Live Bat...Dead Arm

That was a Roy Hobbs moment we witnessed on Saturday at Shea.

It was surreal to see everyone rise as one in the fifth inning and cheer Carlos Delgado before the pivotal at-bat of the game. It wasn't like that in innings one and three, where Delgado failed. He came up in those innings to an apprehensive crowd...mixing boos and cheers. Then came the fifth inning, with Jeff Conine being walked to get to Delgado.

Grady Little and Eric Stults...the supposed Met killer...slapping Delgado in the face by basically giving in to the bashing by Met fans, saying "your own crowd doesn't think you can do it, so we don't think you can do it either". And once again it comes down to Met fans being protective of their own. "Sure, we can boo him...we're family. But don't you dare come in as an outsider and slap our guy in the face...no way." So the crowd rose as one to exhort their embattled one on. The FOX cameras caught it just as it was scripted. Of course FOX always has at least 35 cameras in the stands to catch those "I just saw Elvis" looks in the crowd. But for once, the cameras were useful. Because as if the crowd all at once said "what the hell have we been doing with our booing? Let's try something different...and let's show Grady Little that he shouldn't disrespect our guy by walking to get to him. Disrespecting our guys are our job."

Don't think Carlos didn't notice. Don't think the shortness of Carlos' swing on his two run single to center field which basically won the game (Orlando's ninth straight start with a win...yeah, he helped too) was a coincidence. He knew. He understood. All that was missing was blood on his jersey and a Savoy Special.

Of course, to go with our newly live bat, is a dead arm. And unfortunately, it's Billy Wagner's dead arm. Country Time has pitched a lot lately...why else would Aaron Heilman be entrusted with the fire hose today? Thankfully, there was water in the hose instead of kerosene. That's probably because Willie Randolph never told Heilman he was closing...he never had a chance to fill the tank with gas.

Somebody get the ointment to revive Billy's arm...quickly.

Summoning Mr. Marlin, The Barbarian

If you're going to bring in every former Marlin known to man, then you mind as well get Mr. Marlin.

Jeff Conine was a necessary get for the New York Mets, with the injury to Damion Easley. He is also a great get as he provides right handed pop off the bench, and prevents the brass from having to worry about what would happen if they ever had to see Anderson Hernandez play in another major league game.

Here's what I like best about Jeff Conine: He has a grill. Rusty Staub also had a grill. Rusty got a lot of pinch hits despite obviously overindulging in the leftovers from his rib place. Conine, who is in much better shape and is marginally faster than Rusty, will be asked to do the same...I mean get pinch hits, not eat all his leftovers, which he obviously has refrained from. I'm not sure if it's Jeff's greater will power than Rusty, or that the food isn't that great that Jeff has been able to resist it for so many years, but in either case good for Jeff, and good for us.

(Conine's "Clubhouse Grille" is in Hollywood, FL...just off of I-95. That means that most likely, Shane Spencer has either been drunk, involved in a bar fight, and/or arrested there at least once in his life. I'm not sure about what kind of karma that brings, but it's karma nonetheless.)

Oh, you want like, tangible reasons to like Jeff Conine. All right, try this on for size: Career average as a pinch hitter: .292. Career with a runner on third and less than two men out (you know, those situations that make you pull your hair out because the Mets can never get anybody in): .356 (and that's 344 RBI's in 340 at bats in those situations).

And before you're thinking that most of that damage came when he was an all-star and that he can't do it anymore now that he's 41 years old: His 2007 numbers as a pinch hitter: .409. His 2007 numbers with a runner on third and less than two outs: .500. That's half his at bats!

OK, so he only had eight at-bats in that situation this season. But how many times would you expect the Reds to have had a runner on third base this season? They are after all, 54-70. (Yeah, keep picking on the Reds stupid...you'll only be there in September, do you want to get killed? Why not just wear your Buddy Harrelson jersey and make sure you die!) Oh, and that 4 for 8 had bore the fruit of 14 RBI's.

