har, har... Carlos Muniz?

Lugo: Oh, I think he hopped a flight back to Norfolk. I passed him in the airport.

Manuel: But we didn't send him down.

Lugo: He's been up and down so many times he got confused. I'll call him.

Manuel: Eh, who cares, really. Duaner Sanchez?

Sanchez: Here. Sorry I'm late. Had to stop off for some Carribean food. There's this great place, it's open late...you want some?

Manuel: No. Scott Schoeneweis?

Schoeneweis: You mean Scott "the Closer" Schoeneweis? Here.

Manuel: Uh, sure. And Joe Smith?

Smith: Here.

Manuel: OK. [Heilman returns from bathroom] Ahhh, Aaron. Glad you could join us. Here, take this seat right next to me. [Heilman sits]

Manuel: Now, let's get down to business. Fellas, a man becomes a preeminent manager, he's expected to have enthusiasms. Enthusiasms... Enthusiasms... What are mine? What draws my admiration? What is that which gives me joy?

Schoeneweis: Dames!

Smith: Boozin'!

Feliciano: Ghandi!

Manuel: [Dan Warthen hands him a baseball] Pitching! A man... A man stands alone on the mound. This is the time for what? For individual achievement. There he stands alone. But in the game, what? Part of a team. Teamwork... Part of one big team. Pitches himself the live-long day, Santana, Pelfrey, and so on. But if his bullpen don't pitch...what is he?

Sanchez: No one!

Manuel: You follow me? No one. Sunny day, the stands are full of fans. What does he have to say? l'm goin' out there for myself. But...I get nowhere unless the team wins.

Heilman: Team!! [nodding] Team...

Manuel: [walks over to Heilman] Aaron?

Heilman: Yes?

Manuel: Let me ask you a question. You take the mound in the 9th after teammates have just handed you a 4-run lead. The first batter of the inning is hitting .228. What do you do?

Heilman: Walk him on four pitches.

Manuel: Uh-huh. And after a little bad luck from your defense puts a second runner on, you're facing a guy with 8 home runs and only 27 rbi on the year. What do you do then?

Heilman: Serve up a titanic 3-run home run?

Manuel: I see.

Heilman: Hey, what are you doing? Stop that!

Manuel: I'm cramming this baseball in your mouth. Ahh, there.

Heilman: Mmmmph!! Mmmmmph!!!

Manuel: Duaner, you wanna do me a favor and take him downstairs and help him into a cab?

Sanchez: You bet!

Manuel: Meeting adjourned.

My Life In Music, Part 3: the '90s

2008-08-05T10:29:00.006-04:00

Today, we'll be finishing off my 1973-2000 jaunt through the years with the 1990's (plus one bonus year in the...what are they called? 00's? Oh's? Aughts?). Let's get going...

1990: Ooo! Alternative! Jane's Addiction, Ritual de lo Habitual garners the top spot here. I'd like to say I was into this the year it came out. I'd like to, but I'd be lying. Picked up on it maybe 5 years later, but it's a dandy bit of pre-grunge alternative goodness.

Bonus observation: You may not know this, but I was caught stealing once, when I was five. I enjoy stealing, it's just as simple as that. When I see something, I don't wanna pay for it.

1991: Now we're entering what I like to call "The Sonny D years." Nearly gave this one to Pearl Jam's "Ten" (which I never actually owned), but decided to go with an album that reminds me of freshman year in college (which is where I was in '91) more than any other, and that's the Chili Peppers' "Blood Sugar Sex Magik." To this day, I hear "Under the Bridge," and all I think about is musty dorm rooms that smell of incense and stale beer.

Bonus observation: Anthony Kiedis' father has a bit part in the first "Lethal Weapon." I think it's the scene near the beginning where Mel Gibson goes undercover at the Christmas Tree lot and acts all crazy.

1992: No doubt about it here - REM's exquisite "Automatic for the People," hands down.

Bonus observation: There aren't many better ways to close out an album than with "Nightswimming," followed by "Find the River." Damn.

1993: I was itching to go with the Pumpkins' "Siamese Dream" here, until I remembered that Pearl dropped the definitive album of the early 1990's on us this year with "Vs." From "Go" to "Indifference," every single song is gangbusters.

Bonus observation: "Don't call me daughter, not fit to." Huh? Never even came close to understanding this. It's great, though.

1994: If "Blood Sugar" smells like freshman year in college, then the Beastie Boys' "Ill Communication" positively REEKS of junior year. To this day, I still think, top to bottom, "Sure Shot" is their single best song. That one will NEVER get played out.

Bonus observation: Has there ever been a better sample than "If this's gonna be that kinda party, I'm gonna stick MY dick in the mashed potatoes!!" I think not.

1995: Well, "Blood Sugar" smelled like freshman year, "Ill" reeked of junior year...and the Smashing Pumpkin's "Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness" tastes very much like first year of law school (ugh). I maintain that if Billy had kept a lid on his ego and trimmed off 6-7 tracks from this double-album, you'd have one of the finest CDs of the decade. However, he overstuffed it. Nevertheless, some of his finest work is on here, including the fantastic numbers "Tonight, Tonight," "Thirty-Three" and "In the Arms of Sleep."

Bonus observation: Check out the laughable James Iha track "Take Me Down." Gee, I wonder why Billy didn't give him more songs to write.

1996: The album of the year, the album of the decade, and perhaps the album of all-time is Beck's masterwork "Odelay." I have never heard a marriage of instrumentation, samples, genres, and lyrics like this, before or since 1996. Metal, country, folk, blues, grunge, hip-hip, rap, rock, bluegrass, even a smidge of classical music....it's all here. And it all works. Incredible.

Bonus observation: Beck recorded an alternative version of "Jackass" called "Burro," with a full Mariachi band. See if you can find it. It's hilarious.

1997: Radiohead, "OK Computer." What can I say about it that hasn't already been said? Just a killer of an album.

Bonus observation: Sorry, no observation for this one. I gotta go listen to it again.

1998: Ahh, 1998, the year I joined the working world. Here I shall go with Beck's often-overlooked follow-up to "Odelay" known as "Mutations." This is why I love the man. Everyone was expecting another CD full of "Where It's At"-type tunes, and he rolls out a somewhat somber, somewhat creepy one-off with the help of Radiohead's producer, complete with computer bloops and beeps, acoustic guitar, and a devastating hidden bonus track. Simply stellar.

Bonus observation: The one exception to the somber tone is "Tropicalia," a samba number which happens to be one of Flitgirl's favorite songs of all time. Well, not counting jazz standards.

1999: Rage Against the Machine, "The Battle of Los Angeles." The deacade comes to a close with a solid effort by RATM, one of my favorite bands of the last 20 years. Tom Morello is just a freak.

Bonus observation: Come to think of it, this was my first full year of working. Hence, the Rage.

2000: For my final entry, I shall go with Radiohead's vastly, vastly underrated "Kid A." Most people got sucked into Radiohead from "Karma Police" or "Creep." Me, this is the one that drew me in. Never heard anything like these dreary, electronic soundscapes, and I still haven't. Not for everyone, but I think it's tremendous.

Bonus observation: The instrumental title track ("Kid A") is featured over the closing credits of the "No Show" episode of the Sopranos in season 4. I remember being giddy when I heard it.

And that's all I gots for you. Happy listening!

My Life In Music, Part Two - The '80s

2008-08-04T09:48:00.004-04:00

...because it beats the hell out of talking about baseball today.

This is a continuation of my Friday musical odyssey spanning 1973-2000 (see below or click here).

1980: These early 80's years were a little tough for me, seeing as how I am a fan of neither punk nor new wave. So I'll start off the 1980's with the kick-ass soundtrack to the Blues Brothers. A fine film, to be sure, but a great collection of R&B numbers give this soundtrack the top slot.

Bonus observation: I hate Illinois Nazis.

1981: Have to go with the Police's terrific Ghost in the Machine record. The're one of the coolest bands ever created, and this is the album where I think they moved beyond just amp-ed up reggae and into more sophisticated, keyboard-based stuff. The first three tracks (Spirits, Every Little Thing, and Invisible Sun) are just devastating. Devastating.

Bonus observation: Man, remember when Sting was actually hip?

1982: No contest here. Bruce Springsteen's stark, stripped-down "Nebraska" is among my favorite albums of all time. The lyrics to "My Father's House" and "State Trooper" still make my hair stand on end.

Bonus observation: Apparently this was just intended to be a demo tape, but Bruce went ahead and just released it as is, with just voice, guitar and harmonica. To hell with over-production!

1983: I was strongly tempted to go with the Police's "Synchronicity" here, but how can I possibly overlook Def Leppard's "Pyromania"? I think this was right around the same time I started piano lessons, and I actually asked my teacher if I could learn "Rock of Ages." Can't remember if that ever came to fruition.

Bonus observation: Shit...it's kinda hard to look at that album cover now, isn't it?

1984: Stevie Ray Vaughan, "Couldn't Stand the Weather." It may not even be his best album, but it's a damned good one and I couldn't let this decade go by without acknowledging the man who's came the closest to Jimi Hendrix as anyone possibly could. R.I.P.

Bonus observation: You want to see some guitar playing? Check out this video from his performance at El Mocambo from 1983. Oh. My. God.

1985: Dire Straits, "Brothers in Arms." Not a huge Dire Straits fan, but I remember I had this baby on casette tape in junior high. A great effort whose sales undoubtedly benefitted from the non-stop MTV exposure of "Money for Nothing."

Bonus observation: Check out the video for "Walk of Life," featuring baseball bloopers. In retrospect, what the hell was that all about?

1986: The Mets were winning the World Series, and yours truly was digging Paul Simon's superb "Graceland" album. Highlights include anything involving Ladysmith Black Mumbazo.

Bonus observation: Graceland, Graceland, Memphis, Tennessee, I'm goin' to Graceland.

1987: Unlike the vast majority of my Gen-X brethren, I am going pass over that ode to misogyny and homophobia also known as "Appetite for Destruction" in favor of U2's exquisite "The Joshua Tree." Clearly the crown jewel of the year.

Bonus observation: I have never actually owned a copy of this album. Go figure.

1988: The Traveling Wilburys, "Vol. I." Gosh, I loved this album. Haven't heard it in many a year, but I need to seek it out again.

Bonus observation: Where else are you gonna hear Bob Dylan and Tom Petty singing a chorus in unison? Coolness factor: Off the charts.

1989: Ah hah, here we have our first rap/hip-hop entry. You can keep your Public Enemy and your Tribe Called Quest. For my money, any discussion of the best rap album of the 1980's begins and ends with the Beastie Boys' "Paul's Boutique." Hilarious lyrics, great rhymes, and a pu-pu platter of samples that gets crazier every time you listen to it. I defy anyone to put on "Shake Your Rump," and then NOT immediately listen to "Johnny Rayall," "Egg Man," "High Plains Drifter" and "The Sounds of Science" all in a row. It's physically impossible.

Bonus observation: Here is a tremendous website that dissects each and every sample you hear on the whole record. Incredible.

Stay tuned for the final installment!

My Life In Music

2008-08-01T13:47:00.004-04:00

As readers of Riding With Rickey's 3-day Homeric Odyssey this week know, there's one of those pesky but lovable "memes" floating around whereby you're supposed to choose a single album for each year you've been alive. Now, music conossieur that I am, I initially was really excitied to do this. But then I realized something: unlike many of my hipster brethren, I don't listen to very much new music any more. Haven't for quite a while now, in fact. Sure, I have my 2-3 active bands that I still follow, but that's about it. Which means that, if I were to do this, the years 2001-present would be a melange of Radiohead, Beck, Beck, Radiohead, Beck, Beck and Radiohead. In other words, you, the reader, would be bored, and I, the writer, would come off looking like a narrow-minded, un-hip boob. No thanks.

However, this baby is too good to resist. So, here's what I'll do. I've compiled a list comprising my first 27 years of life, which takes you from the halcyon, Mets-losing-in-the-World Series year of 1973 all the way to the crazy, Y2K, Mets-losing-in-the-World-Series year of 2000. Today: the 1970's.

Enjoy!

1973: Some of these early years were tough, but this one wasn't. It's got to be Pink Floyd's magnum opus, Dark Side of the Moon. Seeing as how 99% of my readers are late-20-something/mid-30-something males, I don't think I have to explain this one to you. But if, for some reason, you've never slipped on some headphones (oh, excuse me, "earbuds") and fallen under the spell of Clare Torry screaming "Great Gig in the Sky," dear lord, man, what are you waiting for?

Bonus observation: I once was listening to this album in college during an, um, "altered" state, and I had visions of Ms. Torry running through a forest as someone was chasing her. I know.

1974: Here the lucky winner is Bob Marley and the Wailers' incomparable "Natty Dread" album. Listen to it for the politics, the music, the ganja-worship, or all three.

Bonus observation: The little-heard studio version of "No Woman, No Cry" appears on this album. Unfortunately, it has nothing on the sweeping, majestic live version that everyone knows and loves from "Legend."

1975: Just when people were counting him out, Bobby Dylan turns around in 1975 and releases "Blood on the Tracks," a gut-wrenching account of Bob's divorce, which features some of the most searing, indelible, incandescent pop lyrics ever written. And I mean that without exaggeration. Consider:

She lit a burner on the stove and offered me a pipe
"I thought you'd never say hello," she said
"You look like the silent type."
Then she opened up a book of poems
And handed it to me
Written by an Italian poet
From the thirteenth century.
And every one of them words rang true
And glowed like burnin' coal
Pourin' off of every page
Like it was written in my soul from me to you,
Tangled up in blue.

Jesus. I rest my case.

Bonus observation: When Flitgirl and I started going out, I played this CD for her and she cried. What a smoothie I am.

1976: Led Zeppelin's vastly underrated and overlooked "Presence" wins this round. True, "Tea For One" is a complete knockoff of "Since I've Been Loving You" and "Hots On For Nowhere" is a throw-away, but you were never, ever hear a set of drums recorded any better or played any better than on "Achilles' Last Stand" or "For Your Life." Makes me physically exhausted to listen to those two tracks. In a good way.

Bonus observation: I think I'm biased against "Tea For One" because I was listening to it when I puked from the stomach flu in my freshman dorm room in college.

1977: I'm going off the beaten path here and picking Steely Dan's "Aja." Why? Because it's my list, dammit! Also, this is a damned fine album top to bottom - great production, great lyrics, impeccable playing from some top-notch studio musicians assembled by Messrs. Fagen and Becker.

Bonus observation: I recommend listening to "Aja" in the dark. Why? I don't know, I just do. Just seems to work.

1978: Much like Dylan in '75, the Stones had been written off by many in 1978 when they rolled out a little dandy called "Some Girls." Go ahead, try to not sing the "doo-doo DOO-DOO doodoodoo," chorus to "Miss You." I dare you.

Bonus observation: When I was a kid, I recall seeing some half-assed music video for "Beast of Burden" starring Mick Jagger and Bette Midler (yes, Bette Midler). Did I dream that?

1979: There's no way I can avoid going with Roger Waters' insane ego trip known as Pink Floyd's "The Wall." True, the plot is incomprehensible self-pitying tripe, but there are some dynamite numbers on here, my two favorites being "In the Flesh?" and "Hey, You."

Bonus observation: There's little in this world that makes me happy, but here's one thing: I love when radio stations play "The Happiest Days of Our Lives" immediately before "Another Brick in the Wall (part 2)." That's the way it should be done.

Tune in next week for (shudder!) the 1980's...

[Editor's note: Oh gosh, I didn't dream it. Mick, how could you?]

Fun With Filip!

2008-07-28T09:20:00.005-04:00

As you all know, yesterday Johan Santana tossed a complete game, picking up a bullpen that had been completely taxed out in a 14-inning contest the night before, and preserving the Mets' slim first-place lead in the process. These are all great things, right? Wrong. When last we saw Filip Bondy, sportswriter extraordinaire and unabashed Yankee suckup, he was heard comparing Eli Manning unfavorably to Phil Rivers. Good call! Well, now he's got some things to say about Santana's performance yesterday. Listen up, you might learn something:

It was hard to figure at Shea Sunday whether the Mets won a big baseball game or surrendered unconditionally to an inane lobbying campaign.

Oh boy, this oughta be good.

The Mets beat the Cardinals, 9-1, and Johan Santana pitched nine full innings for the first time in more than a year, throwing the last 19 of his 118 pitches in light rain and below a particularly loud lightning bolt in the ninth.

Hmm, I see where he's going with this: By pitching the 9th inning, Johan could've been hit by lightning! Come to think of it, the same goes for Carlos Beltran, David Wright, Jose Reyes, and everyone else on the field. Manuel clearly should've just forfeited the game right then and there despite the score. (by the way - I didn't know lightning made sound. I thought it was thunder. Ah well, whatever...)

His performance provided some needed rest for a flagging bullpen, and issued the sort of message no doubt expected of a $137.5 million starter. The fans saluted his extra effort with heart-healing chants of "Jo-han," and everyone exited the place knowing all was forgiven.

Well, I agree about the bullpen, but I'm not sure I get this "message" and "forgiven" business. Is there a problem here I haven't picked up on?

But the biggest winner might well have been New York talk radio, which had screamed and pushed Santana into a dugout corner from which there really was no escape.

Yes, and if there's one thing we've learned about Jerry Manuel at this point, it's that he makes decisions based upon what Frank from Massapequa and Anthony from Middle Village think.

A strong argument can be made that Santana coming out for the ninth with an eight-run lead was not the smartest of baseball moves. The cause may well have been the unreasonable complaints about his reasonable departure last week with a three-run lead after eight.

Well, I think the more likely "cause" is the fact that everyone in the bullpen except Guy Conti had pitched the night before. Wouldn't you agree? I'm sure you'll get to that later.

After a hail of criticism following the Philly fiasco, there really was only one answer, if Santana wished to avoid the same nonsense. He agreed to go the distance, which could easily have turned into a disaster if he had strained even the tiniest of muscles.

If he strained even the tiniest muscle in the 8th, would that have been any different? Or the 7th? Jeebus H. Christmas. Let the man finish his game.

Immediately, there was a bit of mythologizing by the Mets. Manuel said that Santana was "adamant" to him about going the distance, even though it became clear the pitcher merely responded to Warthen that he could finish and wished to do so.

Ooo! Ooo! Conspiracy! Someone's lying! Which is it? Was he "adamant" or did he simply say he "wished to do so"? Clearly there's a story here, and only a bloodhound named Bondy can sniff it out.

