Sunday Dreamin'

I had a nightmare just now that Peyton Manning was firing darts all over the field against the Jets in the AFC title game. And Endy Chavez was in the stands next to me wearing a Gilligan hat and a Revis Island t-shirt.

And the very last pass that Manning threw ...








... struck out Carlos Beltran with the bases loaded.

Then he shot a commercial with Justin Timberlake at the 50-yard-line before accepting the Lamar Hunt Trophy. Omar Minaya then took the podium at Lucas Oil Field to announce that he had traded Shonn Greene for Sean Green and Shawn Green. In celebration, Dwight Freeney, Reggie Wayne, and Hanley Ramirez tied me up to the north goalpost and left me to die. Hours later, Tom Glavine sidled up next to me, put his arm around me, and told me that I had nothing to be devastated about. And that's when I woke up in a cold sweat.

I don't know what this means except for the fact that all those steroids I've been taking for purely medical purposes have made me hallucinate two sports at once (does that make me the Bo Jackson of nightmares?)

Well, I'm just glad that's over. And I'm glad that no matter what happens in the AFC Championship game today, it can't possibly be as bad as that.

Can it?

Go Jets.

J.J., Not So Dynamite, Seeks 2010 Spinoff

"All I kept on hearing in the streets of New York when you go get bagels in the morning was, 'Omar, please address the bullpen.' Well, to all you Mets fans, we've addressed the bullpen." -Omar Minaya 12/11/2008

The only thing missing from that speech was a parachute and an aircraft carrier. And much like George Bush on the USS Abraham Lincoln, Omar Minaya at the Bellagio delivered a victory speech that doesn't seem so much like a victory a little under a year later, as J.J. Putz was granted his million dollar option and sent loose into the deep, dark world that is free agency. Of course, after being a 2009 Met, that's a world that doesn't seem so deep, or dark.

There are plenty of reasons to blast Omar Minaya. I don't feel this is one of them ... at least not for the trade itself. I realize how everyone feels about Endy Chavez. But let's face it, his last days as a Met were hardly productive as an everyday player. He was better in Seattle before tearing his ACL before missing the season.

And also ... Aaron Heilman. Need I say more?

The mistake in the trade more than likely was either not knowing the medical history, or ignoring it all together. Looking back, misdiagnosing injuries would be a theme of this team, so I'm not really surprised. The idea of the trade was good. Even the execution was good. But when the guy who's the lynchpin of the entire trade is made to pitch two more weeks than he should have with bone spurs, then of course a trade is going to look bad.

It also didn't help that Sean Green was either pitching on eight days rest or eight straight days all season ... and that Jeremy Reed, who came as a defensive wizard in the outfield, was inexplicably put at first base for reasons we'll never understand. He also never saw playing time on a team that had about fifty players injured ... again, for reasons we'll never understand.

You may say that it was a bad idea to have a closer pitch the eighth inning, citing that Putz had concerns about not having that "ninth inning adrenaline rush". But that was probably a cover for the injuries that he was forced to pitch through ... and of course he's going to do it because he's not an excuse guy. I'm not sure having a closer in the eighth is bad roster construction. Heck, there have been plenty of eighth inning guys who have been a disaster in the eighth inning.

Again ... Aaron Heilman.

So did it work out? No. But Chavez and Joe Smith didn't exactly work out either, so this whole experiment will probably be a wash. That is, of course, until Ezequiel Carrera gets called up and becomes Superman for Seattle (He had an on base percentage of .441 in AA West Tennessee last season ... for the record. So get back to me about this trade in three years.)

Two Thirds, Three Balls, And Six Runs Create The Circle Of Life

Oliver Perez waited on the mound for Jerry Manuel to reach him, no doubt to remove him from his much ballyhooed matchup with Pedro Martinez before Martinez could stroll to the mound. He didn't know what to do. All he knew was that he was being pulled with a 3-0 count on the opposing pitcher, and his career was crumbling around him.

So he walked off the mound, into the dugout, down the tunnel towards the clubhouse. He kept walking. Down the corridor, past the old home run apple, out the bullpen gate, over the chop shops, across the bridge ...

Down Main Street, past Parsons Boulevard, and off he went ... Walkman in tow, to search for the meaning of it all. He heard of the ovation that Pedro received, the inside the park home run, the attempted comeback, and the unassisted triple play. As his head filled with the news of the Mets' latest demise that he caused, he looked up at the combination of cumulus clouds and isolated thunderstorms that signify the mixed bag that was his life. He knew he needed a change. He knew that change would not come in Flushing, where the organization that gave him $36 million dollars was deciding that they would remain status quo for the foreseeable future.

Oliver thought much of the circular nature of life during his walk. Eric Bruntlett set up his historic triple play by making two errors to put runners on, so Bruntlett completed his circle. Of course, that whole inning doesn't happen without his six runs in two thirds and three balls. So where was Oliver's circle? Where could he go to complete his journey? Wandering around looking at clouds while three run homers fly over your head certainly wasn't the path of a thinking man such as Oliver.

AP Alert (New York) - Mets' pitcher Oliver Perez announces his
retirement.

And with that, Perez was officially disappeared. But the competitor in Oliver remained. He would stare out his window that night. And when he wasn't imagining the tooth fairy spreading pixie dust all over the neighborhood, his brain was on an endless search to quench the competitive craze inside him. It was at that moment that he took a look at one of the many newspapers that he had ordered subscriptions to in Buffalo when he was bored during his rehab stint:

"Eureka! If this guy Favor can do it, so can I! I'm going to un-retire and play for the Vikings!!!"

The news conference was, in no exaggeration, bizarre. Capping off a day where news helicopters chronicled the landing of his personal airplane, the Vikings.com server crashed upon the flood of clicks to order a "46" jersey, and the ceremony upon where Perez's jersey said "Oliver" on the back ("I wanted it to be like my idol, Vida Blue"), Brad Childress, Ziggy Wilf, and Perez took the podium in Minneapolis without realizing where Perez would play. Quarterback, after all, was taken. Perez needed a position which was available, and where he would cause the least damage. Long snapper seemed like the perfect compromise.

But it was slow going for Perez, coming into camp mid-stream, learning a new position. Many of his snaps would hit Ryan Longwell in the face. Childress had a problem ... how could the Vikes have a kicking game if his new long snapper misses the holder completely? Surely, Favre can't keep going for it on fourth down. Not even a call to old pitching coach Rick Peterson would help.

