Don't Mess with Mother Nature

I tried to be cute, picking up Dave Williams for my fantasy baseball team with the express purposes of tonight's start, then immediately drop him for a middle reliever to continue the first round of my playoffs. I probably should have waited to drop him for said middle reliever until I got tonight's weather report. Now, whatever Williams does during Wednesday's make up game, the front end of a single admission doubleheader will not count for me.

You think Mother Nature is trying to tell me that I should spend less time on the computer playing fantasy sports? That Demeter...what a sense of humor.

But let's look at the bright side:

• Flowers need rain.
• Reservoirs need rain.
• Carlos Beltran needs rain.

And there's more good news, as Pedro Martinez looks close to coming back, with the plan of making three starts before the playoffs. Petey's backyard could probably use some rain too.

The good news keeps coming as Philip Humber, just a year removed from Tommy John surgery, is getting a look in the show. It's easy to forget that Humber, like Pelfrey after him, is still a prospect with high upside. I for one, am encouraged to see Humber make it to the majors so soon after surgery...even if it is as a September call up who will probably pitch a total of two thirds of an inning.

And congratulations to Jose Lima on being the 2006 ping-pong champion of the Norfolk Tides (possibly the last ping-pong champion the Norfolk Tides, as a Mets farm club, will ever know.) Lima was confident going into the tournament because of his fast hand-eye coordination. But his secret weapon was his serve. The Jose Lima serve, you see, is so enticing that players are tempted to hit it hard...that every serve gets hit out of the clubhouse...and that's exactly what happened during this tournament. In fact, Kelly Stinnett reportedly hit one Jose Lima serve 500 feet.

Must have rained a lot in Norfolk.

Light Reading

I was aghast, just as Gary Cohen was apparently, that the only fielder to make an error to make an error during Steve Trachsel starts this season (before tonight), was Trachsel himself.

Yes, the same Steve Trachsel who lulls infielders to sleep with his turtle-like pace.

It got me thinking...what kind of zen have the Mets been practicing for Steve Trachsel starts this season?

And that's when it hit me...didn't we learn on Sunday's broadcast that Brad Ausmus' father is an acclaimed author? Didn't he write a book called "The Bobby Howryian critique of Ichiro's thought"?

That has to have been it.

Well after tonight's debacle, a 5-0 loss to the bunt-happy Atlanta Braves, it looks like Phil Jackson is going to have to assign some new required reading. Perhaps "A Frog Named Hop" by former Anaheim Mighty Duck Todd Ewen.

A note regarding tonight's game: Tonight is the sixth and final game in the Mets ticket plan known as the "Champions Pack", advertised as games that featured champions from 2005...little did we know that all the games featured at least one champion from the current season. I was set to be there tonight with a buddy of mine, but that buddy's son, who's a mighty fine young baseball player named Caleb, really wanted to go with his father to see his beloved Mets.

Metstradamus is not about breaking up families. And Metstradamus will not be responsible for making Caleb so angry and resentful that he grows up to be a Yankee fan. So Caleb, enjoy the game with your father...and my compliments. (And when you grow up to be Major League Baseball's next great infielder, I hope that you remember the contributions of Metstradamus enough to leave him free tickets whenever your team comes to Shea. And I promise not to boo you.)

I have a feeling Caleb and dad will thoroughly enjoy tonight's game one way or the other, and here's why: If you take a look at the first five games of the plan, some exciting moments have taken place...mostly good:

• May 5th vs. Atlanta: David Wright's walk off in the fourteenth inning off of Jorge Sosa.
• May 20th vs. the Yankees: Billy Wagner's meltdown (remember, I said "mostly" good.)
• July 21st vs. Houston: John Maine pitches a shutout.
• August 9th vs. San Diego: Mike Piazza blasts two moonshots in a Mets victory.
• August 22nd vs. St. Louis: Delgado's slam, and Beltran's walk off vs. Jason Isringhausen.

As you can see so far, it's been a five-pack certainly worthy of champions. Tonight is game six. Caleb, you have a tough act to follow but I have faith in you. Good luck, and let's resume the magic number chase, shall we?

Let's Play The Pyramid

Sixty seconds. GO!

Okay, Tom Seaver...uh, Dwight Gooden

Famous Mets pitchers!

David Cone...

Mets pitchers traded for nothing!

Ummm, Hideo Nomo...