And so the most important and expensive pitcher on the Mets' staff went out and threw some unnecessary fastballs Sunday in the ninth. If you're a message kind of guy, you were applauding his gutsy show. If you're more of a pitch-count realist, you were horrified at the illogic of it all. Manuel only intended to allow Santana to reach 115 pitches, but then there were two outs and the complete game was too close to sabotage.

I wasn't particularly horrified. You know why? At the risk of repeating myself - the ENTIRE BULLPEN had pitched the night before. I'm still waiting for you to cover this fact, which, when you think about it, is probably the most important fact underlying this whole story. I'm sure you'll get to it at some point.

It has become very clear by now that Santana - or maybe his contract - cannot walk from the dugout to the mound without manufacturing very large headlines and intense debate. He scattered six hits and walked only one batter Sunday, while his ERA dipped to 2.93. Yet the questions afterward were more about his hurt feelings, and about a rather embarrassing play in the sixth.

A complete game gem, a 9-1 rout, and you're actually going to talk about a baserunning gaffe in the 6th inning? No chance. I'd like to think you have more brains than that.

In that inning, Santana was caught napping at the plate while his batted ball sailed into the right-hand corner of the park.

Guess not.

Time stood still, almost, except that it never really does. And when the baseball smacked into the wall in fair territory, Santana half-trotted to first on what should have been an easy double.

Know when time stands still? When I read shit columns like this. Actually, time actually moves backwards.

If he were not a pitcher who had just completed a six-hitter, great scorn would have been heaped upon him from all quarters.

I'm sure you have a point here somewhere. Also, I'm sure this somehow relates to your main hypothesis about him pitching the 9th inning as well. I'm all ears.

There are still some potholes on this Mets expressway, too many brain-dead moments that may catch up with them in September or October. In the third inning Sunday, Jose Reyes tagged up and loped home on a one-out liner to center by Carlos Delgado. The problem was that Endy Chavez had misread the play and was nearly doubled off at second. If Chavez had been caught, then Reyes wouldn't have crossed the plate yet. The run wouldn't have counted.

You know what, Manny Ramirez ran through a stop sign yesterday and scored. Stuff happens. Fact is, things like this have been happening with much less frequency under Mr. Manuel. But again, what does any of this have to do with Johan Santana pitching the 9th inning? And I'm STILL waiting for you to mention the fact that EVERYONE IN THE BULLPEN HAD THROWN THE NIGHT BEFORE!!

But again, the Mets have won 15 of their last 19 games, their starters are lights-out and it is probably not harmoniously correct to point out some remaining flaws. As for Santana, he is throwing as well as he has all season - whether it is for eight or nine innings.

So, no mention of the bullpen being completely maxed out. No explanation of how a few baserunning mistakes are even remotely relevant to anything. It must be fun writing columns that way. I'll try:

And so, Filip Bondy continues to write stupid columns for the Daily News. The reason, no doubt, is that he was kidnapped by aliens, who implanted a "stupid column" chip in his brain. Also, he lost his car keys the other day. The end.

Eat Shit, Phillies Thank You For A Well-Played Series, Philadephia.

2008-07-25T09:52:00.009-04:00

My, that was enjoyable.

Left for dead on Tuesday night by fans, talk-show hosts, and the New York Post (again! shocker!), the Mets took all of 24 hours to brush themselves off and reel off possibly their two most exciting and impressive victories all season. I've loved Delgado's resurgence as much as the next fella, but what it's come down to, obviously, is the Mets' starting pitching, which just brutalized the Phillies this week. Whether they can keep it up remains to be seen, of course, but you'd have to be insane to think Philly is even close in that department right now. And now that they're not hitting either, the Phillies are, well, they're not good. At all. In other words, now that we've made it to the top floor, it's a good time to change the feng-shui up here and create some breathing room.

***

In other news, I heard Jose Reyes carelessly showed up late to the ballpark for a crucial, first-place-deciding game against his team's bitter divisional rivals, and got himself benched. Not only that, he stood on home plate after scoring the other night and taunted his opponent's bench. What a childish, immature, brat. He's no leader, that's for sure. No wonder Phillies broadcaster Larry Andersen said on the air that Reyes deserves a fastball to the neck.

What's that you say?

Jimmy Rollins showed up late and Shane Victorino openly taunted the Mets? Well, what'd Reyes do, then? He hit a game-breaking 3-run home run on Wednesday to put the Mets back into first place, and then he ran around the bases enthusiastically?

I agree with Andersen. Kill him.

Edges All Around

2008-07-24T07:47:00.006-04:00

Ryan Madson: Jose Reyes? He's got an edge.

Brett Myers: He's got an edge, all right.

Jimmy Rollins: He's got an edge, baby!

Geoff Jenkins: You know he's got an edge!

Toasty Joe: Hell yes he's got an edge! And how much did you love that slow, flashy trot around the bases? Suck it, Victorino.

Pat Burrell: John Maine? He's got an edge.

Chase Utley: Oh, he's got an edge all right.

Jimmy Rollins: He's got an edge, baby!!

Greg Dobbs: You know he's got an edge!

Toasty Joe: He's scuffled a bit lately, but last night John Maine most assuredly had an edge. Pretty gutsy performance against a tough lineup. Let's keep it going, Johnny.

Shane Victorino: Billy Wagner? He's got an edge.

Eric Bruntlett: Oh, he's got an edge, all right.

Jimmy Rollins: He's got an EDGE, baby!!!

Carlos Ruiz: You KNOW he's got an edge.

Toasty Joe: Whew. That's all I got on him.

Oh, and by the way...

Kim Myers: Brett Myers? He's got a punch.

Boston P.D.: Oh, he's got a punch, all right.

Jimmy Rollins: He's got a punch baby!!!

Toasty Joe: You KNOW he's got a punch. And a stupid-looking goatee. And speaking of punches, is it just me, or do the Phillies have a ton of guys who you would love to see get slugged in the mouth? Brett Myers, Shane Victorino, Pat Burrell, Cole Hamels...I feel like I can't wait until the next bench-clearing brawl so I can see some of these cockknockers laid out. Ah well, I'll gladly take another victory today instead.

A Nice Rendering of Luis Aguayo

2008-07-23T17:41:00.000-04:00

What? You Pooped In The Refrigerator?

2008-07-23T10:00:00.010-04:00

You ate a whole wheel of cheese?

You had one of your speediest runners thrown out at home plate by 10 feet with nobody out and the heart of the order due up - twice in the same game?

And you blew a 3-run, 9th inning lead?

How'd you do that?

Heck, I'm not even mad. That's amazing!

How 'bout we get you in your p.j.'s and we hit the hay?

***

All I'll say about last night's debacle is that I was checking out a Phillies fan message board in the 7th inning, and all I saw was "we suck, break up the team, they're awful, no playoffs, we can't hit, Gillick, you idiot, fire sale, fire sale, fire sale..." You don't even want to know what the comments on MetsBlog looked like after it was all over.

I think all of us might need a new hobby. As for me, I'm swearing off message boards.

What's Wrong With This Picture?

2008-07-20T17:59:00.008-04:00

Yes, yes, I'll get to the Mets salvaging a split this weekend with a fairly invigorating victory today. But first I just had to scan and post this picture I took in 1998, which I found as I was rooting around in some old boxes today. Why, you ask, is this picture noteworthy? It's not because we all needed a glimpse of Rey-Rey and his 90210 sideburns signing a few autographs. And it's not because of the guy in the foreground with the incredible plaid baseball cap (yes, a plaid baseball cap). No, it's noteworthy because....um, how can I put this delicately?...

MR. MET IS TOUCHING HIMSELF!!

I cannot believe that I've had this picture sitting in a drawer for 10 years, and I only just noticed that I managed to capture Mr. Met engaging in self-gratification. Really, when you think about it, this is the Zapruder film of baseball. Of course, inquisitive person that I am, I have a host of questions, such as (i) why is he doing that?; and (ii) why is he staring lustily at Rey Ordonez as he does it? These are not easy questions, not for any man. Anyway, Mr. Met, if you're reading this, I am seriously considering selling this picture to the tabloids, but ten grand might change my mind. The ball's in your court - and in your hand, apparently. Sicko.

***

(1) The day I become a big league manager (it won't be long now!), I won't give a shit about tattoos, facial hair, jewelry, music in the clubhouse, or any of that. However, I will have one rule, to be violated under penalty of death: Get a fucking cap that fits, and don't wear it cocked to one side during a game. Edinson Volquez, I'm looking in your direction. I mean, I've seen a few guys with caps slightly off-kilter, but Volquez is just completely off the reservation. It's time to put a stop to this ridiculous-looking nonsense.

(2) OK, I can't hold back any longer. I've done everything but throw dirt on Carlos Delgado's grave over the past two months, so it's time to make amends. Apparently the man isn't finished after all. I still say they should sell high and ship him outta here.

(3) I like this Argenis Reyes kid. Like Andy Hernandez, but he can hit a little bit and has a knack for the clutch ones. Maybe he's a keeper. Any chance Castillo can get lost on the way back to New York?

(4) Johnny Maine's officially hit a bit of a rough patch. I've seen enough from him to have confidence that he'll pull out of it. As for Big Pelf, he got battered today - I'll be very interested to see how he bounces back from that one.

(5) Is it just me, or is Fernando Tatis ALWAYS on base?

(6) Yes, yes, nice job today Wags, striking out the side and all, but I expect that from you against the Cincinnati Reds of the world. How about getting it done against Philadelphia, is that too much to ask?

That's it for now, as we head into the week in first (ahhhh) place. And please, if you see Mr. Met at Shea this week: Tell him I want my money.

I Feel Fairly Comfortable Saying The Mets Would Not Have Won That Game Under This Man

2008-07-18T09:45:00.007-04:00

I'm not one to pile on or to live in the past, but the thought that was burning in my brain after last night's thrilling, stirring, amazing, 10-8 victory is that no way, no how, no chance would the Mets have been able to attain such a victory if Willie Randolph was still around. After the Redlegs put up that 5-spot in the 4th, the boys in blue would've packed it in for the night and started thinking about late-night dinner plans and/or whether to order a porno movie in their hotel room before they hit the sack. You know it and I know it.

That being said, a few points:

(1) Obviously a 10th consecutive victory is great, but consider that they overcame an absolutely pathetic outing by their putative "ace," two blown leads, and one bullpen meltdown - and still won by two runs. Those are some tremendously good signs.

(2) Let's get this one out of the way. Johan - ugh. He just looked like he wanted to be somewhere else. I'm not in the "concerned" zone yet (his ERA is too good), but a few more like that and I will be.

(3) What an enormous 2-out, 2-RBI hit by D. Wright in the 5th to trim the Reds' lead to 5-4. Those are the type of hits that have been missing for over a year (minus two weeks). Speaking of Wright...

(4) I don't clap and yell while watching regular season games on TV much, but rest assured there was a ruckus going on in Brooklyn when D. Wright's ball cleared the right field fence in the 9th. As usual, my sports-related cheering woke up my pooch who then started running around barking, which is always amusing. I wish you all could've seen her after the Plaxico touchdown in the Super Bowl. She went crazier than I did (and almost got stepped on).

(5) Tatis, I mean, what can you say? He's this year's edition of the 2006 Jose Valentin, isn't he?

Just a great win all around, and I'm finding myself really excited to watch these games now. Something that was unthinkable back when a meager 2 wins in a row supposedly constituted "a nice little roll."

p.s. - Someone on Mets Blog made a great comment that we should refer to a certain two players as "Alouque." Nice. Oh, and I caught Orlando's press conference after his epic Binghamton start. My Spanish is a bit rusty, but I think "ehhhhhhhhh..." means "I'm finished. Please cut me."

Feelin' Hot, Hot, Hot

2008-07-14T10:10:00.003-04:00

What happened to the mediocre team I knew and loathed?

Some of us knew that, despite the flaws in this roster, the Mets had enough talent to compete and even win this division. But this is more than a little absurd. They've not only won nine games in a row, but they've won those games by a combined score of....wait for it....54-19. That's fifty-fucking-four to nine-fucking-teen. Not to mention four shutouts in the past week. Not to mention outhitting the Giants and the Rockies in the past six contests by a combined total of....wait for it again...58-20. Not to mention Mike Pelfrey suddenly looking like Randy Johnson circa 1995, not to mention Carlos Delgado mashing the ball, not to mention Jose Reyes "quietly" putting together an extremely solid season, not to mention Ollie Perez suddenly regaining his sanity, not to mention doing all this despite missing their starting LF, RF, and 2B....I'd say happy days are back at Shea.

My favorite win during this entire streak, without a doubt, was Friday night, when Ollie and Aaron Cook were locked up in a tight, crisply-played 1-1 contest until Damion Easley sent a rocket over the centerfield fence to put the Mets in front in the 8th. Prior to that, I was doing some serious yelling and fist-pumping as I watched AARON HEILMAN (of all people) whiff two consecutive Rockies to get out of a bases-loaded, 1-out jam in the 7th. Just a tremendously exciting game, one of those 1-run games that good teams will win and bad teams will lose (the Mets had lost a shitload of those games in the past 6 months). I made Flitgirl quite cross by refusing to go out to dinner until this one was over.

I'll send you into the All-Star break with the immortal words of Hall of Famer, prophet, seer, and all-around intellectual deity Joe Leonard Morgan, who uttered this timeless classic last night:

"If you pitch well, you hit well, and you play good defense, you'll win."

Everybody got that?

Call Now!

2008-07-10T10:00:00.003-04:00

Some things just get worse over time. [gesturing to a broken-down 1990 Toyota Corolla]

And if you're a baseball player, aged 42 years or older, a reverse birthday could make this the best season of your life.

Hi, I'm Moises Alou for the Senior Baseball Network. A reverse birthday is a MLB-sanctioned program that allows baseball players 42 years and older to access the equity in their bodies, without making any monthly trips to the disabled list.

I know. I know, it sounds too good to be true, and I'm sure you have a lot of questions.

That's why the Senior Baseball Network created this free educational video. It'll tell you all about how to avoid strained calf muscles, hamstring pulls, bunions, bursitis, arthritis, gingivitis, gout, goiter, scarlet fever, diptheria, shingles, scrofula, swimmer's ear, water-on-the-knee, turf toe, ruptured scrotom, malaria, bubonic plague, hysterical blindness, and many, many other injuries that can derail a player's career when he hits the age of 42.

So if you're a baseball player 42 years or older, let me send you your free video right now.

It really could make this...the best season of your life.

I'm Back! With Observations!

2008-07-08T09:32:00.005-04:00

Terribly sorry for the prolonged absence, which was the unavoidable result of a number of factors, including a particulary hectic work schedule, writer's block, and, oh yes, a move from Manhattan to Brooklyn. Yep, you read that right, in the past 24 months, the Flitgirl and I (i) got a dog; (ii) got married; (iii) got a Volvo; and, now, (iv) bought a place in Brooklyn. Let's follow the yuppie script right down the line, shall we?

Some thoughts the big move:

(1) Last time I moved, about 5 years ago, I was a bachelor with a few pathetic pieces of Ikea furniture, and the whole process took no more than 4-5 hours. This time? Wedding china, bedroom set, crystal, kitchen appliances, giant flat-screen TV, a bar, china hutch, two sets of clothes, a third-floor walk up, and four not-so-bright movers equals a 13-hour clusterfuck. Seriously. If I ever have to move again, shoot me.

(2) I've only been a Brooklynite for a week, but so far I've noticed two big differences from Manhattan:

(a) Stoops. People hang out on them. A lot. They just sit there for hours on end. Talking, I guess. I don't get it. Don't they have an XBox or something?

(b) Gay couples holding hands. Sure, you see 'em in the non-Chelsea parts of Manhattan every now and again, but this is something else. There's almost as many guy-guy and girl-girl couples walking up and down 5th Avenue holding hands than straight ones. Of course, not that there's anything wrong with it - just an observation.

(3) Our pup has NOT adjusted to the move very well. She has no idea where she is, she sulks around the house, and she starts crying if we leave her alone in the apartment for more than 30 seconds. Damn you, separation anxiety! Can anyone recommend a good doggy therapist?

(4) Biggest perk of the new place: Semi-exclusive roof-deck, baby! Had a damned good view of the fireworks over the harbor on the 4th, as Tom can attest. Looking forward to hosting many hoity-toity cocktail parties up there once we get settled in.

Anyway, because the Time Warner guy initially refused to climb down our fire escape (the nerve!), we were without cable for our first five nights, meaning that I missed just about every Met game in the past 7 days (other than the ridiculous 7-hour affair on Sunday). So, we're, like, back in the race now? Uh-huh. Taking 3 out of 4 in first-place Philly's park would normally be considered HUGE, but you just know they're gonna get their hats handed to them by the shitty Giants now. I frickin' hate this team.

Tell the Captain, Air Marshal Carlin Says "Go Fuck Yourself!"

2008-06-23T07:16:00.004-04:00

My favorite bit of all time from my favorite comedian of all time. If you younger readers have not watched him much, give this a try.

R.I.P., George.

The Burning Question

2008-06-18T23:48:00.003-04:00

In order to put a capper on this whole Willie Randolph mess, a critical issue must be resolved. Namely, what the hell am I supposed to do with his bobblehead doll?

Yes, I have had a Willie Randolph bobblehead doll on my desk at home for the past three years. I got it at a Shea Stadium giveaway (was it Opening Day of 2005? maybe), and as ballpark giveaways go, it wasn't a bad one at all.

While Willie's managerial star rose and fell over the next few years, I kept it right there. The Flitgirl accidentally knocked him onto the floor one day, thus causing a sizable chuck of his left jawline to depart from his body (click on picture for a super-enlarged view of this injury), and then put it back on the desk hoping I wouldn't notice. Well, several weeks later, I did notice, but I left him right where he was. And even though he couldn't chew solid foods anymore, there he stood.

And even after the horrors of September 30, 2007 and the rampant mediocrity of 2008, there he stood, collecting a little dust, but still standing proudly.

Well, for better or for worse, the real Willie is gone now. So what's to be done with his pint-sized porceline doppleganger?

I've hashed out a few options, but I need your input:

(A) Keep him. It's a valuable collectible! I mean, wouldn't you kill to have a vintage 1982 George Bamberger bobblehead right now?

(B) Throw him in the trash. It was a worthless ballpark freebie when you got it, and now that it has a facial fracture and, as a result of the firing, no basis in reality, it's worthless.

(C) Cover up the name on the bottom with masking tape, get a magic marker, draw some thick glasses on his face, and pretend it's Jerry Manuel.

(D) Package him up and send him via Federal Express to the Westin South Coast Plaza Hotel in Costa Mesa, California. And then have the hotel concierge toss him in the garbage.

