Get Out The Swiffer Wet Jets

So last week, the Mets were on ESPN Sunday Night Baseball. Yesterday, the Mets were also on ESPN. And next week, the Mets play under the lights on Sunday for the third week in a row. Throw in two Monday Night Baseball appearances in that span (including another one tonight) and the country gets a steady diet of the big, bad over .500 Metropolitans from New York in April.

No wonder the terrorists want to kill us.

Joe Beningo reasons that this is because nobody wants to take a chance presenting our favorite team to the country in August and September. That's comforting. (Here's what else is comforting: Does it worry anybody else that it took an act of God to get the bullpen some rest? Raul Valdez must have summoned up some rain gods with the one pitch he threw in the sixth before the skies opened up.) But if Mike Pelfrey keeps pitching shutout ball without his best stuff then the World Wide Leader might regret making the Mets "April's Team".

After a rain soaked sweep of the Braves, the Mets are now 10-9 which is no small feat after a 4-8 start (and if you'll notice, the entire National League is just four games apart from first to last.) Who do we have to thank for this sweep? Jeff Francoeur, of course. Why? For making sure that Larry Jones (one hit and three sloppy plays this series), Jason Heyward (1 hit and 4 K's this series), and Brian McCann (infield fly vapor lock) got to the ballpark. I doubt we'll start calling him "Limo Larry" (send a limousine to make sure he gets to the park) anytime soon, but Frenchy did well to make sure these guys were present and accounted for.

And for those who don't take kindly to fraternizing with the enemy (like me), what's more dangerous: befriending Braves, or befriending aliens? With all due respect, Stephen Hawking never played against the Cardinals in the 80's.

Stimulus Splinter

When last we left Ralph Kiner, he was comparing Fernando Martinez to Ted Williams.

On Saturday, Kiner was at it again ... comparing Ike Davis to Ted Williams during the SNY broadcast.

So let me get this straight, we have not one, but two Splendid Splinters in the New York Mets organization? Wow! Get that Canyon of Heroes ready for the next hundred years!

(The bad news is that in the parking lot after the game, Kiner told a fan that Frank Catalanotto, Alex Cora, Dillon Gee, his goldfish, and fagiolini rigati all reminded him of Ted Williams.)

But the fact remains, Davis has come up and been involved with five wins and only one loss with the Mets. The Stimulus has batted .350, cleared the bullpen with a home run, saved Snoop Manuel's job, fixed Oliver Perez's control, used mind tricks on Yunel Escobar, ended Jason Bay's slump, turned Henry Blanco into Rickey Henderson, optimized the batting lineup, and made Larry Jones drop that infield fly on Friday. All that's left for Davis to do now is put more Mets pictures on the walls of the ballpark, revamp the tiered pricing system, and end poverty and hunger in the inner cities. Who says he can't do it? He already has the Ted Williams swing down. The rest should be easy.

Historical Perspective

Larry Jones once said that Mets fans booing him and chanting his name (his real name) motivated him to do well.

At no point was that more evident to me than on February 29, 2008, when I was in Orlando chanting Larry's name so loud at a spring training game that I could be heard all the way back in New York ... if you turned on ESPN's coverage of the game. Could a professional baseball player be motivated by taunts during a spring training game, you ask? Well, Larry went 2-for-3 in that meaningless game so you tell me.

In the years that have passed since Larry made his "Yankee gear" crack, the booing, chanting, and general hate has subsided. It's a tad disappointing when you put that up against Brewers fans booing Gary Sheffield furiously 17 years after he admittedly threw balls into the fifth row of the stands. But it happened. Maybe part of it is a brand new ballpark taking the focus away from rattling the opponent and shifting it towards the Acela Club. Or maybe it's because that brand new ballpark that replaced the old ballpark that Larry named his kid after because he practically freakin' owned it.

That's what makes it ironic that it was Citi Field that has now housed Jones' most frustrating game vs. the Mets to date which included a foul pop that fell inches in front of Larry, and a bizarre infield fly where Jones dropped the wind blown pop-up, and Brian McCann went to tag the runner who was already out while Angel Pagan raced to the vacated home plate (Angel Pagan? Heads up baserunning? Is this Bizarro Pagan?) with the fourth run of the game (McCann was obviously returning the favor that David Cone paid to the Braves in 1990.) But with the atmosphere ripe for a famous "Laaaaaaa-rryyyyyyy" chant, none was to be heard, at least audibly on television. Has the ballpark finally softened Met fans? Have we finally learned how to tame the beast that is Larry Jones? Or is Larry just getting old? (He gets older on Saturday ... and he's 9-1 on his birthday. Uh-oh.) Or are the burgers just really, really good?