Met pitchers who pitched a no-hitter after leaving the Mets!

YES, NEXT!

Okay, um...Warren Spahn, John Candelaria...

Famous lefties!

Al Leiter...

Famous lefties accused of clubhouse politics!

Dock Ellis...

Ummm, Famous LSD Droppers?

Hideo Nomo...

Met pitchers who pitched a no-hitter before becoming Mets!

YES! NEXT!

Okay! Hmmm. Uuuuuuuhhh, Roy Oswalt...

PITCHERS WHO TRIED TO PITCH NO HITTERS AGAINST THE METS AFTER ALMOST BECOMING A MET EXCEPT FOR THE FACT THAT THE TRADE WAS NEEDLESSLY TORPEDOED BY BUMBLING OWNER PETER ANGELOS!!!

YES! YOU'VE WON THE PYRAMID!!!!!

But you've lost the game.

We hope you enjoy some fabulous consolation prizes, which include your center fielder not being as injured as you thought, and having your magic number drop by one more digit...and having it depicted on the back of a truck.

Painfully Obvious

You don't need me tonight.

Because you know what I'm about to say.

Really. Because it's obvious as the nose on your face. Or the bruise on your knee.

They say...that MVP awards are won in September.

Well check the calendar boys and girls. You know what month it is.

And Carlos Beltran won a lot of votes tonight.

It wasn't necessary...he could have played the carom...while playing for the tie. Nobody...not this blogger (or this blogger, or this blogger, or this blogger, or any other blogger...I assume) would have called Carlos out for not going full steam on Lance Berkman's hard hit gapper off of Country Time. Certainly not with a huge lead in the division or in the league or in the freakin' galaxy.

But Carlos would have gotten on Carlos.

And it brings up the question: "How does one measure value?" Is it pure numbers? Is it defense? Is it one whose team makes the playoffs on game 162? Is it one who makes sure his team doesn't have to count that high?

Or is it one who is there for his team when it needs him? Is it one who heads towards an unpadded chicken fence with disregard for life and limb and a matching regard for picking up his teammates?

It's a little bit of everything.

And it depends on who you ask.

If you ask me? I'll tell you to look at the tape of Carlos Beltran's catch in the bottom of the ninth inning to save the game. That's value to me. I mean, we're counting defense, right? We established that already, right?

Oh by the way, a question for Sports Illustrated's Frank DeFord:

Where's Carlos Beltran's f%#&ing poem???!!??

And one more question for Astros fans: How does it feel to be owned by the guy you mercilessly booed over the last two seasons? Now don't get me wrong...if I was in your shoes I'd boo Carlos Beltran every chance I got too. Nobody understands your pain more than me (see: Strawberry, Darryl: 1991 Dodgers). But no matter that Mets play by play man Gary Cohen gave Astros fans credit for cheering when Carlos Beltran finally got up, I heard the vocal minority that booed Beltran all the way from Rego Park (Cohen saw first hand what Keith Hernandez had to go through when he blasted the woman trainer...Gary isn't about to stir the pot, guys). Gary might have heard the cheers when Beltran got up, but I heard the boos during that moment...loud and clear. And if that was you, let me remind you that your organization employs a pitcher...at the prorated cost of more than a Beltran...that doesn't even make road trips.

Would you trust him run through a fence for you?

The Re-Release

This was the story we all had hoped to see re-released in a ballpark near you.

Just seeing Tom Glavine back on the mound was a victory in itself, so his performance hardly mattered tonight. The fact that Glavine looked so good the first time through the lineup before his meltdown in the fourth just tells me that the Astros lineup did their homework on him. I hesitate to say he ran out of gas only because Glavine has had a few outings this season...especially in July...that have been similar to tonight's outing. And Glavine was also victimized by some inconsistent umpiring by Paul Nauert (who was muy horrible tonight behind the plate) along with some bloop hits here and there. Luckily, Glavine has the luxury of having a near perfect bullpen behind him to bail him out.

