Free Flowing All Star Hostility

I would have thrown a brick through my television after the American League's latest All-Star victory ... but I had already thrown the brick through the T.V. when I was watching a replay of the 1995 game earlier today, and Robby Alomar pinch ran for Carlos Baerga.

Oh, and a second brick finished the job when I realized that in 1995, Jose Offerman was an All-Star.

I don't know what's worse. Jose Offerman appearing in an All-Star game, or Angel Hernandez getting to umpire in one. What, was a hallucinating squirrel not available?

And count me as the millionth person who has complained about this, but how can we have a dedicated camera to get a shot inside the nostrils of some actor from Fringe, but no camera available to show us if the President of the United States threw a strike on the ceremonial first pitch???

Or was that camera sent to stake out Brett Favre's workout for the Vikings? Please, FOX, get out of the baseball business and stick to your little Dow Jones reality show where you mix stock tips and beer. ("Buy Apple! Hiccup ...")

Now it's all good, because all Tuesday means is that the Phillies aren't going to have home field advantage in Game 7 when they win the World Series in five games and drive me over the edge for good. But seriously, that starting lineup the N.L. put out there outside of David Wright must have been put together by Satan himself ... Hanley Ramirez? Chase Utley? Albert Pujols? Raul Ibanez? Shane Victorino? Yadier Freakin' Molina? All on one lineup? Whoopie!!!

Man ... if Larry Jones had started instead of Wright I would have had a drink with those Happy Hour guys to commemorate it. (Get me a vodka stinger with a Clorox back, and step on it!)

Passing The Savings On To Bill Welke

Four saves in four days? Heck, last season's Mets couldn't get four saves in four weeks. Surprising since I fully expected J.J. Putz to get the call tonight after he got the rest on Wednesday night. So Frankie Rodriguez? Money well spent indeed as he finished off a two game sweep of the Phillies on Thursday.

But really, it's five saves in four days as Frankie not only saved four games, but he also saved Bill Welke from well deserved scorn. I mean, can someone explain to me how Jose Reyes gets obstruction called on him for being elbowed in the ribs by Shane Victorino, who went out of his way to find him like he was Mark Gastineau chasing Brian Sipe?

And I don't want to hear about how smart and crafty Shane Victorino is. He's a baseball war criminal, and needs to have one put in his ribs for that next time, whether the media agrees with it or not. And if the Mets are not allowed to read the tabloids anymore, then who cares what they say anyway ... Good Vibes! Hey, If Larry Andersen can call for Jose Reyes' head, I can call for Victorino's ribs. Would anybody else on the Phillies have tried that besides the Flyin' Hawaiian? Maybe there should be a rule put in place named after him like a certain hockey player had for him.

Welke? Awful. And that's not even taking into account the blown call on the double play earlier in the game. That Jayson Werth home run should have never happened, and Frankie probably should have never been in the game. But because Welke fell for Victorino's "crafty play" (somehow I figure that Angel Hernandez taught him everything he knows), Rodriguez had to make yet another appearance, successful though it might have been. The ironic part is that Snoop Manuel hitting Welke with the bill of his cap while arguing the play will get more attention from the commissioner's office than Victorino's elbow. Oh well, it'll be one or two less late inning Omir Santos substitutions we'll have to dissect.

Instead let's dissect good things, like four saves in four nights, Mike Pelfrey's good outing, and home runs at the new spacious home by the three players who need to get (or keep) going, Beltran, Wright, and Reyes off of Jamie Moyer, who is finally listening to what his mother most assuredly told him at some point and is acting his age. Complain if you will about no production against the bullpen, but again, the game should have never been that close.

And did I mention that Victorino needs a baseball in his ribs?

Kid Vulture II

Dear Mr. Wilpon,

Now that the Mets have lost two out of three games against the Rockies, I understand that Mr. Randolph is now hanging on by a thread heading into his meeting with you and your son tomorrow.

I would like to let you know that if you indeed decide to fire Willie Randolph, I would like you to know of my availability. I'm only a phone call away, because my contract allows ... ah, who's kidding who. Like it takes a contract to write this blog ... only a commitment (in the insane asylum sense). And I could be in New York tomorrow if necessary. Because unlike Gary Carter, who I understand is also interested in the job, I am in New York right now ... which I believe would be points in my favor.

The comments that David Wright made saying that, you know, there's no spark, there's no fire ... if anything I would love to bring that to the table. You want fire? I hereby promise to take a bat to Carlos Beltran's locker and tell him that if he didn't pick it up, the next swing would be in the general direction of his weak quad muscle. Because that's good motivation. You think Larry Bowa is motivational? I would bring in a small white dog and spray paint it silver in front of the team like I saw a crazy guy do once on the street before he covered his own head with tin foil ... just so the boys would know that I would seriously take a bat to their heads if they crossed me by not hustling. Because again, that's good motivation. They'd know I mean business after that.

Speaking of paint, I would paint my face half blue and half white like in that movie Braveheart? You know? And I would give the most awesome speeches. I would say stuff like "They can take the bunt play away. They could take away the inner half. But they can never take ... our freedom!" You know, because stuff like that is gold.

I would keep the paint on during games too. You want a manager that would go after umpires and protect his players? What's Angel Hernandez going to think when I go out there to argue a fair/foul call with my face painted blue and white while carrying a pointy stick and riding a horse? Angel Hernandez would soil his chest protector at the mere sight of me and my pointy stick! So consider your players protected! (You know, while I'm not going after them with bats.)

While I am indeed fiery, I believe I could adapt to any and all situations because of my versatility. Because while I am part Larry Bowa, I am also part Phil Jackson. You know how he motivates his players with books? I would buy a copy of "Stranding Inherited Runners For Dummies" and leave it in Aaron Heilman's locker ... gift wrapped. I feel it's something he can read and absorb while he's on those long bus rides in the minor leagues. And I could get a discount from Amazon if I buy in bulk in case anyone else needs a copy. See, I'm thinking finances too. I know you and your son can appreciate that.

And as manager, I believe I can show a softer side when the time calls for it. I would reward the players with cookies, Reese's Peanut Butter cups, and trips to strip clubs where Pacman Jones can lecture them on the advantages of restraint. But only if they finished their celery and wheat grass first (no, not marijuana ... I do not condone the usage of marijuana. Another point for me, right?)

In any event, I hope that you will take my over the top campaigning and my shameless self-promotion under consideration. In other words: Your Manager Has Come.

Yours in circling a carcass,



Metstradamus