Sunday Dreamin'

I had a nightmare just now that Peyton Manning was firing darts all over the field against the Jets in the AFC title game. And Endy Chavez was in the stands next to me wearing a Gilligan hat and a Revis Island t-shirt.

And the very last pass that Manning threw ...








... struck out Carlos Beltran with the bases loaded.

Then he shot a commercial with Justin Timberlake at the 50-yard-line before accepting the Lamar Hunt Trophy. Omar Minaya then took the podium at Lucas Oil Field to announce that he had traded Shonn Greene for Sean Green and Shawn Green. In celebration, Dwight Freeney, Reggie Wayne, and Hanley Ramirez tied me up to the north goalpost and left me to die. Hours later, Tom Glavine sidled up next to me, put his arm around me, and told me that I had nothing to be devastated about. And that's when I woke up in a cold sweat.

I don't know what this means except for the fact that all those steroids I've been taking for purely medical purposes have made me hallucinate two sports at once (does that make me the Bo Jackson of nightmares?)

Well, I'm just glad that's over. And I'm glad that no matter what happens in the AFC Championship game today, it can't possibly be as bad as that.

Can it?

Go Jets.

Range Rover

Even before the play where Ryan Church turned Pedro Feliciano's throwing error into a living breathing broken rule (never make the first out at third base), Ryan Church's range helped save the day. When Johan Santana had loaded the bases in the sixth with two outs and the score at 2-1 Mets, and Chris Young hit a flare to right field, Ryan Church hustled in to make a running catch to end the inning.

Not the most spectacular play in the world, and not one anyone will talk about, but let's face it: If that was Shawn Green, he would have tripped over his hat, been hit in the head with the ball, and two runs would have scored while Carlos Beltran watches in horror. But with Ryan Church there, it's not a problem, Church, along with David Wright and his phenomenal tag on Church's throw in the eight, won Sunday's game for the Mets.

Side note: apparently the Mets had Presidential candidate John McCain sit in on the SNY broadcast booth for a half inning or so. Some real world busywork took my attention away from the inning, but I'm not sure I would have had the sound up anyway. See, I prefer not to have politics with my sports (kinda like having ketchup with my ice cream) ... especially when I could turn to any 24 hour cable news channel or network news show if I want to hear anything about any of these candidates. Certainly, there's been enough out there in the past four years ... and one of the reasons I watch so much sports (whether it be baseball, hockey, football, or freakin' underwater dart throwing) is to stay away from any and all mind numbing political coverage. And believe me, I don't particularly care whether it's a candidate I like or one I'm not particularly fond of. I don't want them in my sports booth whether it's a convenient interview (he just happened to be there) or not.

But I'm glad about one thing: Since the Mets had a "great patriot" like John McCain in the broadcast booth, I guess the guy who cries about liberal mutts and great patriots every other post on this site now has his cue to shut up.

Forever.

And that's the straight talk.

Ha ha ha ha, I love it!!!

Aah, Your Mangled Hearts

You never know when Sir Charge from the Verizon commercials is going to pop up and take your money.

C.B. Bucknor doesn't need your money...just the searing flesh of Met fans. And that's what he popped up and took today with his interference call. (According to the poll, I'm in the minority so far...and I know it and accept it. But Bucknor blew it.)

This loss might have been the one to take the wind out of me. Most of my blogging brethren probably went right to their keyboards banging on their keyboards chanting "Hulk Smash". Some of them might need a new computer after tonight.

I couldn't do that. I couldn't watch any postgame recaps, and I probably will stay away from ESPN and all of its brethren for the rest of the night. Instead, I watched Hard Knocks. (The title alone has to be apropos of something, right?) The latest installment featured a riveting forty second montage of Chiefs head coach (and former Jets general) Herman Edwards sitting on the couch in his office doing nothing but wonder who his starting quarterback is going be. After tonight's debacle, I did the same thing...sat on my couch and wondered what the bloody hell is going on as the Mets' season is threatening to go down in flames.

While Edwards came up with an answer to his question, I have none. Sure, the Mets did this to themselves all series. Six runs in three games off of two slumping pitchers and a rookie is unacceptable and embarrassing. But tonight was the one that just made me throw my hands up in the air in disbelief and remind me just how torturous it is to root for this team sometimes. The Mets at least hit some balls hard. But all of them were caught. The scorcher down the line that Ryan Howard turned into a double play, and the two laser beams that Abraham Nunez caught to rob Luis Castillo of two hits down the line.

And then the ninth inning, and that fateful call. And more torture. When Shawn Green grabbed a bat in the dugout, I thought how nice it would be for another franchise's fans to refer to a Met as "First F***ing Last". You know what I mean: Terry F***ing Pendleton, Brian F***ing Jordan, Larry F***ing Jones, and Adam F***ing Wainwright qualify for us (as well as Armando F***ing Benitez and Kenny F***ing Rogers even though they wore our colors). When have you ever heard of somebody else's fans ever refer to a Met that way? Ever?

A home run by Shawn F***ing Green would have had a nice ring to it. Would have torn the Phillies' hearts out.

Instead, it's C. F***ing B. F***ing Bucknor. Sir Ump. Calling interference even though Marlon Anderson touched the base on his slide. Marlon Anderson punished for trying to make something happen and not be a zombie like the rest of this roster could be sometimes.

And while I'm on this tangent: if they're not zombies, they're too nice. Nobody liked what Jimmy Rollins had to say at the beginning of the season about the Phillies being the team to beat...least of all me. But he said it, and he's backed it up by jamming it down our throats with home run after home run. Nobody liked it when Brett Myers said that he hated the Mets, again, least of all me. But wouldn't you like one of your Mets to come out, pick this team up by the scruff of its scruffy neck, and say at least a little something that's brash and arrogant, and follow it up by getting some big hits and being a leader instead of being too worried about making somebody angry? It would probably prevent people from talking about eighteen year olds on Long Island or strained hamstrings or how bad the bullpen is...okay, maybe not how bad the bullpen is. But you get my drift. The Mets are badly in need of a leader right now, and not a cliche f***ing soundbite about how they have to forget about this and move on. Of course, if that leader emerged after the game tonight, I wouldn't know it, because I can't bring myself to read anything about this game right now. Maybe in an hour or two, but not now.