BC: Coach? Coach Peterson?

RP: Yeah?

BC: Hi, it's Brad Childress. I want to ask you about Oliver Perez ...

RP: (click)

But then, like a bolt of lightning from the sky, former Viking great Fran Tarkenton agreed to talk Perez through his problems as a special consultant. Tarkenton and Perez would sit around the camp fire, and Fran would tell the most wonderful stories.

FT: Yeah Oliver, I knew a guy who juggled knives, another guy who stayed in a small box for hours on end, and still another guy tried to catch a bullet between his teeth!

OP: Wow Fran, that's incredible!

FT: I know! That's what I kept saying! But don't try this at home.

And with that, Ollie was rolling. Thanks to his new mechanics, and his friendship with Tarkenton, all his snaps were true. Longwell was perfect for the season, Chris Kluwe led the league in net punting average, and Perez was the getting more hits on his player page than any other long snapper on the internet. Life was good. The Vikings were going to Dallas to take on the Cowboys in the playoffs was even better.

There was added pressure on Perez for the game, as he was going to play center in the shotgun formation, snapping the ball to a Hall of Fame quarterback. Tarkenton told him that whatever he did, to be sure to snap the ball high to Favre. It wasn't the kind of pre-game pep talk he was used to from Fran, and he went into the game tight. Sure enough, when Childress called for the shotgun team with two minutes left in the half, Perez went into the game at center ... and had the most brutal athletic competition of his career. His first snap hit the scoreboard. His second snap rolled to Favre. His third snap went so far out of the end zone, it took a great catch by Endy Chavez from keeping the football from going into the first row of the stands.

OP: Why'd you tell me that, Fran?

FT: HA HA HA HA HA!!! I hate that sonofabitch Favre! HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!

OP: Oh.

The Vikes were out of the playoffs. The love affair between Minneapolis and Perez was over. Talk radio was all over him to make a decision about his playing career. It was then that Perez announced his retirement to ESPN's Ed Werder.

EW: Can you say without hesitation that you're retired for good?

Perez: Yeah ... yeah I can. And I'm comfortable with that.

But it wasn't over. After a very brief stint with the circus as a knife thrower, Perez wanted to return to baseball ... and he wanted to return with the Phillies. After the retirements of Pedro Martinez and Jamie Moyer, they were looking for a starter. And Perez wanted to come back to a division rival ... just like Favre did. But unlike the poison pill that the Packers put into their trade with the Jets, the Mets put no such restrictions on the Vikings. If Perez wanted to give up six runs for the Phillies in the first inning, fine by them. Besides, Omar Minaya had filled his rotation need by re-signing Orlando Hernandez.

So Perez returned for more baseball in 2010 ... and fired a no-hitter at Citi Field.

The circle was complete.

What An Encore!

It seems to me that the excitement surrounding K-Rod has been a bit muted. After all, the Mets got their big fish last winter in Johan Santana and Met fans were so excited that they were stripping down to their underwear and diving into vats of Crisco ... and where did it get them? Besides acne, it got 'em one more victory, one more game behind the Phillies, and one more heartache. So after the Mets got K-Rod at Costco prices, the response has basically been "Yeah yeah, what next?"

J.J. Putz, that's what's next.

To which my response is simply this:

Bravo. Brav ... freakin' ... O.

Yes, there should be more to come. There has to be more to come. A starting pitcher has to be on the way. Derek Lowe (for four years) should be that name. I know that's not happening, but something has to happen in the starting rotation. But the bullpen ... the huge reason the Mets have collapsed the last two seasons, is a long way towards being completely fixed. So let's take a moment to breathe the relevant parts of this deal at this time:

J.J. Putz/Mets: Let's get one thing straight right now: It's pronounced "Pootz". All right? Omar Minaya did a great job in getting this guy, but he's already mispronounced his name ... twice. It's J.J. Pootz. I know it's more fun to say Putz, and there'll be plenty of chances for that when he blows an eighth inning lead. But if you want him to be comfortable pitching the eighth inning in New York, please ... it's Pootz.

And that's the big question: Is this guy going to be comfortable stepping back into the eighth inning and into the shadow of Frankie Rodriguez? He has already said "no" to that, according to Rosenthal. But that was before the trade went down. He may change his tune ... he might have already. And considering that last season was injury riddled and not very warm and fuzzy statistically, he really should change his tune ... unless that WHIP drops below a buck twenty.

Here's why we like J.J.: This is a guy that can pitch to righties and lefties. Even when he stunk last year, his splits were pretty much even. Now granted, that's not going to be much consolation if he stinks again this season, or if he's injured. But at his best (like in 2007), he's going to be a beast. And for anyone who thinks that Putz is going to sulk and not be at his best because he's not mentally in it: It would hardly be in his best interests to do that. If he comes out with a monster season behind K-Rod, his value skyrockets ... and the Mets could conceivably pick up his $9M club option for 2010, then turn around next winter and trade him for a larger haul to a team that desperately needs a closer (provided K-Rod's arm doesn't explode on impact this coming opening day and Putz isn't closing for the Mets after all.)

Endy Chavez/Mariners: Best playoff catch ... ever. Made AIG a star. But AIG is known for other things now. And Endy Chavez is known for his struggling offense almost as much as he is for that catch. Chavez was collecting dust on the bench late last season, and when he wasn't dusty he was rusty. Endy just hasn't had the same impact on the Mets since his hamstring exploded in 2007. And his inclusion in this deal is somewhat neutralized by:

Jeremy Reed/Mets: It's a bit scary how similar the offensive stats were for Chavez and Reed last season. Reed is going to have to re-invent himself as an all around outfielder and not simply a center fielder.

Mike Carp/Mariners: Carp fields like a DH. He now goes to a team that can employ a DH legally and regularly. Everyone wins.

Jason Vargas/Mariners: Because Matt Lindstrom needed a good laugh.

Sean Green/Mets: Because that was the problem last season: The Mets were missing a Shawn Green. Yeah, well Sean Green is a reasonable facsimile ... you know, except for the fact that he's about 50 years younger and a reliever instead of a right fielder. Green Lite, though his left/right splits are almost as stark as your garden variety Mets reliever from 2008, will wind up being the ground ball pitcher to replace ...

