Xavier Nady Stole My Couch

Metstradamus comes home from work after a long day of dealing with hoards of Yankee fans using mass transit to travel to and from their victory parade, and finds a surprise waiting for him.

X: Hey, man.

MD: Who are you and what are you doing in my living room?

X: Come on, you don't recognize me?

MD: You look familiar ...

X: Yeah, you even bought a t-shirt with my name on it.

MD: Dude, that only eliminates, like, half of major league baseball.

X: Dude!

MD: Wait a second ... are you Xavier Nady?

X: Yeah man, what's up?

MD: Nothing, but I reiterate: What are you doing in my living room?

X: I heard you had meatloaf in the fridge.

MD: Uh, okay.

X: It's damn good.

MD: Yes it is. But, how did you get in here?

X: With this (holds up a giant key)

MD: That's a large key.

X: It's not just any large key ... it's my key to the city.

MD: You got a key to the city? For what??!?

X: Dude, I'm a Yankee!

MD: Don't remind me.

X: Yeah, so we're world champs, so I got this key.

MD: And ... you used it to come into my apartment.

X: Yeah.

MD: You can do that?

X: Anywhere in the city I want, I can just use this and walk right in.

MD: I thought it was merely symbolic.

X: Crazy, huh?

MD: So at any moment I could see Jeter or A-Rod in my kitchen?

X: In theory, yes. But the big players don't really use them much ... it's just the bench guys that use them to get a meal or some furniture. Not everyone can make $20 million a year. We're just trying to make a living.

MD: Furniture?

X: Yeah, I just came from Jay-Z's house. I took his couch.

MD: Dude, that's theft!

X: Hey I've got a key. The city is mine. Besides, he'll never know it's missing. He's too busy trying to convince LeBron James to play for the Nets next year.

MD: But there has to be some specific purpose that brought you here.

X: Huh?

MD: I mean, you could go anywhere you wanted, but you came here. I mean, what's it about? Is this some sort of penance that I have to go through? Is this my punishment for not watching the World Series ... I find Xavier Nady on my couch eating my meat loaf with a key to the city earned while playing for the New York Yankees? Are you a symbol, Xavier? A symbol of what my life is going to be like rooting for this team for the next twenty years? What? What is it??!?

X: Dude, do you have some ketchup for this meat loaf?

MD: No I do not have any ketchup for your damn meat loaf!!!!

X: Dude, chillax. I really just came for the meat loaf and to watch some T.V. I'm sorry if you were searching for a larger purpose for me being in your living room. It was really just hunger and television.

MD: You couldn't find a larger house with a bigger T.V.?

X: Well, I went into Frankie Rodriguez's house to watch his wall-sized flat screen. But that didn't work out so well.

MD: He didn't have meat loaf?

X: It wasn't that ... turns out he put a bullet through his television when Brian Bruney got his key to the city.

MD: Oh.

X: Yeah.

MD: Maybe you're here as a symbol that Oliver Perez will also one day get his key to the city.

X: He's got his already. Unfortunately, that city is Port St. Lucie.

MD: That sounds appropriate.


X: Hey, you got any salt for this?

MD: No Xavier. Even though you're a somewhat popular former Met, you're a Yankee who has won a championship so I'm going to have to throw you out of my home.

X: I understand.

MD: And by the way, that meat loaf is like two weeks old.

X: I knew it needed ketchup.

MD: You think Jeter will actually try to show up with his key? Because if he does I'll press charges.

X: Jeter already exchanged his for a new blazing copper Ford. And A-Rod gave his to Kate Hudson ... told her it was the key to his heart or something stupid like that.

MD: Oh lord, really?

X: Yeah. Can you believe that?

MD: What was the deal with that hat, anyway?

X: Don't ask, dude.

MD: Feel free to come back when you're a Met again.

X: With my recent injury history, that'll be soon.

MD: I'll expect the medical records in the mail.

X: I'm off for my cortisone and salmonella shots.

Slumpbuster

The only sure-fire way to get David Wright out of his funk.

Here's a closer look from the enhancement department:

Just in time for the Phillies series.

I Dream Of Jose

What, you think because you got Madonna means you can just have anything you want in life? Well you can't have Jose Reyes on the Yankees. So you're going to have to go back to your original dream with you and Tuesday Weld.

(Reportedly after A-Rod made his wish for Reyes on the Yankees public, he also said he wished Ozzie Smith was 20 years younger, and that Joe Cronin could still get around on an inside fastball.)

List Hunt

Answer me this:

Do you really want to know who else is on this "A-Rod list?"