C. F***ing B. F***ing Bucknor.

Buckner giveth, Bucknor taketh away. It's a hard knock life indeed.

Gross Instability

As someone who has turned his ankle a few times, let me be the first to say...

Ouch.

You can always tell when I'm coming by the clicking sound that my ankle makes when it's involved in the process of walking. You see, one too many turned left ankles on the basketball court ended that 0.00001% chance of me becoming the next Larry Bird (lousy bone chips). After Damion Easley's left ankle hit the ground on Saturday (with no Lawrence Taylor to expedite the process as he did with a certain former Redskins QB turned ESPN announcer in the exact same stadium), I wonder if he's going to hear that same clicking sound for a while after Easley was diagnosed with a Grade 3 sprain.

Grade three, if you're wondering, is really bad.

"Complete tear of the ligament. If the examiner pulls or pushes on the ankle joint in certain movements, gross instability occurs."

Of course, this would happen about an inning after Easley's immeasurable value was being discussed in the booth during tonight's game. What does this mean? It means Shawn Green at first base against lefties until Carlos Delgado gets back. Please get well soon, Carlos. And Damion...well, just get well. Soon may be too much to ask.

(You know, I hear Jose Offerman's available.)

And of course this would happen after the Mets lost another catcher to the DL today, as Fluff Castro still has an arthritic back.

(I know about bad backs. I also know of the rigors of catching, as I was pressed into duty as an emergency catcher for a company team in a tournament some years back...I wasn't even a part of that company but they begged me. That was their first mistake. Let's just say that it was so bad that I got special dispensation from the umpire to wear my shin guards while I was batting...because it wasn't like I was making contact with the ball anyway and if I did, It wasn't like I could get much slower. I just didn't want to break my toe fouling a ball off. So how bad was I? Let's just say that it's a good thing that this boxscore is never going to show up on Retrosheet or anything like that. And by the way, Alberto Castillo laughs at me.)

But otherwise, this was an extremely productive night in the standings for the Mets as they have gained a game on their competition with a 7-4 victory, coupled with Micah Owings having a little league game against the Braves, and the Pirates coming back from four down against the Phillies At least they've never done that against the Met...oh, wait.

I like the fact that Oliver Perez gutted through his six innings. But I'm still wondering if he's hit some sort of wall. He is lacking a little bit of velocity and an ever so slight bit of movement. It's a good sign when Perez can win with guile like Tom Glavine does, because maybe he can use these smarts when his stuff comes back.

I just hope he doesn't have to do it that often.

I wonder if John Lannan would have rather given up number 756 to Barry Bonds than give up Luis Castillo's first home run in one year, one month, and two days (or 674 at-bats if you choose to count that way). Between breaking Chase Utley's hand, pitching to Bonds, and now this, it's already been a lifetime of cool memories about John Lannan. (I can't wait until he mathematically eliminates the Mets from playoff contention in 2014 with a two-hitter. You know it's coming.)

(P.S. My crack staff has been following Guillermo Mota around after tonight's game. Apparently he was seen visiting every White Castle in the D.C. area...hoping that with all the sliders they have, maybe they're the ones that stole his by mistake. If he finds it, he can always reapply it in cream or clear form.)

He Called Keith A Bum

The fan that took his anger out on Keith Hernandez tonight (you know, the one that Keith pointed out via SNY's cameras and basically made him a star) and called him a bum had some misguided anger issues.

He should have been facing the field when he made that comment.

Many things went wrong for the Mets tonight, not the least of which was Oliver Perez, who was hit hard and knocked around in Tuesday night's 7-3 shellacking by the Braves. Certainly not a good way to start this huge series. But here's a question: Does it worry you in the least that Perez has had his velocity drop 3-4 miles an hour as the announcers pointed out tonight? Eh tu, dead arm?

I don't know what on Moises Alou is dead. He's certainly been killed lately...whether it be in the outfield miscommunicating with and crashing into Lastings Milledge, or banging into outfield walls. But I don't appreciate that Alou returns the favor by killing Mets rallies...first in the fourth inning grounding into a double play with runners on first and third, scoring a run but wiping the bases clean in front of Shawn Green's single which Alou rendered harmless, and then again in the sixth with Carlos Delgado on first base, killing a rally which would have blossomed after David Newhan sparked a two run fifth inning rally with a triple. When a David Newhan RBI gets wasted, and he has...like...five all year (that was just a guess, but when I checked that total to be accurate, lo and behold he actually has five RBI's this year), you're not doing your job. And Moises Alou didn't get the job done on this night.

But whether they're hurt or not, they get no sympathy from me because not only of the magnitude of Tuesday's game, but because the worst part about this is that you know that the Met bashers (Chris Russo and the like) are going to have a field day on Wednesday "Oh, the Mets can't beat the Braves, they stink". Just another reason to put "Air Bud" in your DVD player instead of watching the YES Network during afternoon drive time.

But if you didn't see the game, if you just heard about it somewhere and read the score, you missed this classic exchange between our announcers:

Keith: "I don't drink anymore."

Ron: "You mean during the broadcasts, right?"

Of course, when the announcers providing commentary on their alcohol intake and pointing out heckling fans provide the largest smiles of the night, that's a problem.

***

Congratulations are in order for Barry Bonds' record breaking home run. Not necessarily for Bonds, but for the guy who caught the historic ball who, among a sea of Giants supporters who have been waiting for a chance to not only see the big home run, but catch it and make some money, came down with it. He deserves a lot of credit for his accomplishment.

He deserves a lot more credit because that fan was wearing a METS JERSEY!!! (And a Mets t-shirt underneath. Great job making sure the Mets were a part of two milestones this week.) Great job, Matt Murphy...who by the way is from Queens, NY! Queens! Giants fans invested their whole lives in following Barry Bonds' career, and the guy who catches the money ball is a Mets fan from Queens! He was on his way to Australia, he buys a ticket to this game on the way down, and the money he will probably get for selling that ball just paid for his trip.

