As Opposed To, A Belly Itcher?

"I think one day I'd like to become an actual pitcher." -Mike Pelfrey, a pitcher

Aah, to be young and have dreams. I myself would like to be an actual blogger. You know, the kind that actually blogs and not just spews a lot of crap like I do now. Or maybe the kind who goes viral and turns his random spews into a television show. One day ... one day.

Though I'm not sure what to think about Pelfrey dreaming about the betterment of his world while watching a movie about the world's end, the process must work on some level since he took his new continental landscape to the Red Sox on Wednesday. Pelfrey bounced back from his last battle with Boston to throw four innings of one run ball, which is a perfectly acceptable step forward.

I'd like to say something on the record ...

(Hey, stupid! Everything you say is on the record ... it's called THE INTERNET!!!)

I guess that's why I'll never be a real blogger. But I want to say something that's more on the record than most things I say because I'm going to give you a high hope: Ready? Here goes:

I'm betting on Mike Pelfrey to bounce back this season.

I figure the odds are with us on that one. We've got three pitchers in the middle of the rotation who are on a downswing. Odds are one of them has to surprise the hell out of us in a good way just by the law of averages. I mean, look at Generation K. One of them turned out to have a decent major league career (unless you count Paul Wilson's 40-58 record as decent). It's the law of averages ... one out of three, slightly better than Anderson Hernandez's slugging percentage (good luck there, Cleveland ... I'm sure we'll get him back by August anyway).

Pelfrey, Oliver Perez, and John Maine aren't Generation K. More like Generation A.D.D. I've gotta pick one of them to bounce back and be useful (and frankly, if that happens I'd be ecstatic, considering how John Lackey's performing this spring ... Omar!) John Maine? Not after his string of injuries, and certainly not after his "I wasn't into it" quote. That sounds like something I said after getting a 54 on a Physics quiz in high school.

Oliver Perez? Don't get me started. "But Metstradamus, he had four hitless innings against the Tigers! Where's the love?" I want to see Oliver Perez toss that kind of ball all spring before I even think about falling under his hypnosis, only to be jarred out of it by 8 runs in 1 and 2/3's by "Bad Ollie". Then, I want to see him carry it over into the regular season and go at least six innings every start before I rush out to get my cream colored Perez jersey. And let's just say I'm not setting my money aside.

Pelfrey? He's the one ... the one who had the great half-season without being in the middle of a contract year. Of course he's also the one who easily gets distracted with pick-off moves, balks, and shiny objects like jingling keys. But that's why he's the leader of Generation A.D.D. And as the leader he's the one that needs to set an example. Besides, worrying about secondary pitches means less time worrying about how many runs he's going to balk home in a single game. So he's the one. 17-10. Law of averages.

What Have You Learned? Jeff Francoeur

What Have You Learned is our very special off-season series that will outline what you've learned, what I've learned, and hopefully what the 2009 Mets have learned about themselves, others, and 2010. Today, we investigate whether Jeff Francoeur has really turned the corner, whether this is all part of his evil plan as a spy for the Braves, and my new quest to win a Nobel Peace Prize.

I've often thought about how I'm going to make my mark on this world. Should I write a book? Build a better mouse trap? Develop a seed that makes broccoli taste like cinnamon, thus combining health with great taste? Then, President Obama won the Nobel Peace Prize:

"I will accept this award as a call to action -- a call for all nations to confront the common challenges of the 21st century."

The President, with that speech, has inspired me to create a path towards my own Nobel Peace Prize ... and this is how I'm going to do it:

I'm going to bring the sabermetric guys and the scout types together.

If that's not a common challenge of the 21st century, I don't know what is.

And I'm not just talking about locking Theo Epstein and Omar Minaya in a room until they sing Kumbaya together (or until their eyes bleed, one or the other). I'm living on a grander scale. I want to bring everyone together, and make the baseball landscape one big Coca-Cola commercial. It's not going to happen in one post, it's going to take time. But it's going to be my life's mission. Because I want that Nobel Prize, dammit (can you win a Nobel Peace Prize if you say "dammit" all the time?)