Joe Smith/Indians: Easily the best player lost in this deal. Smith has great stuff as is ... and he's only going to get better. Remember, he's only going to be 25 next season. The Indians are going to be happy with Smith setting up Kerry Wood. You do have to give up quality to get quality. If Smith is the best quality given up in this deal, the Mets will be okay. Of course, the quality could come from an unexpected source. Which brings me to:

Aaron Heilman/Mariners: Wait a second, I want to repeat that a few times:

Aaron Heilman/Mariners.

Aaron Heilman/Mariners.

Aaron Heilman/Mariners.

All right, I'm convinced. He's gone. Aaron Heilman ... who it should be said by all accounts is a solid citizen, generous with his time, and all in all a heck of a guy ... is really, honestly, and truly, is a Seattle Mariner. I still can hardly believe it.

But let's be fair. I'm not here to kick Heilman out the door, despite repeatedly stating my desire to help him pack. I've called him stupid. I've compared him to The Blob, and Brandon Cruz. I've ripped him for giving up a home run to Emilio Bonifacio. He's been the bane of my existence for years. And now he's going to Seattle, no doubt to become a starter, win 20 games, and spur all Mets fans to e-mail me and say "See? SEE??!? SEE!!!!!"

Because you know that Heilman is going to be the next Alexei Kovalev, who ended his first career with the New York Rangers as a frustrating blockhead, only to go to Pittsburgh, pair with Mario Lemieux, and finally start to realize his massive potential.

There's no Mario Lemieux waiting for Heilman in Seattle (only Marwin Vega and Matt Tuiasosopo). And the Seattle Mariners are no Pittsburgh Penguins. But there is a chance that Heilman is refreshed by the change of scenery, and a chance to fulfill his dream of being a starting pitcher. The bottom line is that an Aaron Heilman resurgence was never ... ever ... going to happen in Citi Field. Heilman felt that he needed a change of role more than a change of scenery ... but he'll realize that trading the angry mob in Queens for the latte drinking crowd of Seattle will be the best thing for him. And honestly ... and I mean honestly ... I wish him nothing but the best. He may not realize it, but this will be a better deal for him than it will be for Mets fans. And don't be surprised if Heilman realizes some level of success.

With that said, I think it's important that we take the time and reflect on Aaron's career as a Met, and appreciate what he's done for us on the field. And if Heilman ever returns to Flushing as a visitor, I hope the Mets will use this as their tribute video (horrible production value and all). I guarantee there will not be a dry eye in the house that evening.



P.S. Now the video should work. Consider this the official unveiling.

When You Wish Upon What The Mets Call "Stars"

At the beginning of the day, I stopped at a fountain, and made a wish that the Mets would gain a game on the Phillies tonight. I was desperate. With that, I took a penny out of my pocket and hurled it towards the fountain with my eyes shut tight.

As I opened my eyes, there was Willie Harris diving in the fountain and catching my penny before it could hit the water.

But you know what, even after Harris' latest defensive gem which helped put a nail in the Mets 2008 season (which is currently in a hand basket on Hell's front porch), I'm beginning to think that it could have been Lenny Harris out in left field, and it wouldn't matter.

In fact, screw that. The Nationals could have fielded nine Lenny Harrises tonight. It didn't matter. It's not going to matter. Not when you can't get hits off a guy who gave up six runs in three innings in his last start against ... oh, wouldn't you know it? The Mets!

So let's review: The Mets are out of first place, Fernando Tatis is out for the season, and Endy Chavez couldn't save AIG. So for tomorrow's meeting, let's try reading from the passage of "Maple Bats, The Heimlich, and You".

A Crowbar To The Knee

I don't think they've ever made a movie about that whole Tonya Harding/Nancy Kerrigan situation. But if they ever did, you could easily cast So Taguchi as Jeff Gillooly. Playing the part of Kerrigan would be me in the fetal position screaming "Whyyyyyyyyyyyyy! Whyyyyyyyyyyyyy!" Because that's basically what I do every time So Gillooly picks up a bat. Or is that a crowbar that he takes to the knees and ankles of Met fans?

(Playing Tonya Harding in my Lifetime movie of the week would have to be that pain in the ass Shane Victorino ... only instead of a wedding video, Victorino would just dress up in a t-shirt that says "F-the Mets" with a Hawaiian grass skirt and he'd just do the hula ... or maybe that "I'm safe" dance he did at second base ... on the Shea Stadium mound all night.)

I mean, you have to be kidding me. Victorino, Taguchi, and Jimmy Rollins in the same six-run ninth inning rally? I'm shocked that Larry Jones wasn't instantly traded to the Phillies so he could have followed Rollins to the plate and put an end to the Mets franchise right then and there. And maybe Yadier Molina, Brian Jordan, and Terry Pendleton could have all come out wearing Phillies uniforms with crowbars in a conga line while taking their hacks at the pinata that is the Mets bullpen.

Not for nothing, but f**k!

Of course, people will be asking themselves if Johan Santana should have pitched the ninth inning. First off, Snoop Manuel gave an informed reason as to why he didn't trot Santana out, that he's very rarely gone past 100 pitches. Fine. And for those of you who scream at me hoping for a return to the old days where pitchers went nine innings, forget it. Outside of Roy Halladay, those days are dead and buried forever. Tony "I'm a genius" La Russa blew up the baseball landscape, it's time to move on.

But the most important reason to not bother complaining about that is that it doesn't matter who pitched the ninth inning because ...

wait for it ...

protecting a three run lead with three outs to go shouldn't be that hard!!!

Should it?

That's why Gary Cohen giving us the "this bullpen, thrust into unfamiliar roles ..." made me a little crazy (as if the bullpen didn't make me crazy enough to throw my shoe). No! No! No! Your role is to win the game!

You play ...

to win ...

the game!!!

Three outs, three run lead. At that point, is it really necessary to be a "ninth inning guy" to get three outs? One run lead, yes. There's definitely a difference between a set-up guy in the role of closer ... and a closer. Three run lead? Stop. Get three outs.

Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?

Think about it. Have you ever seen So Taguchi and Jeff Gillooly in the same place at the same time?

And Luis Aguayo, I'm on to you. Endy Chavez doesn't get thrown out at home plate twice in one game unless he has help. You ran Jesse Orosco out of town with your season killing home run, and now you're back to finish the job like you were the villain in some awful sequel starring Steven Seagal. Now that Tom Glavine is gone the agency had to infiltrate the premises with another spy. And despite Jose Reyes' dopey decision to try to beat Victorino to second base instead of throwing out a slow-footed catcher (a move that would have had Hugh Fullerton circling his scorecard if it was 1919) my ... first ... guess ... is ... you.

