For People Who Communicate Not Good

"But I am throwing my fastball." -John Maine to Dan Warthen during a trip to the mound on Sunday night.

Not that I necessarily trust the lip reading skills of Joe Morgan, but ...

Uh-oh.

And not for nothing, if there was ever a time to cover your mouth with your glove when you speak, that would have been it, no?

It's never a good thing when you have a Brewster's Millions moment on the mound where the pitcher throws his fastball and the announcer calls it a changeup, along with everyone on both benches. It sure isn't a good thing if your pitching coach thinks you're throwing a change-up. And you know what's really scary? Not only is it my second Brewster's Millions reference regarding that particular scene, but I'm not even the first person to make a John Maine/Brewster's Millions connection this week!

Yeah, uh-oh.

That Maine actually got through the fourth inning scoreless was something of a feat, much like the feat that Mets pitchers pulled off this weekend of minimizing Albert Pujols' damage. Think about this for a second: Pujols was 2-for-14 this weekend with four walks. And the Mets dropped two out of three. That's like getting Shakira's phone number and transposing two of the digits while putting it in your cell.

But the fifth inning was Maine's undoing as a walk, single and Colby Rasmus' three run dinger put Maine out to pasture. And once Adam Wainwright found his groove against a lineup that featured Frank Catalanotto in the clean-up spot, you knew it was over. You weren't sure whether it would take 8 and a half innings via a Ryan Ludwick home run, or 24 innings after Blake Hawksworth no-hits them for nine innings after Tony La Russa says he's not available, but eventually the Mets were going to be toast. That I was happy the game wrapped up promptly so that I could catch the Sharks/Avalanche game is a distressing sign on my part.

In a related story, the lineup probably isn't going to feature Catalanotto in the clean-up spot much longer as the club is doing the deed and bringing up Ike Davis. Something tells me that the Mets actually wanted to keep Davis down and let him dominate AAA for a little while longer. But that the sorry state of first base combined with the desperation of the front office and coaching staff to keep their jobs has expedited the process. I'll admit it. The recent rushing of prospects has made me gun shy about bringing these guys up too soon. But at least Davis is a college product and he's 23. And by all accounts he's projected in that "very good to special" category. I hate that Chris Carter is never going to get a chance with the Mets, which means that the Billy Wagner trade is now officially botched forever dooming Carter to Val Pascucci status unless they can now find a trade partner for him. But if Ike Davis is ready, then this is the move to make ... even if it is for the wrong reasons.

If ... he's ready.

Ike Davis: "The Stimulus"

Now as long as Davis isn't brought up to fall victim to a straight platoon with Fernando Tatis or a Snoop Manuel quadruple switch, he'll be fine.

If We Die, We Die

So what if the middle of the rotation is made up of question marks and silly putty.

So what if the bullpen wasn't cemented until the last spring training game.

So what if Mike Jacobs, who wasn't a lock for the Opening Day roster a week ago is now the cleanup hitter.

So what if Jenrry Mejia is merely the latest prospect rushed through the system despite the decree that things were going to be different 'round here.

So what if outside of Jason Bay the team is still same ol' same ol'.

So what if Snoop Manuel is still the manager.

So what if Omar Minaya is still the GM.

So what if the Wilpons still grip this team like a vice drenched in flop sweat and shame.

Baseball season is here.

And here's how I look at it: Unless the top-level talent performs above and beyond their best performances so as to cover up the mistakes of the rest of the rosters ... unless the newfound clubhouse chemistry really makes the difference between winning and losing ... unless Oliver Perez forgets he's Oliver Perez ... it's most likely going to be a tough grind of a season. I emphasize "most likely" because anything can happen. We learned this last season.

But why stress? Why worry about all that now? It's Opening Day. The Mets are tied for first. They're serving lasagna bolognese at Citi Field. Life is good.

As far as the season goes, I believe it was Alex Cora who told Dustin Pedroia the following when Pedroia was experiencing some flight fright:

"If we die, we die."

Most likely, this season will have casualties. Maybe Minaya. Maybe Manuel. Maybe both. Maybe our collective sanity. Who knows? But make no mistake: The lowered expectations that this team has will make all the bitching, moaning, and complaining fun again.