But it really doesn't matter what he's done in the past...only that he's done it in the past. (And that he's a Met at the cost of A-ballers Sean Henry and Jose Castro, which as long as one of them doesn't grow up to be Jason Bay is fine by me. And even if one of them does? Hey, there's a difference between filling a need for a team that's five games in front, and making a pointless trade for a team that never had any business making the playoffs anyway.)

And if Conine does it in the future like he's done it in the past, maybe he'll shed that "Mr. Marlin" tag temporarily and become our very own: Mr. Met!

Oh relax, I'm kidding. Now turn that frown upside down and throw me a towel.

I'll Have A Side Order Of Life With My Angel Of Death

It's weird to be typing about Saturday at the same time that a game is happening on Sunday. But I've been like a school delinquent lately. Late to the night game on Saturday night (didn't show up until the third inning), then when it came time to come home and do my homework, I zonked out. I was almost hoping that the impending thunderstorms would wipe today out, which would have been the equivalent of the professor not showing up, giving me an extra few hours to do my homework, but alas no. So here I am in the fifth inning of Sunday's good news, frantically doing my homework assignment from Saturday.

Mike Pelfrey and I aren't compatible. My first Pelfrey start in 2007 was the Milwaukee debacle, so it wasn't like I was anxious to watch him pitch. Maybe...subconsciously...I wanted to show up to Shea late, which would have been the equivalent of Curt Schilling on the bench during the 1993 World Series covering his eyes every time Mitch Williams pitched.

No, he waited for my arrival to make a 1-0 game into a 3-0 game. I guess he showed me...my angel of death.

But on the heels of Saturday's daytime victory, Saturday night's game was nothing if not entertaining, and probably a bit baffling for the Elias Sports crew, trying to figure out if Saturday night's game was the first time that three-fifths of a starting rotation made appearances in the same game, and if it was the first time that a Duke pinch ran for a Duke.

When Pelfrey was brought up between games of the doubleheader for Anderson Hernandez, we knew deep down that a scenario in which Tom Glavine would pinch hit in the ninth inning could happen. But I'm not going to put myself in the camp of blaming Willie Randolph for that. When Paul Lo Duca hurt his hammy, Castro was on deck to pinch hit. But the injury necessitated Castro to go in for Lo Duca. So instead of making a double switch which would have put the pitchers spot up seventh (you would have needed a pinch hitter there anyway), that's when Hernandez ran for Lo Duca, and Marlon Anderson pinch hit. Either way, both players would have been burned. The only issue that I have with that is that it probably would have been better served to let Castro pinch hit against the lefty Ray King, and then burn Marlon Anderson in the eighth against righty Jon Rauch. And perhaps you could argue that Damion Easley was burned too soon. But that's splitting hairs.

It does, however, underscore a need for a stronger bench, and perhaps Omar Minaya is thinking about somebody like Jeff Conine to come in at little cost to him. Conine would be a great addition to the bench and would come highly endorsed by me, despite having a nickname of "Mr. Marlin", which would just be weird. But I'll throw another name at you. He's out there, but nobody has talked about his potential arrival at Shea Stadium. Ready?

How about Mike Piazza?

Look, I'm not a big fan of making moves out of sentimentality. Show me a general manager who's making moves for the sake of tugging at a few heartstrings and I'll show you either a team that's in fourth place, or a general manager who should probably be fired. Sure, Piazza wearing a Met uniform again would have sentimental value. But with Willie Randolph liking three catchers on the roster, and with the bench requiring some pop (and especially if Lo Duca's hamstring injury lingers a little longer than desired), trading for Mike Piazza would also be a solid baseball move. And as long as Oakland wants to get rid of him, and as long as it's for a cheap price, why not? Mike can pinch hit with ferocity, catch a couple of times a week, even play first base against a tough lefthan...

I'm kidding Mike, I'm kidding. Put down the bat.

With Piazza in the fold, you avoid a situation like you had on Saturday night where Glavine was part of the triad that went down meekly against Chad Cordero (hey, let's trade for that guy too, it'll be fun!) And the electricity you bring to the park during a key late inning at-bat just may be enough to rattle an opposing pitcher. Will it happen? We'll find out soon enough as Monday is an off day, and you know that inactivity is the devil's handiwork. So Omar isn't going to get any sleep from here to there.