If Looks Could Kill

I woke up on Tuesday, July 31st of 2007, thinking that there was a chance for it to be quite historic in the annals of baseball.

First it was trade deadline that came and went, with nary a whimper from the Mets during the last few hours...and I was flipping out in anger at my television. No, not because the Mets didn't trade anybody else. In fact, I was quite comfortable with the fact that the Mets didn't mortgage their entire future for Eric Gagne (although Gagne would have looked quite nice in a Mets uniform) or Chad Cordero (Jim Bowden probably tried to use his mind control on Omar Minaya thinking that he would fold like one of Jim Duquette's cheap suits, but to no avail...I kind of like Philip Humber anyway).

But because I had to listen to those boobs on Baseball Tonight for two and a half hours during their trade deadline special. (Just for clarification, I do not under any circumstances put Peter Gammons in the "boob" category...I like Peter Gammons and would gladly drink beer with him, so keep your complaints to yourself, please.) How John Kruk can go in front of a camera, brag about how Tad Iguchi is a winning player because he has a World Series ring, and then in the same breath tell us that Luis Castillo is just OK despite hitting 50 points higher than Iguchi and also having a World Series ring (I'm reminded that he was actually on the 1997 team, giving him two...two rings, which thanks to Toasty, strengthens my argument), while presenting himself as a non-biased observer of baseball absolutely escapes me. If the beer swiller would just take the Phillies pom-poms out from behind his desk and run around doing cartwheels chanting "Fricka Fracka Firecracka sis boom bah...Chase Utley Chase Utley RAH RAH RAH", I'd at least be happy that he wasn't putting on a front for the baseball loving American public.

But the moment when I wanted to throw a brick throughout the television was when former Mets GM (and current hall of hate member) Steve Phillips decided to add a little perspective to the trade deadline proceedings by letting loose with a story about how back in 2000 he was presented a ten player trade offer by Mark Shapiro with about 30 minutes left before the trade deadline, and by the way included Manny Ramirez, but he couldn't get ownership on the phone because there was two of them and he had to get approval and...

Excuses! You mean to tell me that Steve Phillips can't reach his ownership at a moments notice in the span of 25 minutes to get a trade approved? FOR MANNY RAMIREZ? Do you realize how different the 2000 World Series would have been with Manny Ramirez in the outfield? I need to be convinced right now that I don't want to punch Steve Phillips in the face...because unless the five names going back to Cleveland were Mike Piazza, Robin Ventura, David Wright, Jose Reyes, and the fetus of the next Hank Aaron, that's a fact I wish I never knew.

But then came tonight's game, and the hate that I feel for Phillips stands in awe to the hate that I feel for Guillermo Mota right now after he blew Tom Glavine's 300th victory (if you had Aaron Heilman in your "Who's Going to Blow Glavine's 300th Victory Pool" as I did, you lost), because Glavine's next shot at 300 comes on Sunday night, where this blogger has a previous engagement with the police...actually let me clarify: a previous engagement with The Police (capitalization is important here) and 76,000 of my closest friends.

Heck, forget me...how about the hate that Christine Glavine feels for Mota? Did you see the look she had on her face when Mota was walking off the mound? My crack staff heard an exclusive report that Christine Glavine was chasing Mota around the parking lot after the game (no word on whether Mike Piazza is laughing his ass off right now).

But give Christine Glavine's husband credit for going on the road, going to a place where he hasn't had a lot of recent success, and pitching his tail off (with help from Shawn Green and his sweet diving catch). It's a shame that the offense couldn't score a couple of more times for him, including on Green's double in the gap where I initially got really excited, and then gave up hope when I realized it was Carlos Delgado rounding third and heading home instead of a slightly faster runner like Luis Castillo...or Rusty Staub...or dirt. (Ask me, that was the turning point of the game right there...but nobody asked me.)

But who knew that it would get exciting after Glavine left. I mean, how about that catch by the man I like to call "Long Lastings Flavor" in the ninth...two men out and three men on...nowhere to look, but inside...where Lastings Milledge responds to pressure (cue the organs).

And how about Prince Fielder's two foul balls leading off the 12th which is straight out of every bad baseball movie you've ever seen (along with some good ones, I guess), before leading off with a single, setting up L.L.F.'s second diving catch to save the game in that inning? (So he misjudged the ball which forced him to dive...that's mere details my friends.)

How about another North American sighting of Moises Alou, as he stole a base in the 13th inning? When you add the stolen bases that Orlando Hernandez and Julio Franco have had this year, that means that the Mets have as many old people stealing as Enron did. Unlike Enron, Alou's thievery meant nothing.

Aaron "Doc Windgate" Sele continued the excitement by dancing in and out of trouble...until that unlucky 13th inning where Geoff Jenkins hit a frozen rope ending a night which not only saw history go down the tubes on all fronts, but a night where the Mets burned through their bullpen to the point where Thursday's starter Jorge Sosa had come in to pitch. What does that mean? Heck, it may mean that it's a good thing that Philip Humber wasn't traded, because we could see that young man on Thursday.

It also means that Christine Glavine is staring down Guillermo Mota all the way to Wrigley Field.

With All Apologies

Sorry Scott.

I really had no way of knowing that one of the eight-year-old kids that I kicked off my lawn today would sneak off to Shea Stadium and hit a home run to beat you.

I should have known better. I should have known that if there was a chance you would enter the game tonight, that an eight-year-old child would hit a home run off of you. My bad.

***

But really, outside of the fact that some eight-year-old named Brendan Ryan would hit his first major league home run off Scott Schoeneweis after hitting six total home runs in his four year minor league career, the Mets are still fine. One of the things that drew me to the Mets in the first place (when I was Brendan Ryan's age) was that good or bad (happy or sad), the Mets would always put up some sort of fight in the ninth inning, no matter how many runs they were down by. During the latest bad stretch, the Mets would be dead in the final inning (more like the final four innings). No fire, no effort. Kind of like a game I saw back in 1981 (or so) Dave Kingman taking three straight weak hacks at fastballs while at the dish as the last hope for the Mets (he must have had a plane to catch that day).