Any additional suggestions are welcome.

***

As for last night, I must admit that I only made it through the first 6 innings of this stirring victory, so I can't offer much in the way of analysis. However, I can say that when I posted a little while ago about Oliver Perez needing a good psychiatrist, I wasn't kidding. When that cheapie bloop hit from Figgins dropped into no-man's land to lead off the 5th, SNY had shot of Ollie bent over with his hands on his knees dejectedly staring into the outfield. At that moment, I knew it was coming. The nightly meltdown was upon us. Sure enough, walk, hit, hit, hit, farewell 3-1 lead, hello 4-3 deficit. Freaking nutbag. I honestly can't wait until he's someone else's problem.

I was, however, incredibly shocked to turn on the TV this morning to see that the aforementioned 4-3 deficit somehow mutated into a 5-4 victory. How about that! They've now taken a series from one of the best teams in baseball on the road, won 4 out of 6, and heck, if it wasn't for Billy Wagner, we'd be talking 7 out of 10. I know, I know... But c'mon, I once read somewhere "ya gotta believe," so I choose to believe. It's much more fun than being depressed all the time.

Let's go Mets!

Gimme a Break!

2008-06-18T09:53:00.009-04:00

April 28, 1985.

The Yankees, led by second-year manager, Hall of Famer, legend, and beloved Yankee icon Yogi Berra, lose a game to the White Sox in Chicago. Berra, who had managed the Yankees to a respectable 87-75 record in 1984, had been told by owner George M. Steinbrenner personally several weeks earlier that he, Berra, would be the Yankee manager for all of 1985, "win or lose."

Nevertheless, on that day, April 28, 1985, a mere sixteen games into Berra's second season as Yankee manager, Steinbrenner dispatches one of his henchmen, Clyde King, to Chicago to unceremoniously fire Berra.

Yogi Berra, Hall of Famer, legend, and beloved Yankee icon, is so incensed and personally offended by this act of cowardice that he, Yogi Berra, Hall of Famer, legend, and beloved Yankee icon, does not set foot in Yankee Stadium -- for fourteen years.

June 17, 2008.

Following the sixty-ninth game of the 2008 season on the West Coast, the New York Mets fire their fourth-year, non-Hall of Fame, non-beloved Met icon, non-legend manager, who presided over the biggest regular season collapse in baseball history the year before, who led the team to a sub-.500 record the next year despite the addition of the best pitcher in baseball, and who accused the organization, the fans, and the media of racism a month earlier.

New York Daily News writer Bill Madden - an unabashed friend of Willie Randolph's - objectively reviews these facts and concludes the following:

"Never in the history of New York baseball has there been a more shameful, indecent, undignified or ill-conceived firing of a manager."

And Madden is not alone. Mike Vaccaro from the Post. Wallace Matthews from Newsday. Scott Miller from CBS. Buster Olney from ESPN. Column after column after column calling the New York Mets, and organization that has given hundreds of thousands of dollars to charity, that was front and center in post-9/11 relief work, that has worked tirelessly to honor the memory of Jackie Robinson, "gutless, heartless, incompetent cowards."

***

The way the Mets handled this firing was bad. There's no debating it. They could have given this man the boot last October, or on Memorial Day, or the moment he got off the plane from San Diego last week, and no one would have said a word. They clearly timed this so it wouldn't land on the back pages until a day later, and that's a sleazeball move. I won't argue it for a minute.

But come the fuck on already. This hysterical outrage from the media is laughable. It's like they shot the man. "They owed him better than this"? Why? If anything he owed them after what happened last year. And was he delivering this season? Fuck, no. In fact, his players were lazy, sloppy, disinterested, undisciplined, and bickering. He deserved to get fired, and frankly, the more I thought about it, the less I gave a rat's ass that the man had to endure the indignity of a free, first-class plane trip to California to finally learn his fate.

The real problem, of course, is not whether the Mets dishonored Willie Randolph. It's that they should have foreseen that the way they did this would be torn apart by the media. They didn't, so they deserve to be slammed for it.

But good GOD. Enough already. This is not, as the media would have you believe, some benchmark low point in Met history. Not even a little bit. You know what the real low point in Mets history is?

September 30, 2007.

You know who the manager was then?

Let's turn the page.

In Anaheim...At 3:15 a.m....After a win

2008-06-17T09:49:00.008-04:00

If you picked the above combination, congrats. You've won this round of "Clue: Incompetent Manager Edition." I, myself, had predicted "In New York...On Memorial Day...After a loss." Whoops.

Now, the Mets are probably going to get burned at the stake by the hysterical frothing imbeciles on WFAN for the way they handled this. Yeah, it was kind of cowardly, they should've done it in New York, Willie's a class act who deserved a little better, blah-dee-dee-blah-blah-blah... Listen folks, he was given a three-and-a-half year shot here, he's made a ton of money, and he's going to be making a ton more while sitting on his ass and watching TVLand for the next few months. In fact, I'm sure he'll land on "Baseball Tonight" in the next week or so, or perhaps as Joe Torre's assistant nose-picker in L.A. (hey...he's already on the West Coast this morning). So, don't shed too many tears for Willie. My feeling is, this should've been done about a month ago (if not nine months ago), so to get all in a tizzy about how, when, and where they did it is really pointless. After what happened last year and the first half of this year, we all wanted accountability. Well, now we've got it.

Some have recently put all the blame for these past few months on Omar, and I do agree this roster is flawed - the bench stinks, the Castillo contract was insanity, and he relied too heavily on some of these old mummies - but listen: A roster that has David Wright, Jose Reyes, Johan Santana, Carlos Beltran, Billy Wagner, Carlos Delgado and John Maine CANNOT be under .500 in a bad league for a YEAR. No way, no how. Willie has to take a hit for that, he absolutely has to.

Now, as you know, I've been a card-carrying member of the Fire Willie Club this season, but I have no illusions about Jerry Manuel being the second coming of Gil Hodges over here. Look, this season is more than likely kaput, so let him run out the string. If they make an astonishing 1999-esque run to the playoffs, great! Everyone wins. Give him another shot in 2009. If not, you've got all kinds of interesting possibilities for next year, starting with Ken Oberkfell. (I've heard good things).

A few random additional thoughts:

1) We have a manager named "Jerry"! We have a manager named "Jerry"! The Seinfeld jokes will be in abundance, rest assured. Let's get this guy, this guy and this guy to coach, and we'll be all set.

2) In view of Willie's departure, soon you will all be enjoying a new banner by our master photoshop artiste, Tom. I wish I had those skills (or that software). Nice work.

3) So, the two ~~nose-pickers~~ principals from the Subway Sandwich ad that spawned the name of this site (and my blogger handle) are now both gone from New York. However, I will not be changing the name of this site. For the good of Mets fans, humankind, and Jared, some things must not be forgotten.

4) "I trust my guys." I just had to hear it one last time.

I shall close today by giving you a sneak preview of what you will be hearing on the radio about three hours from now:

MD: Aaaaaaaaaaaaand, GOOD AFTERNOON EVERYBODY!!! HOW ARE YOU TODAAAAY!?! Mike and the Mad Dog with you on the FAN, Victor and the clowns up in YES...A lot to do today, good afternoon there, Michael, how are you?

MF: I'm fine, Dawg.

MD: And obviously we'll start with the Willie Randolph situation, Mike, and I'm sorry...You cannot fire Willie Randolph the way the Mets did here. You just can't do it! I mean, what are the Mets doin' here? What are they doin'?!? You're gonna fire your manager at three o'clock in the morning after a WIN? I mean, this is just a disgrace!

MF: The Mets completely botched this. The Mets completely botched this. That's all there is to it. I mean, they completely mishandled this situation from day one. This is a guy who's well-respected. Has a great reputation. And the way they handled this is just a disgrace. It's a disgrace. It really is. It's a disgrace. It's a disgrace, that's all there is to it. They completely mishandled and botched this situation.

[Repeat above dialogue for 5 hours]

There. Now I've saved you all the trouble of having to tune in. You can thank me later.

2008-06-16T10:06:00.005-04:00

Reporters: Omar! Omar, over here!

OM: Yes, you first. Go ahead.

Reporter: Omar, what is Willie Randolph's job status right now?

OM: We have a manager. His name is Willie Randolph. Obviously I evaluate things every day, but right now, Sunday, June 15, 2008, we have a manager, named Willie Randolph.

Reporter: Omar, there are some reports floating around about the coaching staff. Can you let us know their status?

OM: Right now we have coaches. Their names are Rick Peterson, Howard Johnson, Tom Nieto, Sandy Alomar, and Jerry Manuel. They coach for the New York Mets.

Reporter: Omar, any thoughts on the truly pathetic effort given by Carlos Delgado on that single by Vasquez in the first game of the doubleheader?

OM: Carlos Delgado is a first baseman.

Reporter: Well, I know that, but...

OM: Please let me finish. Carlos Delgado is a first baseman. He plays for the Mets. He is from Puerto Rico. He wears number 21. Thank you.

Reporter: Omar, what are your thoughts on the team in general?

OM: Whoo boy. That's a tough question. Well, first, the Mets are a baseball team. They play their home games in Shea Stadium. Tomorrow, they will play a road game in California. They are owned by Fred Wilpon, managed by Willie Randolph, and I am the General Manager.

Reportwer: Well, Omar, what I mean is...

OM: Please, please let me finish. Hang on a moment. [reading Wikipedia off of laptop] "The 'Mets' name originates from the New York Metropolitans, an 1880s baseball club. They are nicknamed the 'Amazin' Mets,' or simply the 'Amazins.' An expansion franchise, the club was founded in Manhattan in 1962. Then based in the historic Polo Grounds, the Mets shared the venue with the New York Jets for two years, until Shea was completed..."

Reporter: Omar, Omar, we just want to know your thoughts on the future.

OM: [reading] "The future is commonly understood to contain all events that have yet to occur. It is the opposite of the past, and is the time subsequent to the present. Organized efforts to predict or forecast the future may have derived from observations by early man of heavenly objects. In physics, which uses a linear conception of time..."

Jay Horowitz: OK, that's it fellas. Willie will now answer a few questions. Willie?

WR: I trust my guys.

Reporter: Oh, Christ...

By Jove, I've Got It!

2008-06-12T18:22:00.004-04:00

...Let's forfeit our remaining games!

Mind you, I'm not talking one or two games.

I'm saying let's forfeit ALL of our remaining games. I'm saying let's sign up for a record of 31-131. And let's do it right...fucking...now.

Why, you ask? Well, this will accomplish several things:

1. Euthanasia. I simply can't take these games anymore, and I know I'm not alone. Just put them all down as losses right now. All of 'em. Rip that band-aid right off. Ahhh....a moment of slight pain, but liberating. See you in '09.

2. Rest 'Em Up! A 162-game baseball season can be grueling. Imagine what a 9-month vacation can do! Forfeit all the games today, and our boys should be rarin' to go next April. I know Ryan Church and his concussions will certainly appreciate the extra rest. And, hey, maybe, just maybe, Moises Alou's various bumps and bruises will...ah fuck, never mind.

3. Money, Money, Money. Do you want to keep financially supporting a franchise that lets a pack of disinterested losers and lazy slob millionaires jog out every night and play something that barely passes as baseball? How can we possibly justify it? Forfeit the remaining 97 games now, and the temptation to piss away $100 for that ticket, beer, and Bubba Burger will magically disappear. Save that c-note for something more practical, like a DVD boxed set, a crate of sex toys, or a tank of gas.

4. Read A Book, You Dumb Fuck. It's the summertime, and that means there's lots of fun to be had. Like catching up on your reading. Seeing a symphony in the park. Taking tours of museums and gazing at wondrous works of art. How about a picnic with your loved one under the stars? Yes, there's lots of cultural and spiritual enrichment to be had this summer that doesn't involve staring blankly at your TV every night watching Willie Randolph stare blankly at his players, who stare blankly at each other, while the other team enthusiastically circles the bases.

And so, New York Mets, I say this to you: I want to open the paper tomorrow and see a big, fat "METS 31-131" at the bottom of the NL East standings. Let it sit there all year like a giant hunk of fecal matter at the bottom of a clogged toilet. Let it be a testament to all that your GM, your manager, and your players have wrought this year.

Let it be done.

Let The Good Times Roll

2008-06-11T11:18:00.004-04:00

In an interview on the FAN before last night's ~~game~~ loss, Willie Randolph said the following, possibly for the 19,342nd time in the last 12 months:

"We've just gotta get on a nice little roll."

So, following yet another excruciating loss last night, lawyer that I am, I went down to the courthouse first thing this morning an filed an emergency motion for an injunction. Fortunately, it was granted. Here are the conditions:

1. Willie Randolph is hereby prohibited from uttering the phrase "nice little roll" in any manner, fashion, or context.

2. In the event that Mr. Randolph is asked what he ate with his steak the night before, he may only reply "a small, tasty bun."

3. In the event that Mr. Randolph is asked what happened at his daughter's television audition, he may only reply that she got offered "a brief but compelling cameo appearance."

4. In the event that Mr. Randolph is asked how to succeed at a game of craps, he may only reply that "the key is getting a good result from the dice."

5. In the event that Mr. Randolph is asked who played the mother on "Good Times," he may only reply "a short but capable actress named Esther."

6. Mr. Randolph is further prohibited from uttering the phrase "nice little rhythm" in any manner, fashion, or context. In the event that Mr. Randolph is asked why he enjoys jazz, he may only reply that jazz has "a snappy beat and syncopation."

7. Violation of any of the conditions of this Order will subject Mr. Randolph to a punishment of this Court's choosing, including, but not limited to, being locked in a 6' by 6' room with Scott Ferrall for a 24-hour lecture to be given by Mr. Ferrall on the finer points of baseball, politics, and interpersonal relationships.

SO ORDERED, this Eleventh Day of June, 2008.

***

p.s. - Please see the sidebar for brand spanking new Carlos Beltran Mole Facts. Get 'em while they're hot.

I Flew 3,000 Miles to Watch the Mets Play the Padres and All I Got Was This Lousy Tasty Fish Taco

2008-06-09T08:52:00.017-04:00

Eck. Is it football season yet?

As you know, Toasty J. and the Mrs. spent the weekend in lovely San Diego, seeing the sights and soaking up the 72-degree humidity-free weather. It's interesting there - I had always assumed that Southern California = heat. Not so. Your typical S.D. days starts out at like 60 degrees and chilly, blossoming into 72, clear and sunny. Pretty sweet, especially in view of what was going on back here.

Anyway, enough with the weather. Let's talk Petco Park!

We arrived shortly before game time (which game did I see? Who really cares at this point. The one that they lost, ok?), which gave us a little time to snoop around. Friends, this is an interesting park. First of all, it's visible from many, many blocks away in the so-called Gaslamp District, which is a pretty nice area with tons of restaurants, bars, etc. Unfortunately, there were a fair amount of deranged homeless people roaming around (although not on San Francisco levels).

As for the ballpark itself, a few observations:

1. Their hot dog has a cooler name than our hot dog.

2. As if the Friar mascot is not disturbing enough - a giant, grotesque monk/man-child running amok through the outfield - in between innings, they roll out "Frankenfriar" (pictured here), which is an even larger, mechanically-inflated version of the Friar, who basically just spasms and dances around. Hilarity ensues.

3. Their fans' signs are wordier than ours. I mean, who has time to read something like this?

4. The right-field bleachers (where we sat) are decent, but you feel really, really far away. (Here's our view). Got a fairly good look at the back of Endy's and Giles' jerseys all night, but that's about it. Also, it didn't help that I was there with several non-baseball fans, so it was a bit hard to really get into the game.

5. The fish tacos - yum. See picture above. Enough said.

6. There is a fairly awesome picnic field beyond the centerfield fence which shows the game on a giant screen. Probably a good deal for people with little kids (not unlike the A.D.D. brats sitting behind us who were kicking our seats the whole game).

7. Most popular jersey at Petco? Not Trevor Hoffman. Not Tony Gwynn. Not Steve Garvey. It's Khalil Greene. I wish I were making this up.

8. As for the baseball that was actually played on the field -- geez Louise, I'm not getting into that. Instead, please enjoy the above picture of the picnic field as we receded into the night -- several minutes before someone or other hit a walk-off home run against so-and-so.

It's best not to think about it.

Preseason football, anyone?

p.s. - Like any enormously popular sports blog, we here at Toasted Joe get occasionally get reader submissions. Here is the ~~only~~ latest one, courtesy of Chris. I'm speechless. Nice work.

Hooray! We're Going To San Diego!

2008-06-05T10:00:00.003-04:00

That's right, the Mrs. and I are in the process of packing up and splitting for San Diego, that jewel of a city on the left coast - home of fish tacos, scorching heat, rampant wildfires, strip malls, and, most importantly, Padres Fever! Catch it!

True, the ostensible purpose of our visit will be to spend some quality time with best friend of Flitgirl/bridesmaid/U.S. Navy doctor/master knitswoman Theresa, but did you really think I'd be going to San Diego while the Mets are in town and NOT catch a game? I've scored some Jeffrey Maier-esque seats in right field for Saturday night's tilt. Look for the guy in the D. Wright away jersey if anyone happens to smack a home run in that area. I think we're sitting pretty close to the fence, so I'll see if I can make an ass out of myself on live TV by interfering with a ball in play. (By the way, who's pitching for the Mets on Satuday? Anyone know? What? Oliver Perez? Oh, fuck me).

So, expect a whole slew of Petco photos on Monday and a full recap of the ins and outs of our visit. And maybe, just maybe, if there's time, we can visit the spot where this happened.

Because, you know, that's how I roll.

Meet Oliver Perez's New Pitching Coach

2008-06-03T11:06:00.005-04:00

Toasted Joe has learned that the Mets have hired a special adjunct pitching coach to address Oliver Perez's recent struggles. Here's an exclusive transcript of their first session after last night's game:

Coach: Ahhh, yes, Oliver. It appears that vee have much to discuss this evening, no?

OP: I don't know...I'm just trying to go out there and help the team best I can.

Coach: No, no, you may save zee cliches for zee reporters. Vee are here to discuss zee truth. Vhat is in your heart?

OP: I don't know. I guess, I just...I just...didn't have it tonight.

Coach: I see. You "didn't have it tonight." Let us look at zee boxed score. Vun-third innings pitched. Five hits. Two walks. Six earned runs. Six! And you "just didn't have it tonight," eh?

OP: Guess not.

Coach: Oliver, you have had outings like this before. One moment you appear to be a top-flight pitcher. The next you're giving games away in zee first inning. Clearly, you have talent and ability. Zee problem lies in your mind. Vee must get to the root.