Do you really want to know who tested positive for the juice in '03?

I'd rather not.

They say that nobody who is exposed as a juicer should surprise you anymore. And I thought: "Well, if a good portion of the 2003 Mets were on the juice it would surprise me." Why?

They only won 66 games. And it would really hurt me to think that these guys destroyed the "sanctity of the game" and still couldn't win more than 66 games in the process.

But then I thought, "You know, it really wouldn't surprise me. It can't surprise me. Can it really surprise me that this particular team couldn't even win while cheating?"

So I really don't want to know if Jeff Duncan was on Prednisone.

Or if Orber Moreno was on Deca-Durabolin.

Or if Jay Bell smoked some tainted mushrooms.

I don't want to know. And to be honest, I kinda wish this would all go away. But it isn't going to anytime soon because baseball took it's sweet time dealing with this (while getting every last dollar they could off the fans during the McGwire/Sosa era), and they can't even get an anonymous test right (how exactly does it take six days to destroy evidence?)

Besides: at this point, is anybody on that '03 Met team, or any ballplayer for that matter, is really worried about being outed at this point? Chances are, most of those players have already been outed in the Mitchell report (which everyone has pretty much forgotten about), are not nearly as big as Rodriguez and whom nobody will care about, or is Robby Alomar ... who wouldn't be worried about his name being on that list because, umm ... he has bigger problems right about now.

(Editor's note: Way to go Orlando Sentinel ... "Ex-Met great Roberto Alomar"? Seriously? "Ex-Blue Jay great", maybe. "Ex-Indian great", I'd believe. "Ex-Met awful", that's acceptable. "Ex-Met great?" Are you serious? Does anybody do homework anymore? And would he have been an "Ex-Met great" if the story involved Alomar giving a million dollars to overseas orphans? No, because giving money to overseas orphans doesn't get you in the newspaper.)

(Editor's note, the sequel: The author of this blog long ago mused on Barry Bonds. His thoughts on Alex Rodriguez are largely the same. He doesn't believe in asterisks, he thinks the media ... then and now ... have gotten the focus of the issue all wrong. And he thinks the fact that Rodriguez cares way too much about what people think of him has gotten him in all this trouble. Peer pressure, thy name is A-Rod. So this blog's author will not bore you, fine reader, by repeating himself.)

(Editor's note, the other sequel: How often can you come out with a book about drugs and groupies and not even shock anybody? With all the steroids and lawsuits out there, that's exactly what Darryl Strawberry has done. What could he possibly write that wasn't already talked about or implied in Pearlman's book?)

***

I think Ryan Church has won me over:

"It was [shocking what Francesa said], actually. It was one of those things where it made me pissed off, but the season's over and I think he's a Yankee fan, so he's got nothing else to do, so he might as well pick on somebody. I know I felt like crap [from the second concussion] when I came back but everybody's entitled to their own opinion and stuff like that, but I know what I said and what I didn't say. I'll have to get an 'I [Love] NY' shirt, if that makes anybody feel better."

Well I feel better already.

The Tin Foil On My Cat Keeps The Aliens Away

It was bad enough when Pat Gillick gave Bobby Abreu to the Yankees for nothing.

It was bad enough when a former Brave sabotaged the Mets playoff hopes on the last day of the season, then coincidentally expresses his desire to take less money to return to the Braves.

But now the dots are beginning to connect. Ed Wade, a former Phillies GM, in one of his first acts as current GM of the Astros, trades Brad Lidge and Eric Bruntlett to the Phillies, his former team, for Michael Bourn, Geoff Geary, and Mike Costanzo.

What, Ed Wade couldn't get Greg Luzinski's BBQ recipe and a pair of Bake McBride's old stirrups in return?

Here's what getting Brad Lidge does for the Phillies: First off, it enables the Phillies to send Brett Myers back to the rotation, strengthening that position for them. Getting Brad Lidge also, well...it gets Brad Lidge for the bullpen. Lidge, last check, still throws 95 mph+.

But here's the worst part, boys and girls: Michael Bourn going the other way in the trade means that the Phillies now have an outfield position open for...Aaron Rowand to come back. Just when we thought there was no way that there would be room for the Phillies to keep a guy who's nothing but heart, soul, guts, and a .300 average, Ed Wade makes room for them by making this ridiculous trade. Now the Phillies get Aaron Rowand back, Brett Myers makes the rotation better, and they get Brad Lidge!!!