It seems like y'all are for one or the other. And I think we can have both. If we had been so resistant to progress back in the fifties, we'd never have created the heaven we know today as Reeses Peanut Butter Cups because combining chocolate and peanut butter would have been akin to raising the dead with pagan rituals. And it's going to take the next genius GM to figure out what the right balance is between the batting eyes and the free swingers. Billy Beane brought us OPS. Then the landscape was changed with UZR. The next stat isn't going to be a stat at all ... it's going to be the one who figures out how to integrate everything including OPS, UZR, flat speed, straight slugging, and yes ... grit and heart (don't worry, I'll never become so blinded in my quest to win a Nobel Prize by ever suggesting this team signs David Eckstein), to build a better baseball team. The balance may not be 50/50 between the stats and the scouts. In fact it'll probably be closer to 78/22 or something. But the right balance will dominate for years.

What does this have to do with Jeff Francoeur? Everything. The three polarizing figures of the stats vs. scouts war are Francoeur, Adam Dunn, and Juan Pierre. Dunn and Pierre are probably the polar opposites in terms of how they're valued, yet the ironic thing is that both players can be of help to the Mets in different capacities. The Mets might need somebody like Pierre to cover the massive amount of ground at Citi Cave, but he doesn't walk. Dunn is a power hitter who walks a ton. But he also strikes out a ton and has as much range as a statue. Too bad you can't call in Dr. Alphonse Mephisto to splice their genes and make one super player that has defensive range and walks a lot ... although with the Mets medical luck, they'd hire a cheaper doctor to create a player who can't move, strikes out 215 times a year and has the batting eye of Mr. Magoo. (Think Dave Kingman ... 1982.)

So what have we learned about Frenchy, the third polarizing player? First off, I can't discount the fact that he's taken to New York quite well, and threw everything he had a smile on his face. On the 2009 Mets, a year where he's hit into a game ending triple play, and a game ending lucky stab by Mike McDougal, that's no small feat. When the trade was made, I thought Francoeur would be miserable going to a big city, going to a rival, and away from his hometown. It was the opposite. No doubt in my mind that put him in the right frame of mind to pick up his game. Amazing what you can accomplish when you're happy. Remember the Robby Alomar years, when he was clearly not happy as a Met? Didn't work out so well, did it?

And I was dead wrong about him in that I thought '09 would be dreadful, and '10 would bring us the new improved Jeff Francoeur. Instead, his '09 as a Met was as good as it could have been. If that was the sugar rush of a new team, much like the last part of '08 was attributed to that new manager smell, is it all downhill from here? If we have indeed seen the best of Frenchy, the saber guys will be all over him ... and rightly so, because that means that barbecue and batting cage time with Howard Johnson will have been a fruitless endeavor where Frenchy learns nothing. And what a waste of BBQ sauce that would be.

Here's where we bring the world together ... ready? Upon further review Francoeur, in the right situation, can be the right fit. Let's say he dips a little bit from the .311/.338/.498 line he put up wtih the Mets last season. If he's batting sixth in a lineup that has some serious juice up top, say, a healthy Reyes, Castillo or an improved version at second, an improved David Wright, a healthy Carlos Beltran, and a shiny new part like Jason Bay or Matt Holliday or Derrek Lee or whoever, Frenchy can be that guy crushing pitches down the middle with the bases loaded, instead of the Mets loading the bases with nobody out and having Anderson Hernandez up, followed by a 4-6-3 D.P. by Fernando Tatis.

Now, if you're going to depend on Francoeur to be your cleanup hitter, you might have problems. Because unless Hojo is part evolutionary psychologist, Frenchy is going to be who he is. It's up to the powers to put a team around him and continue to bring the best out in Francoeur where, walks or not, he can be somebody that everyone can love.

Peace and love. Peace and love.

Baseball's Antarctica

Kristina Horner is one of a handful of bloggers who have entered a contest to be able to blog from Antarctica. Certainly, it's a unique and interesting experience, as although people are stationed there at various times, only "cold-adapted plants and animals survive there."