OP: OK.

Coach: Vhat are you feeling vhen you are standing there on zee pitcher's mound, throwing 85-mph fastballs right over zee heart of zee plate, giving up tape-measure home runs to guys named "Horwitz"? Vhat are you thinking vhen you start radically changing your arm angles and your mechanics in the middle of an at-bat?

OP: I guess I'm thinking...I'm thinking I'd rather be somewhere else.

Coach: Ah-HAH! Now vee are getting somewhere. But vhere? Vhere vould you rather be?

OP: [sniff] Sorry, this is really hard for me.

Coach: It is fine, Oliver. This is difficult, I know.

OP: I'd just....I'd rather be home.

Coach: Ahhh, but home vhere? Back in New York? Pittsburgh? Vhere?

OP: In...in Mexico. It was so peaceful there.

Coach: And vhat vould you be doing if you were there today?

OP: Well, when I was a kid, my father used to take me to the circus in Mexico City. I liked the clowns.

Coach: You liked zee clowns? And that is because you saw yourself as one of zee clowns, no?

OP: I think...I think so....

Coach: And all your life, your vun true vish was to make people laugh, vasn't it?

OP: Yes...

Coach: And you wanted to be a clown yourself! You never even vanted to be a pitcher, did you?

OP: [sniff]

Coach: DID YOU??

OP: NO!!!

Coach: Now, you listen to me, Oliver. Vee can solve this problem. All you need to do is look at this vatch as it svings back and forth.

OP: [staring] Uhhh, ok...

Coach: Svinging, very gently....very gently...your eyes are growing heavy....you are starting to get sleepy....you are asleep.

OP: Zzzzzzzzz.....

Coach: Now, Oliver...Vhen I snap my fingers, you vill vake up feeling refreshed. Your mind vill be clear. You will forget about zee circus and zee clowns. You vill throw strikes. You vill change speeds. You vill have command. You vill not mess with your mechanics during games. And, above all, you vill not give up home runs to players named "Horwitz."

[SNAP!]

OP: Huh? Wha?

Coach: All right, Oliver...I think we have cured you. Now go and enjoy these next few days off before your next start.

OP: OK, great! I think the circus is in town.

Coach: Ach!!!

Chug-Chug-Chug

2008-06-02T10:41:00.006-04:00

Well, it appears that finally, perhaps, maybe, could-be, hopefully, the Mets Locomotive is back on track. Of course, this has only been a relatively modest 5 out of 6 spurt, so I say this with much trepidation.

However, the signs are unmistakable. Timely hitting, quality starts, great (non-Heilman) bullpen work, solid defense, a glaring lack of boneheadedness and apathy, and, most importantly, a bounce in the step that we haven't seen in many months. I'm not completely breaking out the pom-poms until after this road trip, which is a chance to get even fatter against two bad teams. So give me 5 out of 7, and I'll be fully on board.

Unfortunately, I don't have much else to specifically add to this weekend's games, as the Mrs. and I were in St. Louis all weekend for a wedding. My thoughts on the fair city of St. Louis? It's humid. That's all I got.

Oh, well, one other thing. By far the highlight of the weekend was when the Flitgirl and I were tooling around in our rental car on Saturday afternoon, and she spotted a completely-buck-naked older man puttering around aimlessly on his front porch in suburban St. Louis, in full view of the general public. (Fortunately, as I was driving, my eyes were on the road so I missed this).

I am attempting to confirm whether or not this was Mark McGwire.

p.s. - I do have one thing to add about last night's game. One interesting thing you can learn by watching a game in HD is that Hong-Chih Kuo has no facial hair. I'm not talking about the fact that he doesn't have a mustache or a goatee, I'm saying he has NO FACIAL HAIR. Not a single living follicle. It's remarkable. And yet, we still can't hit him. Go figure.

We Looked Mahhvelous

2008-05-29T09:50:00.005-04:00

....for one night, at least.

That, my friends, was the opposite of everything we've seen from the Mets since last June. Consider, you had: (i) clutch, timely hitting; (ii) flawless execution; (iii) rock-solid defense; (iv) impeccable bullpen work; (v) quality at-bat after quality at-bat and deep count after deep count; and (vi) not one, but TWO late-game comebacks. I was waiting for Keith to abandon the Tootsie Pops and tell us he was eating "chicken salad...on rye...untoasted....with a side of potato salad....and a cup of tea! Ha!!"

Honestly, a game ball should really go to everybody wearing a Met uniform last night that did NOT have the name "Perez" stitched on the back. However, we only have a limited number (budget cuts), so I must distribute them as follows:

(1) Endy and 'Nando, the two most obvious heroes. Enjoy your game balls. And Endy...on an 0-2 count, no less? And not just a hit, but a home run? Unreal. And 'Nando with walkoff, but also the hilarious circus catch in RF and a key sac fly earlier in the game (one of many quality Met at-bats on the night). You've earned it.

(2) Carlos Beltran - you saved Ollie's bacon with a stupendous catch in the top of the 5th, and then you got, in my opinion, the most important and satisfying hit of the night, slashing a hard single to left field following D. Wright's leadoff walk in the 12th. Please, please go on one of those patented Beltran tears over the next couple of weeks. Please. Please? Anyway, enjoy your game ball.

(3) Aaron Heilman, Scott Schoeneweis, and Billy Wagner. Flawless work. Game balls all around. (yes, I said it - Aaron freaking Heilman. I give credit where it's due).

(4) Duaner Sanchez. Yes, you gave up the jack to Amezaga in the 12th, but shit happens. You pitched great, and you were involved in a play that I think really summed up this game in a nutshell. In the bottom of the 11th, with Endy on first, you're called upon to bunt. I mean, how often does a relief pitcher really practice this? Anyway, Logan Kensing's first pitch nearly takes your head off, but you get up, dust yourself off, and lay down a picture-perfect sacrifice. Not only that, you proceed to absolutely TEAR ASS down to first base, and almost beat it out for a hit. That, my friends, is what I've been looking for and waiting for with this bunch. Flawless execution AND hustle. More, please. Anyway, Duaner, you get TWO game balls for that play alone.

(5) Willie Randolph. What-what-WHAAAT? Yep, Willie Randolph. You had the stones to bench Carlos DelGodAwful for the second game in a row, and hit paydirt with this lineup again. (Side note - some conspiracy theorists have postulated that Minaya & Co. have ordered Willie to bench Delgado. Maybe. But I'll give him the benefit of the doubt). I think you stuck with Perez too long (obviously), but you know what? This Perez lunatic needs to sack the fuck up already and work his own way out of some jams. I've frankly had it with him, and look forward to parting ways very soon. (Hmmm....deadline trade for prospects? Tempting...)

So, basically, a banner night all around. Of course, we have been teased by this group before, such as during their 2-day romp through the Bronx which was followed by a craptacular display of alleged "baseball" for the next two weeks. In other words, I will not be tearing up any confetti for some time. But honestly, just keep playing that brand of hustle/execution/quality at-bat baseball, and I'll be happy - win or lose.

Yes, I said "win or lose," and I meant it. So there.

"Willie, You're Doin' a Heckuva Job!"

2008-05-27T10:06:00.003-04:00

And so it was, on the twenty-sixth day of May, 2008, New York Mets ownership and general management sat down with Willie Randolph for two hours to discuss his team's sub-.500 record for the past year despite a $140 payroll, a 1-6 trip against division rival Atlanta and injury-riddled, last place Colorado, his baseless accusations of racism against the media and fans, and game after game of shoddy, listless, lifeless, and mistake-ridden play.

Eventually, GM Omar Minaya emerged from this meeting to address the assembled media, and expressed the only conclusion one could possibly reach from these facts:

“Willie Randolph is our manager. There is no limbo. He’s the manager…and I hope he is our manager for many years to come.”

Wha-what-WHAT?!?

Of course, following this pronouncement, Willie's boys went out there and rallied behind him the only way they know how:

A shoddy, listless, lifeless, and mistake-ridden 7-3 loss.

Strike up the band!

***

Some thoughts on some atrocious baseball this weekend:

(1) Apparently Carlos Delgado is getting a little prickly with the media:

Asked to answer the part of the question regarding Randolph, Delgado told Heyman, “If you wanna be an ass, I can be an ass too.”

No, Carlos, you just PLAY like ass. Jesus, when can we cut this useless pantload? Every day it's a competition to see which is worse, his bat or his glove. Just get this cancer out of here and move on. If the Blue Jays can afford to eat Frank Thomas's contract, why can't we afford to eat Delgad-awful's? I don't understand it.

(2) Here's the script for about 93% of the Met losses in 2008: (a) Take modest 1-run lead for first 2-3 innings; (b) Blow lead, often with defensive blunder; (c) Let other team pad lead; (d) Shut everything down - no rallies, no fight, no nothing. Shut. Everything. Down. I've never seen a sadder brand of baseball in my life. When the other team grabs a one-run or two-run lead in the 5th inning, it's not just "over" in the way people say "it's over" in a half-kidding kind of way. It's actually, literally, "over." Done. Finished. Change the channel. Perhaps there's a way to let us forfeit these games once we give up a lead, so our players will be nice and rested for 2009?

(3) Some have suggested that Omar belongs on the hot seat instead of Willie. I, personally, don't see it. Yes, he's made some mistakes (Bannister-for-Burgos and the absurd Castillo contract stand out), but c'mon, man: he's put together a team with David Wright, Jose Reyes, Carlos Beltran, Johan Santana, Billy Wagner and John Maine, and orchestrated what looks like an absolute raping of the Nationals with the Church/Schneider for Milledge deal. And this somehow is a team that now doesn't even COMPETE, let alone win? The Mets have terrible fundamentals, they don't hustle, they give away at-bats, and they generally play stupid, lazy and disinterested baseball. These sorts of things, in my opinion, fall in the manager's lap. It's time for a new voice.

Finally, Flitgirl said something interesting during the game yesterday. Taking note of my less-than-stellar mood, she remarked "see, this is why I'm not a sports fan."

And you know what? I thought about it for a second, and she had a point. Why do I put myself through this torture, year after year after year?

And then I realized something.

This is why.

Meet the Mehs

2008-05-21T11:35:00.005-04:00

Meet the mehs, meet the mehs;
Step right up and beat the mehs.

They'll win two here, and they'll lose three there;
Guaranteed to make you pull out your hair.
Because the mehs are really killing their fans;
While their fool of a skipper sits on his hands.

Not....bad.....

Not....good....

Really bland is what they are....

So meet the M-E-H-S mehs;
They won't go far.

Oh, the manager is a dummy and can't get them ready to play...
What does he do?
He blames the press!

Oh, he's hollerin' 'bout Isiah and Herm Edwards yesterday...
What does he do?
He blames the press!

All the fans are ill at this unending swill,
They shake their heads and say "no thanks"...
So they grab their remotes and flip on YES,

To laugh at the Yanks.

One more time!

Meet the mehs, meet the mehs...

Mets Win NL East On Last Game Of Season Behind Glavine's Gem

2008-05-20T15:43:00.008-04:00

Dear readers,

Sigh. Let's just close our eyes, switch some uniforms around, and dream...

September 30, 2007

NEW YORK, NY

Clutch, gutty, phenomenal.

With the Mets' backs to to the collective wall, they turned to a future Hall of Famer to rescue them.

And boy, did Tom Glavine ever come through.

The Mets cruised to an easy 6-1 victory today against the Florida Marlins on the last game of the regular season, clinching their second straight NL East title, effectively erasing weeks of shoddy, subpar play and burying the Philadelphia Phillies' late surge.

And they did it with a starting pitching performance for the ages.

Glavine started the game with a hiccup, allowing a solo HR to Dan Uggla in the first inning, and then letting the Marlins load the bases with one out. Nobody knew it at the time, but that was the only threat the Marlins would muster. Mike Jacobs lined out to third, Matt Treanor flied meekly to right, and just like that, Glavine was out of it.

Given a reprieve of sorts, the Mets bats got the run right back in the bottom of the first with a leadoff double by the previously slumping Jose Reyes, who was driven in with a single by Carlos Beltran. After that, the Mets would keep tacking on, with runs in the 3rd, 4th, 5th, and, finally, a two-run blast by David Wright in the 7th, mounting a 6-1 lead.

Hitting coach Howard Johnson beamed following the game about the Met hitters' patient approach. "We really worked some deep counts. It seemed like we were ahead in every at-bat," Johnson said. "That was the gameplan, and it worked out."

Willie Randolph agreed. "I trust my guys. And today they played with fire and intensity," said Randolph. "Looks like I finally got through to them. And not a moment too soon."

As for Glavine, in one of the biggest games in franchise history, he was simply untouchable as he masterfully set down seventeen Marlins in a row after the first inning. Aaron Heilman and Billy Wagner closed it out, setting off a wild celebration at Shea that spilled out onto the field for the second year in a row.

Afterwards, in the clubhouse, a champagne-soaked Tom Glavine was asked to describe his stuff. "In a word?" he asked.

"Devastating."

The Race Card

2008-05-20T09:55:00.003-04:00

As many of you have heard by now, in a discussion of fan criticism with Ian O'Connor of the Bergen Record, Willie Randolph very gently laid down the race card the other day. Here is the relevant excerpt:

Randolph excluded Ozzie Guillen from the conversation, but wanted to know why the traits often admired in the calm, cool and collected likes of Joe Torre are portrayed as flaws in Torre's former third base coach.

"Is it racial?" Randolph asked. "Huh? It smells a little bit."

Asked directly if he believes black managers are held to different standards than their white counterparts, Randolph said: "I don't know how to put my finger on it, but I think there's something there. Herman Edwards did pretty well here and he won a couple of playoff [games], and they were pretty hard on Herm. Isiah [Thomas] didn't do a great job, but they beat up Isiah pretty good. ... I don't know if people are used to a certain figurehead. There's something weird about it."

Since I have been a very vocal critic of Willie this year, I have to address this. First, based on the quotes as they've been presented in this column, it appears to me that Willie raised the race issue before O'Connor said a word about it (O'Connor proceeded to follow up with a direct question about it). So, unless I'm mistaken about that, I don't anyone can say Willie was baited into saying anything he said.

Second, Willie....look, you seem to be a nice guy. I respect everything you've accomplished as a player. You seem to have lots of friends in the game and people who respect you. And there's no way I'm going to sit here and second guess you if you think you're being discriminated against. But let's break this down logically:

[Randolph] wanted to know why the traits often admired in the calm, cool and collected likes of Joe Torre are portrayed as flaws in Torre's former third base coach.

Um, Willie? JOE TORRE HAS FOUR RINGS. End of discussion.

Well, one more thing: many of the Yankee fans I know were sick and tired of Torre's "calm, cool and collected" style over the past few seasons. Wanna know why? He stopped winning rings.

"Is it racial?" Randolph asked. "Huh? It smells a little bit." I don't think so. Art Howe was the consummate bump on the consummate log, and he was absolutely brutalized by Met fans. Also, Willie seems to be discounting something, and that is: you lost in the 2006 NLCS to a significantly less talented Cardinals team, and you completely pissed away the division last year. Don't you think these facts have something to do with the fans' discontent?

Asked directly if he believes black managers are held to different standards than their white counterparts, Randolph said: "I don't know how to put my finger on it, but I think there's something there. Herman Edwards did pretty well here and he won a couple of playoff [games], and they were pretty hard on Herm." Well, I'm not a Jet fan, but as I recall, Herm Edwards was given a good, long chance to succeed in New York, and had some very fine traits (his players loved him and played hard for him), but he was an abysmal in-game coach and had the clock-management skills of a retarded sloth. These qualities, not his skin color, are what inflamed Jet fans.

"Isiah [Thomas] didn't do a great job, but they beat up Isiah pretty good." Good googly-moogly, where do I even begin here? Where exactly does "Isiah didn't do a great job" rank in the Understatement Hall of Fame? I'll say 2nd, just ahead of "Roger Cedeno wasn't a very good baserunner" and right behind "George W. Bush hasn't been a very good President." There's no way in hell the name of Isiah Thomas -- world's worst executive, serial madman, and sexual harrasser -- should be brought into this conversation. Willie loses any crediblity he might otherwise have had with this remark.

"I don't know if people are used to a certain figurehead. There's something weird about it." Look, one can't deny that racial issues pervade just about everything to some degree. It seems trite to say this, but the fans care about one thing, and that's winning. You win, we'll love you. You lose, we won't love you. You woefully underachieve for with a high-priced roster, we'll dislike you.

And if you woefully underachieve for with a high-priced roster AND preside over a monumental and historic regular season collapse, well, many of us are going to say you should be fired.

Final thought: If one wanted to raise the race card, here's where it might be legit: Jerry Reese. In his very first year as GM, this guy did an absolutely phenomenal job putting together the 2007-08 Giants' roster, and had the rookies who he drafted making big play after big play in the playoffs (Smith, Boss, Bradshaw, etc.). But who gets all the credit for the Giants' ring? Coughlin and Eli. I think Reese deserved a hell of a lot more praise than he got from both the fans and the media. Racial issue? Who knows, but I think that argument makes some sense there.

Willie? Not so much.

***

OK, final final thought: The Mets are facing Tom Glavine this afternoon. I don't think I've wanted to beat up on a pitcher this much since the Shawn Estes/Roger Clemens game in 2002. Hopefully all the guys who were here last year take out all their lingering 2007 frustration on his weak-ass stuff today. Please let it happen.

F-----g Shocker!!

2008-05-18T20:24:00.011-04:00

OK, let's get this out of the way first, before we go any further:

To my true Yankee fan friends (Lurker, Dominick, etc.): Tough weekend for you guys. I suspect you're missing A-Rod and Posada more than anyone even knows, but the Yanks really seem like a poorly-constructed team this year - too many lefties, no speed on the basepaths, can't manufacture runs without home runs, huge, gaping holes at the 4th and 5th starter spots, and a bullpen filled with painfully mediocre arms not named Joba or Mo. I think it'll be a tough road to make the playoffs this time around, but best of luck to you.

To the Yankee troll who recently polluted my comments section: BWWAAAAAH HA HA HA. Nice series, you motherless fuck. Good to see your worthless bunch of steroid cheats and cross-dressers couldn't even take one game off the slumping "MUTTS" in your own park with your two best starters throwing. Maybe Giambi should start passing around his HGH instead of his soiled ladies' underwear. Good luck trying to catch up to the Tampa Bay Ray juggernaut. AH HA HA HA! p.s. - nice inning, Joba.

There, that's better.