It was merely the biggest and strangest of twists in a 5-2 win that featured more of them than the most recent episode of Survivor (J.T. ... dude.) Between Larry's fly pop follies, Bizarro Pagan's heads up baserunning play, Stimulus' first career bomb that almost hit the bridge, and Hisanori Takahashi coming to the rescue of John Maine and his two arms which both refuse to cooperate, who the hell can remember that Jose Reyes batted third?

The Ballad Of Ray Ramirez

You would think with not only Prevention, but Recovery too, that you wouldn't see Ray Ramirez on a major league field until at least the second game of spring training. Nope. Game 1. Elmer Dessens gets hit with a line drive and there's Ray Ramirez ... again. He's ubiquitous (look it up).

I know, I know. You can't prevent a line drive to the leg. I know this. It's nobody's fault. But how am I supposed to turn the page on 2009 when we can't get through a week without seeing Ray Ramirez?

But on the bright side, Larry Jones was nowhere to be found, Snoop gave Nick Evans his first at-bat since the '87 World Series, and the Mets still haven't lost since September. Hope springs eternal.

Oh wait, there's Ray Ramirez looking at Hope's hamstring. It sprung just a little too much there.

Record Holders

In an attempt to find a left fielder tall enough to rob home runs over the 16 ft. high Citi Field fence, the Mets recruited Sultan Kosen, the newest Guinness Book of World Record holder for tallest man on earth at eight feet, one inch.

Unfortunately, not even Kosen could reach Larry Jones' home run off of Pat Misch which sealed the deal on an 11-3 Mets loss in the second inning. Jones, along with Garret Anderson and Matt Diaz, reached the seats at Citi Cave, proving that maybe it's not the park after all. Meanwhile, Daniel Murphy hit his team leading 11th home run of the season.

That's team leading ... eleventh home run.

In case you were wondering, the team record for lowest home run total to lead the Mets is 12 in 1977 ... another banner season in Mets history. Level swings, boys ... time to make the record books just like Sultan.

Second Verse, Same As The First?

For those who didn't see the 4,927 commercials on SNY, Thursday night's return from the All-Star break was "Mets at the Movies" where you could have watched the game against the Braves at three different locations with three different big screens. And you couldn't have picked a better game for a screenwriter, what with the shunned facing the chosen yet tortured on the mound ... and the two guys traded for each other facing their former teams for the first time.

But while some of you were getting your popcorn ready, I'm glad I didn't waste my money watching this crap in a theater, because I thought the ending was too predictable. It was like Ski School 4 or Waterworld. I'll wait for the director's cut DVD release with the deleted scenes of Ryan Church flexing in a mirror and doing one armed push-ups on a rusty bar like Clubber Lang, and Snoop Manuel practicing his latest laugh for future post-game news conferences ... it's a cross between Vincent Price from Thriller and DeNiro from Cape Fear.

Funny that as we're looking for new members for our "Hall of Hate" (have you voted yet), sometimes there's nothing like a classic. And when you're talking about the original team of the damned, Larry Jones might be wearing the "C". He showed why ... again.

And it didn't take long for the Phillies to gain another game on the Mets, which would make them a Harry Potter movie to our King Ralph.

Nice Park

So wait, you mean Larry Jones isn't going to name his next child Blue Smoke Jones?

"It is the biggest park that I have ever played in in my life. It is a huge ballpark to center and right center and right field. You know, I actually feel sort of sorry for some of the guys out there because their power numbers are really going to take a hit; guys like David Wright , [Carlos] Beltran, [Carlos] Delgado. The days of them hitting 35, 40 homers -- they're over. I juiced the ball just right of center field as hard as the good Lord can let me hit a ball, and it hit midways up the center-field wall for a double," he said. "And every time there was a long fly out or a double that hit off the wall or something, David Wright would run by me and go, 'Nice park.'" -L. Jones

So this was the reason for the 800 foot valley in right field ... the Wilpons wanted to be sure to build a park that Jones couldn't kill them in. Ah, I see.

***

Any chance signability issues will cause Stephen Strasburg to drop to the 72nd slot? Yeah, I picked a bad season to hold a draft party. Oh well, more submarine sandwich and potato salad for me.

***

Hey, the WNBA season starts tomorrow, so you may already know this. But in case you don't:

The Phoenix Mercury have sold the naming rights on their uniforms to identity theft services company LifeLock Inc. — cementing what is believed to be the most lucrative sponsorship deal in the WNBA and opening the door for sports franchises to tap into a traditionally taboo revenue stream.