Hold your collective breaths, ladies and gentlemen.

Grey Dawn

After a seventeen inning game, while throwing a pitcher making his first start back from injury, not much could have really been expected, so the All-Star break comes at a wonderful time for the Mets to rest their old bones.

Old bones which seemingly are getting older at an exponential rate.

If you missed it: Ricky Ledee was designated for assignment to make room for Dave Williams, who was the sacrificial lamb on Sunday for the Mets (although when you walk the opposing pitcher and giving up a dinger to a .228 hitter, most likely, you are sacrificing your own lamb). While Ledee may not be any great shakes, the man who got a reprieve on the roster is yet another quadragenarian, Sandy Alomar Jr, a catcher who supposedly gives the Mets more flexibility on the bench.

But only when full containers of Icy Hot are applied.

It's probably going to be a non-issue when guys like Lastings Milledge, Jorge Sosa, and Oliver Perez come back (and heck, maybe if we're good boys and girls, even Moises Alou will take a trip down the chimney to give all of us orange and blue boys and girls an early Christmas gift...although Moises will probably tear a labrum while handing the gifts out). But does it bother anyone else that Julio Franco (forget his weight, the guy is lucky that he's hitting his age) is taking up a roster spot that is probably better served by going to Ledee, who at least can pull the ball and can move around?

And most likely, nobody is going to pick up Ricky Ledee from under our noses, but what if someone does? What if the Royals, still stinging from not getting Milton Bradley, decide that Ledee is the answer to their problems? Maybe that's the scenario of a habitual weed smoker, but stranger things have happened, right? What if we lose Ledee? I mean, they'll survive, but what will it have been for? To get Sandy Alomar Jr. one last hurrah to be a battery mate with a minor league teammate that he never actually caught? Is that what it's come to? Have the Mets become the home of the farewell tour? Is Cher playing Shea Stadium next week? Since when have the Mets become Robin Williams in that movie about the kid that aged like 10 years every 12 months?

And Julio, for Pete Schourek's sake, hang it up! Look, I'm all for athletes hanging it up on their own terms as long as it remains fun. But Julio, you're Jake Taylor in Major League II, except nobody has the guts to pull you into a room and tell you that you'd be more useful as a coach than a player because it not only might alienate the locker room, but they're afraid that God will smite them for pushing an old man out the door before his contract was up. Who knows, as a coach you might have to take over for Willie Randolph before the end of the season, just like Taylor had to take over for Lou Brown. Randolph is undergoing shoulder surgery...what if there's complications? What if they find Bill Pulsipher's bone chips and Victor Zambrano's frayed ligaments and Randolph has to be locked up in a hospital room until Christmas for his own protection? Then what?

Now that Mark Buehrle is off the market, the moves that Omar Minaya may be relegated to are the ones to shore up the back end of the team...the bench and the middle relief. Maybe a guy like Jeff Conine, who needs to be rescued from the Reds who are currently rotting from the inside out, is Omar's best option for the bench. But he can't, because he's afraid that you, Julio, will sneak into his office and put rubber bands where his paper clips should be. Nobody should live their lives in fear. But that's what's happening, because you want to be Minnie Minoso on a pennant contender.

Look, hard times call for hard words. Julio, you deserve a World Series ring. You deserve credit for turning Carlos Beltran's New York career around in '06, along with saving Pedro Martinez's life from the bat-wielding Jose Guillen. But you've become like the kids in the playground playing five-on-five baseball and only using half the field...but you're using the wrong half of the field. If you were that kid, you'd keep hitting foul balls all day and the game would never end. Instead, you make games end too quick by grounding to second base.

Dude, you're older than dirt, stone tablets, and Howard Johnson!

Chip Ambres is sticking pins in your doll!

When you were a rookie, Transformers was a television show. Now it's a movie, and you're still playing...although not in your Optimus Prime. So please, show us the person you are and consider what I'm saying...and make us see more than your .200 average. Show us you're more than meets the eye.