Now, some analysis:

(1) Lord only knows what goes on in those pre-game meetings, but perhaps this one had some effect. Willie's boys appeared to play uncharacterisically crisp, inspired, and error-free baseball (save for yet another Reyes baserunning gaffe last night - sheesh). Whether they keep it up for more than two games, of course, remains to be seen.

(2) Managerial competence alert! Managerial competence alert! In the 6th or 7th inning, with the game still relatively close and Perez starting to tire, ESPN showed Smith and Feliciano starting to get loose in the bullpen. Aaron Heilman was nowhere to be found. Praise freaking Jeebus. Willie may actually be starting to catch on.

(3) Managerial incompetence alert! Managerial incompetence alert! OK, this one isn't that big a deal, but I didn't understand why Marlon Anderson got the start in LF against Wang instead of Endy, who's literally starving for at-bats right now. Plus, with a big-time ground ball pitcher on the mound for the Yankees, wouldn't you want Endy's speed on the basepaths the whole game? Maybe it's one of those "gut" things.

(4) I suppose last night's game ball should go to Ollie, but I'm giving it to Ryan Church, who is just unstoppable right now - at the dish AND in the field. Just the total package. By the way, does anyone else find it interesting that the only two position players who HAVEN'T dogged their way through the first month and a half of the season are the two guys who weren't here last year, Church and Schneider? There's no way in hell that's a coincidence. Just wait until Willie works his magic on them, too. Sigh.

(5) Speaking of Willie, how marvelous was it that Jerry Manuel - not Willie - is the one who got thrown out arguing the Delgado HR call. Hysterical. Incidentally, I'm no conspiracy theorist, but couldn't one make the case that Jerry may have, on some level, done that for the benefit of Mets management to show he's a fighter, just in case, you know, they need a new manager at some point soon? He'd never admit it, of course, but it made me go "hmmmm....."

Finally, the Mets were on Sunday Night Baseball, and you know what that means: Except for you lucky ducks at the game, we were all forced to endure three physically excruciating hours of Joe "I'm about to tell you something you already know, about something that already happened, and expect you to think I'm a genius for saying it" Morgan. And man oh man, was he ever in rare form last night. After the first inning, I decided to turn on the old computer and keep a running tally of it all. Here are a few of his beauties, with some of my commentary to follow. Please keep in mind that these are ACTUAL FUCKING QUOTES:

(1) "I've always said, leadoff walks are worse than other walks, because you give the other team a better chance of bringing that run around." Is that a fact, you Baseball Copernicus, you? Please....tell us more! For we, the retarded masses, are watching a baseball game for the first time, and we had no idea that leadoff walks were a bad thing. What else do you know that we don't? Share, for the love of God, share!!

(2) "Why isn't Joe Girardi judged by same standard as Willie Randolph? The Yankees are a last-place team right now." Every now and then, Morgan will sprinkle a little "food for thought" point in with his game-long tutorial. Strangely, these points will often revolve around Morgan defending someone who's either (a) his close personal friend, (b) a current or former middle infielder, or, like Willie Randolph, (c) both. Probably a coincidence. Anyway, this was a splendid comparison right here, and it really made me think. I mean, he's right - both Willie Randolph and Joe Girardi presided over the worst regular season collapse in baseball history, right? Both Willie Randolph and Joe Girardi are missing their two best hitters - one of whom is the best hitter in baseball - to injuries, right? Both Willie Randolph and Joe Girardi have won Manager of the Year awards, right? Both Willie Randolph and Joe Girardi are a mere 45 games into their tenure with their team, and deserve some time to work things out, right? Just a fabulous comparison here.

(3) "I watched the Celtics game today. That was a big time basketball game." You know, that's why I love Joe Morgan - he doesn't just stop at telling us everything we already knew about baseball. Oh, lord, no. He tells us everything we already knew about basketball as well! Bonus!!

(4) [after Giambi is issued a leadoff walk and advances to second on a groundout] "See, now, that's what I meant about leadoff walks - Now Giambi is a second and you're in trouble." Sweet. Seeing as how we didn't know leadoff walks were bad before you told us, it's really cool having a concrete example to work with. How fortuitous!

(5) "Oliver Perez is clearly more comfortable throwing to lefties than righties." Another beauty! I certainly couldn't have figured this one out by the fact that lefties are hitting .100 against him. To do that, I'd have to actually, you know, read my TV screen after ESPN puts up that stat. And who wants to read?

(6) "That's why I keep telling people shortstop is much harder to play than first base or the outfield. You have a smaller glove, and you have to be able to turn those double-plays." I swear on everything that is good and holy this is an actual fucking quote. I can't even think of anything to say here.

(7) "I've preached this theory for years and years" - oooh, I can't wait to hear this one - this should be a dandy - "not every pitcher's mistake leaves the park. A lot get fouled back." Yes, he's "preached that for years and years." I thank God every day that I'm blessed enough to be in his congregation.

(8) "In a tight ballgame, one run makes a difference." I think I've run out of responses at this point. I'm on empty here.

(9) [after ESPN shows a reporter interviewing the fan sitting by the foul pole in left field] "They call him a "reporter." I call him a 'journalist.'" Well, you call yourself an "analyst." I call you "a fucking douchebag." Ah, that's better. I got my step back.

(10) [after Wright tags up and scores on a sac fly] "The replay is gonna show that Wright left third base too early." [after replay shows Morgan is full of shit] "Well, his upper body left too early. His feet didn't." Note - there was not a trace of humor or irony in that statement by Mr. Morgan. He seriously wanted you to know that Wright's "upper body left too early," but his feet didn't. I don't even know what to do with this information.

(11) "One thing about Pedro Martinez: he knows how to pitch." Perhaps Pedro's first-ballot Hall of Fame numbers tipped him off to this little nugget.

(12) [let's end on a real bang here - following Reyes' home run] "You know what I like about that? He ran around the bases. He hits a home run, and he runs around the bases."

Please God....never again....no more Mets on Sunday Night Baseball. Let them play at 4 a.m. Sunday morning if you have to, but no more of this.

Pathetic

2008-05-16T09:43:00.009-04:00

If you want to know why Willie Randolph should be fired, the evidence was staring you in the face during yesterday's game.

No, I'm not talking about the fluky and soul-crushing 3-5 double-play that ended the game.

I'm not talking about the well-intentioned but utterly ludicrous decision by Jose Reyes to try to take an extra base in the 8th.

I'm not talking about the Mets compiling three piddling little hits and no runs against a pitcher who came into the game with an ERA that, had it been a Richter Scale measurement, would have represented the biggest earthquake in the history of humankind.

And I'm not talking about the apparent clubhouse disharmony that Billy Wagner's post-game tirade brought bubbling to the surface.

No, I'm talking about the bottom of the third inning.

Scoreless game, Castillo on first, two out, David Wright up. He skies a lazy fly ball to right field, flips his bat aside, and proceeds to wander generally in the direction of first base. Castillo puts his head down and trots around the bases with all the the urgency of a fifth-grader running laps in gym class. Nats right fielder Austin Kearns proceeds to drop the ball, leaving a stunned Castillo on third base while a confused, suddenly awake David Wright had just barely arrived at first.

Pathetic. Disgraceful. Absolutely, completely, 100% unacceptable.

Now, I know what many of you are thinking: Well, most teams do stuff like that. And you're right.

But are most teams coming off of the worst regular season collapse in baseball history?

Are most teams getting routinely booed by their home crowd for what's perceived as a lack of hustle, effort, or interest in the game?

Are most teams sporting a $138 million payroll?

Are most teams in desperate need of being able to give their fans some reason, any reason, to believe that their players care, that they're hungry, and that they're totally and completely committed to ensuring that 2008 will not turn out like 2007?

No, no, a thousand times no.

This is the New York Mets we're talking about, a team that, after last year, has ZERO credibility and ZERO "credit in the bank," if you will, on which to draw with its fans. People have gotten on the fans with the booing, and although I'm not one to boo much myself, all the fans are asking for is this: Show me something. Show me you care. Show me you give a shit. Because we didn't see it last year, and -- shocker! -- we're not seeing it this year. So show it to me.

What does this mean?

We want to see you diving for ground balls in the infield, Carlos Delgado.

We want to see you hustling in to retrieve routine base hit singles and not letting them get stretched into doubles by Augie Ojeda, Carlos Beltran.

We want to see you not take your throws to first base for granted, and not needlessly give away at-bats, Jose Reyes.

We want to see you battle to keep your team in the game even when you don't have your best stuff, Oliver Perez.

And, most of all, when you hit a sky-high pop-up to right field in a scoreless game, a game against a last-place team that you desperately need to win, and that pop-up is dropped, WE WANT TO SEE YOU STANDING ON FUCKING SECOND BASE, DAVID WRIGHT!

Now, some will say that Wright and Castillo deserve the blame for plays like this. And it's true, they're big boys who've been playing baseball all of their lives, and they deserve their fair share of the blame. But isn't Willie's Randolph's job to ensure that there is accountability for his players' actions? Why else is he there?

I read in the News today that Willie "spoke with Wright" about this play after the game. I'm sorry, not good enough. David Wright should have been pulled from that game, no questions asked, right on the spot. Fernando Tatis should have taken his place at third base in the top of the 4th - yes, Fernando Tatis, the recent over-the-hill call-up, who looked to me like he was actually excited to be here running the bases the other night.

I don't care that this sort of laziness "happens all the time." And I don't care that it was the team's golden boy, David Wright. And I don't care that pulling him from the game would've embarrassed him or shown him up.

Willie Randolph has presided over a mediocre, lazy, sloppy, underachieving team for a year now, and what exactly is he doing about it? Nothing. "We've just gotta turn the page." "We'll get 'em tomorrow." And, my personal favorite, "I trust my guys."

Well, guess what Willie?

We don't trust you.

Get lost.

Two Open Letters

2008-05-15T10:35:00.010-04:00

Aaron Heilman
c/o The New York Mets
123-01 Roosevelt Ave
Flushing, NY 11368

Dear Aaron:

On behalf of Met fans everywhere, we owe you an apology. As Ty Webb once told Al Czervik: "Don't put yourself down, Al. You're not...you're not good. You stink."

Now, it's not your fault you stink. You're not trying to stink, unlike your old teammate and future Atlanta Brave rat-fink-mole Tom Glavine on a certain late-September afternoon last year. (Just kidding...well, sort of). As I understand it, you were pretty good at Notre Dame. You've had some modicum of success in the past on the Mets, albeit in low-stakes, low-pressure circumstances. You just stink in the late innings of tight games. It's an immutable fact.

Having said that, it's certainly not your fault that you're being paraded out to stink in situations where your manager must strongly suspect that you're going to stink. I mean, what are you supposed to do, tell him "I'm not going in"? Of course not.

It's also not your fault that your manager basically hung you out to dry last night and didn't have anyone else warming in the pen until it was far too late. Obviously, that's not something that's under your control in the slightest.

Anyway, we're sorry all of those boos rained down on you yesterday. It's not your fault. You really do seem like an ok guy, and I don't think you're intentionally tanking these games. You just, you know, stink, and the people in charge of making decisions about who pitches and when should have picked up on that a long time ago.

Keep your head up.

Very truly yours,

Toasty Joe

***

Willie Randolph
c/o The New York Mets
123-01 Roosevelt Ave
Flushing, NY 11368

Dear Willie:

You're an idiot.

Very truly yours,

Toasty Joe

Ladies and Gentlemen, Meet Your New Manager

2008-05-13T07:52:00.010-04:00

Attention fans of a floundering franchise: Salon expert Giuseppe Franco recommends himself for manager of the New York Mets.

[cut to Jorge Sosa giving Giuseppe Franco a hysterical bear hug]

Just listen to what he says about himself:

"Well, first, I'm the only manager I've seen who's effective on a sloppy and lazy ballclub just by making them practice ONCE every ninety days."

"I don't make 'em do a daily regimen, or a twice-daily regimen...who has the time for that nonsense?"

"Just practice once every ninety days, and it works."

Carlos Delgado, infielder: My glove works better, because it is better. This is my real glove. That's what's great about Giuseppe Franco.

Aaron Heilman, pitcher: It worked on me, and it worked on a lot of teammates I know. Guiseppe Franco works!

Luis Castillo, infielder: When I go like this with my bat [wiggles it], it feels like I could actually hit the ball out of the infield. I really notice a tremendous difference. I'm really happy with it.

"I don't own the team. I don't know anything about baseball. I just know that I'd be the greatest manager ever for this mediocre baseball team."

"Look, stop saying you're only a few games outta first place, stop denying that your team looks bad, and do somethin' about it. You can be on the road to an NL pennant right now by getting on the Giuseppe Franco program."

"Hey...I'm Giuseppe Franco."

"I'm not putting my name on the line for a team that doesn't win."

Look Closely And You'll See 1,000 Gnats Screaming And Pumping Their Fists

2008-05-09T10:36:00.005-04:00

Just some random, meandering miscellany for you all on this dreary Friday afternoon...

(1) I haven't felt inspired enough to dive into this whole Joba debate until I saw what happened this week. In case you missed it, on Tuesday, David Dellucci of the Tribe took Joba deep for a game-changing, 3-run jack in the 8th inning, turning a 1-run deficit into a 2-run lead. Then, yesterday, in a 6-3 game with no one on base, Joba strikes Dellucci out. Guess which of these two situations called for a a hysterical, fist-pumping primal scream from the victor? If you guessed the second one, you're beginning to catch on to the wonderful world of Joba "38 lifetime IP" Chamberlain. Honestly, you have to see the tape of yesterday's performance to truly appreciate this. Here's what Dellucci had to say about it after the game:

“If he wants to yell and scream after a strikeout and dance around the mound, that’s what gets him going,” Dellucci said. “My home run was in a much bigger situation, a much more key part of the game, but I didn’t dance around and scream.”

No kidding. My stance is, if that's how he wants to act, fine. Every guy who drives in a run off the Yankees gets to do the same thing, no matter what the score or situation is, with no consequences. Fair is fair. I'm sure it'll go over real with Girardi when some guy who's played in 38 games in the bigs knocks in a run off the Yankees, turning a 7-1 game into an 8-1 game, and proceeds to stand on first base, gyrate, and scream.

(By the way, you want another sign I'm right about this issue? Filip Bondy disagrees with me).

(2) More highly amusing news out of Patriotland - apparently Belidouche was taping both defensive AND offensive signals. The funny thing is, I challenge you to find a single Patriot fan who's willing to admit any wrongdoing. You either get "everyone does it" or "there's no real advantage to it." Folks, "everyone does it" is not a defense to something that's illegal. If so, no one would ever get a speeding ticket. As for the second excuse, can one of you Boston Beanheads please explain to me why someone as smart is Belichick would waste time and money producing meticulously-edited spy tapes like these if they're going to be completely useless? Just another reason to savor the accomplishments of the Super Bowl XLII New York Football Giants. Ahhhhh......

(3) Can Willie Randolph's defenders - that imbecile Bob Raissman included - please, PLEASE stop saying how irrational is to want to fire a manager only 32 games into the season? The Mets have been playing flat, sloppy, lazy, uninspired and disinterested baseball SINCE LAST JUNE! That's around 150 games by my count, give or take. Not 32...150. Got it? Good. (By the way, according to Raissman, those of us who want Randolph let go after nearly a full season's worth of unacceptable, underachieving baseball are in "the lunatic fringe").

(4) Terrific column by the great Jeff Pearlman on ESPN.com about some of the fan abuse being hurled at recovering addict Josh Hamilton. A must-read. But pretty much anything Pearlman writes is must-read. He good.

Finally, I note that the Joba story was so big, SNY had the entire cast of miscreants and freaks from "The Wheelhouse," "The Loudmouths," AND "Daily News Live" screaming about it to each other on a Sportsnite segment I saw this morning. I shit you not. My head almost exploded. With the exception of Mex, Ron and Gary, people are incapable of expressing an opinion on SNY without yelling it at you. I really want to know, is anyone out there actually entertained by this?

State of the Union

2008-05-07T10:23:00.008-04:00

Please rise, for the President of the Blog-o-sphering Naysayers, Toasty Joe!

[applause]

Thank you. Thank you. Please, sit down. Thank you.

Oh, thank you. Thank you.

We love you!!

Oh, I love ya back. Thank you.

Thank you. Ladies and gentlemen, I talk to you a mere eight months removed from one of the most disastrous and cataclysmic events of most of our baseball-watching lives.

Of course, I'm speaking about the events that took place at Shea Stadium in late 2007.

I know many of us would like to forget. I know it's tempting to want to turn the page, move on with our lives, or do whatever it is that people do to heal themselves.

Well, I'll tell you what I like to do to heal myself....I like to watch a baseball game!

[applause]

Not only that, I like to come home from a hard day at work, put my feet up, crack open a beer, and watch the New York Metropolitans give everything they've got, give every ounce of their sweat, sacrifice every last fiber of their being just to win a ballgame, yes, that's what I like to do!

[raucous applause]

And after the terrible events that transpired last year, man oh man, I needed it this year more than ever before.

And, unfortunately, I'm here to tell you, I'm not seeing it. It's missing.

It's missing in every lazy ground ball that Carlos Delgado lets tumble through to the outfield.

It's missing in every first-pitch pop-up that clanks off of Jose Reyes's bat.

It's missing in every weak, rally-killing ground ball that Luis "Four More Years?" Castillo produces.

It's missing in every 0-2 meatball that Oliver Perez grooves right down the middle of the plate.

It's missing in every C+ lineup that Willie Randolph stubbornly parades out there every "getaway day," essentially turning every "getaway day" into "loss day."

It's missing in every strikeout by Carlos Beltran with runners in scoring position, and in every routine single he lollygags after in centerfield, turning a single into a double.

It's missing in the way Aaron Heilman...well, Aaron Heilman.

And, most of all, it's missing in Willie Randolph telling us everything's gonna be just fine.

Just fine? Just fine? Not on MY team. Not in MY stadium!!

[wild applause]

"Look at the standings," people say. "We're right there."

Look at the standings? Look at the standings?!? We spent a month saying that last September, and where did that get us?

[more wild applause]

Well, Willie can talk about everything being "just fine," but I don't see "just fine," do you? Do you?

[Nooooooo!!!! Four fewer years (of Castillo)!! Four fewer years (of Castillo)!!]

Well, luckily, you all elected a President who will not stop until every last soul who logs on to these Internets knows that every Met fan has been hoodwinked, bamboozled, misled, screwed into cheering for a group of players that doesn't work hard, doesn't care, doesn't hustle, and, most certainly does NOT give everything they've got, give every ounce of their sweat, sacrifice every last fiber of their being just to win a ballgame.

[applause]

Now, how are we gonna do this?