The Mercury name, pictured front and center on the uniform, will be replaced with the LifeLock insignia. A small Mercury patch will be stitched on the upper left portion of the uniform, across from an Adidas symbol on the right.

This is it ... the beginning of the end. And after the Bernie Madoff scandal, the Mercury may have given the Wilpons an idea:

Another reason not to slide: Dirt obstructs the view of potential sales. At least the jersey's not black..

Our Crumbling House

So with J.J. Putz developing a bone spur and fixing to be out for a couple of games, and Carlos Delgado perhaps being out anywhere from this weekend to ... forever, this is going to really test Omar Minaya's ability to put together a 25-man roster.

So who's scared?

When Delgado was day-to-day, I was against putting Daniel Murphy at first base. If you're going to have Murph play there all season, then give him every opportunity to learn the position. But if we're talking months for Delgado? Then by all means put Murphy at first, Tatis in left, Church in right, and have Sheffield as your bench pop (not your cleanup hitter/regular left fielder as he seems to be now ... seems that someone is thinking it's 1999, and not 2009.)

But whatever you do the fact remains, this team is thin. Delgado is out with his bone spur in his hip (can we put him on the DL already), Putz is out with a bone spur (at least now there's a reason for his struggles) and even Reyes missed Thursday's game with a bone spur he developed in his brain on Wednesday. The Mets call it a "tight calf", but come on, that could be another created injury which is code for "we're benching you because of a foggy brain but we're not going to embarrass you" (with the discovery of new injuries left and right, I think we're talking Nobel Prize in inventive medicine for the training staff.)

Thankfully, the Mets were able to survive Bobby Parnell's shaky foray into the eighth inning (albeit while being dinked and dunked), and Sheffield was able to survive stealing third base (seriously, he's old ... every stolen base could be his last act in baseball) with three runs in the ninth and a 7-4 win against the Giants. I don't know what lucky shamrock Carlos Beltran is carrying, but once again he stole third in more ways than one setting up the go ahead run in the ninth (Larry Jones is currently petitioning the league office for more competent baseball gods), driven in by David Wright who, apparently, just needed to get away from New York for a while as he not only drove in the winner but stole four bases.

Good catches by both announcers tonight. Gary Cohen, for noting that the Mets set a team record for most steals in a game without Reyes. And by Keith Hernandez who, while discussing a mutual sponsor of the Mets and Giants noted: "Speaking of sponsors, Fran Healy was the catcher in that old Willie Mays highlight."

Thank you Keith, for reminding us how much Fran Healy loved sponsors, and how amazing it is that I didn't throw paperweights through the television set while Healy was pitching Cheez Doodles and Optimo Cigars for all those years.

Hey, where's Oliver?

Seems that rehab took a sad turn as Oliver Perez was eliminated from American Idol on Thursday night.

Wistful

Just an ironic point, but don't you find it strange that there are more reminders of Shea Stadium in Larry Jones' house than there are in the Mets' house?

Here's hoping that hitting at his new home away from home, Citi Field, doesn't give Larry a reason to name his daughter "Shake Shack Jones"

Soft Hands

Okay Carlos, I realize you probably got a good chunk of change and some free cocoa butter from Palmer to talk about your "soft hands" on defense. But you're not supposed to slather your mitt and your soft hands in cocoa butter during the game.

The new commercial says "Hands Up". Notice, Carlos, that "Hands" is plural. Both hands ... two hands go up.

Thankfully, Larry Jones also uses Palmer's. Nice throw.

But who among you isn't going to laugh their ass off the next time they see Carlos Delgado talking about the need to take runs away on defense ... sponsored by Palmer's ... after dropping out number 27 and making everybody sweat a Larry at-bat as the winning run? I challenge you. You can't do it.

And the whole Luis Castillo thing, the error followed by throwing his glove on the field at the end of the inning (is that what Omar Minaya meant by "fire"?) after it didn't cost the Mets anything not only looked familiar, but came mere minutes after a conversation I was having regarding whether Luis might have gained all that weight back that he lost going into spring training. What this means? Damned if I know. I do know that Livan Hernandez had a stellar game against a team that can't hit ... as he should.

A Nadir At Every Turn

Is this the way the season is looking?

Keith Hernandez said at the head of tonight's game that last night (Wednesday) was the nadir of the season.

Keith failed to realize not only that nadir is much too fancy a word for me, but that a nadir is only as low as your next game, when you go to the hill with your ace and still lose.

So this is the nadir now, right? Sure it is. Until Friday.