With Shawn Green's walk in the ninth, I stopped worrying. Good at bats like Green's against Jason Isringhausen are all you can ask for when you're the last hope. So with Valentin up and Green on first, I was overtaken with a sense of calm. Because everything felt all right.

That is until that eight-year-old wouldn't get off Scott Schoeneweis' lawn. (Sorry again, Scott.)

***


Scott Schoeneweis. Pug. Same being? You decide.

***

Anybody else find it weird that the Yankees sign the first players from China, and then just days later they sign an endorsement deal with a Chinese dairy company?

Personnel moves decided by advertising? Oh that's rich.

***

Has Carlos Gomez gotten dusted yet?

Sliding Bullpen Doors

Here's the answer:

Shawn Green hit a dramatic home run in the eleventh inning against the St. Louis Cardinals in Game 7 of the 2006 NLCS sending the Mets to the World Series, where they defeated the Tigers in five games. Yes?

What would have happened if Yadier Molina had been abducted by aliens off the side of I-10 in Reading, PA last October?

That's correct.

(And now your Final Jeopardy answer: Roy Oswalt for Aaron Sele. The question we were looking for was "What is a pipe dream?")

Monday night's Cardinals/Mets game...the first Cardinals/Mets at Shea Stadium since you know what...would have to go into the ninth tied at 1-1, wouldn't it?

It would have to feature Billy Wagner facing So Taguchi in the ninth inning, wouldn't it?

It would have to feature Aaron Heilman in any capacity, wouldn't it?

All that was missing was Guillermo Mota shaking off Paul Lo Duca.

It even had the Mets facing a dominant lefty Tiger. No, not Kenny Rogers, this time it was Mike Maroth...and dominant he was, if no longer a Tiger. And even though he never even pitched in last year's series, it was too close a call. It was still too much of a reminder of what could have been if, as the Jeopardy contestant said, Yadier Molina had been abducted by aliens (or injured, as he actually was).

But regardless of the fact that this outcome came eight months too late, the Mets will take it. They'll take the excellent bullpen work by Wagner, Heilman, and for pure level of difficulty: Pedro Feliciano and his Houdini act in the seventh inning, getting Scott Spiezio (oh, the pangs of reminder) to ground out back to the box and preserve the tie, and set up Shawn Green's 11th inning swing (which was reminiscent of a five year old with a new Nintendo Wii swinging with that exaggerated uppercut from his foul ball to his game winning walk off, but hey...whatever works.)

Here are some funny things to consider:

• Did you notice the home run swing is back around the same time as the hair?
• Would this home run have happened had Julio Franco not missed this game due to injury? Because you know that Franco would have been out there at first base instead of Green against a lefty had Franco didn't come down with a sore birth certificate...I mean, sore knee? (Well, seeing as if Shawn Green played right field and not first base as he did on Sunday...which confused me, then that blows the theory to smithereens. There's a second shooter though, and I'll find him gosh darn it.)

It's just more alternate endings to the fork in the road that is the life of a Met fan. Sore knees, Nintendo swings, alien abductions...they're all fun to wonder about. But you know that what really happens the rest of this season will be much more inventive and interesting than those fictional situations. The baseball gods wouldn't have it any other way.

Breathing a Tad Easier

When I look at the three victories that the Mets have had over the last sixteen games, none of those victories gave me the impression that they were out of the woods.

Two wins were shutouts where the lineup was dead. The other victory was a blowout with John Maine on the hill and Johan Santana looming. Tonight, however, felt different. Tom Glavine looking sharp in a blowout has a different feeling than John Maine looking sharp in a blowout, for this reason: the Mets need Tom Glavine to be successful to feel better about themselves.

And it sure looked like the Mets felt better about themselves. This game had all the hallmarks of a slump busted. It had Shawn Green driving in three runs and hitting his first home run in about the time it took for Glavine to get win number 296. It had Carlos Beltran getting his average up to .272 with two hits, two runs, two RBI's, and a long home run. It had a opposing rookie pitcher treated like...well, an opposing rookie pitcher. It had Jose Reyes making a dynamite play on a double play ball in the fourth inning, and more importantly, looking like he's still having a whole lot of fun on the bench which you don't normally find on a team winning it's fourth game in seventeen.

And I can't be sure, but I can swear I saw Aaron Heilman smile.

But Glavine is the big deal here. This blogger was disgusted by Glavine's performance on Saturday against the Yankees. This blogger is now happy after hearing Glavine say in his post game interview that he was also disgusted by that performance (I believe the word was "embarrassed"). Still, after all these seasons in the sun, Glavine still has the honest introspection to make his game better, and the competitive fire to want to go nine innings even with a 9-1 lead tonight (not to mention the extra batting practice to get himself two hits and two RBI's).

And now, Tom Glavine can discover all over again what a post game spread tastes like after a win. It just tastes different.

***

And speaking of Oakland, if Omar Minaya went and acquired the recently DFA'd Milton Bradley for a mere bag o' shells, let's just say it totally wouldn't suck.

(Editor's note: Scratch that, as Bradley has already been traded to...Kansas City? Kansas City? Boy you have to really hate somebody to trade them to Kansas Ci...Kansas City? Are the Royals like those guys who buy houses on foreclosure and then fix them up and sell them at normal market value? Kansas City? Really? At least Bradley will help the Royals get past the White Sox in the standings.)

(Kansas City???)

***

Maybe it was my minor league rehab assignment that did the trick for the Mets tonight.

Yes, my minor league rehab assignment. They sent me down to the farm on Thursday...

Despite rain delays of over two hours, a train ride home of over two hours, and being present with a Yankee fan, all was well as the Cyclones pulled one out over the Staten Island Yankees, 6-1. Of all the people still there when the game ended at midnight, I wonder how many of them were from Queens? Well, actually there was at least one more, as Cow-Bell-Man made the trip, and even let two other fans take control of the cowbell in the top of the ninth. I apologize that there's no evidence of this as my battery ran out during the second rain delay, but the camera did catch this ominous shot right before the rain delay:

Then this happened:

And because that happened, the Cyclones were nice enough to offer us free tickets to another game after waiting until 10:15 PM to start the fourth inning with the Cyclones leading 5-0. You can understand why I thought God really was a Yankee fan looking at the above picture. But dollar sodas the rest of the night allayed that fear.