I don't need to enter a contest to enter a desolate region. Definitely not tonight, for at this very moment, I'm in Washington, DC. Where the locals distract themselves from the latest foible from their beloved Redskins in many ways ... beer, politics, talking politics over a beer, stalking Alex Ovechkin, and the like. For a few, brave souls, they forget about a loss to the Lions by turning to baseball in the beltway ... the Washington Nationals ... as they combine with the New York Mets to form a rivalry with a long history, fierce competition, and 193 losses combined. There may or may not be more losses in the building then there are actual fans. But for the Nationals' faithful who've arrived, they do so because they love their baseball, and they know that a bright future is just around the corner.

For the Mets' faithful who've come all the way from New York City, they do so because they need acute mental observation. Nevertheless, I'm here ... nine innings, 193 losses, one deranged blogger.

This ...

is Baseball's Antarctica. Only broken hearts and long festering angst can survive there.

Tuesday's game featured all of the broken hearts and long festering angst you're used to seeing live, except with gray uniforms. It really was a microcosm of the season: Mets have a chance to break the game open in the first inning with bases loaded and one out but only score one run instead of the three or four they should have scored. Mike Pelfrey has his bad inning. Mets have a chance to take the lead back with, again, bases loaded and nobody out in the seventh, but score nothing. ("Ooh, we have the bases loaded, who's up? Brian Schneider! Oh, let's get on that Five Guys line.") Stellar defense featuring Anderson Hernandez and Luis Castillo (and by "stellar", I mean "stellar is to abominable as Gold Glove is to Anderson Hernandez and Luis Castillo". And these are the defensive specialists, no?

Then top it off with a heartbreaking ending in which Elijah Dukes (who's defense is also "stellar" at times), makes a spectacular wall crashing catch on a ball which, if it had ten, maybe fifteen more feet on it, would have been in my lap. Seriously ... I'm the guy in the Mets jersey in the front row standing up and stopping my camera because I think this projectile his headed right for me. Seeing that a Metropolitan hit it, I should know better ... I probably would have had the youtube video of the year. Instead, I have a drunk guy in a suit putting his arm around me screaming "Meeeeeeeeets Loooooooose!!!" after saying nothing for nine innings. Awesome.

Oh, and the pointless "Let's put Frankie in down by one" move by our fearless leader which only served to keep the game close so that Dukes can win the game right in front of my nose. Rub it in, why don't ya.

The expedition continues on Wednesday.

***

Some other oddities:

A Topps lineup? Where have we seen that before?

A helmet garbage can, where have we seen that before? (I'm guessing we ripped them off on that one.)

Hey, Ray Knight! Where have we seen him before? (I'm guessing they ripped us off on that one.)

The Mets aren't the only team to honor other franchises. Never you mind that the Nationals have only been around five years.

Hey, he hasn't even played for the Nationals! Then again, Tommy Lasorda never played for the Mets yet they honored him with his own day, so what do I know?

That's Hank Aaron Award Nominee Angel Pagan To You, Sir

The line from Wednesday's boxscore reads as such:

A. Hernandez ss-2b-ss-2b

It's brilliant when you think about it, switching him back and forth in the same game. Because, if Anderson Hernandez goes back and forth from shortstop to second base often enough, then on double plays he could just throw it to himself ... saving Luis Castillo that pesky task of covering on double plays.

Not that it would have helped in a 15-2 disaster, which was helped along by Bobby Parnell's "learning curve." Not that a curveball was called all night ... Omir. You have more than one finger, you know. Wasn't the point to help Bobby use all his pitches now that he's a starter?

I wonder how hard Billy Wagner is hoping for somebody to claim him off waivers? (Hint: Enjoy Tampa.)

Enough Money For One Lousy Beer

I hope for Alexi Panos' sake that she's not still doing "Beer Money" when she's 45 years old.

But if she is, she'll have that ace question in the hole where she'll ask the contestant du jour to name as many players who got a hit during the inning where they set a club record with ten. She could even tell them that the year was 2009. And the guesses will inevitably include luminaries such as Jose Reyes, David Wright, Carlos Beltran, Carlos Delgado, and perhaps even Ryan Church.