Meanwhile, in Flushing, the Mets are re-signing old players and chasing windmills in Alex Rodriguez and Jorge Posada. And you want to tell me there's no conspiracy? Screw that, I'll be off covering my cat in tin foil. Don Quixote...away!

Will There Be Donuts At This Meeting?

So Alex Rodriguez is going to Meet the Mets.

Perhaps he'll even Greet the Mets.

Will he bring his kiddies? Will he bring his wife? I can't guarantee he'll have the time of his life.

'Cause as a Met, he'd really sock the ball...perhaps knock some home runs over the wall.

But whether you're on the east side, or the west side, you should really consider coming down...to your senses. Because if you really think there's a chance that Alex Rodriguez is going to sign a free agent deal with the Mets, then you just don't know the Wilpons very well. C'mon...this is a team that once drew up a half-ast contract for Vladimir Guerrero when everyone else was scared off by his back issues, trying to sign him the same way John Spano tried to buy the Islanders.

This is a team that wouldn't overpay for Barry Zito, when Barry Zito was a necessity. You think this franchise is going to give a luxury like Alex Rodriguez more money than the gross national income of Equatorial Guinea to come to the Mets and move either their shortstop to second base (remember how well that worked out the last time) or their gold glove winning third baseman to parts unknown?

Look, I'm not saying that I don't want A-Rod. I'm also not saying that I do. There's a part of me that can do without that phony persona of his, and do without the circus that comes with him. But then again, there's a part of me that thinks 50 HR's and 125 RBI's in the middle of the Mets lineup is enough to make me overlook the A-Rod circus, so I frankly don't know what to think. That's what blowing a seven game September lead has done to my brain. I can't think in those kind of terms anymore. Notice I haven't put out a "how to fix the Mets" post here like I've done in the past. You know why? Because I have no flippin' idea! That's why.

For now, I'm leaving that stuff to Steve Phillips, who went on ESPN yesterday and said something like: "If the Dodgers go out and get Alex Rodriguez and Johan Santana, they'll have a good chance to win the World Series." Wow, no kidding??? What finishing school taught Steve Phillips that new theory of relativity which enabled him to go out on that far a limb to tell us that getting an MVP winner and a Cy Young winner in the prime of their careers will give you a good chance to win the World Series? Eureka!!!

(If I ever...EVER, sound that dumb, please come to my house and put polyurethane in my Dr. Pepper. You know who you are.)

But Steve Phillips is no longer employed by the Mets, so I suppose Alex Rodriguez can talk to the Mets without throwing a garbage can at the wall. Wonderful. Meet the Mets. But don't be surprised when after meeting him, they quickly say good-bye when that slip of paper Scott Boras slides to the other end of the table is about the size of the paper that held those candy buttons you ate when you were a kid, and you tried to eat them all while ingesting no more than the acceptable amount of stray paper that's allowed by the FDA.

So forgive me if I seem less than optimistic over the prospect of this meeting. Because it doesn't matter how I feel about an event that doesn't have a snowball's chance in Scott Boras' house...er, I mean, hell...of happening.

To Ruben, I Offer My Kingdom

A day game after a night game means that folks are going to be tired. Apparently, the folks who change the Topps cards to reflect the batting order over the ticket windows were too tired as well. We all went in thinking that Damion Easley was batting third again. But it was last night's lineup, as we found out when David Wright announced himself as the third hitter. Apparently, everyone in the house was presently surprised as the crowd in the section of right field that couldn't see the scoreboard let out a collective "Oh? Ooh! Yeeeeah!"

Nice of the Shea staff to keep us on our toes. Thanks, we're awake now.

Even with Sugar Pants back the Mets are still going to need help from the bench, and Gotay has given it to them. Omar traded Jeff Keppinger for Ruben Gotay and I wondered what the point was. Here was the point: Gotay made sure I saw my first victory this season. That's the point. So I should sit down and shut up. Thanks Ruben. I needed to be at a victory this season or else I would have had a complex going. And the last thing I needed was another one. (Heck I would have been satisfied with just getting through nine innings without any debilitating injuries.)

And boy, you thought Chris Russo complained heavily about Carlos Delgado's dances with Jose Reyes? Forget it. Even I could see from right field that the dance Delgado did with Gotay was not only rehearsed, but choreographed by Paula Abdul and taken straight out of the movie "Chicago" (I mean, not that I saw it or anything...I'm just assuming). I thought Eddie Van Halen was going to jump out of the stands and start playing the "Beat It" solo.

Not that I'm hating...I wish I could dance like that.

I don't suppose that in hindsight, the Yankees wish they had signed Jorge Sosa, do ya?