So ... team, is it all right to boo now? Now that Ryan Howard is heating up, the Marlins (a team that makes less than Carlos Delgado and Luis Castillo) are steaming towards June in first place, and the Mets are closer to last place than they are to first place while everybody is calling last rites on you and you've given us no reason to believe otherwise, please do us all a favor and lay off the "boo hoo why are we being booed so much" rhetoric until you can get Larry Jones and Mark Teixeira out, or perhaps string together a few hits off of Odalis Perez, Tim Redding, and f***ing Jorge Campillo?

Shea Stadium: The Board Game

Off days and rainouts stink.

What is a Met fan to do on those lonely off days and rainouts during April besides wonder why Willie Randolph consistently mismanages his bullpen?

Well now, you can combine off-day fun with Shea Stadium nostalgia with a great new board game titled: "Shea Stadium: The Board Game"! Can you get through a day at Shea without being pinched by the ushers, buying a cold knish, getting into an fistfight with a Yankee fan, or seeing Carlos Beltran strike out in a big spot? Now, you can experience the fun, excitement, and frustration of seeing the Mets at Shea Stadium from the comfort of your own living room! So help celebrate the final season at Shea Stadium with this addicting board game!

*Click board for optimal view ... template shamlessly stolen from here. Extended game play may cause drooling and dizzyness.

Never Forget The Ice Cream

This one was one for the annals.

This past trip was so jam packed that I needed more than a day to process everything and put the words down on paper. The three day spring training trip that we just embarked on was truly a Johnny Cash song.

Sunday started with a two-hour drive from the Disney Complex to Vero Beach. How do you know you're leaving Disney? When you see billboards that read "Vasectomy.com: It's Easier Than You Think!" or other gems that advertise an "Lunch Buffet/Adult Cabaret". See, Florida can be fun even outside of Disneyworld!

We got to Dodgertown at about 11AM and immediately pulled over to take pictures by the sign (like the one you see above) on the way in ... all the while thinking our rent-a-car was going to get plowed by somebody on the side of the road. Luckily, the closest thing to a catastrophe occurred when the zipper on my bag ripped apart my finger and caused me to bleed all over my Todd Zeile jersey.

Yes, you heard me, I own a Todd Zeile jersey. But more on that later.

After two days of mingling amongst Braves and Dodgers and Tigers and Indians, it was nice to be surrounded by my own kind, and that included incomparable Mets bloggers such as Matt Cerrone, Zoe Rice, and "The Coop" who I was fortunate to run into just in front of the walkway into Dodgertown, along with Stefi Kaplan later in the game. The four of them were on their own spring training odysseys, and you can read all about their adventures here and here.

Here's the thing about Dodgertown: It's freakin' awesome. Disney and Tigertown both provided unique experiences in terms of watching a ballgame. Disney provided, well ... Disney, along with the opportunity to heckle Larry Jones (yes, that loud voice you heard during the bottom of the fifth with a 1-2 count on "Chipper" was, in fact, yours truly). Tigertown provided the oldest spring training home in the majors, and the opportunity to sit on a hill of grass with about 1,000 other people. Dodgertown didn't fail in providing yet another unique experience in terms of fan enjoyment. For example, how many people can say they were almost run over by a golf cart being driven by Mariano Duncan, with Don Mattingly and Larry Bowa riding shotgun? Not many.

I, am one of those people.

But such is the experience of Dodgertown, where players walk right past you and give you high fives if you ask nicely. And if you go to the practice fields, you never know who you're going to run into. And that brings me to the story of the weekend:

It actually started on Friday, when my buddy was wearing the hat you see to the right, a St. Andrews Old Course hat, while trying to get Tommy "Come Down From The Tree" Lasorda's autograph. Lasorda was in the stands that day, willing to sign autographs but only between innings. At the end of the game, he failed in getting Tommy to sign his ball, but asked Lasorda's handler if he'd be around on Sunday when we got to Vero. The guy basically told him that if he wore that hat on Sunday, he would be recognized and given an autograph.

Fast forward to Sunday on that Vero Beach practice field, where Tommy was about to be driven away by the handler when my friend starts waving his hat yelling "Old Course! Old Course! Old Course!" True to his word, Tommy's handler stops the golf cart, takes my buddy's ball and gets it signed by Lasorda (and afterwards, drives Lasorda away, making everybody who had failed to get an autograph before even more angry that the guy who just shows up in a golf hat gets a signature at their expense.)