Heck, some would even guess Keith Hernandez before they guess Luis Castillo, Jeff Francoeur, Gary Sheffield, Omir Santos, Anderson Hernandez, Angel Pagan, Fernando Tatis, and freakin' Oliver Perez.

That's right, the largest inning of offensive juggernaution (no, it's not a word) includes those last eight names ... and yes, Oliver Perez is one of them. If you can truly cause death by paper cuts, then that's a textbook murderers row. But the record inning does not include Daniel Murphy, who made two of the three outs in that inning and should really be ashamed of himself ... because now he'll be benched for the rest of the homestand knowing Snoop.

Of course, I missed the damn inning ... partly because of just plain "stuff", but partly because I was in no rush to get back to the television after Perez gave up a bomb to Adam LaRoche to give the Braves a 4-0 lead, and I launched into some sort of song where the lyrics "I hate you Ollie" were prominent, and stormed off to go on a string of activities ... not the least important of which was dinner. What happens? They set records. The team who's about seven injuries away from me playing left field set a franchise record. I missed it. I suck.

Not that the record or the win makes me feel any better. In May I would have been reassured by Oliver Perez beating Derek Lowe ... "hey, looks like the Mets made the right choice, eh?" Now? It's only part of the cruel irony of 2009. It's like slaying the dragon ... when you're 100 games out. Because Ryan Church will leave New York at the end of the series still trying to make the playoffs, while Snoop Manuel will be trying to avoid Jeff Wilpon in the hallways.

Speaking of:

Mets manager Jerry Manuel's support system is eroding. First, his main backer, Tony Bernazard, the top aide of GM Omar Minaya, was fired. Now we're hearing that Minaya is about to be "reassigned," and John Ricco will be promoted to the GM job, an indication that the owner's son, Jeff Wilpon, wants to expand his involvement in day-to-day duties.

Oh, that's the solution to this mess ... more Wilpon. Why didn't I think of that? I feel better already. Hey when you "reassign" Minaya, can you please assign him to my apartment to slit my wrists with a plastic spoon while Alexi Panos asks me to name all the pitchers that have had a no-hitter after leaving the Mets? Thanks.

Utilitarian

There's something that's been brewing a little bit in my brain lately (no, not beer). It took Monday's 7-4 loss to illustrate my point for me.

Sure, one could call Monday night's effort unacceptable (and I believe one did), but I think there is something else at play here.

As told by either Gary Cohen and Ron Darling, Snoop Manuel was asked about Anderson Hernandez and Snoop said that he wants to see what Hernandez can do at other positions. This has been a line of thinking that you saw in the minor league system, where players like Daniel Murphy and Nick Evans were made to play multiple positions. It tells me all I need to know about the Mets general idea of "player development":

We're grooming an entire organization of utility players.

Doesn't that seem a little dangerous to you?

Look, utility players are wonderful. It's nice to have a Bert Campaneris circa 1965 on your roster, or a Kevin Mitchell circa 1986. But to have a whole minor league system of utility players ... players worrying about learning three or four positions? No wonder they're all messed up in the head and need mental vacations. Heck, even David Wright needs a mental break and he's just playing third. No wonder it doesn't occur to Fernando Tatis that Trent Oeltjen might be taking second base on a hit to left. No wonder Murphy was on his way to the Bahamas on a bouncer over the pitcher's head so that Hernandez can throw the ball to an imaginary first baseman on a double play attempt.

There's a reason that the saying goes: "jack of all trades, master of none" ... least of all hitting. Nobody is mastering that, probably because everyone's busy learning how to be Bert Campaneris. Nobody gets less out of less than the Mets.

But that's looking at too big a picture. Obviously this team is done ... mentally, and physically. Even Gary Cohen is counting down the games ("just 50 more games, Ron.") You know there's trouble when Cohen, who loves baseball enough to sit in the stands and watch a game on his off day, is counting down the games. Heck the whole announcing team has resorted to schtick long ago when they started sword fighting and giving Ron Darling haircuts in the booth (and can we be sure that when Gary shot a t-shirt out of that gun that he didn't hit Frankie Rodriguez in the arm?) So can we really be surprised that it's come to this?