(P.S. For real analysis on this game and all things Cyclones, check out Matt Himelfarb at Cyclones Nation.)

Vote Paul Lo Duca!

Well that was a mighty fine start to the homestand, wasn't it? Not only a victory, but a blowout victory at that.

Don't forget to vote Paul Lo Duca for next month's all-star game.

Carlos Beltran's quad certainly seemed no worse for wear either, as he dashed home from third on Carlos Gomez's sacrifice fly.

Hey, vote for Paul Lo Duca five times for the all-star game.

And John Maine was spectacular. When the Mets needed a great effort from their starting pitcher, Maine was there for them with seven and 1/3 innings of four hit ball and only two walks.

Paul Lo Duca needs your votes to take the lead back for starting catcher for the all-star game.

And the lineup seemed to be breaking out a little bit as well. Two hits each for Carlos Delgado, Shawn Green, Jose Reyes, heck even Ricky Ledee had two hits. And David Wright had three!

You know who else had two hits? Paul Lo Duca. And you know he needs your all-star votes.

You might have noticed the frequent in-game requests to vote for Paul Lo Duca for the all-star game. Well, don't worry. Those of us at home were also hit with commercials to vote Lo Duca. This recent election campaign came after Russell Martin of the Dodgers recently took the lead. I myself am mildly surprised that the Mets would undertake a campaign for one player over the others, but Lo Duca is the player that needs your help right now.

But as long as they're spending money to get votes in preparation for this Queens caucus, the ad campaign needs to be a bit stronger. May I suggest:

Seventh Hell

A little clarity, a little more time to think, and a little bit of alcohol got me thinking about Tuesday night's game. And the one recurring theme in my mind was this: With Geoff Geary on the mound in a tie game, and the heart of your order at the plate, you have to win. You have to find a way to scratch one run home. It's inexcusable for the Mets not to have done that.

So Wednesday night, here we are again. Geoff Geary on the mound, and this time the Mets are down by a run with runners on second and third and nobody out. I stress one more time: You have to beat Geoff Geary.

If this was 2006, Geary is beaten down like a minor leaguer. Earlier this season, Geary was beaten down like a minor leaguer. Now? Well not only do the Mets go down meekly in the home half of the seventh inning, they go down spectacularly...in flames even. They go down with seemingly their last outfielder standing healthy getting shot by a sniper...the hamstring sniper...while beating out a double play to bring home the tying run (which really should have scored with nobody out and Ryan Howard sprawling to smother the Julio Franco grounder with Ruben Gotay already halfway home, but that's another issue altogether).

They say that Endy Chavez's hamstring is "strained". I'd hate to see what an actual tear would have looked like. Would he have been taken off on a wheelchair like Dwyane Wade? And with that, the curse of the Shea outfield continues, with Shawn Green still hurt and Moises Alou taking his sweet time getting back to the lineup (even though at his age, time should be a terrible thing to waste). Don't be surprised if Alou makes a slightly sooner than expected return to the lineup tomorrow (calls to Eric Valent, Gerald Williams, and Brian McRae were not immediately returned).

Of course, the bottom of the seventh is moot without the top of the seventh, and the latest meltdown by Aaron Heilman (which I suspect was a jinx job by Keith Hernandez...first he goes on and on about what a great job Pedro Feliciano had done this season before he gave up the home run to Chase Utley, and tonight he waxes poetic on how much better Aaron Heilman has been lately before he goes ka-boom with a three run explosion in the top of the inning...thanks a lot Keith).

If this game had happened in September, it would have been devastating. Terry Pendelton like, even. That game had Ron Darling's injury (the same Ron Darling who was in Shea Stadium's version of the penalty box announcing the game tonight...was that his Anaheim Duck homage?), this had Endy's injury. That game had Pendleton's blast, this game had Jimmy Rollins' three run HR off Heilman. The only thing that game had that this one didn't, thankfully, was the month of September. But think of the life that the Mets just gave the Phillies tonight...you thought Jimmy Rollins was confident coming into the season? His confidence is sky high right now...do we really want that? And now, if we didn't have enough Cole Hamels Facts, here's another one: The Mets have to beat him on Thursday just to save themselves from a sweep. They can't hit Geoff Geary or Adam Eaton right now (Adam Eaton, for crying out loud...Adam Eaton!!!) We're really expecting them to beat Cole Hamels?

The Mets have deserved the benefit of the doubt all season. And as horiffic as Wednesday's game was, they're still 3 and a half ahead of Atlanta. But the pulse of the team can't be good after their first three game losing streak of the season. And at some point a good team like this has to sit back and ask themselves what they need to do to right the ship. With the schedule in June as brutal as it is (starting with Detroit on Friday and on from there), games like Wednesday's needed to be won.

Charity Starts At Home

So Pedro Martinez threw off of a mound today.

Looked good.

Felt good.

Unfortunately, Petey's return isn't going to get the Mets a key hit.

Oh the Phillies tried...tried their hardest to give the Mets a gift on Tuesday, with Pat Burrell running around to occupied bases, and negotiating the outfield with the dexterity of a water buffalo in a Home Depot. What do the Mets do? They hit the ball right at him, of course.

The Phillies even had one of their better fielders, Aaron Rowand, drop a ball with two outs in the ninth putting David Newhan in scoring position (it's the only way David Newhan is going to get into scoring position without being on a date these days). But that golden opportunity went to waste, and the Phillies won the game 4-2 thanks to a Chase Utley home run in the 11th off of Pedro Feliciano.

At least the almost impervious Feliciano and Joe Smith decided to have their blemishes in the same game, just like they did against the Brewers, instead of spreading them out. For that, we can be thankful. But the lineup is lacking that certain something that made them so good for the last two seasons. With Ben Johnson and Carlos Gomez in the lineup, it makes it easier for a 79 year old pitcher such as Jamie Moyer and others to tip toe his way through said lineup.