But fear not, there were plenty of autographs to be had ... as for one day only, fans got to go on to the field and get autographs from basically every single Dodger on the team (except Jeff Kent, who was nowhere to be found when I got there. Gee, what a surprise! Oh, and Nomar Garciaparra left early too.) I told Andruw Jones that I was happy that he wouldn't be killing the Mets nearly as much from the N.L. West. Everyone else got a laugh out of it, but I couldn't wipe the smirk-like smile off Andruw's face.

Andre Ethier even remembered it was a sinker that he hit off of Ryan Dempster to win a game in Wrigley last September. Weird.

After the scrum, I have to admit that I was too exhausted to make my way to right field to see if any Mets were doing some signing ... and considering that pretty much every big player either stayed in Port St. Lucie or was injured, there weren't a lot of players available to autograph (but one guy who my buddy was able to get was Fernando Martinez, which was pretty cool.)

Then the game started, and it started with a whimper as Martinez, Ruben Gotay, and Angel Pagan played "I got it you take it" on a pop fly which should have ended the inning but instead put two runs on Ollie Perez's spring ERA. But I couldn't be too upset over that, because I'm sure those players all saw what could happen when you pursue a pop fly too hard in spring training ... you get knocked out with a concussion.

I'll say this: I hope that Carlos Delgado's injury isn't serious ... because I could swear I saw Michel Abreu swing at everything thrown to him, including a hot dog wrapper that was thrown across home plate. In fact, when I got home, I threw an empty cup at a garbage can, and I could swear I felt the breeze of Abreu's bat swinging at it. Here's a sampling of Abreu's greatest whiffs from Sunday:



But speaking of hot dog wrappers, Dodgertown provided me with the fulfillment of a lifelong dream: I ate a Dodger Dog. I'm still not sure that it was the authentic Dodger Dog that's sold at Chavez Ravine, but as I told the vendors: If you're not sure, just tell me it is and don't destroy the dream.

And while on line for that dog, a guy who was with ESPN ... no, I don't know who ... gave me props for being the only guy he's ever seen with a Todd Zeile Mets jersey. I don't know if that means I'm special or insane. Probably the latter ... but I got a warm feeling inside much the same.

Update: Lest you thought I was kidding about the Zeile jersey, it looks like the lens of justice caught me for Straight Cash Homey, a website dedicated to finding unsuspecting folk sporting obscure jerseys, or as they put it: "an international ridiculous jersey scavenger hunt". The funny thing is, I have about 10-15 jerseys that would qualify for this website, and always thought that one day I might make this site. Alas, this is the one that gets me on the site. To whoever snapped the shot, great catch. And thanks to the anonymous tipster that found me on the site. I hope the jersey doesn't make my butt look big.

By the way, did I mention the other oddity about Holman Stadium in Vero Beach? Stadiums like Wrigley Field have pillars to obstruct your view. But Holman obstructs your view while going green at the same time: with trees right in the middle of the stands!

There was a guy at the game behind the stands who could have used a tree as took a foul ball to the head ... it hit him with such ferocity that it bounced back towards the stands and rolled under the seat next to me. It was pretty bad, but he wound up getting the ball as a souvenir.

The game ended with three Met runs in the ninth, capped by Pagan's two -out two-run single (captured below). Before the game, I wasn't convinced that there was a roster spot for Pagan. After the game, I started to come around. And now with the various injuries to Ruben Gotay, Ryan Church, Marlon Anderson, Moises Alou (especially Moises Alou), Joel Youngblood, George Theodore, and Amos Otis, Pagan may be as big a lock for a roster spot out of camp as Jose Reyes is.

But Sunday, like the rest of the weekend, really wasn't about who won or lost. It was about drinking beer, throwing down hot dogs, and experiencing baseball in an entirely new way ... not necessarily in that order. It was about getting a tan in February. It was about chatting with major leaguers. It was about acquiring a whole new appreciation for games that don't count in the standings. It was about appreciating the fact that some people go through their whole year living off the money they make for six weeks out of the year. Unfortunately, that money runs out as the Dodgers move their spring operations out of Vero Beach for good as of the 17th. It runs out for the people that served my ice cream in a plastic helmet, imploring me to think of them, root for them to get a new team so they could make a living, and never forget the ice cream.

Not anytime soon, I promise.

Postcard From Florida: Behind Enemy Lines

Hope you're enjoying the snow back home in New York City.

Here, it reached a high of 78 in Sunny Florida ... a stark contrast from the 19 degrees we dealt with on Thursday night back at White Plains airport. That walk from the gate to the plane outdoors almost froze us before we got on the plane. I'll take 78, thanks.

I was excited when there was a good handful of Mets fans at the airport, thinking they were all coming to Orlando with me. I had thoughts of leading a chorus of "Meet the Mets" on the plane. But all the Met fans got on the plane to West Palm while we took the last flight out to Orlando for leg one of "Metstrapalooza: The Spring Training Tour".