You'd be counting down the days too if you saw Doug Davis, having just been described as a "notoriously bad hitter", smack a single to center which Angel Pagan turned into a double (how come extra bases are only taken when Angel's in the field?) I'm guessing that giving up a hit to a notoriously bad hitter isn't quite the late night feeding that Mike Pelfrey had in mind.

Pelfrey, by the way, is playing third tomorrow for Wright. Because the Mets need more versatility.

Springtime In San Diego

Seems as if the Padres have some things in common with the Mets ... if you believe the Pods' scout that told Gary Cohen and Ron Darling that their roster is littered with guys who belong in AA. That sounds mighty familiar.

The Padres are last in baseball in the following categories: Batting average, runs, hits, runs batted in (or, rib eye steaks), and slugging percentage. Oh, and they're third from the bottom in on base percentage. Livan Hernandez, sadly, turned this AA roster into the '93 Blue Jays on Thursday night. I'm guessing that takes some work. I saw what Livan was throwing, and I threw grapefruits that were harder to hit (and Jeff Francoeur swung at every single one of them.)

Congratulations, Livan. You got beat like a rented mule by the San Antonio Missions.

The only thing New York's AA roster could accomplish on Thursday was add another AA player who can't hit. But at least he's been here before and he has a lame nickname. Yeah, Anderson Hernandez will save the day.

This probably means the end of the Angel Berroa era in New York. As if I wasn't dying a slow death already, now I'll have to experience a life without Angel Berroa (sheds tear).

This whole season, from Snoop Manuel's "let's get everyone some at-bats" strategy to the roster that's straight from the 1997 All-Star game, is starting to feel like seven months of extended spring training ... only the weather sucks.

(No Mets were injured in the making of Thursday's monstrosity ... or this blog post.)

All My Rowdy Friends Collapsed On Monday Night

You're going to tell me now that I'm supposed to be excited that Bobby Parnell had a scoreless inning in his debut?

Well if that's the only choice I have, I guess I'll be on board. Because there's nothing else to be excited about after tonight's 7-2 debacle at the hands of the putrid Washington Nationals. Certainly not Pedro Martinez, who was one out away from getting through his six inning outing with only two runs tacked against him, but instead is continuing his descent into the ordinary. Used to be that Pedro would muddle through a game, but knew when that last batter was coming and would dial it up to finish strong ... especially with runners on base. Tonight, sixth inning ... runners on second and third with Anderson Hernandez at the plate (you know the one who hit under .200 in New Orleans this season), and Petey couldn't put him away. (Gee, an ex-Met killing us? That neeeeever happens!!!)

Certainly not the Mets offense, who somehow turned John Lannan from lamb to lion in just one week. He was a lamb against the Mets last Tuesday, lion tonight as the Mets "resilient" offense could only knock one hit off him tonight.

And definitely not Filthy Sanchez, who came in and only had to get one freakin' out in the seventh after Ricardo Rincon came out of seclusion to get the first two outs in the seventh without incident. Then, in came Filthy to put out the fire once and for all:

Walk, single, home run, scorched earth.

To think the rookies dressed like Michael Phelps yesterday. Dressing like gold medalists seem a little bit out there for this bunch. Investment bankers, I would have believed.

***

I loved that Matt Yallof asked Lee Mazzilli during the pre-game if Pedro Martinez has it in him to step up because ... "you've played against him for years." Of course Mazzilli played against Pedro ... in Playstation. Because as you know in the real world, Mazzilli was retired for three years before Petey made his debut in '92.

Oh, Matt must have meant "managed" against him for years. One problem: it was only one year. Pedro pitched with the Red Sox in '04 while Maz was the Orioles manager ... and Petey gave up 22 earned in 24 innings against Baltimore that season.

In actuality, Mazzilli only "bench coached" against him for years ... which is kinda the same as "well, I was in the park and saw him pitch a lot". Yeah, Maz and about 25,000 others. There's some perspective you can't find anywhere else.

P.S. Maz thinks that Pedro needs Shave Zone ... tough guy.