I pledge this to you today:

Whenever there's a potshot to be taken at Aaron Heilman, I'll be there to take it.

Whenever Carlos Delgado costs us a game with both his bat AND his glove, I'll be there to mock him.

Whenever Luis Castillo does whatever it is he does, I'll be there to let you know about it.

And, so long as there's an ounce of breath left in this body, I WILL NOT STOP - EVER - UNTIL WILLIE RANDOLPH IS FIRED! THANK YOU AND GOD BLESS YOU!!

[wild applause]

[Four fewer years (of Castillo)! Four fewer years (of Castillo)! Four fewer years (of Castillo)!...]

Willie, Leitchie & the Douche

2008-05-02T14:41:00.005-04:00

"Who is this pencilneck?" you're probably wondering. Well, because you're sitting here reading a sports blog, all that you need to know about this guy is (a) he's smarter than you; (b) he's better than you; (c) he doesn't take kindly to insults, but he thinks you're full of shit.

Yes, this is none other than Buzz Bissinger, author, Pulitzer Prize winner, pundit, and all-around douchebag. If you haven't already seen the video of him spewing verbal diarrhea all over an unsuspecting Will Leitch (he of the incomparable Deadspin), watch it here.

The upshot of this incident is that "Buzz" apparently feels that the writing skills, discretion and sophistication of sports bloggers are not, shall we say, akin to William Shakespeare. Oh, and they like to make fun of Rich Garces' tits.

The problem, I think, is that this dingus is comparing sports bloggers to conventional sportswriters in conventional newspapers. This, to me, is kind of like criticizing "The Daily Show" for not having the journalistic credibility of, say, CNN. (In fact, that bow-tied little turd Tucker Carlson tried to do exactly this with Jon Stewart several years ago, with hilarious results). In fact, the two have absolutely nothing to do with each other, other than they both write about sports. I mean, that's it. I don't read Deadspin to find out what's wrong with Oliver Perez's mechanics, nor do I flip to Mike Lupica to enjoy a good laugh at pictures of an air-headed pro athlete holding a beer bong or surrounded by, um, "fans" in a hot tub. Why can't we enjoy both of these things for different reasons? Deadspin is a fucking HUMOR website. It's FUNNY. Why didn't anyone make that distinction?

For the record, Leitch completely and totally owned "Buzz" in this discussion. You will rarely experience a more thoroughly satisfying moment on television than when Buzz snorts to Will "have you ever read W.C. Heinz?", clearly expecting the answer to be "who?", only to have Will respond without hesitation "I read 'the Professional.'"

Freaking priceless.

***

Now, as to Mets-related matters, I missed Wednesday's debacle on account of an out-of-town trip, but whoa, nelly....it's time. Willie really has to go. I used to defend this guy - who I never thought was a good in-game strategist - because his players seemed to genuinely like him and played hard and smart baseball under him. Hmm, well, I guess maybe some of them still like him, but they sure as hell don't play hard, they definitely don't play smart, they don't play motivated, and, hey, guess what? He's still a bad strategist. In other words, he brings to the table....er, pretty much absolutely nothing.

Explain to me why he's still employed?

Get The Lead Out!

2008-04-25T07:38:00.008-04:00

Swingin', missin', bobblin';
that's all you seem to do.

Grounding to first, you're really the worst;
Chris Russo seems to think that you belong in a hearse.

We'll rest assured, you'll pop out to third,
You're quite a turd, we gotta end this curse.

One of these days and it won't be long,
You'll look for the team bus, but buddy, it'll be gone.

This is all I gotta say to you, Carlos:

[Chorus]
Your time is gonna come... [X4]

Willie's made up his mind, he'll use Aaron this time,
Won't be so fine, it's our turn to cry.

Willie does what he wants, and we all take the brunt;
A batting practice pitcher five games a week.

Don't mind his ERA, 'cause he's goin' away to stay,
Gonna make him pay for those fat n' juicy gopher balls.

"Aaron's my guy," says Willie, who's high;
They both make us sigh, hang our heads and cry.

People talkin' all around,
Watch out Willie, no longer
Are you gonna manage this team that doesn't try.

You been bad to me Willie, but it's coming back home to you...

Your time is gonna come...

Thank You, Scheduling Gods of Baseball

2008-04-22T17:49:00.003-04:00

As you may recall, back in July of 2006 and again in August of 2007, Toasty Joe and friends packed up and split for the midwest - Bratwurst Land - to see the Mets play the Cubs at Wrigley. As luck would have it, both trips were weekend series in the middle of summer. I don't have the energy to describe everything that happened out there (read the posts), but it was raucous. It was crazy. It was eventful. It was alcohol-drenched. It was warm and sunny. And, most of all, it was fun.

But after the schedules were published this year, much to my dismay, I saw that the Scheduling Gods had given the Mets (i) a grand total of TWO games at Wrigley Field; (ii) in APRIL; (iii) on a fucking MONDAY and TUESDAY. What a sick, perverted joke. Needless to say, a trip to Wrigley in 2008 was not in the stars.

However, now that I have seen the rectal carnage that is the Mets 2008 Chicago trip, I must say I am glad that I didn't plunk down a grand see this sorry display of baseball, to see scores of stranded baserunners, infinite double-plays, boneheaded defense, a completely and utterly useless right side of the infield in all respects, barely-adequate starting pitching repeatedly brutalized by a gawd-awful bullpen, Aaron Heilman....well, just Aaron Heilman, and the likes of Ronnie Muthaflippin' Cedeno hit a grand slam.

So, until we meet again, Murphy's.

See you next year, Cubby Bear.

Catch ya in '09, Hi-Tops. Oh wait, no I won't - you're not there anymore.

Damn. Now I'm really depressed.

Joe Morgan: The Man, The Legend, The Fucking Tedious Windbag

2008-04-21T07:42:00.005-04:00

First, a quick impression of Mike Pefrey's Line Drive Party, er, "start" last night:

CRACK!

CRACK!

CRACK!

CRACK!

Yee-gads, that wasn't pretty. I haven't seen so many hard-hit balls since...well, ever. Hopefully we can chalk it up to just a bad night, but good lord.

Now if only one one of those line drives could've found their way up to the ESPN booth, I would've been happy. Listening to Joe Morgan for 5 minutes stinks. Listening to him for 3 hours is, in one word, in-fucking-tolerable. Perhaps someone should invent a "Joe Morgan button" for our remote controls. That way, when our team is playing on Sunday Night Baseball, we simply hit the button and can hear our choice of (a) natural crowd noise; (b) a pneumatic drill; or (c) Scott Ferrall, the SNY "Loudmouths," and special guest Stephen A. Smith, all screaming and talking over each other on an endless loop. Any one of these options would be infinitely more pleasurable that listening to this pompous, oblivious blowhard ponder the wonders of how smart he is for three hours.

Here's a sampling of what I think I heard last night:

Miller: And there's a stolen base by David Wright.
Morgan: You know, I've always said the best way to steal second base is to get a nice lead and outrun the throw by the catcher.

Morgan (with the Mets trailing 4-0): The Mets have the firepower to get back in this game.
Morgan (after the Mets score a run): I told you the Mets have the firepower to get back in this game.

Miller: There's a base hit by Utley.
Morgan: You know, I've always said Chase Utley is a great hitter. Great hitters get hits.

Morgan: I've always said that the purpose of a minor league system is to help the big league club.

Miller: And here's a fly ball that will be tracked down by Burrell.
Morgan: You know, back when Abner Doubleday and I were inventing the game of baseball in 1839 -- actually, I invented it and he just sort of stood there -- I always used to tell people that the purpose of the game is to score more runs than the other team. When you don't score more runs than the other team, you're going to have a hard time winning the game, and I think that's what the New York Mets are experiencing right now.

Editor's note: Two of these quotes are NOT made up. See if you can guess which ones. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised.

Damion Easley, Please Enjoy This Free Tour Around The Bases

2008-04-18T10:23:00.006-04:00

Willie Randolph called that an ugly game, but frankly, I don't see why. Yes, I know "that pederast Hanrahan"* did everything to help Damion Easley score except validate his parking, but I saw (i) incredible pitching by Figueroa, on whom the Mets will undoubtedly have to rely for a long time (since Pedro won't be back until August); (ii) a H-U-G-E clutch hit from our heretofore-useless first baseman; and (iii) an absolutely ridiculous lock-down performance by the bullpen. All tremendous, tremendous developments. Of course, Willie's the same guy who did everything but tell Angel Pagan he sucked the other day, so why should I really care what he thinks about anything at this point?

(1) Do you people realize that Nelson Figueroa has every vowel in his last name?

(2) Great play by Ronnie Belliard to let the Mets tie the game. Is it just me, or does he look like he just wandered out of a Burger King somewhere and they stuck a bat in his hand? He's like a lazier, less interested Manny Ramirez, as if that were possible. I can't believe he has a World Series ring at our expense. Grrrr.

(3) Speaking of Manny, I flipped on the Yankee game just in time to see him stride to the plate with 2 men on against Mike "Time To Hang 'Em Up!" Mussina, whereupon I turned to Flitgirl and said something to the effect of "He absolutely KILLS the Yankees. Watch this." One pitch later, KABOOM. That was fun.

Editor's note: Just heard on the FAN that Manny is hitting .480 against the Yanks over the past three years. That's four-fucking-eighty. That's ILL.

(4) Thanks to Mets Blog, now we all know that John Maine has a crush on Jennifer Aniston, who he describes as having "soft and natural, girl-next-door looks." He also described Matthew Perry as "super-cute, but it's like you can totally go up and talk to him and everything."

*No, I am not calling Hanrahan a pederast. If you don't know where that quote's from, I pity you. The poor guy's probably being hearing it since he was 5 years old, so I just had to pile on.

Ouch, That 'Stings!

2008-04-17T11:40:00.004-04:00

Actually, no it didn't. It was a rather pleasant evening all around at Shea last night, as I took in my first game of the season in Shea's last hurrah. (Good seats, as you can clearly divine from this blackberry pic). A few thoughts:

(1) As most of you already knew, the Sisyphean torture device previously known as the exit ramp/circular staircase/M.C. Escher maze from the 7 train has been removed in favor of - get this - ONE SIMPLE FUCKING STAIRCASE. This, of course, begs the question, why did they have that hellish concrete rabbit's warren in the first place? I've never had such an easy time getting on/off the train. It literally cut 10 minutes off the trip in each direction. Good stuff.

(2) Truly bizarre seeing that giant, brand-spanking-new stadium in the outfield. It almost reminded me of "Independence Day," when the ginormous spaceship is hovering over the familiar backdrop of White House. Unfortunately, Vivica Fox was not involved.

(3) It's good to know Shea Stadium is still hiring food servers who hold prompt service in such low regard. Seriously, why should it take 10 minutes to serve someone a fucking hot dog and beer? It's not like I'm ordering the beef strogonoff with a '59 bordeaux over here. It's a hot dog and beer. That's all you fucking serve, all night long. That transaction should take no longer than 30 seconds, start to finish.

(4) Best surprise of the night: Walking into a heated men's room after shivering outside for 2 hours. Granted, the stench in there somewhat offset the enjoyment, but it was worth it.

(5) I've sat in the "waiter-service" seats a fair amount of times, but I've only actually used that service maybe twice. You know why? It sucks. Last night, for example, the so-called "waiters" made a total of ZERO appearances at our seats. None. That's useful.

Anyway, on to baseball, where it was a solid night all around. Maine was good but not great, but gave the team a chance to win. Reyes pounded his HR just seconds after Toasty, Sr. asked why he always has to swing for the fences, and Beltran hit his blast just after I told Tom he looked "listless" this year. Sign us up, ESPN.

Bottom line is I still need to be convinced that, when you take into account age and injuries, this team's not slightly better than average. I said it the other day, and I'll stand by it. Of course, I thought the same thing in spring training two years ago, and that season turned out ok. Keep in mind I also thought the NY Football Giants were utter dogshit circa September 2007, but let us never speak of that again.

Here's to proving me wrong, again and again! Apparently it's not too difficult.

Ahhh, Mediocrity. It's Liberating.

2008-04-15T10:17:00.005-04:00

As a result of an out-of-town trip, I missed this weekend's games against Gabe Kapler, J.J. Hardy and the rest of the '27 Yankees, er, 2008 Brewers. Boy, Shea Stadium seems like an awfully warm and fuzzy place to be right now. I may be making my first trip out there this week, and I'm looking forward to seeing the loyal fans boo everyone from Carlos Beltran to the guy working at the knish stand.

I think the problem here is not, as everyone seems to think, simply a hangover from 2007. Rather, I think the problem is that people still expect this team to play like it's 2006. To that I say...HA! C'mon, this team's just not that good. Some talent, sure. The best pitcher in the NL and a dynamite (albeit currently underachieving) left side of the infield. But after that? Feh. How much greatness is on this team? Santana, Wright, Reyes, and.... Beltran is good and can get hot. I like Maine and Pagan a lot. What else we got? Delgado is finished. Castillo is finished and we're saddled with him for 4 years. Schneider can't hit. Church is ok, I guess. Perez has wicked stuff but is certifiably insane. Pedro, Alou, and Duque are MIA. Pelfrey might end up being ok, but is certainly nothing special right now. And the bullpen, other than Pedro Feliciano, is populated by a bunch of choke-artists, pouters, has-beens, and never-will-be's.

And this you boo? From this you expect greatness every single game? Get some realistic expectations, people. Embrace it. It makes watching a game infinitely more enjoyable. Every victory will be a sweet surprise, and you'll take every loss in stride. And who knows, maybe they'll find their way into the playoffs (which at this rate would be a miracle of Biblical proportions). If so, we should not cop a ho-hum, "big deal, they need to go all the way now" attitude - instead, we should all be delirious with joy that they even got that far.

So, get 2006 out of your minds. In actuality, this is more like 1998, when a superstar joined a bunch of middling players. (Although clearly Wright & Reyes > Alfonzo & Olerud). In other words, go to Shea, have fun, cheer the wins, shrug your shoulders at the losses, and, above all, feel free to make other plans this October.

By the bye, you'll recall that after Pedro's injury, I outlined the 12 steps that will constitute the remainder of Pedro's 2008 season. Well, it appears that we're now up to step 4, "we're hoping before the All-Star break." Too bad the only thing we're going to see before the All-Star break is steps 5, 6 and 7.

Me Gusta Pagan, Me Odio a Isiah

2008-04-11T09:43:00.010-04:00

Yes, yes, it's rather early, but I am diggin' like nobody's business this kid with the funny name, quick bat, smooth glove, and 1000-watt smile. Great at-bats, great approach, goes the other way, fast as hell - just an overall solid citizen. Omar's made a lot of, shall we say, questionable moves over the past 18 months or so, but he certainly deserves a laurel AND a hearty handshake for picking up Angel Pagan. Alou is obviously going to play if/when he's healthy, but I would love to find a way to keep Angel in the mix. Hey....can he play second base?

(1) So, so, so, very close at home plate. I think it actually may have been a flat-footed tie. Certainly the video evidence wasn't conclusive enough to justify Charlie Manuel's decision to stop picking his nose long enough to accuse the home plate ump of fixing the game. Gimme a frickin' break, you big dummy.

(2) I've been saying for the past 3 years that Aaron Heilman sucks donkey rectum. Hopefully now people will start to believe me. Think about it - they guy's only really solid stretch came after Duaner went down in 2006, and Heilman had a very strong August and September in the 8th-inning role. Yes, August and September of 2006, when the Mets were already up a zillion games in the standings. Ask Yadier Molina what Heilman brings to the table (or rather, serves up on a platter) in high-pressure situations. Go make him happy and let him be a mediocre starter somewhere else, please.

(3) Conversely, in the credit-where-credit-is-due department, props must be allotted to Scott Suckenw...er, Schoeneweiss for his performance last night. Very clutch, very impressive. Hopefully the fans will stop booing him before he even throws a pitch, which I always find moronic. At least give your guy a chance to do well. If he screws up, then you have my permissioon to go nuts. I think the only two guys I ever booed before they actually did anything wrong in a given game were Bobby Bonilla and Roger Cedeno. Hopefully I don't have to explain that.

***

On a non-Mets note, I cannot believe I missed this quote from Isiah Thomas yesterday, in which he said that Knick fans haven't had anything to be proud of since 1973, essentially implying that his tenure has been no better or worse than anyone else's since '73.

Sigh....

Isiah, let me tell you a story. It's about a boy named Toasty Joe. He was born in 1973, when the Knicks last won it all. He became a Knick fan around 1985 or so. The team wasn't very good. In fact, they stunk. But they had just drafted Patrick Ewing, and there was some reason for hope. Ewing was injured a lot, but they had some fun players like Ken Bannister, "Mr. Bill" Cartwright, Trent Tucker, Louis Orr, and Pat Cummings, an all-time favorite of both Toasty and Toasty's brother. They may not have won many games, but we were proud of them.

In 1987, we got a hotshot college coach named Rick Pitino. Suddenly, we didn't stink. We had Rookie of the Year and local product Mark Jackson running the show, Ewing turning into a star, Tucker bombing threes, Gerald Wilkins playing a reliable 2-guard, and Kenny "Sky" Walker winning the slam dunk contest. It was a good, young group, and when they swept the favored Sixers in a first-round playoff series, we were PROUD of them.

The Knicks had a few up-and-down years after that, but in 1990, they overcame a 2-0 deficit in a playoff series against Boston and, amazingly, knocked the heavily favored Celtics out of the playoffs with a stunning Game 5 win on the Boston Garden floor. They fell to the eventual world champion Pistons in the next round (you remember that, Isiah, you were on that team), but you damn well better believe that we were PROUD of them.

And then, in 1991, things got even better. Pat Riley and Dave Checketts entered the picture, picked a bunch of guys off of the scrap heap, and pushed the eventual champion Chicago Bulls team to the brink of insanity in a classic, frantic seven-game series. They came up short in the end, but we'd never been prouder of them.

Over the next few years, the Knicks gave the Bulls all they had, but they would repeatedly fall victim to the best player on the planet, some guy named M.J. These Knicks didn't have nearly the amount of talent as the Bulls, but they had all-heart players like John Starks, Charles Oakley, Anthony Mason, Derek Harper. And every single night, these guys earned every cent of their paychecks, showed up ready to play, and left everything they had out there on the Garden floor. They broke through to the Finals in 1994, only to lose in seven games to probably the second-best player on the planet at that time, a Mr. Olajuwon. We dearly wish they'd have won us a ring that year - they came within one shot of doing so - but we were never anything but proud of the way they played the game day in and day out.