The truth is out there, Aguayo.

Don't Stare Directly At Moises' Hamstring

The post was supposed to be all sunshine tonight. Johan Santana continued the newfound dominance of the starting staff. Fluff Castro gave Johan some runs, and finally got to raise that finger after hitting a home run (how long before the Florida Marlins complain about his hotdogging?) Even Aaron Heilman remained (gasp!) good, as the Mets win streak reached five and all is well in Flushing.

But the sunshine is blocked by yet another Moises Alou injury. This time, while rehabbing his calf in Binghamton, his hamstring cramped up.

When asked about the Alou injury, Billy Wagner reportedly said "f***ing shocker."

There's something incongruous about Brett Favre still making up his mind about whether to play or not and keeping an entire city on edge, while Alou ... who has done almost everything in this game ... would still ride buses at age 41 just to get back to the show to try to win a World Series. But he can't because the muscles in his legs are made out of Charleston Chews.

Meanwhile the Mets are faced with trying to win the division with Fernando Tatis and Endy Chavez as the regular corner outfielders.

Bring Xavier home.

The Sun Shines Through

(Editor's note: Please forgive the potential weather metaphors that are possible with this post.)

The weather read like it was going to be more conducive to ducks ... er, I mean ducks and kites with keys on the end of them, than it would have been for baseball. But as I searched for the cell phone number of my game companion today (more on who that is later on) to ask if he was still into making the trek for Cap Day, knowing that we could wind up turning around and going home without seeing any baseball, that's when the sun started to peek through.

The rain that was forecast for pretty much the whole day (and had me anticipating a day/night doubleheader tomorrow) instead stayed away long enough for the Mets to come up with a stirring 3-2 victory at Shea today. The game worked out just like the weather today: cloudy and stormy early (Pelfrey giving up a run right off the bat thanks to his own sub-par stuff, and Jose Reyes ' glove doing an impression of a skillet on a throw from Endy Chavez that would have had Matt Kemp out by ten feet ... instead kicking the ball away and letting a run score), stabilizing in the middle (Pelfrey giving up two runs in seven innings for an outing that was more more laborious than his line would indicate ... yet probably saved his job) and very sunny late.

(Cue dream sequence music)

This is now starting to get about time where I start getting nostalgic about Shea Stadium. The first game I went to was more like "hey, it's the first game at Shea for me this year" (and I had no real time to sit and be nostalgic that game since I was too busy getting pissed off at the no run support for Pelfrey and trying to catch t-shirts shot out of a cannon ... and yes, I got one that day), so this second game was the one where it started to kick in. I sat in the right field mezzanine today, right near the seats that I spent so much time in during the late 80's, early 90's ... and when Carlos Beltran was up in the eighth as the tying run, I started to get some Darryl Strawberry flashbacks.

Strawberry's stats tell you that in close and late situations, he stunk. So maybe it was the idiocy of youth, or maybe it was the lack of the Internet to look up his numbers on the Baseball Reference website. But every time Straw came up, I had that feeling that something good was going to happen ... he always had the ability to jack one off the scoreboard. If I wasn't longing for Straw's close and late numbers instead of Beltran's (not terrible for his career, but awful for '07 and '08), I certainly longed for that good feeling to come back ... not like the feeling I get when Beltran's up. Damn, why can't Beltran hit one off the scoreboard every once in a while and send Shea rockin' like we always knew Straw could. I mean, things aren't as good now as they were then and back when I was young I had to walk uphill to school in the snow without any shoes or socks and I still believed Darryl Strawberry could hit the scoreboard mere minutes after rolling out of bed and ...

(The fwack of Carlos Beltran's bat brings me back to reality and ends the dream sequence music)

Holy crap! He hit one off of Jonathan Broxton! We never hit that guy. And Carlos Beltran roughed him up!

Broxton, as you know, is as big as a forest ... never mind the tree. So when Fernando Tatis came up, and we know that Tatis sometimes comes up to the theme from Superman, it was like a comic book battle between The Man of Steel and The Incredible Hulk. And with a bouncer up the middle, Superman won.

(Editor's note: Apparently this was a battle that actually happened in an actual comic book ... and Superman won that one too.)

And with that (and a one-two-three inning from Country Time in the ninth), the game was over, and the sun went away, knowing it was now needed more somewhere else.

***

There's a big milestone that happened today that I want to acknowledge.

No, I'm not talking about Manny Ramirez's 500th home run. (Although, that's worth acknowledging too ... not only because Manny is Manny, but also a beast of a hitter who's going to the Hall of Fame ... but because it came off our old friend Chad Bradford. And since former Mets have been muscling in on some milestone hits lately, I fully expect Ken Griffey Jr. to hit home run number 600 on Sunday against Royce Ring.)

Saturday's Mets victory was the 200th regular season win witnessed by my companion today: blogging buddy Greg Prince over at Faith and Fear in Flushing (a blogfest if there ever was one, especially with Mark from Mets Walkoffs stopping by as well). He even mentioned Manny Ramirez to me today in terms of having been through four losses before getting this victory, just as Manny waited a decent amount of time for number 500. Certainly, as Manny is going to the Hall of Fame five years after he retires, Greg deserves a place in the Hall of Fans if there was one. I'm happy to have been the Chad Bradford to Greg's Manny Ramirez.

***

Weirdest jersey of the day: The guy who came to Shea today wearing the Don Mattingly jersey.

The Don Mattingly Dodgers jersey. The one with the number 8 on it.

Dude, you topped my Todd Zeile jersey.

Your New York Mets: Now With 30% More Fuzzy

If there was ever a team that needed a win such as the one you saw on Wednesday night, it's your New York Mets.

(Boy, like you really needed me to tell you that. Like the first thing you thought was "I wonder how big a win this was ... let me read that Metsahumpa and find out.")

Yeah, let's be careful about taking two wins and a row and saying "this is it ... this is it ... this is it!" For example: I have a friend. Big Knicks fan. Seemingly every day for the past six or seven years before a big game he would come up to me and say "tonight's the night". The last time he said it to me, the Knicks lost by about seven hundred points. So look where that got him. He's reduced to a drunken mess who's perpetually rocking in the fetal position, hoping that the Knicks will somehow pick both Lopez brothers with the sixth pick (did I mention he was delusional?)