Game one was spent behind enemy lines: Disney's Wide World of Sports Complex (at the newly christened Champions Field) for the Dodgers and the Braves. You probably missed the Braves taking advantage of the Dodgers' porous middle relief for a 10-3 victory. You also missed Dodger third baseman Andy LaRoche being the nicest guy in the world. He gave autographs to anyone and everyone. If LaRoche wasn't a third baseman I would demand that we trade for this guy right now! There were two Dodgers that were nice enough to sign baseballs for the crowd. Would you believe the other one was Rafael Furcal?

You also missed me chanting "Laaaaaaaa-rryyyyyyyyyy" at every opportunity (including the two ground balls he bobbled). I was texting people back home telling them to put on the ESPN game to try to hear me yell at him. Did any of you hear me by chance? (I think Larry himself might have heard me, right before his base hit in the fifth which signaled to me that I should probably knock it off before he gets madder).

And you just missed a conversation in the hotel room regarding Hank Steinbrenner's bitching and moaning about this being a Yankee World, to which I replied: "If this is a Yankee World, where's my spaceship to Mars?" (And now at this point, the Yankee fan in the room is talking about guest blogging for me. I'm not stupid enough to do that a second time.)

Well, it's a long drive to Lakeland tomorrow for leg two: Indians/Tigers at Lakeland, so I should probably get some sleep. It's all leading up to a reunion between me and the Mets at Vero Beach on Sunday. Hopefully, whichever star pitcher is on the hill will refrain from giving up a three run dinger to an 84-year-old man. I hate Juan Gonzalez.

In the meantime, enjoy more photos from Day One, and stop shoveling so much snow:

Golden Tears

All In

So, baseball gods...I see you've called my bluff.

I asked for a reason for belief. You saw that with a one hitter, raised me a benches clearing brawl as an extra sign of life...and a Phillies loss to the Nationals.

Do I call? Do I fold? Do I raise?

I'm all in, baby.

Here I go, baseball gods...all my chips are at the center of the table and I've got acey deucey going up against your jack-six. Let's turn over those cards.

Show me an ace on the flop...an ace as in Tommy Glavine.

Show me a deuce on the turn...as in two wins by the Nationals.

You give me that, there's no need for the river...as in the river crossed by going over the Walt Whitman bridge for a one game playoff with the Phillies.

You're surprised? You're surprised that I'm all in? Why? Do you think I'm scared of you? You think I'm scared because two weeks ago I had a chip pile a mile high, and now I'm down to a handful? Well maybe as the days grew by I was discouraged...but I've pretty much lost everything. There's nothing more to lose at this point. And as you know, it's dangerous to deal cards to someone who's got nothing to lose.

Am I blinking? Not really. In fact I'm staring you baseball gods down without so much as batting an eyelash. Because really, what if I lose? What if you get three sixes and wipe me out? What do I have to be afraid of? Making you guys mad? Feeling your wrath? What more can you do to me that hasn't already been done to me?

Karma? Should I be afraid of baseball karma? Karma's a bitch, you say? Yes, I've said it too. And you know what?

F**k Karma!

What the f**k has Karma gotten me over the last two weeks? I'll tell you what it's gotten me...f***ing grief, that's what! Hell I've practically left the Yankees and Yankee fans alone this season and what has it gotten me? They've made a miraculous comeback from the dead, every rookie they have has a Yankeeography, and they're tearing down the bat at Yankee Stadium to make room for the gold plated statue of Joba Chamberlain for the fans to meet by. Make that the backdrop to my team's collapse, and you want to tell me that Karma plays this game of baseball fair? You want to tell me that Karma doesn't have aces up it's sleeve to use against me, like it did in '87? In '99? In 2000? In 2001? Game seven last year? Where exactly is the reward I get from Karma for not messing with it?

F**k Karma!!! I'm staring Karma down just like I'm staring you down, baseball gods. And if the city of Philadelphia wants to get in on the staredown then bring it on, boys and girls. I know you want nothing better than to knock us down, and I know you're beating down the doors to the castle waiting to come in and bury us once and for all. I know you're there and I'm waiting for you with my chips at the center of the table.

And Mets fans, I'm staring you down too. I'm staring you down because I want you all in with me. I want you in if you've believed all season. I want you in if you gave up somewhere along the way. I want you in if you've said that this is the last straw with this team. I want you in because I've done all three. I've felt it all. I've been to hell and back. I was at the Pendleton game. I was at the Scioscia game. I was at Game Five in 2000. Whatever you've seen, I've seen it.