There will be bitching.

There will be moaning.

There will be complaining.

That's all I can guarantee for 2010. Win total? I had 91 last season and was only off by about twenty. So I'm staying away from picking a number. Instead, I'm going all Range Game and saying that this team could go anywhere from 78-86 wins. I'm counting on a full season from Jose Reyes, a bounce back season from David Wright, a nice season from Jason Bay, and Johan Santana being the 2008 Johan Santana.

I'm not counting on Oliver Perez doing anything. I'm not counting on Jenrry Mejia to fool hitters past a month. I'm not counting on Sean Green to turn into Chad Bradford.

Everything else, I can only hope for. I hope Jeff Francoeur keeps smiling, keeps hitting, and keeps his K's to a minimum. I hope Mike Jacobs can return to the production of his Florida days. I hope that Carlos Beltran's return means something more than a two month audition for a playoff team that plays somewhere other than Flushing. I'm hoping Ike Davis and Fernando Martinez tear up Buffalo until September. I'm hoping that Bobby Parnell learns a cutter. I'm hoping Ryota Igarashi puts spring behind him. I'm hoping Mike Pelfrey bounces back like I think he will. I'm hoping Hisanori Takahashi is nothing like Ken Takahashi. I'm hoping John Maine keeps his puking to a minimum. I'm hoping Jon Niese grows up. I'm hoping Angel Pagan remembers how to get from first to home. I'm hoping Gary Matthews Jr. is slightly more than adequate. I'm hoping Frank Catalanotto was as good an idea now as he would have been five years ago. I'm hoping Pedro Feliciano continues to strike out Ryan Howard and Chase Utley with regularity. I'm hoping Frankie Rodriguez doesn't give up another grand slam to Justin Maxwell. I hope we see Chris Carter. I hope we see Daniel Murphy. I hope Rod Barajas and Henry Blanco are as defensively able as advertised. I hope those two knock some sense into the pitching staff.

Yes, I have a lot of hope this season.

But if we die, we die. As long as we die big.

And if we die, I hope somebody brings punch to the Apology Day party I'm throwing.

Sight, Sound, But Never Mind

There is a fifth dimension, beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as right field, and as timeless as Mike Piazza's mustache. It is the middle ground between Shea, and Citi. Between a level swing, and a barbecue at Hojo's house. At it lies between the pit of your stomach, and the line at Shake Shack. This is the dimension of an active imagination. It is an area which we call ... The Twilight Zone.

"Look, things were pretty bleak in 2004."

"Very bleak in 2004 ... before I got here."

"I got Carlos Beltran after 2004."

"2004."

"Hey why are the Red Book and Green Book from 2004 sitting on my coffee table?"

"Oh my God, it's 2004!!!!!!!!!"

"Let's see, let me flip through this Red Book. Who's good, who's good ... ummm, Frank Catalanotto! I will trade for him!!!"

"Now I need someone from the Green Book to find som... John Smoltz!!! I'll certainly make a splash by trading with Atlanta for the great John Smoltz! Ooooooooooh! Now I need to clear room on my mantle for that Executive of the Year trophy!"

Submitted for your approval: A general manager desperate to escape his current problems running a baseball team that his mind drags him back to the very season he started. Maybe to escape his current situation? Maybe to erase the last five seasons from his memory? What would drive a man to pursue two men, relevant five years prior, yet barely on the fringes of everybody's mind now? The answer can only come if you take a trip to a dimension far, far away ... in the Twilight Zone.

***

(Editor's note: Before anybody jumps down my throat for being negative about anything and everything ... and I know some of you are sharpening your internet swords as you read this ... Frank Catalanotto is a halfway decent signing. There, I said it ... so save your attacks. This piece was meant to illustrate the point that Frank Catalanotto is a good player, but a good player who everybody wanted to be a Met five years ago. Instead we get him now ... now that he's 35 years old which seems to be the cut off point as Omar thinks that players need to age like wine. I mean who's next ... Gregg Jefferies? I shouldn't joke about that. He's younger than Julio Franco. Well, here's hoping that Catalanotto is more Pinot Noir than Thunderbird.)