But last night was different. Look, when Willie Randolph whined about SNY never showing him clapping and pumping up his players, it seemed rather silly ... because I know I've seen him do that before via the fine camerawork of Sports Net New York. But if Aaron Heilman were to ever complain about that, now that would be a case. Because never have I seen Aaron Heilman do anything other than have that look like would rather be doing about a thousand other things ... or like he just had a root canal. Never has SNY caught Aaron Heilman point at a fielder and bark encouragement like they did tonight. Never had SNY caught Aaron Heilman ... wait for it ...

wait for it ...

clap and yell from the dugout.

Yeah! Aaron Heilman did just that! I saw him! I swear!!!

Because it sure is great to see Heilman come in, pitch two big innings, and strike out the first four batters en route to a perfect eighth and ninth to keep the Mets in the game to set up Endy Chavez' (!) pinch hit HR in the ninth to tie the game. But Aaron looked like somebody who somehow took whatever tension and regrets that he's had in his life and threw it out the window. He seemed ... dare I say ... happy?

Perhaps he's reached his moment of Zen! (Sorry, the Three Jewels of Zen Buddhism. I was recently corrected on that.)

And don't underestimate what those two innings did for the crowd. For one of the few times this season, I didn't get the sense from watching the game on television that the crowd was about three seconds away from storming the field with various blunt objects and such. It was a crowd that had the vibe of expecting something good to happen ... unlike the doom that we've sensed more often than not this season ... even after the Alfredo Amezaga home run. The crowd, I think, I can't be too sure, actually liked the Mets. The crowd was kinda like that scared cat that finally came out from under the bed to rub his dad's leg. (Yes, the Mets are dad's leg.)

We may have finally started that healing process that we've all needed a dose of. The Mets have had one walk off victory this season. It was courtesy David Wright and his wind blown fly ball that barely landed fair against the Pirates. What struck me about that was that Wright seemed more relieved than happy when the ball landed ... and everybody just kinda walked off the field ho-hum without a smidgen of enjoyment. Not how walk-off's are supposed to look.

This one was more like it.

Although I must admit, I still had that sense of doom after the game winner. I saw an AP story floating around my head that contained the words "Fernando Tatis", "victory pile", and "separated shoulder". But that's just because I'm insane. This team, between Heilman, Chavez, Luis Castillo blasting a home run (!!!) Carlos Delgado pinch hitting and not swinging at everything that crossed his path for a walk, Carlos Beltran's clutch hit in the 12th, and Tatis bringing it home and actually looking like he was enjoying himself, had that warm and fuzzy feeling tonight. The healing process might have begun.

Of course, another five game losing streak and both warm and fuzzy go down the drain (and probably clog it up). But if this starts that hot streak the Mets have been waiting about a year for to get them back up to the top of the division, then Wednesday night was indeed ... the night.

Jose Reyes Says Screw The Establishment, I'm Going Sean Avery All Over Baseball

Perhaps it's true that I have a Sean Avery fetish these days. But you can't blame me for having Avery on the brain with the Rangers up 3-1 on the Devils in the first round ... thanks mainly to Avery and his goal scoring. Of course, all anybody will talk about is Avery's face guarding of Martin Brodeur during Game 3, which was a gallant attempt to help the Rangers win (and until the next day, not against the rules ... so take that, establishment.)

I once compared Avery to Endy Chavez, in terms of pure record when the two are in the lineup. Now, the more apropos comparison would be Jose Reyes. Avery hacks people off on the ice with his nastiness and ornery nature. Jose Reyes ticks some people off in the baseball establishment with his exuberance ... hand slaps and dances.

That is of course until the beginning of the season where Reyes, in response to some in the baseball community poo-pooing his natural "high on life" state, decided to tone it down. And where did it get him? It got him a .205 average after nine games.

He learned a lesson. He learned that part of being effective is to not deviate from who you are. So guess what? The old Jose Reyes is back. And in two games, he's upped his average 87 points with six hits and a home run. So the whiny, easily offended portion of America's baseball establishment that wants to complain and be envious of Jose's hand slaps and dances and act like baseball is in the 1950's with firm handshakes at home plate is just going to have to deal with it.

(I'm looking at you, Hanley Ramirez.)

Spot The Oddity

It's a normal picture from a normal game.

The above picture was taken with my camera in a ballpark far, far away ... at a time long, long ago. Look closely: That's Eric Milton on the hill getting ready to give up a bomb to Jim Thome in the first inning of an eventual 12-5 Cleveland victory. Just your run of the mill blowout, captured by the picture ... just a normal picture.

Or is it?

Can you spot the oddity in the photo?

Give you a hint: You will most likely never see it again. And you would hope to never, ever, see it a Shea Stadium or Citi Field, unless we're talking Game 7 of the World Series ... and even then I'm not sure I'd want to see it.

(And no, nowhere in this picture is Pedro Martinez involved in a cockfight so that's not the answer ... though I would hope to never, ever see Petey holding a cock at Shea Stadium or Citi Field. If I did, I would be highly disturbed. Oh stop it ... you know what I meant. Get your collective mind out of the gutter!)

First to answer it correctly wins ... well, nothing. Except the respect and admiration of your commenting peers.

And we have a winner: "Thou Art Hail Johan" first nailed it as Johan indeed pitched from out of the bullpen that night, and Andrew V. from The 'Ropolitans actually quoted from the scoreboard sign verbatim four minutes later. For the record, Johan did indeed enter the game out of the 'pen on September 13th, 2002, and pitched two and a third innings of scoreless baseball. Of course, he had to clean up after the mess made by Eric Milton, who gave up not only the bomb to Thome (which was hit on the very pitch Milton was setting up for), but a bomb to the immortal Karim Garcia en route to nine runs in one and two third innings. The Indians went on to victory 12-5.

On the same night that I was taking pictures in Cleveland, the Mets lost in Montreal, 11-8 to the Expos. Montreal rode the two hits and three runs from some tiny center fielder named Endy to victory. I wasn't blogging back in 2002, so let me say this: Damn you John Thomson! (In retrospect.)

Sweating The Small Stuff

All right, all right. So Johan Santana is finally, officially a Met (get your jerseys to commemorate the occasion) and we can all relax for the 12 days until pitchers and catchers report. Right?