Whatever you've felt, I've felt it.

Whatever you've done, I've done it.

Whatever you've thrown against the wall in anger, I've broken the wall with it.

Whatever the Mets have done to your heart, I've taken medicine for it.

And even after all that...even after Mike Stanton, Kenny Rogers, Brian Jordan, Art Howe, Terry Pendleton, Bobby Bonilla, Vince Coleman, Armando Benitez, Larry Jones, Willie Harris, Jimmy Rollins, and the rest of the rogues gallery of Mets criminals, I'm still willing to put everything on the line knowing that this team we're banking on could fold their hand and come up with the game that's going to make every bad moment in this franchise history seem like a ticker tape parade in comparison.

I know it. I embrace it. And I refuse to fear it anymore. Because according to the rest of the world, we're mongrels. They want us dead and buried once and for all.

Are you really going to turn in your cards and fold after that?

Not me.

As for you baseball gods, you're trying to get a bad beat on me, and I say bring it. There's two cards to turn over on Sunday. Maybe one card on Monday. I'm ready for whatever happens. They say never bet money that you're afraid to lose, and it's high time to stop being afraid. Here's my ace, here's my deuce. You beat it, you win. Remember that you don't have all my money yet...and a wise man once said that if you don't have my money then you are mine.

So, baseball gods...let's play some cards.

The Phrase Of Hate

"Only time will tell..."

You hear that all the time when you're watching television. A serious looking face comes on your screen and says something like "Will I be hit by a truck? Will a meteor hit the earth? Will Lindsay Lohan drink again? Only time will tell."

"Only time will tell" is the literary equivalent of a shrug of the shoulders. "I have neither idea nor insight." So you understand how painful it is for me to type what I'm about to type:

Only time will tell (shudder) if Willie Harris is going to be a footnote in this 2007 season, or a thorn for all time. It depends on what the Braves and Mets do during the time that is left (and "time" isn't a nebulous throw away term...the time we're talking about here is a finite about of days and games left). Today, Willie Harris is their Endy Chavez. In time (you know, the time that will only tell), he may become our new Terry Pendleton.

Larry Jones is there already. And he, of course, was up to his old tricks, hitting a three run bomb (and I mean a flippin' bomb) off of John Maine which turned the game on its ear (it's amazing how when I see Jones play against others, the pain in his thumbs make him wince and grimace like he was David Wells at a vegan convention...but against the Mets all that pain seems to wash away like he's taking a Calgon bath or something.)

Mark Teixeira is getting there. Not only for his home run which followed Jones', but for prevention of a Luis Castillo RBI triple in the fifth inning...the same inning in which Fluff Castro popped up with the sacks full to end the inning...and how much more damaging than one run would that frame had been without Teixeira's diving play down the line? Yeah, he's getting there.

But it's always the one that you never expect. I was in the stands when Pendleton ripped my heart out of my chest and fed it to Tom Pagnozzi in front of everyone. I can absolutely tell you that I never saw it coming. The thought never entered my mind that Pendleton would hit a ball that crossed the plate at his ankles out of the ballpark. And it never entered my mind that Willie Harris would rob Carlos Delgado of the tying home run in the ninth. Never would I have thought he would have done that twice in the same game after robbing Moises Alou of a double in the first inning...again preventing a small inning to grow and blossom into a large one.

I wasn't in the stands for this one, although my cat probably would have wanted me there for all the soft objects turned into projectiles around Casametstra today. But that's the way it goes in the big city. One minute, Oscar Villareal's cab is taking him to Yankee Stadium, the next he's getting his first save on any level of professional baseball...against the Mets, of course. But that save was equal parts Larry, Tex, and Willie Harris. At 3.5 games ahead, the world isn't ending. The meteor isn't hitting anytime soon. Or has it already hit the Mets season...

"Only time will tell."

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.

Damn You Larry Jones!

You know when I got scared?

Not when Larry Jones crushed that two run HR in the first inning off of Mike Pelfrey to kick off the series and kick the Mets in the pants en route to a 7-3 Mets loss.

No, it was actually well before that.

I got scared when Larry's face adorned my television screen on the Boomer Esiason Show talking about the upcoming series, and he said something to the effect of "you know, if these fans at Shea would just leave me alone, I probably wouldn't hit so well in their park...I feed off their energy, and believe me it's a long walk back to that dugout." Typical Larry Jones...turn it around and blame it on us. Instead of just taking the blame for all of our problems in life like he should, he's basically telling us that he only hits us so well because we bring it on ourselves.

