Oh Sorry, It's An Environmental Storage Cooler

It still doesn't work.

The Mets are immune to the glorified keg cooler.

Before Dave Williams even took the mound tonight, the Mets were flipping the bird to the humidor for the second straight night...featuring the return of David Wright to the realm of the round trippers with a grannie to make it a 4-0 lead. Jose Valentin added a solo HR, first of two on the night, to make it 5-0. And once again, short of John Elway coming out of the dugout to pinch hit, this was another game the Rockies weren't going to win.

Starting in that bottom of the first, we learned a lot about starting pitcher Dave Williams. We learned that Dave Williams thinks that baserunners can get away with the neighborhood play (no Dave, that's just middle infielders...you see, pitchers not only have to bat in the National League, they have to touch all of the bases as well.) We learned that Dave Williams was born in Alaska. We learned that Dave Williams' favorite team growing up was the Seibu Lions.

We know more about Dave Williams than perhaps any normal human being really should know.

We also learned that Dave Williams is yet another in a long line of Omar Minaya pick ups that can contribute some important innings for the Mets. So let the pundits all hammer home the company line about the Mets not having enough starting pitching to get themselves through the playoffs. Because you know the Reds could use a guy like Dave Williams right about now. (Instead, he'll be in Norfolk until Tuesday)

But let's not forget the man lovingly called Sugar Pants...not only for the grand slam, but for his opposite field R.B.I. single to drive in a run which told the world "Hey! I'm going Dave Kingman on yo' ass tonight!" Let's not forget Wright's brilliant defensive play down the line in the bottom of the fifth which was part Brooks Robinson and part Brandon Inge (you don't see those two in the same sentence every day). Lest we forget that David Wright is our matinee idol, which is the perfect tie-in to what you've all been waiting for: the magic number!

P.S. Kudos for Gary Cohen for not playing the role of appeaser to all of the rich folk who pay eighteen dollars for a hamburger (with no bun please, I'm watching my caaaaaarbs) at the U.S. Open by basically telling the world that nobody cares about tennis anymore...which exposed his disdain for the sport as presently constituted. And though we like and respect the work of USA announcer and former Met voice Ted Robinson (at least Gary, Keith, and myself do...I will not speak for you), I take this opportunity to applaud Gary for telling it like it is. Tennis is a fine sport, but the U.S. Open with its sushi and its vegetable friendly menu and its pretentious opening ceremonies and its prime time finals and its players that wear evening gowns while playing (attractive though they may be) has gotten way out of control. And answer me this, Billie Jean (since you're a baseball expert now), why is it that Met fans have to constantly hear this garbage about "Oh, take the train...it's going to be crowded because of the U.S. Open." Hey tennis fans, allow me to present to you a collective "screw you!" We are here six months out of the year, you're here two weeks.

YOU TAKE THE TRAIN!