Well the roster seems to be set ... if you look at the depth chart (which will eventually be updated with Johan's name in place of Jason Vargas), everybody seems to have a purpose from the bench players (between Marlon Anderson, Endy Chavez, Fluff Castro and Damion Easley, all the positions should be covered) and the bullpen, there doesn't seem to be a wasted spot available, as there was when the Mets had Julio Franco, his .112 batting average and his timely knack for hitting into those clutch double plays. But 13 pitchers seem to be a bit much, especially if Orlando Hernandez is going to be the fifth starter instead of Mike Pelfrey, and the Mets decide to send Pelfrey down instead of making him sit around collecting dust bunnies in the bullpen. Then it would be time for that extra bench guy. So who's it gonna be?

Jose Valentin: Familiarality with the organization, plus a soothing effect on Jose Reyes (like Pepto Bismol, I guess) are big pros. Injuries, and the fact that he plays positions that are already taken care of by Easley and Anderson are a negative. Maybe he should rub some Pepto on his joints. Odds: 3-1

Kenny Lofton: The fact that he's been on a playoff team every season from 1995-2007 (minus '05) is a plus. Negatives? Well none of those teams have won the whole thing, and lately he's presided over a 3-1 series lead against the Marlins (Steve Bartman), a 3-0 series lead over the Red Sox (we know how that went), and a 3-1 series lead over the Red Sox (Boston is Kenny's kryptonite, obviously). Not that Lofton had much to do with those collapses ... in fact, Lofton had a very good personal playoff run last season (at least against the Yankees, he only hit .222 against Boston). But if Kenny was graded on mojo and karma, he'd be in existential summer school. Odds: 15-1

Kevin Mench: Now we're talking, right? Righty pop off the bench is a plus. Mench has a career .465 slugging percentage, and 84 K's per 600 AB's isn't horrible. But here's what is horrible: Mench would probably be a pinch hitter on a lot of occasions to try to either break games open, or get the Mets back in the game with one swing. Check out Mench's numbers as a pinch hitter: Peeeeeeeeeee-yoooooooooooooou! Career: 51 PA's and 47 AB's: one lonely HR and a batting average of .106 ... that's not only on the interstate, that's an interstate you'd only find on those kind of roads in Pennsylvania that you drive on in the dead of night and think "I wonder if this is that kind of road where the aliens hang out and beam people up from." Odds: 25-1

Bobby Kielty: Kielty hit a huge home run for the Red Sox in their clinching World Series game against Colorado, and if Ryan Church turns out to be a disaster, Kielty could be that right-handed platoon player that helps save the offense. Ironically, Santana's trade to the Mets would end any hopes of Kielty going back to Boston unless they traded Coco Crisp in a separate trade. Best part about Kielty is that he's a career .281 pinch hitter. Downside: His overall stats are nothing spectacular. And he has big, bright, orange hair. Imagine Sideshow Bob as a Met. Is this a future you want for your children? Odds: 35-1

Chris Shelton: Now here's a guy worth taking a look at. Shelton is currently a member of the Rangers organization, but not on the 40 man roster after Texas acquired pitcher Kazuo Fukumori. You remember Shelton as the guy who hit 2,000 (10) HR's for the Detroit Tigers in April of 2006 and he was everybody's superstud of the year, and the world made him the most popular fantasy pick-up in the free world on May 1st of that year. So if Shelton was up with the Mets in April of '08 he could do some serious damage. The problem is that the season doesn't end on May 1st, and Shelton played his way into the minors for all of 2007, where he only hit 14 HR's for Toledo. Not Arlington, Seattle, or even Florida ... Toledo. Besides, he would probably cost a minor leaguer in return, and I'm not sure we have any more of those after getting Santana. Odds: 45-1

Barry Bonds: Now there's some pop off the bench. Downside: Would there be room in the lockerroom for that big reclining chair? Odds: 2,000,000-1

Disclaimer: The reader of this blog assumes all risks occurring prior to, during, or after the blog entry including specifically (but not exclusively), the danger of having your computer ruined by spitting your cheerios with milk on to your keyboard after reading the name "Barry Bonds" in reference to the possibility of becoming a New York Met. The reader agrees that The Musings and Prophecies of Metstradamus, Major League Baseball, it's respective owners, officers and employees, the participating clubs and their respective officers, players, employees and agents are expressly released by the holder form claims arising from such causes.

Parallel Shoes

The way that New York Rangers defenseman Marek Malik has been booed out of the Garden this season, the prevailing thought in my head lately has been that Malik has become Guillermo Mota on skates.

With Endy Chavez's new two-year contract secured, a similar link has made itself evident: Chavez is Sean Avery in cleats.

You may say that Sean Avery has never had a catch like Endy Chavez had. Others may say that Endy Chavez has never had a catch like Sean Avery had. The similarities don't end there. The Rangers were 21-6-6 after acquiring the sandpaper game of Avery, and were 12-5-1 with Avery in the lineup before he was injured around the start of 2008. The Mets, meanwhile, were 45-26 in '07 with Chavez in the game at some point. Without? 43-48. Both do the little things that help their team win, yet both have battled injuries lately that have limited their effectiveness.

But just as the Rangers are a different team without Avery in the lineup, it was painfully obvious that the Mets were a different team without the late inning defensive heroics, the basepath speed, and the occasional 3-for-4 of Endy Chavez. So even though Chavez has received a deal with as many years as injured hamstrings, I'm sure you'll agree that Endy Chavez in the fold is necessary, even at the risk of having to deal with chronically debilitated hamstrings which possibly (maybe even realistically) could mean that Chavez may never be quite the same player again.

Now if we can get Endy to do some push-ups at home plate after hitting a home run, then the similarities would be creepy. Though I sincerely doubt that Endy Chavez will ever be the most hated man in baseball as Avery is in his sport. Besides, the Mets are already the most hated team in baseball ... but that's just in Hanley Ramirez's house.

Old Acquaintance Should, In Fact, Be Forgot

My sources are reporting that the Mets have hired respected scientists to take DNA from Endy Chavez's baseball mitt, Filthy Sanchez's goggles, and Jose Lima's Loreal to try to clone 2006. Reports say that the Mets, who are deathly afraid of what 2008 might bring, have hired the same scientists who made cats glow in the dark, so there's a chance that this could happen.


