While Others Spoil, The Mets Are Sweeteners

Nice of the Mets to improve everybody else's playoff hopes since they really haven't had any since Shea still stood. Thursday night's embarrassing effort helped the Braves out as they completed their sweep of the orange, black and blue (in that order) putting them four and a half behind the wild card leaders, and dropping the Mets all the way back to 1965.

The big news came before the game when Gangsta General indeed pulled Bobby Parnell from the starting rotation and put him in the bullpen for the last two weeks of the season, while still holding fast to plans to have him start games in winter ball. Makes perfect sense to me, because as you know long term plans are for suckers. Winning games is the ultimate goal, a goal that the Mets have executed veeeeeeery weeeeeeell in September.

And don't you find it funny that now, now, when the season is out the window, we're worried about putting the best team on the field to win games, as opposed to worrying about getting Gary Sheffield and Fernando Tatis at bats. Nothing backwards about that at all.

Snoop then went on to continue citing injuries as the reason that the Mets can't seem to spoil anybody else's September, even though everybody else seems to spoil Flushing Septembers when injuries aren't a factor.

But the best news/speculation came of the night came courtesy of these guys:

"Andrew Marchand of ESPN 1050 NY radio just tweeted that an associate of the Wilpons says they might not spend at all this off-season. He went on to say that his source said that the only way to get the Wilpons to spend will be public pressure."

Oh great. Way to formulate a plan and stick to it ... unless of course the press is bad. Maybe with all the extra money they save perhaps the Wilpons can buy themselves a spine. And maybe they'll have some left over to splurge on a clue for Manuel.

Public pressure? Oh please let this be true ... because this is the most hysterical thing I've heard. And it fits, doesn't it? The only way the Mets put a picture of Ed Kranepool up in the hallway was because everybody bitched and moaned about it. But somehow I think it's going to take more than me typing "spend spend spend spend spend" on this blog over and over again to get the Wilpons to put money into the product. No, I'm thinking about ten thousand of you showing up at Citi Field in November carrying pitchforks and torches, dressed as bankers.

And mind you that Jeff Wilpon, who'll only do stuff if enough people complain, is the guy who wants to make more of the day-to-day decisions. But if the payroll really is frozen, he's just going to make the same decision over and over again:

Nope, can't afford him. See if Hernandez is available.

Which one?

Does it matter?

Ooooooh, I can't wait for the off-season! Giddy!

Anger Mismanagement

A lot of things bothered me about the Mets 14 inning, 10-8 loss to the Cardinals on Saturday.

Very few of these things happened on the field.

I mean, yeah the Mets left too many on the basepaths even though they scored eight runs ... and yeah, there were too many double switches in the sixth inning which I knew would come back and bite them if the game went into extra innings (which it did, with Country Time having to go two innings and Aaron Heilman having to go three, which against Albert Pujols is tempting fate waaaaaaaaaay too much.) But it doesn't get much more satisfying than Brandon Knight (The lost New Kid On The Block) bouncing back from a disastrous first inning to pitch five acceptable innings on the whole ... or more exciting than Carlos Delgado hitting two home runs (both of which were called by my Shea Stadium companion for the evening: "The Artist Formerly Known As Jinx" ... or more thrilling than Fernando Tatis jacking one to center field to tie the game in the ninth. I mean, the win would have been great, but I'm not going to waste my energy complaining about a game that probably would have ended 8-2 Cardinals if this was April or May.

No, I'm here to complain about what happened in the stands tonight. And please allow me to get right to the point:

You people who insist on standing at the bottom of the section having your friends take pictures of you while the game is going on in the background should never be allowed into a sporting event again.

Look, I know this is the last season of Shea Stadium. Fine. You want to preserve your memories. Fine. You want a picture of yourself in the House That Kranepool Built. Fine. But it's bad enough you stand at the entrance of the section between innings and block everyone from getting to the bathroom or the snack line before it fills up. Tonight, you took to standing at the entrance of the section while the play was going on and blocking our view of the game!

And believe me, I'm not writing this because of one bad apple ... or two, or three even. There were no less than 30 people who, either at the entrance of the section, or the top of the bar around row F which lied in between sections, had their pictures taken by their friends during play! DURING PLAY!

You know what's worse ... this wasn't happening from innings one to four while we're barely paying attention. This was happening in the fifth inning. The sixth! The seventh! This was happening in the BOTTOM OF THE NINTH INNING WITH THE SCORE TIED AT 8-8!!!

And not just one picture, mind you ... people were doing this in groups of seven or eight, one or two at a time! "Okay, let's take a picture with you on the right and me on the left ... all right, now switch places and let's take a picture this way ... all right now let's give the camera our bootylicious pose ..."

Let's get one thing straight, America: I DID NOT COME TO A BASEBALL GAME TO WATCH YOU PLAY AMERICA'S NEXT MEDIOCRE MODEL!!! SIT THE #$%& DOWN AND WATCH THE #$%&ING BASEBALL GAME THAT YOU, I, AND THE PEOPLE WHOSE VIEW YOU'RE BLOCKING PAID GOOD MONEY TO SEE!!!

I mean really, does anybody come to a baseball game to ... pray tell ... watch a damn baseball game anymore? I swear to you, during the bottom of the ninth while the family photoshoot was going on, there was a couple in the tunnel within eyeshot of the game making out. 8-8 in the ninth, and they're making out. What drove me insane was that when the ninth inning ended, the couple then left the tunnel and went back into the concourse like "oh, now it's safe to leave ... we won't miss anything." Unlike all the action they caught while they were playing tonsil hockey.

All right, I see that I need to lay down some new rules to live by. Here they are:

• If you came to a baseball game to get rip-roaring drunk, there are these hot new places that are especially made for you to do that. I don't know if you've heard of them, they're called bars. Check your local yellow pages for those.
• If you came to a baseball game to make out, you should know that for the money that the Mets are charging for tickets these days, you can probably take that money and get an hourly rate at the Lincoln Motor Inn. This way, you can make out in private and even grope each other if you'd like ... beds are much more comfortable than plastic seats. You can even use the television to have the Mets game on in the background. I say this as a public service.
• If you came to a baseball game to have family photo time while the game is going on so that you can capture the best of your family and the action of the ballgame at the same time ... there's a place for you too. Got a pen? Here goes: JCPenney! I'm sure if you ask, they'll key in a nice photo of Shea Stadium behind you. You could probably have JCPenney key in the Buckner play too so you can tell your friends you were there.
• And the most important rule to live by ... as always ... sit down and watch the game!!!

The sad part is this: While this was the first time I've noticed this run rampant ... it's only going to get worse as the games left at Shea count down until the end. And at the new field: With only season tickets and day of game tickets being sold at lord knows what price, this new contingent of spectator will only spread like wildfire. But this is what Fred Wilpon wants ... this is what Bud Selig wants ... this is what Roger Goodell wants ... this is what Woody Johnson wants with his PSL's that are designed to drive out the fan who chants for his team at key moments in the game, and bring in the spectator who chants when the scoreboard tells him to ("Everybody clap your hands!" Screw you and don't give me orders!!! I'll clap on my own time, thank you.)

And if this is who is going to be surrounding me at the ballpark or at the stadium or at the arena, then I will gladly take my ticket money and put it towards a 43" flat LCD screen and watch my sporting events from the comfort of my living room, while I'm blogging about the next thing that bothers me.

(Editor's note: My friend says I have anger management issues. I wonder if he figured that out when I was yelling at these people to sit down, or during the 11th inning when I yelled at Aaron Miles to go back to his treehouse and make me some cookies. I'm not sure.)