Damn you and your reverse psychology and your high batting average and your constant big hits and your naming your son Shea and damn your USA teammate Alex Rodriguez and his 7,000 home runs, and your blaming us for our problems when they're clearly your fault...and...and you smell bad too!

Damn you!

Larry also said on the Boomer show that he hopes his son gets to play in Queens one day. Good! I hope he plays in Queens for the Mets in the 2026 World Series and you have to wear a Met hat in the stands to support your son like Mookie wore that Cardinal hat for Preston and I hope I'm in the stands to see you because I'll still boo you! And then I'll laugh at you for wearing a Mets hat and a Mets sweatshirt to keep warm in that cold October weather (unless of course the earth warms like everyone says it does and it's 80 degrees in October...then I hope you wear a Shea Jones t-shirt that says Mets on it so I can laugh at you...you smelly bastard!)

Damn you!

And while I'm at it, damn you Tim Hudson. You single handedly killed my fantasy team last season until I dropped you. And now you want to be Cy Young...you and your 0.62 ERA. Where do you get off, anyway?

Damn you!

And you too Jeff Francoeur...Ron Darling compared you to Brad Komminsk tonight. Because of you, I had to hear the name Brad Komminsk tonight. You don't realize how happy I was when I thought that I would never hear that name again. Instead, Ron Darling mentioned Brad Komminsk and my brain hurt so much that I threw up. The worst part? I don't know why!

Stupid Jeff Francoeur and your alter ego Brad Komminsk from 20 years ago. You even look somewhat alike and wear the same number! That's obnoxious.

Damn you both.

Your 2007 N.L. East Preview: Atlanta Braves

They say that teams like the Atlanta Braves don't rebuild, they reload. Well, John Schuerholz had to do a lot of rebuilding for the 2007 season. But they also did some reloading as well.

It all means that it's time to ratchet up the hate machine again.

I'm doing my best to try to suppress these feelings about the Braves being competitive. But that would be as unhealthy as my general eating habits (as I wolf down some salt & vinegar potato chips and a Coke Zero). Let's face it: I can't go around spewing about how it's the bullpen that wins ballgames and then turn around and say that the Braves are going to suck moose appendages. Bob Wickman, Rafael Soriano (great f'n trade Bill Bavasi!), and Mike Gonzalez represent a huge upgrade from how the Braves started 2006. Those three join lefties Oscar Villareal (9-1 in 2006) and Macay McBride (4-1 in 2006) to form a very good unit. The questions lie in former Met Tyler Yates and former Yankee Tanyon Sturtze, but when everybody's favorite school system expert Mike Hampton comes back from injury, Lance Cormier will probably join the 'pen and strengthen it.

The rest of the rotation will feature Tim Hudson (who single handedly ruined my fantasy team last year ,but is having a good spring), Chuck James (who will single handedly ruin my fantasy team this year, but is also having a good spring), Kyle Davies (who battles inconsistency), Mark Redman (who battles being with crappy teams like the Royals), and of course John Smoltz who doesn't want to retire anytime soon. When Hampton comes back (and if Hampton can return to his peak form), the starting pitching is deep and serviceable.

The highlights of the lineup will lie in Andruw Jones and his contract year, Edgar Renteria...who is happy to be out of the American League once and for all, and the newly minted Brian McCann...a .300 hitting lefty catcher who just signed a huge contract at the age of 23. You can put Jeff Francoeur on that list too, but he strikes out an awful lot, and walking seems to be a concept foreign to him (his OBP was a paltry .293 last season). By the way, Francoeur's middle name is Braden. Just thought you should know.

Remember Larry Jones? Sure you do. He battled nagging injuries last season, and appears to be doing the same this spring. If they continue, he'll be relegated to less of a factor than he usually is...although he will get his quota of big hits against the Mets. You can be sure about that. Kelly Johnson is learning a new position at second base, Ryan Langerhans could platoon with Matt Diaz in left, and former Yankee Craig Wilson will platoon at first base with second year player Scott Thorman.

If Andruw Jones fulfills his expectations for a contract year, and if Tim Hudson bounces back, the Braves are going to be serious contenders. For me though, the mediocrities of their starting pitching and the relative lack of firepower in their lineup (along with the uncertainty of whether they can go out and get a big ticket item at the trade deadline with the transference of ownership from Ted Turner to Liberty Media) will keep them from reclaiming the throne they feel is rightfully theirs. But that isn't going to stop those incessant chops and chants from coming out of the deep south. Buy your earplugs, boys and girls.



I'll miss Captain Planet.

Prediction: Second place, 86-76