Rick Peterson says don't drink and drive on New Year's Eve ... that means YOU, Cecil.

Insurance...What A Concept!

You would think that a leaping amazing catch at a wall containing the logo of a now famous insurance company would have put a collective thought in the heads of the team that benefited from said catch.

AIG, in fact, stands for: Ain't Insurance runs Grand?

Ain't It Grand to be able to go into a late inning and be able to breathe...regardless of the fact that Jose Reyes had to kick Matt Treanor in the head to do it? Because it's not necessarily the clutch ninth inning come from behind win that's going to convince Met fans that their team is back...no, it's wins like today where you have chances to put a team away and you score five runs in the eighth inning (two home runs by Moises Alou don't hurt none either). They made the most of that chance today, unlike past games where they've had chance after chance to deliver the knockout blow and instead let teams hang around until they can break their hearts (see: Friday and Saturday).

But of course, with every silver lining comes a dark cloud (you like how I flipped that one on you, don't ya? You see, the usual phrasing is...ah, forget it). As soon as the Mets put Paul Lo Duca on the DL despite Lo Duca claiming he's healthy and feels great (after what's happened to Endy Chavez, I don't think I would take a chance, either), Fluff Castro comes up with "lower back discomfort", exposing the Mets to the musical stylings of Mike DiFelice.

Yes boys and girls, Mike DiFelice, until further notice, is the starting catcher for the New York Mets. If there is a silver lining to that dark cloud (oh, the phrasing equivalent of the double reverse! You can't stop me...you can only hope to contain me in a nut house somewhere) is waiting to see Willie Randolph justify batting DiFelice ahead of Lastings Milledge in the lineup. The anticipation is killing me.

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."

Hands Across Houston

So many words...so little sleep.

There was no way the Mets could lose after a catch like Carlos Beltran's catch on Saturday, could they?

Well, yeah...see: Chavez, Endy for reference.)

Yes, they have become proficient for losing games which contain a "catch of the year" candidate. And with the Houston Astros putting two, three, heck seemingly five runners on base per inning, there was ample opportunity to lose this game...especially when entrusted into such normally undependable hands such as Guillermo Motas hands, Scott Schoeneweis' hands, and Aaron Sele's hands.

Of course, it would have never gotten that far if the same Carlos Beltran as seen in the fourteenth inning would have done a little better than 0 for 6 prior.

It may not have gotten that far if Paul Lo Duca didn't try to take third base with two outs in the ninth, proving that one only needs the brain of an ostrich to feel he has the speed of a gazelle.

It may not have gotten that far if Tony Randazzo had given Tom Glavine a third strike against Morgan Ensberg.

It may not have gotten that far if the Mets hadn't made Woody Williams look like Walter Johnson, or the rest of the Astros bullpen look like the Four Horsemen of Notre Dame.

But you're glad it went that far, aren't you? You're glad you witnessed that incredible in the fourteenth, where Carlos Beltran ran up Tal's Hill and cradled the Luke Scott certain game winning blast into his glove as if he was John Stallworth gathering in a touchdown with his fingertips in the enemy end zone of the old Municipal Stadium, and subsequently getting pelted with dog biscuits by the Browns faithful. What could they have thrown at Beltran in Houston? Pulled pork? Nachos? Aggie fans?

(Editor's note: Football reference works here, since Tom Glavine's revelation on Saturday that wearing the Earl Campbell helmet in the clubhouse was the lucky helmet that gave the Mets their winning runs in the seventeenth. See that, Astros fans? You can't even depend on your native son to bring you luck. What's next, Jose Valentin breaks out of his slump while wearing Clyde Drexler's wristbands?)

And how many times do you see it: A guy makes a great catch to end an extra inning, and who comes up...three innings later to win the game in the seventeenth, but that same guy? Uncanny, isn't it? Well actually you never see it...so if you stayed up for it, you're glad you did.

You're glad you saw that catch, and the subsequent RBI to turn a horrific 0-for-6 into the best 1-for-7 you've ever seen. You're glad you saw David Wright's four hits in eight at-bats, including his big tying HR in the seventh. You're glad you got through all those tense moments of Mota, Schoeneweis, and Sele...because baserunners or not, all moments involving those three seem to be tense. You're glad you saw a game that really should have been a playoff game, especially set against the backdrop of Houston, and 1986, and Mike Scott (who may or may not have had his "box of tricks" found by Woody Williams which would explain how a guy who had one swing and miss all of his last game struck out six Mets on Saturday), and the sixteen inning game against which all sixteen inning games are judged.

Saturday night may have set a standard for which all future seventeen inning games must match.

People may say that this is the potential turning point of the season, the point that brings this club closer together. More likely, this is the game that enabled the Mets to get their first good night's sleep in a while...however short it may be considering they have a game in less than eleven hours from now. But no matter what this game does for the team besides gain a game on our closest competitors, it certainly makes this blogger feel a whole lot better about things. Now, just maybe, I can get a good night's sleep.

Hopefully, you will too.

Mets Win Despite Invisible Sabre Tooth Hamstring Eater

Is there an animal that lives about 80 feet up the first base line that jumps up and bites runners in the hamstring as they go by? And who's equipment bag is this animal stashing himself in?

Jorge Sosa was hustling to beat out a double play on a sacrifice bunt one second, the next second he was writhing in pain on the ground as if he was...well, as if he was Endy Chavez, who got hurt the exact same way in the exact same spot on the field in the exact same hamstring...

...against the exact same team.

Well whaddaya know, another conspiracy we can blame on the Phillies: carnivorous hamstring eating animals.

The Mets organization is saying that it's a strained hamstring, but they also said that Moises Alou just needed a day of rest too before "finding" a tear in his quad. Believe me, if the Mets could get away with calling it a "lower body injury", made famous by Pat Quinn and the Toronto Maple Leafs, they would. Especially since the more severe the injury, the higher the price for Mark Buehrle would probably become. (And maybe higher if wherever Oliver Perez was bitten turns into an issue. Mike Pelfrey, white courtesy phone.)

But the five innings they did get from Sosa were solid enough to get them another victory in Philadelphia, making sure that they will exit the city of brotherly crab fries in better shape than they will have entered it. And there's another rookie pitcher that will be waiting. Today it was J.A. Happ (he prefers that the A. is silent...who knew?) Tomorrow it will be Kyle Kendrick, a higher tiered prospect with a name that sounds like he should be running the Lenox Industrial Tools 300 tomorrow.