And then there was 1999. The Knicks staggered into the playoffs as an 8th seed, but became the first 8th seed to ever beat a #1 seed - the Heat, and on the road, no less. They then tore through the Hawks in the next round like crap through a goose, lost their best player (Ewing) to an injury, but still scrapped and clawed and 4-point-played their way past the Pacers to the NBA Finals. Unfortunately, they now had to face - you guessed it - probably the best player on the planet at the time, Tim Duncan. Without Patrick Ewing there to challenge him, they lost. But you know what? We were proud of them. And we were proud of what they had accomplished.

And, then, Isiah, you were hired.

And four years later, as you head out the door after turning our Knicks into probably the biggest laughing-stock in the history of professional sports, you tell us that we haven't had anything to be proud of since 1973 anyway.

Are you getting the picture?

Well, Isiah, just in case it's not clear....

FUCK YOU!!!!!

Sweet, We're Almost Mediocre!

2008-04-10T09:36:00.003-04:00

Well I'm not about to get all in a tizzy about last night's slopfest, but it certainly was good to see that other NL East team be the one to boot every ball all over the infield, walk the ballpark, and basically flagellate themselves for nine innings. Lord knows the boys from Queens did that enough times against the Phillies last season (and Tuesday). I call it justice served, and I'll note a few other bright spots:

(1) Fairly commanding performance from the Big Pelf. He seemed to have all of his pitches working and he looked confident and in control. In other words, I didn't recognize him. Let's hope it's a trend.

(2) I'm going to go out on a limb and say I don't miss Luis Castillo one bit. Am I alone in this? I realize we don't really have anyone else to play second, but something about Castillo's old, joyless, creaky-kneed, slappy existence just reeks of late 2007 to me. Which reminds me...

(3) ...blessing in disguise #2 of the Castillo injury: Angel Pagan in the #2 hole. This, I like very much.

(4) Jose Reyes still does not look even a little bit good. I am officially VERY concerned.

Now, since I don't have anything else baseball-related to crow/bitch about today, I need to air a large grievance. When SNY first launched in 2006, I immediately became a fan of their Sportsnite show. Sure, the production values weren't great, but ESPN's Sportscenter had long since fallen off of the catch-phrase deep end, and it was nice having a half-hour mini-Sportscenter-esque highlight show, with affable anchors that just focused on NY teams.

Well, now that baseball season is back, I've been tuning in again. And I've discovered that at some point over the offseason, something went very, very wrong with my beloved Sportsnite. Specifically, about 1/3 of every show is taken up by something like this:

"And now, for some analysis on the Knicks coaching situation, we turn to our panel of experts. Guys?"

WELL I THINK MARK JACKSON YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME MARK JACKSON HE IS NOT GONNA TELL ME WHO ELSE WHO ELSE MARK JACKSON IS THE PERFECT GUY TO REPLACE ISIAH THOMAS THERE IS NO FREAKING WAY DONNIE WALSH IT'S NOT GONNA HAPPEN NEW YORK KNICKS HAVE BEEN A DISGRACE FOR TOO LONG MARK JACKSON IS NOT THE ANSWER OF COURSE HE IS NO HE'S NOT YES HE IS NO HE'S NOT YES HE IS FUCK YOU YOU FUCKING DOUCHEBAG....

I blame Kornheiser and Wilbon for this unlistenable, unwatchable mess. SNY saw the success of a show about yelling guys, yelling about this and that, yelling over each other and at each other, and went to town with it. And to make matters worse, all too often one of these screeching, harping motherless fucks on SNY is Scott Ferrell, whose voice quite literally makes me want to stuff 5 pounds of rock salt in my ears. I'm not sure what's more incredible - the fact that SNY voluntarily puts this guy on the air day after day after day, or the fact that a guy who sounds like that apparently HAS A FUCKING RADIO SHOW!! Which, presumably, PEOPLE ACTUALLY LISTEN TO!! It boggles the mind. It really does.

Anyway, get your act together, SNY. Otherwise I'll have to start getting my daily highlight fix on MSG, which is run by the fat-necked Devil himself, or - God forbid - the YES Network and its loyal legion of Yankee chimpanzees. Don't make me do this.

The Quiz, Part I - "My God...We Still Stink!" Edition

2008-04-08T15:59:00.005-04:00

1. How distant a memory is 2006?

(A) Distant
(B) REALLY distant
(C) Like it happened 25 years ago
(D) 2006? What happened that year?

2. You're watching the Mets in a tight, one-run ballgame. Aaron Heilman enters. Do you:

(A) Glue your eyes to the screen - this kid's got moxie!
(B) Put your hands over your eyes and watch from in between your fingers
(C) Run screaming for the remote control
(D) Throw your TV out the window and marvel at the fact the watching it smash into smithereens on the street down below is infinitely more pleasurable than watching tape-measure home run that's about to take place

3. Scott Schoeneweis is:

(A) Effective
(B) Mediocre
(C) Ineffective
(D) A useless pile of hot, steaming wombat feces

4. When will Pedro be back?

(A) Late June
(B) Mid-August
(C) 2009
(D) One day before his right arm falls off

5. The most infuriating aspect of the Mets' 2008 season is:

(A) Reyes hasn't stolen a base yet
(B) Pedro's entire season lasted 3.1 innings
(C) Taking it up the butt for the 65,234,656th and 65,234,657th times in Atlanta
(D) Unlike 2007, we're now going to get a whole YEAR'S worth of middling, ineffectual "I trust my guys" quotes from the manager

6. What's the silver lining?

(A) Looking forward to a 2009 season that's potentially Willie-free, Delgado-free, Schoeneweis-free, Heilman-free, Castillo-free, and Duque-free.
(B) No matter how bad the Mets are, Hank Steinbrenner will make this an entertaining summer
(C) It will be interesting to see Jose Reyes' personality completely devolve from fun-loving goofball to a Dominican Kevin McReynolds
(D) The Giants won the Super Bowl...the Giants won the Super Bowl...

5-6 correct: Congratulations, you're someone named Robert Andino, and you've just defeated the Mets with a walk-off, pinch-hit home run.
3-4 correct: Not bad. You're Kelly Johnson, and you hit a grand slam off of Jorge Sosa to blow open a 2-run game.
1-2 correct: You're Pete Moylan. You may look like a retarded Greg Maddux, but you retired the Mets on 7 pitches in the 8th inning of a tight game.
0 correct: You're Jayson Werth. Aaron Heilman got you out. What the hell is wrong with you??

Answer key: 1.C, 2.C, 3.D, 4.C, 5.D, 6.D

Hire This Man!

2008-04-03T15:10:00.009-04:00

Great win for the Mets last night, punctuated by a mangificent performance from O.P. and an absolute BOMB from D. Wright. But today, I must discuss the merry, merry world of Knickland.

Ah, Knickland - where you can pay a small fortune for a ticket to watch a bunch over overpriced, overweight cadavers lose by 26 points to a bad team, and then get sexually harassed on your way out the door. Well, the Mayor of Knickland, Smilin' Jimmy Dolan (who, at this point, is in danger of having his neck fat eclipse the rest of his face) has recently relieved president-GM-coach-psychopath-serial abuser Isiah Thomas of his president and GM duties, and has turned the reins over to one Donnie Walsh, a basketball lifer, NY product, and all-around well-respected mensch.

Mr. Dolan has made what on its surface appears to be a safe choice here. But what does this mean for the head coaching spot? Well, Isiah Thomas weighed in on this issue following last night's 130-114 loss to the Memphis Grizzlies (yes, you read that right - the Knicks lost 130-114 to the Memphis Grizzlies. The 20-55 Memphis Grizzlies put in 130 points, that's one-hundred-and-thirty points, on the Knicks. God help me, but it's true):

"I want to be part of this organization," Thomas said last night. "I definitely think I have multiple skills and whatever way I can help I'm willing to help."

I found this quote fascinating, if only because I've spent all day trying figure out what his "multiple skills" are, other than playing basketball 15 years ago. Here's what I came up with:

(i) he's a snappy dresser
(ii)

In other words, having Zeke continue on as head coach is, um, not something that should be considered. However, you'll note from the above quote that Isiah has generously offered to help out in any way he can. Well, I believe at taking people at their word. It's no secret that Knicks fans have taken it up the butt for the better part of this decade. If Dolan is truly interested in restoring goodwill with Knick fans, I propose that he agree to take Isiah up on his offer. Let Isiah work out the remainder of his contract - at his current salary - at one of the following positions:

(a) Guy who mops sweat off the floor during games. Not as oppressive and humiliating as it would have been if Pat Ewing were still playing here, but menial work nonetheless.

(b) Urinal cake changer in 400 Level. As a bonus, he must change the cakes every hour on the hour, even if fans are pissing on his hands while he does it. Tell me this one won't have fans flocking to the Garden in droves. Beer sales will go through the roof. For a real treat, have him do it during Ranger games as well.

(c) Beer guy. That's it. Just beer guy. Have him be one of those beer guys who sets up shop next to the concession stand (you know, "cold beer, no lines, no waiting!"). Then, slowly, one by one, each fan can walk up to him, buy a beer, and spend 30 seconds or so verbally abusing him, spitting at him, etc. You can even pour the beer on him. Maybe we can even get MSG to keep a camera next to him for an entire game and record the whole thing. Who wouldn't watch that?

(d) Team hernia inspector. Isiah shall henceforth be in charge of grabbing fistfuls of Knick genitalia while they turn their heads and cough. Under a doctor's care, of course. I mean, we gotta have some scruples here.

(e) Anucha Browne-Sanders' man-servant. I'm not sure if MSG has already issued its settlement check to Ms. Browne-Sanders, but if so, I propose they contact her and ask for a partial or total refund in exchange for having Thomas be her man-bitch for a full calendar year. You know, pick up her dry cleaning, do her grocery shopping, pummice the dead skin off her feet, some light dusting, that sort of thing. Oh, and he has to wear a french maid's outfit 24/7. The whole thing has to be made into a reality show that will air on MSG nightly. It'll save the Garden millions, and it'll be the first reality show I ever make any sort of effort to watch.

So c'mon Jim! C'mon Donnie! I'm begging you, don't fire Isiah. You've got a potential goldmine on your hands.

Pop!

2008-04-02T10:12:00.005-04:00

All around Martinez's leg,
The muscle was exhausted.
Pedro stopped to run off the mound,
Pop! goes the hamstring.

3.1 innings.

Three-point-one freaking innings.

I've taken dumps that lasted longer than Pedro Martinez's 2008 season.

Oh I know, he's not necessarily finished. But you all need to prepare yourself for the following twelve-step sequence:

1. DL.
2. "He's running again."
3. Setback.
4. "We're hoping before the All-Star break."
5. "He's throwing off the mound."
6. Minor league rehab start.
7. Setback.
8. "He's targeting August."
9. Setback.
10. Finally takes the mound for the Mets in mid-September.
11. Elbow pain.
12. Shut down for the season.

Learn it. Live it. Know it.

Opening Night

2008-03-31T12:54:00.006-04:00

Ahhh...baseball. You remember baseball. It's that sport that's sandwiched between St. Patrick's Day and Halloween. Kevin Costner's made about 15 movies about it. The Mets played it to near-perfection two years ago, but played something that barely resembled it last year. Yes, you remember baseball.

Anyhoo, to commemorate this extra-special, super-duper day, I've decided to roll out a brand new feature: Yes, I've decided to take a crack at live-blogging this afternoon's festivities. Of course, as I am at work, this will be based on the good old-fashioned WFAN feed. (Terrestrial radio...you remember terrestrial radio?) Let's give it a try and see how it goes. If it is met with some modicum of acclaim by the unwashed masses that comprise my readership, you will be treated to repeat performances throughout the season. Inasmuch as I have to leave here at 6:30, this might have to be aborted before the game ends.

1:09 pm - Fuck. Do I really have to wait three more hours? Sigh...

2:50 pm - Just heard that the Yankee home opener was rained out. Hank Steinbrenner was quoted as saying that Mother Nature is a "cunt whore bitch Boston fan." Hopefully, the Bronx Lurker did not burn a precious vacation day to shlep down to the Bronx only to turn around and go back home again. If so....[insert Nelson Muntz laugh here]

3:04 pm - OK, we're about one hour away now. So close to Johan Time, I can smell it. I'm just now realizing that I didn't do anything even remotely resembling a 2008 preview. Big whoop. You don't read this site for Gammons-esque analysis, sabermetrics, or discussions on who's got the biggest VORP (outside of Ron Jeremy). You read it for wanton Mets-related sarcasm, shameless Yankee-bashing, and crude jokes about sexually-transmitted diseases (see: Sojo, Luis). These I can and will provide in spades. That is my promise to you, the reader.

3:45 pm - It's "Mets Extra" time on the FAN! And you know what that means: "Hot dogs, green grass, all at Shea....guaranteed to have a heckuva day!" When I was a kid, I never knew that they had actually changed those lyrics from "Bring the kiddies, bring the wife..." in order to make them more PC. Personally, I would love to "bring the wife," but she tends to read and/or knit at the games. Anyway, it's good to hear Eddie C's voice again.

3:48 pm - It's the "Manager's Report" with Willie Randolph. Ugh. Just the sound of his voice is already making me lose hope, and we haven't even played a fucking inning yet. I would describe the tone of Willie's voice as "characteristically upbeat."

4:19 pm -"Welcome to Mets baseball! Hi, I'm Howie Rose here with Wayne Hagin..." Who?? Did some random fan just wander into the radio booth?

4:23 pm - Mr. Wayne Hagin has a slight hint of a Southern twang in his voice. Kind of incongruous for a New York team, if you ask me, but what the hell do I know.

4:28 pm - And your first at-bat of 2008 is a three-pitch strikeout to Mr. Jose "Don't Call Me Professor" Reyes. So, in other words, October, November, December, January, February, and March did nothing to disrupt the roll he was on when last season ended.

4:31 pm - Howie reminds us that D. Wright won a Gold Glove last year. Remind me how that happened again?

4:35 pm - Bloop double for Carlos Beltran puts runners on 2nd and 3rd with two out. Man, how did Castillo not score on that one? If I had to guess, I'd say he wasn't running hard. I'm sorry - It's going to take a lot for me to forget September of last year. A LOT.

4:43 pm - Johan sets 'em down 1-2-3 in the first. He just earned .00000263% of his salary.

4:50 pm - The three other new Mets - Pagan, Church, and Schneider - go down 1-2-3 on a total of ten pitches. If 2007 was any indication, they'll fit right in here. (Oh, and Howie just announced that 'Stings has just hit his first home run as a Nat. Great timing).

4:55 pm - Six in a row set down by Johan. What's .00000263% times two? I'm too lazy to reach for my calculator.

5:10 pm - Make it nine. I could get used to this. I truly could.

5:14 pm - Beltran blasts a double to left field, giving...sigh...Carlos Delgado a crack at an RBI with a runner on second and nobody out. I'm sure he'll at least advance Beltran to third...right?

5:18 pm - Delgado walks, and Angel Pagan picks up where he left off in Port St. Lucie and gives the Mets the lead! Now is as good a time as any to say that I enjoy his name very much.

5:20 pm - Church knocks in Delgado, and it's 2-zip, Mets. F 'Stings! F 'Stings!

5:31 pm - Reyes knocks in another, Castillo walks, and Hendrickson has now thrown about 15,000 pitches in the top of the 4th. This game could get fun very soon.

5:33 pm - What'd I just say?!? Sugar Pantaloons clears the bases with a double to the wall, and it's 6-0 Metsies. I must point out that D. Wright and John Maine were the only two Mets to show any nuts in the final, mournful trudge of 2007. I won't soon forget that. Oh yeah, and speaking of nuts, Tom Glavine can lick my left one.

5:45 pm - "The first chink in the armor, Ted." Josh Willingham (or is it Herm Winningham?) goes deep against Johan, and it's 6-2. Poo. I know Johan got bit by the HR bug last year, so let's hope this isn't a trend.

6:15 pm - Jose is caught stealing to end the top of the 6th, and WFAN rolls out, for the 9th time today, a promo for an upcoming Gloria Estefan concert at Foxwoods. Ooo, let's go! Who's with me? "I didn't think she was gonna do 'Get On Your Feet,' and then, bam, second encore!!"

6:16 pm - Sometimes I wonder if anyone understands my Simpsons references other than me and Sonny D.

6:29 pm - After a 1-2-3 inning for Johan, D. Wright laces a double to right, but is caught stealing at third.

Here endeth the live-blogging portion of our evening. (A 7 pm appointment prevented me from continuing). As you all know, the Mets held on for a 7-2 win. Not a bad start in the slightest: great performance from Johan, near-flawless bullpen work, and some key knocks from the new acquisitions. A few more of these, and I'll be ready to begin to kind of almost possibly sort of start to get over last year. Good start, fellows!

Marshmallow Peeps, Chicken Soup, Rednecks, & Another Ridiculous "Meme"

2008-03-26T13:25:00.011-04:00

What happens when you're the sole author of a moderately-succesful humor blog and you go two weeks without posting? (A) All of the mouth-breathing slugs who've ever haphazardly clicked on your link start whining in unison for you to dance like a organ-grinder's monkey; (B) So many foolish observations and trivial thoughts starting piling up in your head that jokes literally start pushing their way out your nostril; (C) Riding With Rickey tags you, for the 8 quadrillionth time, with a "meme"; or (D) All of the above. (Put your money on "D")

Let's get this foolishness out of the way first. Apparently, I am required to truthfully answer the following four questions about myself:

4 jobs I have had: (i) High-falutin attorney at law (1998-present); (ii) summer intern/ghost writer for federal judge (1996); (iii) Blockbuster Video cashier/shelf-stocker/douchebag/occasional candy stealer (1991-1993, summers and winters only); and (iv) 15-year-old summer paralegal (1989).

4 TV shows I watch: Oh, how I long for the glory days, when I could've rattled off the likes of a Simpsons, Sopranos, Seinfeld, or Cheers. Today, my list is down to (i) Curb Your Enthusiasm; (ii) Flight of the Conchords; (iii) Entourage; and (iv) House (on occasion). I am assuming that daily shows like, er, "The Daily Show", are not eligible here. If I'm wrong, swap The Daily Show for House. (Note: I just found out that the Simpsons is still technically on the air. Who knew?).

4 places I have been: Uhhh, let's see. (i) Medellin, Colombia; (ii) Sonny D's deck; (iii) a gastroenterologist's office; and (iv) "The Jaco Fiesta" in Jaco, Costa Rica.

4 foods I like: (i) fried eggs; (ii) turkey bacon; (iii) soft chicken tacos from Chipotle; and (iv) popcorn, lots of popcorn.