Well in hindsight, everyone does. It was nice of Jorge to tip his cap to the appreciative crowd...more than half of wish wanted to have Omar Minaya committed for signing him (and put me in that group)...after 6 and 2/3 innings today. And imagine that, his groin isn't fatigued...unlike the groin of Roger Clemens.

I heard that Alex Rodriguez's groin is fatigued as well...but for an entirely different reason.

(I'm sorry, I couldn't resist.)

Other highlights of the day, which was spent with my longest standing friend (he wanted me to mention him, but I couldn't call him my "oldest" friend because he's really not that old...and I can't mention his name or else by common law, I would have to pay him...but he's my longest standing friend who was with me for such momentous Mets moments like Jose Uribe and Robby Thompson letting a pop fly drop between them letting the winning run score, and on the negative ledger, that "turn ahead the clock" game where Al Martin launched two home runs in a uniform that looked like something hatched from a Quentin Tarantino dream...but at least they weren't from Mercury).

As I was saying before I strayed to the service road...other highlights of the day included seeing some stray orioles (not Orioles) hanging out perched on the fair pole, and spilling onions and peppers (not Peppers) all over myself because of some soft bread holding the Premio sausage. I've got to learn to suck it up and deal with the soft bread and stop my bitching.

Counting Chickens

I learned last year not to count my chickens before they hatch...or in some cases even after they hatch.

The only proof you need is the 4-0 lead the Mets had on the Yankees last July 2nd in the Bronx, with David Wright batting against Ron Villone with the bases loaded. Villone had come in to the game after an early hook to Jaret Wright, and Wright had a chance to put the hammer down early in the game. Villone struck out Wright, and the Yankees wound up winning the game 16-7.

So here we were today, Darrell Rasner (who looks and pitches a little too much like Fresno Bobby Jones if you ask me), gets the early hook because of an Endy Chavez comebacker that fractured his finger, and in comes a man who had never made an appearance before the third inning in his career. As if the Yankees pen could get any more tired, here was a golden opportunity for the Mets to...once again...put the hammer down with David Wright at the plate after the Mets had tied the game.

One chicken...two chickens...

No, stop it. I will not count my chickens. But this time, Wright blasts one off of Myers for a 3-1 Mets lead and I'm starting to feel good. I'm feeling better after Wright hit his second home run off Myers in the third to give the Mets a 6-2 lead, and Luis Vizcaino coming in to burn out his arm.

Three chickens...four chickens...

Enough! The score becomes 8-2 with Glavine cruising along for an easy route to his 295th career win, and it officially becomes safe to bring in Scott Schoeneweis. He gives up one of Glavine's runs for an 8-3 lead...but even Mr. Met is counting his chickens. After the third run scored, you can clearly see Mr. Met twirling his finger around in the universal sign for "whoop-de-damn do". So after seven innings, either a five run lead is too large to blow, or the umpires are surely going to call this game because it's raining pretty hard. So it's safe now, right? I can resume counting?

Five chickens...six chickens...Alex Rodriguez hits a home run, oh it's a fluke...seven chickens...eight chickens...Jorge Posada hits another home run off Schoeneweis...nine chickens...ten chickens...Bobby Abreu walks off of Schoeneweis who has fallen behind every hitter since I started counting my chickens...

That's it! All of you damn chickens can now officially get the hell out of my yard!!!

For those of you who wonder why I find FOX more intolerable than ESPN need only look at today's eighth and ninth innings After lying in the weeds during an 8-3 game, all of a sudden it's 8-6 with Aaron Heilman coming in to face the Face of FOX, and here comes all those Derek Jeter video montages, and let's play that Joe Torre "This team has fight" quote and show Schoeneweis getting rocked again...and then Joe Buck lays down all those Derek Jeter stats like "He has more hits than anyone not named God", and "Derek Jeter has a lifetime batting average of 2,ooo", and my favorite "Derek Jeter's VORP is in triple digits!"

And then the ninth inning, after Robinson Cano's 17th error of the game made it 10-6, let's drum up those flashbacks of Country Time blowing that four run lead last season and see if he'll do it again. And here we go again with Yankee this and Yankee that and you thought that Michael Kay and Suzyn Waldman were in the booth and on and on and on and on and on and then Billy Wagner finally gets that last out and suddenly the only words that Buck can think of to say is:

"Mets win."

Now that I feel better, let's see...where was I? Eleven chickens...twelve chickens...Tyler Clippard pitching for the Yankees on Sunday night...thirteen chickens...fourteen chickens...