Of course, the scarier injury was one that was suffered (kinda) by Jose Reyes, who jammed his right shoulder on a first inning swing and had trainers check on him before and after his single in the frame. But when he scored ahead of Paul Lo Duca's first inning home run and he commenced with the handshake, we knew he was fine. Reyes then was seen smiling and laughing in the dugout before hitting the field in the bottom of the frame, while at the same time Tim McCarver was telling us that he wasn't sure if Reyes would be on the field when that inning came.

See with your eyes, Tim. See with your eyes.

And me thinks that Carlos Beltran is back, with four home runs (and if you remember his first at bat from Friday's nightcap, almost five home runs) in two games. The last home run almost saw Aaron Rowand climb the fence and make what would have been one of the most spectacular catches in the history of spectacular catches. It was in his glove. But in line with the way things are going for the Mets this weekend, the ball squirted out, and all remains well in the world of Carlos Beltran and the Mets.

But you know how I know things are going right with the Mets? Scott Schoeneweis pitched a scoreless inning. Will wonders ever cease?

Midwestern Rules of Displacement

So I was having a conversation the other day with an Ohio State student. I asked her how upset they were about losing to Florida in two separate championships, in two separate sports. I paraphrase the answer:

"When we lost in football, we were too shocked to be really angry...because we were supposed to win that game. So there really wasn't a lot of anger on campus.

Then, when we lost in basketball, as we were supposed to as the underdog, we really couldn't get too upset about that, so we got really mad at the football team. And all the anger started coming out."

Displaced anger. What a concept.

And that's why I can't get upset over Sunday night's brutal loss to the Yankees, making the 2007 Subway Extravaganza a complete wash. Because I really didn't expect much from this matchup between Orlando Hernandez and Chien-Ming Wang. I figured that if the Mets went down meekly against sinkerballer Brandon Webb, their luck probably wouldn't be much better against sinkerballer Wang. Hernandez would have had to have been lights out to merely get the Mets to extra innings, and to the tenuous Yankee bullpen, to have the best chance of taking this rubber game.

Not to be.

That's why Saturday's game still sticks with me. All of a sudden, I'm throwing pizza boxes again, just as I did on Saturday, but without the shock and mindlessness of it. This time, the anger was more calculated, if not timely.

That's why the Los Angeles series still sticks with me. Swept by a team that fired their hitting coach for their lack of offense, except for their sweep against the Mets...of course.

That's why the Philadelphia series still sticks with me. Even one win would have put the Mets in a significantly better position than they are now. That one win should have been the middle game...the Aaron Heilman 0-2 home run to Jimmy Rollins and Endy Chavez exploding hamstring game.

With every loss from here on in that holds the Mets back in the standings, I'll keep being angry about those games. I'll keep throwing pizza boxes.

This upcoming homestand doesn't give the Mets a breather, as the Twins and Athletics come to town. The Mets have a chance to take care of two bugaboos that they have: Win at home, and win against tough American League competition. The Mets have an interleague record of 4-5...considering that consists of a split against the Yankees, and one win in three tries against the Tigers in Detroit, that's actually not so bad. But the Mets need to turn it around this week. They need to turn it around at Shea, where they are only 17-16, and they need to turn it around against pitchers like Carlos Silva on Monday (4-7, 4.07), Scott Baker on Wednesday (1-2, 7.33), and Lenny DiNardo on Friday (2-3, 2.21, five runs in 3 and 2/3 on Saturday).

If they wait until the 25th when the putrid defending champion comes to town, then how good will it really feel? And will they be in first place by the time that day comes? And how many pizza boxes will I have thrown by then thinking about Heilman's gopher ball, Glavine giving up thousands of runs, Hong-Chih Kuo, and Carlos Beltran swinging at the first pitch?

A Quantity Of One

It sure didn't seem as neat and tidy as a 2-0 win should have been. There were runners all over the place against Oliver Perez, who wasn't too sharp with his control despite not allowing a run through the first three and 1/3.

And then there was Miguel Cairo's fly ball to left field at Yankee Stadium, which has been a coffin corner for the Mets at times, between Lenny Harris' deflected ball off his glove for a home run, and Todd Zeile's home run except for the fact that it wasn't which resulted in Timo Perez becoming a household name by not running. So when Carlos Gomez went back to the wall, there was trouble written all over my television screen.

And when that fan in the front row lept out of his seat to try to become part of the game and interfere with the natural order of life, the worry on my screen grew ten-fold. You know what can happen when kids...or drunks...or well meaning folk with walkmen decide they want to be part of the fun.

But the ball landed harmlessly in a leaping Carlos Gomez's glove, who turned it into a double play, saving the Mets from not only their fifth loss in a row, but the embarrassment of getting through a lineup full of all-star caliber players only to give up the big hit to Miguel freakin' Cairo.

Subsequent to that catch, Perez calmed down and looked a lot better the rest of the way going 7 and 1/3's scoreless before giving way to the bullpen for some stellar work. And by the way, even though it was Gomez and not Chavez, and even though Gomez only prevented a double while Chavez prevented a two run HR, did you think back to Endy's catch when you saw Perez with his arm up in celebration? Did you get all warm and tingly inside for a moment before you remembered how that game ended? Thankfully, this game ended differently.

It still doesn't mask the deficiency of the middle of the order. The Mets lineup, you see, is a tasty treat. Unfortunately, the tasty treat in question is a doughnut. Gomez and Jose Reyes provided the speed and savvy, with Gomez bunting his way on base twice against the aging walrus that is Roger Clemens (gee, making the 45 year old move around...what a novel concept), and Reyes driving both runs in with a single and an upper deck dinger. But Carlos Delgado took the golden sombrero tonight against some less than nasty stuff from Clemens. Diesel struck out against batting practice fastballs, for crying out loud. And the four through eight hitters in the lineup had a grand total of zero hits.

So while the Mets are finally in the win column with a one game winning streak, there was little of quality to fall back on to make this blogger feel that this team is completely out of the woods. Saturday features Tyler Clippard for the Yankees, who baffled the Mets at Shea Stadium causing my back to go out (well, it wasn't exactly Tyler Clippard that did that, but it's a good story). The Mets lineup has an opportunity to get well against this rookie now that there's some tape on him. He fooled them once, shame on him. Fool them twice?

Well, you know who gets shame then.