You'll have to excuse me while I order those hyperbaric chambers to be sent to the houses of Moises Alou and Shawn Green.

Get well soon.

Really soon.

Look Ma, No Outfield!

I was wondering why Carlos Beltran wasn't turning and going to second on Kevin Frandsen's off target throw as Beltran ran into Rich Aurilia. Well duh, he was hurt!

Unfortunately, hurt enough to leave the game and leave the Mets juggling with an outfield of Endy Chavez, Carlos Gomez, and Ben Johnson. A far cry from Beltran, Moises Alou, and Shawn Green. But hey, when Orlando Hernandez is going the way he was going (after the first inning, of course), you could have an outfield of me, my brother, and my cat (our combined averages are just above Gomez's average right now but we can't cover nearly as much ground...that's why the cat would be in center field), and still come away with the 4-2 victory that they came away with.

The theme of this series was most assuredly "Giants two, Mets coming to bat", as three times the Mets spotted the Giants a two run lead before Jose Reyes' bat was to waggle in the box. Yet the Mets were a mere Barry Zito gem away from possibly sweeping this series. Two out of three, under those circumstances, and under the circumstances of no starting outfielders left standing, is completely acceptable, not to mention completely indicative of the way the Mets' starting staff is able to bounce back from early hiccups...and I give Orlando a boatload of credit. These are usually the kind of games that Hernandez can't bounce back from. He's usually either terrible or brilliant, but never both in one game. Luckily, he got the terrible out of the way and ended off with a whole lot of brilliant.

Of course, an MRI on Carlos Beltran is completely scary, as the last thing the Mets need while they are humming along is for a major cog in the offense to be out for any stretch of time. So y'all keep your fingers crossed.

***

Where were you when Armando got traded?

Where were you when you found out that Carlos Delgado's game winner was the last pitch that Armando Benitez would ever throw in a Giants uniform? Where were you when you found out that the Mets, who couldn't beat Benitez for the longest time, officially became dragon-slayers, retroactively, on Tuesday night? Where were you when you found out that not only have the Mets flushed Benitez out of San Francisco, but basically brought him back to the National League East where our team will have a few more cracks at him?

Of course, it was in a Marlins uniform where Benitez had his greatest successes against the Mets, so I probably shouldn't talk too soon. And more than likely, Benitez isn't going to be let anywhere near the ninth inning unless Kevin Gregg, Henry Owens, Matt Lindstrom, Troy Percival, Bryan Harvey and Charlie Hough all go down with injuries. But rest assured, our paths will cross again in 2007. The Mets and Armando. Armando and the Mets.

So go ahead, Fredi Gonzalez...let him close. I dare you. But you've gotta ask yourself one question: "Do I feel lucky?"

Do ya?

The Samson Green Curse

Jose Reyes valued his head of hair so much that he was the last holdout to shave his head. But it's Shawn Green who's the one who's proving to be the Samson of the team.

Since Green shaved his head as part of what the NFL would call "OTA's" (organized team activities), Green has not only seen his average drop from .356 to .314, and let a ball drop in front of him which basically prevented a sweep of the Yankees (despite being more aerodynamic), but now he has a broken bone in his foot and is out indefinitely (the word "indefinitely" never sounds good...it always translates to me as "until the end of time).

Just as fielders used to leave their mitts on the field for the opponents in the late 1800's, Green must have left his curse on the field for tonight's starting right fielder...as Carlos Gomez's hamstring felt the power of the curse as he strained his hamstring in the second inning. Keep in mind that Gomez also shaved his head.

Endy Chavez then moved from left field to right field, prompting fears that the curse would claim poor innocent Endy. Aah, but Endy's head was already freshly shaved before the season started (and before the OTA), so he had three hits and a diving catch in right field on Saturday night. So Endy, despite the wolf being at the doorstep, avoids the Samson curse for another evening.

Another previously shaved head came back to life tonight, as Carlos Delgado's two home runs and five RBI's gave the Mets a 7-2 victory. Combine that with what's happening in Atlanta, as the Braves have dropped two straight to the Phillies, Bobby Cox has been ejected for the 4,841st time, and the Mets have quickly gained two games in the division. Combine all that with the return of John Maine to the win column. He still walked four guys...and he still got himself into trouble at spots...but unlike his last start against the Yanks, he got out of trouble which has been his trademark throughout the season.

The departures of Gomez and Green pretty much means that the Mets outfield is going to consist of Chavez, Carlos Beltran, and...and...

and...

David Newhan?

Ben Johnson?

It's gonna seem like a long wait until Moises Alou returns, which should be this week. After that, hope Alou gets healthy. Because indefinitely is a long time.

***

You might have seen the portion of Saturday night's game where Keith Hernandez was banging poor Gary Cohen's head with those thundersticks. But Friday's game scared me a bit. He was eyeballing the girls in the pool just above the right field bullpen saying "hey, if they had pools by the pool while I was playing, I would have wanted to be a reliever instead of an everyday player." And then the camera got a shot of all those girls by the pool that he was all jealous of...

and they're all like, twelve!

Either Keith is going insane, or his production crew is making him out to a pedophile. Either way, I'll never hear those words "I'm Keith Hernandez" quite the same way again.

You Can't Spell Fundamental Without "Mental"

Does the term "getting away with murder" mean anything to you?

After six innings of the "Orlando Hernandez Revival Tour", we were treated to the Mets version of the "Seventh Inning Kvetch", as three at-bats told a story that belied the actual outcome of the game.

First, it was David Wright failing to run out a foul ball that trickled back fair...as if I needed any reminder of Todd Zeile's similar grounder in the Subway Series of 2000. Then, it was Carlos Delgado failing to run hard on a ball off the oversized left field scoreboard, then proceeding to get thrown out at second base. Now Delgado should know, being the slowest man on the face of the earth (besides your friendly neighborhood blogger right here), that he needs to run hard every chance he gets...especially considering the slump he's been in.