Tonight, in the role of ultimate protagonist, was David Wright. Oh yeah...he's out of his slump all right. You were impressed by the hard hit bases loaded double to right field in the fifth inning to give the Mets the lead. I was impressed by the double off the left field wall to set up the winning run in the eighth. Just before that double, Wright turned on a pitch from Russ Springer (or was it Dennis? Or Jerry? Or that Springer Spaniel down the block from me?) and sent it about five feet foul deep down the left field line. Just after that long foul, Wright had that look in his eye that reminded me of when Hulk Hogan would make his scripted comeback against the likes of Iron Mike Sharp and The Brooklyn Brawler...and he'd get hit for the third time after miraculously recovering and all of a sudden stop pumping his fists to look at his opponent with those wide eyes before wagging his finger Dikembe Mutombo style (or does Mutombo wag his finger Hulk Hogan style).

That look.

Next pitch, Wright crushes the double, and Jose Valentin drove Wright in to drop the leg on the Houston ham and eggers. Endy Chavez provided insurance.

(P.S. How do you know a team's doomed? When their manager pinch hits Aubrey Huff to attempt to put the game out of reach in the fourth inning. When he tapped to second to end Houston's rally, it put some air back into the Mets balloon and was a key moment. But what would you expect from a manager that was so badly outmatched by Ozzie Guillen in the World Series and the All-Star game.)

Now would probably be a good time to mention that the Mets, who have been scoring at an incredible clip, are about to get Cliff Floyd back. Cliff, if you missed tonight's broadcast, hit two home runs Friday night in a rehab start at Port St. Lucie. Having Cliff back would present some nice problems regarding himself and Endy Chavez splitting time in the outfield. Good thing for Cliff too...he's spent way too much time in St. Lucie, and is probably climbing the walls waiting to get out. Any place where you have to drive all the way to Orlando to get a decent steak is somewhere you don't want to be.

I heard that he was seen pacing the hallways at the local Courtyard by Marriott, where he was overheard muttering to himself that "in April, I was a guest on TRL...being interviewed by Vanessa Minnillo. Now, I'm lucky to get a decent meal at a Country Kitchen before it closes at six in the evening. I've got to get out of here! What has become of my life?

And Endy better not have used all of my shaving cream. Lord help Endy if he used all of my shaving cream."

Ollie's Folly

I had noted that I wouldn't be scared of this Rockies team unless John Elway grabbed a bat and emerged from the dugout. Well, I had the wrong quarterback in mind...because playing the part of Richard Todd tonight was Oliver Perez. No humidor in the world is going to help this guy right now as he battles so hard to find the strike zone that his pitches had no zip tonight. The proof? Twelve hits in three plus innings enough proof?

But what's the use in blasting this poor kid trying to make the transition from Mitch Williams to Greg Maddux? I'm certainly not going to blame him. And I can't even blame Willie Randolph for giving him an at bat in the top of the fourth after the Rockies had more hits than the Jackson Five. Heck, it was entertaining to watch Ollie swing for the fences and tie the game up in the fourth (although Randolph did announce after the game that Perez swung so hard, he aggravated Jose Valentin's hamstring.) You have to understand how hard it is to place blame on someone when your team is up by fifteen and a half games. Three games lead? You can get on Randolph. Fifteen and 1/2? No.

But you know who I do blame?

Victor Diaz.

Because if Victor Diaz hadn't sulked so much to the point of being a waste of space at the triple A level, then perhaps he could have been the right handed bat off the bench that the Mets needed and given them a power option against the portly Ray King. Instead, he's in Texas butchering fly balls for the Rangers while actually believing that he's a miniature sized version of Manny Ramirez...when in actuality, he's a supersized version of Manny Alexander.

Besides, it's easy to blame Victor Diaz...because he's not here to defend himself. And I could use an easy target right about now.

So it's on to Houston for the weekend as the magic number drops to fifteen after Marlon Anderson's winning run on a wild pitch handed the Phillies a loss (and what reward does Marlon get for his troubles? Show him what he's won: Why, it's a trade to the Dodgers!) Without having to face Andy Pettitte or his personal relationship with God, the Mets have a chance to end or severely damage the wild card hopes of FOX Sports' alternate darlings, the Houston Astros...hereby putting to bed this ridiculous talk of the Astros being the team nobody wants to face in the playoffs, and preventing the sure fire endless discussion of whether this will be Roger the Unconvicted Felon's final year. And when you think about the possibility of the Mets knocking Roger and his light hitting friends away from playoff contention, it makes you realize just how good a season this has been. I mean, let's put this in perspective:

The Mets are going to the playoffs.

And they still get to play spoiler.

It's like having your beer and drinking it too. The beers at Cooter's are on me.