***

There's actually a precedent for what happened to Ned Yost yesterday (by the way Ned, thanks for showing up against the Phillies ... proving once and for all that you can't depend on a choke artist to help prevent a choke of your own ... that's like hiring Robby Alomar to be employed by the New York Chamber of Commerce), and you're familiar with it if you're a New York sports fan.

The 1989 New York Rangers were battling for a division title with 15 games to go in the season. Coaching them was Michel "Le Petit Tigre" Bergeron, famous for his hot goalie system and his hot temper. Bergeron's Rangers went 3-10 when, with two games left in the regular season, GM Phil Esposito fired Bergeron and took the coaching reins himself of a team that was headed, albeit while limping, to the playoffs.

The Bergeron/Esposito relationship mirrored the Steve Phillips/Bobby Valentine relationship in certain ways near the end of their two year relationship. Certainly, the relationship between Bergeron and his players kinda looked like the Valentine/Player relationship. I can only assume that things were completely unmanageable between the Brewers clubhouse and Ned Yost if this move was made at this point. Heck, if it was the choking itself, there were plenty of opportune chances to fire Willie Randolph down the stretch last season.

(Editor's note: Esposito did no better than Bergeron, losing the final two regular season games and then getting swept in the first round of the playoffs by the Penguins. So I wouldn't expect this firing to really make a whole lot of difference unless things were really as bad as some think in that Brewer clubhouse. The moral to the story is, don't f***ing get swept by the Phillies and maybe you can keep your job.)

Face Washed

There are certain things I notice about a baseball game that nobody else does.

It's not something I brag about, because most of these things that only I notice border on the ridiculous ... like in the bottom of the seventh when Fernando Tatis made a bid to give the Mets the lead with a deep drive to left, only to fall harmlessly into the glove of Omar Infante ... the same glove which he then used to give a playful face wash to a fan behind the wall, no doubt getting a little revenge for some good ol' American heckling. Infante got a smile out of that.

So who's glove do you think clanked Carlos Delgado's fifth hit of the evening and lost the game for the Braves (and completed a sweep ... a sweep??!?) Ooooh, it was Omar Infante's glove. The same glove that face washed one of our own in left field.

Dare I say, I got a smile out of that.

***

I also got a smile about the play in the top of the ninth, which Gregor Blanco really should have been called safe on a play at first base with two outs and a runner on second, and prevented the go-ahead run from scoring from Atlanta. Perhaps karma is on our side right now.

But I ask this, and it has to do with replay: If you eventually make replay about more than home runs, and include plays at first base ... and a play like that happens where you look at it, and then reverse the call and put Blanco at first base ... what do you do with the runner? Put him at third? Let him score? Make it a judgement call with the umpires even though the umpires, as soon as the play is called "out", stop paying attention to what Martin Prado is doing at third base?

That is a subtle reason why you'll probably never see replay go past fair/foul, home run/no home run.

***

Luis Ayala for Anderson Hernandez: A trade that works for everybody except the Phillies.

And speaking of the Phillies: In the remaining days of the month, the Mets and Phillies play twice. Otherwise, the Mets have the Astros and Marlins. The Phillies, meanwhile, have the Dodgers and Cubs.

So if there's ever a chance to pad the 2.5 game lead, it's August.

***

And just because I've gone a whole post without mentioning it ... and this is purely obligatory:

Hey Mikey? How those schools in Denver working out for ya?

(Editor's Note: You do realize that in twelve years when the Mets celebrate the 20th anniversary of the N.L. Championship team, that Mike Hampton will be there? You realize that he'll still get booed, right? Maybe instead of money, the fans can throw loose leaf paper and chalk in his general direction ... maybe some erasers too.)

(Editor's Note Part II: I'm not condoning violence.)

How Much Are YOU Worth?

There's a goofy website out there called "Human For Sale" which tells you how much you're worth if you ever want to sell yourself. And before you ask, I never finished the survey because I don't have to ... I already know you can't put a dollar figure on my worthlessness.

And lucky for Luis Ayala, he doesn't have to finish this survey either (and risk having his e-mail flooded with spam for weeks afterwards.) Because we know what Ayala is worth: $1.88.