Wow. What a torrent of hilarity I just unleased. Let me rein it in by spewing forth a few random observations:

(1) Spent an eventful Easter at the in-laws' this past weekend. For a Tribesman like me, Easter is an extremely unusual celebration - candy, hard-boiled eggs, the dead rising from the grave, bunnies, and ham. I'm still trying to piece it all together. Anyway, this Easter was made all the more unusual by the following events:

(a) My sister-in-law lost a portion of her finger in a deli-slicer two days earlier, and spent the entire weekend doped up on painkillers and swathed in bandages up to her elbow (note - they reattached it). Suffice it to say, you should avoid eating in any Boston bakeries for a little while.

(b) I awoke on Easter morning to find that, for reasons I cannot even begin to possibly fathom, some local Bucks County ruffian saw fit to dump an entire bowl of chicken soup on the windshield of my car. Folks, you haven't experienced true mirth until you've found yourself picking frozen bits of celery and carrot lumps out from under the hood of your car at 8:00 a.m. on Easter Sunday. That's what the resurrection is all about.

(c) During my bi-annual visit to church this year, when my eyes were just about to glaze over, a 90-year-old gent (one of those old codgers who proudly wears a salmon-colored blazer and bolo tie) passed out and collapsed off of his pew into the aisle, stopping the sermon dead in its tracks. Personally, when I see someone who was clearly alive during the Great War splayed out on the floor, I assume he's history. Fortunately, he came to and seemed to be OK. But in all the excitement, I missed the priest telling us what happened to Jesus. What's that you say? He rose from the dead? Woo hoo!!! U.S.A.!! U.S.A.!!

(2) Speaking of Easter, Flitgirl and I are still polishing off the delicious contents of our Easter baskets (I knew there was a reason I liked this holiday). However, for some reason, Flitgirl's mom insists on foisting box after box of marshmallow peeps on us every single year. Marshmallow peeps! Have you ever met anyone who actually enjoyed these abominations? They taste like hairballs dipped in kerosene.

(3) Saw this article today about Tiger Woods whining about someone taking his picture during his swing and throwing off his "momentum." Now, I'm no golfer (as Tom and Sonny can attest), but can someone explain to me why a baseball player has to try to hit a ball traveling 90 mph and moving all over the plate in front of 50,000 drunken idiots screaming their heads off, while Tiger Woods, who has to hit a ball that's standing still, can piss and moan ABOUT A FUCKING CAMERA SHUTTER GOING OFF? Fuck golf.

(4) Finally, a friend of mine sent me this mind-boggling article about some borderline human being who made the fascinating decision to use his gun to install a satellite dish. Take one guess what happened. This would make a great Exhibit A to the case that's before the Supreme Court right now. On the other hand, as everyone knows, the original draft of the Second Amendment read: "A well-installed satellite dish and round-the-clock NASCAR being necessary to the entertainment of a pathetic hillbilly, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed."

It Is Fun, And It Is Funny

2008-03-11T14:43:00.004-04:00

By now you've all probably heard the big, non-prostitute-related news from yesterday: The Yankees are signing Billy Crystal to a one-day contract and will let him play in a spring training game this Thursday against the Pirates. Yes, Billy fucking Crystal is going to put on the Yankee pinstripes in an actual game.

Now, because I love a good freakshow as much as they next guy, I actually have no problem with this (although I do wish he'd been playing catcher for them this past Saturday). In fact, I think it further confirms that this DNA lottery winner/ne'er-do-well/lunatic Hank Steinbrenner is going to take this franchise down a very strange road, replete with phony tough talk, "Joba Rules," a hothead manager, a constantly second-guessed GM, and an HGH-addled "ace," with a missed chance at Johan Santana looming over everything from Phil Hughes's confidence to Derek Jeter's herpes. Let the games begin.

Anyway, Billy Crystal plans on addressing his teammates before Thursday's game. Fortunately, I've obtained a sneak preview of his prepared remarks:

Value this time in your life, boys, because this is the time in your life when you still have your choices, and it goes by so quickly.

When you're a teenager you crack a few jokes and people tell you to become a comedian.

Your twenties, you land a supporting role in a hit sitcom, and you get people thinking you're a serious actor.

Your thirties, you raise your family, you make a little money, you land a one-season gig on SNL.

Your forties, you grow a little pot belly, you grow another chin, and you start mincing around the stage at the Oscars.

Your fifties, you direct "America's Sweethearts," you star in "My Giant," you spend most of your time running around sniffing Yankee jocks and wondering "what the hell happened to my career? What the hell happened to my career?"

Your sixties, you head down to Legends Field, where you accept a pity invitation from the Yankees to actually suit up in a Spring Training game.

Your seventies, you and the wife retire to Tampa. You start eating dinner at two, lunch around ten, breakfast the night before. You spend all of your time hanging around the Yankees' Spring Training complex, muttering "how come Hank doesn't call? How come Hank doesn't call?"

By your eighties, you've had a major stroke, and you end up babbling to some retired Yankee shortstop named Derek who your wife can't stand but who you call mama. Any questions?

Movie Time, Part II: The Flitgirl Strikes Back

2008-03-06T10:29:00.012-05:00

So, my loyal reader/wife got a little jealous that I got to use my bully pulpit to post a list of quotes from my 15 favorites movies yesterday, so she's insisting that she be given a turn as well. Because it's either this or talk about Moises Alou's hernia, I said yes. Thus, without further ado, here's the Flitgirl's list. As we did yesterday, see how many you can guess without cheating. Seeing as many of them were released eons before any of us were born, I'm predicting no better than a 20% success rate. Have fun guessing these, and please note that "Steel Magnolias" is not on this list, despite the picture at left. As far as I know, neither is "The Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood," although the Flitgirl did see that one in the theater. But I digress. On with the flicks:

~~1. I've, uh, vertically integrated myself. You know, diversified and shit, and now I'm into the occasional grand larceny, home invasion... shit like that.~~ [maybe I can help]

2. There is something depressing about it and it's not really about dogs. Except for some superficial bow-wow stuff at the start, the dogs all represent human types which is where it gets into real trouble. Lady, the ostensible protagonist, is a fluffy blond cocker spaniel with absolutely nothing on the brain. She's great looking but, let's be honest, incredibly insipid. Tramp, the love interest is a smarmy braggart of the most obnoxious kind, an oily jail bird out for a piece of tail or whatever he can get. [maybe I can help]

~~3. There's a lot to be said for making people laugh. Did you know that that's all some people have? It isn't much, but it's better than nothing in this cockeyed caravan.~~ [jim]

~~4. Now if I were a girl and had to choose between a young good-for-nothing with plenty of hair and a good, solid, mature citizen, I'd pick Mathias Popkin every time.~~ [anonymous]

~~5. If we bring a little joy into your humdrum lives, it makes us feel as though our hard work ain't been in vain for nothin'. Bless you all.~~ [Rickey Henderson]

6. I've no regrets. I've been everywhere and done everything. I've eaten caviar at Cannes, sausage rolls at the dogs. I've played baccarat at Biarritz and darts with the rural dean. What is there left for me but marriage? [jim]

~~7. I'm sure I don't do anything you would find exciting. I don't open beer bottles with my toes, I don't sit around and count what's left of my teeth, hey, I don't even enjoy a good tractor pull.~~ [Mikey P]

8. Funny business, a woman's career, the things you drop on the way up the ladder so you can move faster. You forget you'll need them again when you get back to being a woman. It's one career all females have in common - being a woman. Sooner or later we've got to work at it no matter how many other careers we've had or wanted. And in the last analysis nothing is any good unless you can look up just before dinner or turn around in bed and there he is. Without that you're not a woman. You're something with a French provincial office or a book full of clippings but you're not a woman. Slow curtain, the end. [maybe I can help]

~~9. Have you seen my girlfriend? Tall, Thin, legs for days?~~ [Mikey P]

~~10. Well, I proved once and for all that the limb is mightier than the thumb.~~ [jim]

11."Come ahead. stop. Stop being a sap. stop. You can even bring Alberto. stop. My husband is stopping at your hotel. stop. when do you start. stop." I cannot understand who wrote this.

~~12. I had a great evening; it was like the Nuremberg Trials.~~ [maybe I can help]

~~13. Cut to 13 years later, you're 44 years of age. You're flying for the shittiest-little-shuttle-fucking piece of shit Mexican airline that there is.~~. [maybe I can help]

~~14. I am married to an American agent.~~ [maybe I can help]

~~15. Brian Crookshank. Serves me right if I get stuck with that one.~~ [toasty senior]

Movie Time At Toasty Joe's

2008-03-05T09:46:00.016-05:00

Well, that magnificent bastard Rickey Henderson, has done it again and tagged me with another "meme." Fortunately, this one is right in my wheelhouse. Here are the ground rules, per Rickey: I must look up 15 of my favorite movies on IMDB, take a quote from each and post 'em for my readership to properly identify. As you movie savvy readers correctly identify the quotes' cinematic origins in the comments section below, Toasty will cross them off and give credit where credit is due. And no cheating, you unscrupulous bastards (i.e., Googling).

Oh, you don't know who you're messing with, Rickey. For you see, I am not a fan of "Luke, I am your father" type quotes. I much prefer the more obscure, "I was supposed to go into town to get some more power converters" quotes. Thus, I will be rather impressed if you are able to discern all fifteen of these. So, let's get going:

~~1. I wish I had met him before I got married. It would've saved me a gall bladder operation.~~ [anonymous]

~~2. This is not the time or the place to perform some kind of a half-assed autopsy on a fish!~~ [Luis Sojo]

~~3. He's smarter than I am. Three years old and he can already read the funny papers.~~ [Luis Sojo]

~~4. I'm a convicted murderer who provides sound financial planning - it's a wonderful pet to have.~~ [Luis Sojo]

~~5. I'd give four million just to be able to take a piss without it hurting.~~ [maybe I can help]

6. Look, champ. I know guys like that. I grew up with them. I was the fat kid they wouldn't let play. "Sit down, fat boy." That's what they'd say "Sit down, maybe you'll learn something." Well, I learned something alright. Pretty soon, I owned the game, and those guys I grew up with come to me with their hats in their hands. [houseofdny]

~~7. Just keep it still back there lady or we're going to have to, you know, shoot you.~~ [houseofdny]

~~8. I don't go joy-poppin' with bubble-gummers! My friends can handle their highs!~~ [Rickey Henderson]

9. Listen, I aint gonna get fucked like Gribbs, understand. Gribbs is 70 years old and the fuckin guy's gonna die in prison, I don't need that. So I'm warning everybody, EVERYBODY. It could be my son, it could be anybody. Gribbs got 20 years just for saying hello to some fuck who was sneaking behind his back selling junk, I don't need that, ain't gonna happen to me, you understand? [Luis Sojo]

~~10. You know, I'm such a great driver, it's incomprehensible that they took my license away.~~ [anonymous]

~~11. You and that other dummy better start getting more personally involved in your work, or I'm gonna stab you through the heart with a fuckin' pencil. Do you understand me?~~ [Luis Sojo]

12. Well, a lot of people did call him "Two-Gun" but it wasn't on account of him sporting two pistols. It was because he had a dick that was so big it was longer than the barrel of that Walker Colt he carried. [Rickey Henderson]

~~13. Why ain't you breast-feeding? You appear to be capable.~~ [flitgirl & houseofdny]

~~14. Do you have a special grudge against me? Do you feel a particularly strong resentment? Is there something I've said that's caused this contempt, or is it just things I stand for that you despise?~~ [maybe I can help]

15. You missed a very dull TV show on Auschwitz. More gruesome film clips, and more puzzled intellectuals declaring their mystification over the systematic murder of millions. The reason they can never answer the question "How could it possibly happen?" is that it's the wrong question. Given what people are, the question is "Why doesn't it happen more often?" [flitgirl & houseofdny]

Good luck. (Flitgirl is disqualified because she already knows what all my favorite movies are).

Hank Steinbrenner Says A Lot Of Funny Shit

2008-02-29T10:24:00.003-05:00

I'm not sure if everyone's picked up on this just yet -- probably because the season hasn't begun -- but ever since Hank Steinbrenner became the de facto head honcho up in the Bronx after last season, the man has been spinning out nutty quotes like it's his job. The weird thing about them is they all feel really contrived, like he thinks he needs to pick up where his dad left off in the early 1990s (before he ended up sitting in a bedroom somewhere in his slippers and robe, eating applesauce with a plastic spoon). But the difference is, George seemed genuinely insane. Hank? I don't know, the whole persona just isn't ringing true to me.

But either way, his flailing efforts to talk tough are an endless source of hilarity. Witness his latest statements to the New York Times:

“Red Sox Nation?” Hank says. “What a bunch of [expletive] that is. That was a creation of the Red Sox and ESPN, which is filled with Red Sox fans. Go anywhere in America and you won’t see Red Sox hats and jackets, you’ll see Yankee hats and jackets. This is a Yankee country. We’re going to put the Yankees back on top and restore the universe to order.”

You get all that? Here you have (i) a profanity, (ii) a conspiracy theory, (iii) a gross hyperbole, (iv) a ridiculously pompous pronouncement, and (v) a grandiose prognostication, all in the span of six little sentences. I'm telling you, this is going to be a fun season.

I must also note that I take issue with the substance of Hank's quote, especially since I doubt he's spent much time exploring our vast country outside of New York, Tampa, and an occasional trip to Cleveland. But if he's happy claiming all of the fringe, bandwagon, pink-cap wearing, front-running "Yankee fans" in Tulsa, Raleigh, and Omaha, he's welcome to them.

Sonny D's Spring Training Report

2008-02-26T09:49:00.007-05:00

Because I (i) have not posted in a while; and (ii) am too damned busy to do so, I humbly present the terse yet informative spring training ramblings of good friend, loyal reader, Guitar Hero enthusiast, and spawner of Li'l Sonny: Sonny D, who is live on location at Tradition Field. (Photographs are, you guessed it, all taken by Sonny). Take it away, buddy:

It was a hot day at Tradition Field, and here are some random thoughts on the day...

- Just as we got there, the guys were ending their morning practices to attend the intrasquad game

- Fans were lined up for some of the guys entering the field...Jose and Delgado walked by, but didn't sign anything

- The pitchers were doing some running drills..after, Ollie and Maine signed stuff for a while...Johan, on his way out, said that he'll sign some stuff later...yeah right.

- The game featured one team with mostly regulars, the other team mostly scrubs. The regulars included Jose, Angel Pagan (reacquired from Cubs), D Wright, Carlos D, Alou, Church, and Gotay, who all played about 3-4 innings

- The game was fully umpired, with a chick the ump behind the plate. Nobody questioned her calls...

- Jon Niese started the game...he looked pretty good.

- Duaner Dirty Sanchez pitched an inning, and aside from a couple of cheap hits, looked rather good, especially against Fernando Martinez

- Juan Padilla, also returning from injuries, looked pretty good.

- Jose hit a triple, and proceeded to loaf it as he admired his shot in the gap. To his defense, there were some slow pokes on the bases ahead of him.

- David Wright waved and smiled at Li'l Sonny, of which we realized we had nothing for him to sign (or something to sign with), so I ran over to the concession stand to get a ball and pen, but he was gone by the time I got back...mental note for next time - be better prepared for autographs!

- We couldn't walk away empty handed, and found a newbie Ryan Church signing some stuff. Got us a signed ball by him - he better be good!

All in all a good day...Li'l Sonny was a good camper for the most part, and I think he noticed one of the rookies tipping his pitches.

Thanks, Sonny, and good work. As for me, I'm more wrapped up in the fact that the Rocket's wife got a tit job while using HGH. The guy's married to a science project.

Debbie Clemens Given Lifetime Ban From MILF Hall Of Fame

2008-02-14T09:36:00.006-05:00

WASHINGTON, D.C.-- Following the stunning revelation that she was shot up with human growth hormone in 2003 in order to achieve her physique for a Sports Illustrated bikini shoot, Debbie Clemens, mother of four, Texas housewife, seller of hideous, rhinestone-encrusted sports-themed collectibles, and wife of major league pitcher Roger Clemens, was issued a lifetime ban by the MILF Hall of Fame.

"This is indeed a sad day for MILFs everywhere," said MHOF president Helen Mirren. "But, in view of the undisputed testimony, we had to take action. We could not in good conscience sit idly by and let Ms. Clemens sully our collective image."

The MHOF's decision was devastating to Ms. Clemens, given that she was shoo-in for induction in light of her four children, her shimmering blond hair, taut, firm body, and raidiant good-looks.

MHOF member Demi Moore expressed regret. "I'm sorry it didn't work out for Debbie," said Moore. "But, if we let her in, what sort of message are we sending to gold-digging, bubble-headed trophy wives around the country? That it's ok to cheat? I don't think so."

Ms. Moore's thoughts were echoed by other ranking MHOF members. "It's disgusting, actually," said member Pamela Anderson. "I mean, silicone is one thing. Everyone in here knows that's a part of the game, like chewing tobacco or B-12. But HGH? C'mon, Debbie. You know better."

Ms. Clemens reportedly plans on applying to the GILF Hall of Fame as soon as her son, Koby, knocks someone up.

***

OK, enough satire. A few points on yesterday's hearing:

(1) Is it too late for Rep. Elijah Cummings to run for President?

(2) See, here's the thing. Brian McNamee is a loathsome, pathetic, desparate slug, and he more or less came across as such yesterday. But Andy Pettitte is not. And that's the end of it, as far as I'm concerned. I mean, once you've got a fairly detailed affidavit from Pettitte AND his freaking WIFE saying Clemens admitted taking HGH, what else is there to investigate? I'm no lawyer (oh wait, yes I am), but you could build a perjury case against fat-boy on those two affidavits alone.

(3) Very interesting to see the members of the Committee split evenly across party lines yesterday, with the Democrats challenging Clemens, and the Republicans going to bat for him. I enjoyed it, though - it reminds me of when the Philadelphia Eagles got Terrell Owens, putting my least favorite player on my least favorite team to play in front of my least favorite fans. Nice symmetry there.

(4) Am I the only one who wants to punch Rusty Hardin in the mouth? I thought not.

(5) Quote of the day, hands down:

"I believe Andy has misheard, Mr. Congressman, on his comment about myself using HGH, which never happened," Clemens said.

Break that down grammatically, and your head will explode.

(6) Lastly, every time they were discussing the nanny and Jose Canseco's pool party, I kept picturing the Cheri Oteri episode of "Curb," where Larry ends up ogling Tim Kazurinsky's son's penis.

That's all for now. Don't forget to Name Tom's Boat.