Then, after Paul Lo Duca's fourth hit of the night, Shawn Green failing to...well, failing to keep himself upright as major league umpires are continuing to call every flinch of the bat as a strike, as Green was called out while falling on the ground. Now those are three at-bats that usually signal that I should just turn off the television, because no good can come of this game. I'm sure that Willie Randolph wanted to turn off the television as well except that he couldn't because he was there, and watching these guys perform feats of brilliance and stupidity just happens to be his job.

Fortunately for the Mets, the Marlins matched their late inning dreadfulness...for every Carlos Beltran lazy throw to the infield to help along Miguel Olivo to third base, there was a Dan Uggla error. For every Aaron Heilman meltdown to let the tying run score in the bottom of the eighth, there was Carlos Tosca playing the infield back with runners on first and third and nobody out with the score 1-1 in the top of the ninth. The Fish even threw in a bad throw home combined with a wild one hand stab at the ball with Miguel Olivo to bring home the go-ahead run, to put the Mets on track to a 6-2 victory which you can make the argument they really didn't deserve.

What could be the root of all of this craziness?

Of course, it's Petey! No wonder everybody lost their concentration, they were watching Pedro Martinez keep everyone entertained by dancing around and bugging his eyes out. Petey has that effect on people like a dark magical spell. In 2005, Pedro had such a hold on his bullpen that they blew 78 saves for him that season. Heck, I'm surprised the Mets didn't wander around the field muttering "must...kill...the queen..." and pull handguns from under second base.

Although there are two more games to this series so I guess anything can happen.

Lineup Lottery

Well, it didn't really work for the Grizzlies and Celtics, but Willie Randolph wanted to see if a lineup system would work for his lineup tonight.

Jose Reyes, who had a 25.4% chance of getting the top spot, had his ping pong ball drawn first. But in the big upset of the night, Shawn Green moved from sixth all the way to second even though he only had a 6.3% chance of moving up (Green responded with a hit and a walk, and plans to draft Kevin Durant).

The big losers in the Mets lineup lottery were Paul Lo Duca, who had a 19.9% chance based on his second spot in the order last year, but dropped to fifth making him the Grizzlies. Carlos Delgado was dropped from fourth to sixth, making him the Celtics. But both Lo Duca and Delgado responded with two hits each.

The big winner was Oliver Perez. With his 1.7% chance of moving up in the order, he stayed at the ninth spot. But like Dirk Nowitzki, who was drafted ninth by the Bucks and then traded immediately, Oliver Perez proved you could turn in a most valuable performance while coming in ninth.

After his third dominating win of the season against Atlanta, my only hope is that Braves fans can grow to hate Oliver Perez as much as we hate Larry Jones.

And Brian Jordan.

And Greg Maddux.

And John Rocker.

All right, all right, that last one isn't possible (unless Oliver Perez makes some inappropriate southern jokes during one of his post game interviews).

P.S. Memo to Christopher Russo: That was Joe Smith striking out Edgar Renteria and Larry Jones for a 1-2-3 eighth inning. Just wondering if you were convinced yet.

It Hurts To Boo

I wish I could give you a bit more tonight...just as I wish Tyler Clippard could have given you a bit less Sunday night.

But as it turns out, your great and all knowing soothsayer doesn't know well enough to know that if you swing yourself under the rail that separates the sections in the upper deck, and that if you're considerate enough to keep bending at the waist so as not to block your fellow fans from the incoming pitch, then there's every chance that your back is going to go out.

And out it is.

My back is more out than Derek Jeter's blast off John Maine...which was so out it was halfway to the CitiField construction. The Jeter blast, unfortunately, was the signal for all of the frustrated Yankee fans to let loose their frustrations and morph into the bragging, puffy chest, brain surgeons that we all knew they could be, as a big bag of popcorn came flying down from the reaches of section 41 in the upper tank. Not so coincidentally, that is the general vicinity where all of the fights started, yet it took the security folk a good two innings to reach that area and start ejecting people.

Then, of course, there seemed to be one of them in every section...the one that felt he needed to get up and make a spectacle of himself to everybody to prove that he's a Yankee fan, reminding us to look at the scoreboard (but conveniently failing to bring up the current standings), like the one in our section...section 31. He deserved a good booing, but it couldn't be from me...heck I could hardly stand up. Even booing hurt.

On Sunday night, a lot of things hurt.

But let's keep in mind that while losing to a pitcher fresh out of grade school is a bitter bill to swallow (along with that court order that prevents Shawn Green from coming at least ten feet away from every fly ball), the Mets have won another series, and have gained a game on the Braves in the process (not to mention the 7-3 homestand). Silver linings people...silver linings.

Enjoy your off day, and I'll give you a little bit more then...that is, if it doesn't hurt to type.

Aramis Ramirez: The Final Frontier

You may have missed this, but China has recently, and successfully, launched the Nigeria Communication Satellite into orbit from the Xichang satellite launch center in China.

Unfortunately, the satellite was knocked out of orbit by Aramis Ramirez's grand slam, launched by Scott Schoeneweis at Shea Stadium in New York.

Before it could knock any satellites off the air, it turned a manageable 3-1 game into a 7-1 disaster, and it was well on it's way to the 10-1 debacle that it turned out to be.

When Aramis Ramirez is in New York, he's the greatest enemy that the space program has...if you remember (and believe me I tried to forget) he hit the same set of green seats against Steve Trachsel last July with a home run that traveled 425 feet. Obviously, he didn't want to limit the souvenirs to the people in the mezzanine box seats, so this time he hit the less expensive reserve seats with the grannie. Sure he was helped out by a slight 18 mph breeze to left field, but if that's all he needed, maybe the launch center in China should rethink their more expensive methods of satellite launching.

"That would have been an out in most parks."

"Name one..."

"Yellowstone."

So now John Maine is 5-1 instead of 5-0. He wasn't fried to a crisp as he could have been, he kept the Mets in the game for the 96 pitches and five innings that he lasted, and that's a good thing. All we can ask of Maine at this point is that if he's going to have an off night (7 hits and three walks for a game WHIP of 2), battle and keep the team in it, which he did.