That's what the Mets gave up for Ayala ... as in the buck eighty-eight average that Anderson Hernandez was putting up in New Orleans, cementing his place as nothing more than a defensive replacement on a good team (equivalent to a regular role on the Washington Nationals), so off he goes to get the former Montrealer Ayala in return and continue Minaya's march to create the "Metspos".

Of course, in this Mets bullpen, you can't place a value on another veteran arm with a 1-8 record and a 5.77 ERA, which makes him fit right in with this outfit which suffered through another outing where Filthy Sanchez did nothing but throw batting practice to the Pirates in a tie game. That created a small stain on a stellar road trip which finishes up at 6-1 after the 5-2 loss to Jack Wilson, Steve Pearce, Steve Pearce's Ultimate Warrior facepaint, and the Pittsburgh Pirates. (Sanchez blames a monkey on his back. It certainly couldn't have been the super-cool shades he was wearing, right? Perhaps the good ol' goggles should make a return.)

And it's crystal clear that John Maine needs to learn what Johan Santana has learned ... that is how to go nine innings. Johan learned to make sure the pen doesn't see the light of day, and now Maine needs to learn the art of distrust. But seriously, Maine seems to be back where he was before the injury, five innings, few runs, and 2,000 pitches (okay, 96). I'm sure that regardless of the bullpen problems, the Mets would love find a way to have John use his pitches a little more economically. Because when it comes to today's economics, $1.88 doesn't buy much these days.

Summoning Mr. Marlin, The Barbarian

If you're going to bring in every former Marlin known to man, then you mind as well get Mr. Marlin.

Jeff Conine was a necessary get for the New York Mets, with the injury to Damion Easley. He is also a great get as he provides right handed pop off the bench, and prevents the brass from having to worry about what would happen if they ever had to see Anderson Hernandez play in another major league game.

Here's what I like best about Jeff Conine: He has a grill. Rusty Staub also had a grill. Rusty got a lot of pinch hits despite obviously overindulging in the leftovers from his rib place. Conine, who is in much better shape and is marginally faster than Rusty, will be asked to do the same...I mean get pinch hits, not eat all his leftovers, which he obviously has refrained from. I'm not sure if it's Jeff's greater will power than Rusty, or that the food isn't that great that Jeff has been able to resist it for so many years, but in either case good for Jeff, and good for us.

(Conine's "Clubhouse Grille" is in Hollywood, FL...just off of I-95. That means that most likely, Shane Spencer has either been drunk, involved in a bar fight, and/or arrested there at least once in his life. I'm not sure about what kind of karma that brings, but it's karma nonetheless.)

Oh, you want like, tangible reasons to like Jeff Conine. All right, try this on for size: Career average as a pinch hitter: .292. Career with a runner on third and less than two men out (you know, those situations that make you pull your hair out because the Mets can never get anybody in): .356 (and that's 344 RBI's in 340 at bats in those situations).

And before you're thinking that most of that damage came when he was an all-star and that he can't do it anymore now that he's 41 years old: His 2007 numbers as a pinch hitter: .409. His 2007 numbers with a runner on third and less than two outs: .500. That's half his at bats!

OK, so he only had eight at-bats in that situation this season. But how many times would you expect the Reds to have had a runner on third base this season? They are after all, 54-70. (Yeah, keep picking on the Reds stupid...you'll only be there in September, do you want to get killed? Why not just wear your Buddy Harrelson jersey and make sure you die!) Oh, and that 4 for 8 had bore the fruit of 14 RBI's.

But it really doesn't matter what he's done in the past...only that he's done it in the past. (And that he's a Met at the cost of A-ballers Sean Henry and Jose Castro, which as long as one of them doesn't grow up to be Jason Bay is fine by me. And even if one of them does? Hey, there's a difference between filling a need for a team that's five games in front, and making a pointless trade for a team that never had any business making the playoffs anyway.)

And if Conine does it in the future like he's done it in the past, maybe he'll shed that "Mr. Marlin" tag temporarily and become our very own: Mr. Met!

Oh relax, I'm kidding. Now turn that frown upside down and throw me a towel.