Of course, Maine's counterpart Carlos Zambrano picks a great night to stop sulking over not getting that contract extension signed before the Cubs announced an impending sale of the team. Zambrano (I'm going to resist the easy "has been pitching more like Victor Zambrano" joke because I feel I'm better than that...all right, maybe not) has been subpar all season long until breaking out of the slump tonight in Flushing, going eight innings and giving up a lonely home run to Shawn Green. The Mets had opportunitites off of "Z", with Paul Lo Duca getting the big two-out hit only to have Green chucked at home...and Endy Chavez leaving a few men on the basepaths tonight with a couple of two out at bats.

And of course, tonight featured the inevitable "stick it to your former teammates" game, this time by Cliff Floyd. Floyd (who's healthy while Moises Alou is not...gee, who knew?) had three hits, a run batted in, and scored ahead of Ramirez's blast, following in the footsteps of famous "stick it to ya" games such as Mike Piazza's two HR's, Tom Seaver's complete game, and whatever Victor Zambrano has in store for us for whatever team he's playing for (because you know that will be the worst of all).

All we could have really hoped for was that Cliffy got an ovation fitting of a man who played his heart out in his time with the Mets. He did so during a time when such players seemed to be few and far between...case in point: 2003, when he basically played on one leg until the Mets were eliminated from playoff contention. It's easy to be remembered for your accomplishments towards a winner. But Cliff Floyd showed what he was all about when the chips were down...when you really find out what someone is made of. We know what Cliff Floyd is made of, and the crowd showed him that tonight...although no matter how loud the crowd would have gotten for him, it would have never seemed like enough.

Of course, Cliff will surely test the limits of that love with another bushel of hits in the next two games. It's inevitable.

Molina Sauced

Think of the most disgusting thing you've ever seen.

All right...now think about it again.

You have Monday night's Met game.

A 9-4 loss, where only three of the Giant runs were earned, was not exactly the way to show Barry Zito that he made the wrong decision in signing with the Giants instead of the Mets. No, instead Zito laughs at the Mets, and rightly so after his own fifth inning two out base hit, ugly errors by Damion Easley and Shawn Green (boys and girls if you haven't seen those errors, trust me they were ugly...like your brother after a bender...all right, like my brother after a bender) paved the way for a Rich Aurilia home run, and a second Bengie Molina home run...not in the game, in the inning, off of Lino Urdaneta who had just taken over for a flustered Oliver Perez.

Now don't get me wrong, Easley and Green deserve to sleep in their swanky San Francisco hotel rooms while hanging from their ankles after those awful plays. And it's a lot to ask Perez to be focused after not only those plays, but the earlier Bengie Molina home run, which may or may not have actually gone out, but it was so close to the fan in the front row, and I'm not as convinced as Gary Cohen that it didn't touch him, so I'm not going to get on the umpires for that one. But Ollie pulled an El Sid, as in Sid Fernandez, after that Green error. I've explained a typical Sid Fernandez game before, which is five innings of one hit, ten strikeout baseball...but a walk and an error in the sixth would cause him to lose his concentration and give up a bomb.

That is Oliver Perez. When he's on, he's on. But he has to stay out of trouble. Because if Oliver Perez gets in a jam, then run for cover because the roof is caving in and you need to be under a table or a hard surface. It's hard to really throw a lot of blame his way, because Easley and Green really let him down. But Perez has to toughen up a hair and bail out his teammates, because unfortunately, this isn't the last time a Met is going to make an error...so the situation is going to come up once again. And Perez can't afford to have the ghost of Sid haunt him too many more times. If Perez gets Aurilia out at 3-1 down, it's still a winnable ball game. Instead, the fifth inning ended at 9-1, and I was strongly considering watching a Superman special on the History channel instead of torturing myself at the prospect of watching four innings of meaningless baseball.

I...of course...chose self-torture.

(And by the way, if I never see another Molina brother catching again, it'll be too damn soon. Unfortunately, there's actually a fourth Molina brother catching in the major leagues. And Gustavo Molina isn't even related to the other three...he's just guilty by association.)

***

The crack staff has uncovered some breaking news...in response to Roger Clemens' announcement from the owner's box that he is returning, the Mets planned a similar announcement upon their return home on Friday, as Bobby Bonilla was going to fly from Diamond Vision to home plate on a suspension wire to announce that he is making a grand return to the majors to boost the Mets lineup. However, during today's practice run at Shea, the wire couldn't hold Bonilla's weight, and somewhere around the infield it snapped, sending Bonilla crashing to the ground and dislocating both of his knees, shredding his calf, and knocking the smile off his face in the process.

According to inside sources, if this had happened during an actual game, Jose Reyes would have been flattened by Bonilla's massive weight, and equally massive ego. Reyes may not have made it.

Pigs Flying And Pixie Dust

If it didn't happen in Arizona, I would have sworn that I saw pigs flying across my window, monkeys flying out of your butt, and icicles in hell.

Jorge Sosa outdueled Brandon Webb.

Let me repeat that for it's value as a vaguely important fact:

Jorge Sosa, who had one good season, and had spent the early part of this in the minor leagues, comes up and makes his first start against Brandon Webb...the reigning NL Cy Young award winner...and out-pitches him.

Analysis? For what? You want me to explain that? Fine: Chase Field is a magical place full of pixie dust, chocolate dreams, and pineapple wishes. You can lick the walls and taste strawberries...just like Willie Wonka's palace. As long as the Mets don't eat the pot roast gum and sneak a swig of the fizzy lifting drinks, we'll be fine in the magical palace of Arizona. Why? Could be because we're living right, perhaps? The Mets are saying their prayers, eating their vegetables, and they're not throwing infants off of tall buildings or firecrackers at young girls. How else do you think that baseballs roll all the way to the wall behind left-fielders with the bases loaded? It's the Arizona pixie dust!

It's like that City Scrap Metal commercial that plays during Mets games...the Mets will buy your scrap metal such as Sosa, Damion Easley, and Shawn Green, and make useful parts out of them for 50 cents on the dollar. Keep the scrap metal coming.

And don't chew the pot roast gum.

Whoa, I just saw another pig hovering over the roof.