Because Cleansing Is Necessary

Maybe all of the Mets problems can be traced back to this:


Yup, there's Mookie in a St. Louis Cardinals wool hat to support his son Preston in a World Series that the Mets were one base hit against Adam Wainwright away from being a participant in.

Do I blame Mookie for supporting a blood relative? No. Archie Manning played for the Saints for forty-five years and he still rooted for his son to beat his former team, right? Of course, Archie wasn't decked out in Colts gear but hey, it was cold in St. Louis that night. I blame Carlos Beltran more for letting that first pitch fastball get by him against Wainwright in Game 7 which ended the at-bat well before that curveball ... but I digress.

You had to be around for the rivalry against the Cardinals in the 80's to really feel the sink in your heart at the sight of Mookie wearing Cardinals colors. Think how you young'ins would feel seeing Mike Piazza wearing a tomahawk on his hat, or Pedro Martinez wearing a Phill ... oh, right.

So Mookie Wilson in a Mets uniform again, even as a minor league coach, is the best karma this organization has seen in just about three years. Whether that karma is trumped by Oliver Perez remaining in a Mets uniform remains to be seen.

Beginnings of What, Exactly?

They played the wrong Chicago song.

When Tom Seaver and Mike Piazza reprised their first pitch from Shea Stadium's last pitch tonight at the brand new Citi Field, "Beginnings" was blaring over the sound system. In the reality we know as Mets baseball, "Old Days" would have been a better choice for this 6-5 historical blemish. Too many eerie reminders of the old days.

First off ... a cat? Come on. Waaaaaaaaaaay too convenient. Waaaaaaaaaaay too coincidental. You tell me that that by chance there was a cat roaming the field to open up the new stadium on Opening Night when one of the signature moments of Shea Stadium involved a cat? Yeah, I'm sure some cats made the trip ... but Opening Night? Please. If there weren't so many flight restrictions in New York there would have been a parachutist in the second inning. Somebody set that up.

Then, let's return to older days like ... last season, as in Jody Gerut becoming the first player ever ... ever ... to open a new stadium with a home run, a stadium that's supposed to be impossible to hit a home run in, or at least Gerut-proof just as Shea was supposedly "Gerut-proof" last season. Somehow, that wasn't a coincidence either.

Or, let's go back in time to ... yesterday, as in another outfielder having a ball go right off his glove and helping to bring in the winning run which, if it wasn't balked home, it would have been driven home by David Eckstein. You remember Eckstein from 2006 when he was being a general pain in the ass during the NLCS, never to be seen or heard from again until the next momentous moment in Mets history, the opening of a new park. Of course Eckstein would be around to screw that up by driving in two runs with three hits. What, the Padres couldn't trade for Yadier Molina and Jeff Suppan?

No, they decided instead to get two former Mets to close out this game for the Padres. Filthy Sanchez and Heath Bell. Six up, six down. First game ever at Citi Field, and it's closed out by Sanchez and Bell ... from the old days. Heath not only was dreaming about this moment, but he got it to come to fruition with a 1-2-3 ninth. Awesome. Just awesome.

And I'll state the obvious: if this is what we are to expect from Mike Pelfrey over the coming weeks, then Citi Field is going to turn into the House of Angst for a New Millennium. Oliver Perez goes on Wednesday for the Mets. Maybe the appropriate Chicago song will reflect the final score ... as in 25 or 6 to 4. And we'll have endings before the beginnings actually begin.

Lobster Rage

Disclaimer: R-rated joke lies ahead:

One of my favorite moments in the Verducci/Torre book is about Roger Clemens as he prepared to face the Mets in Game 2 of the 2000 World Serious. Verducci writes that Clemens’ usual pregame preparation included taking a whirlpool bath at the hottest temperature possible."He’d come out looking like a lobster," Yankee trainer Steve Donahue told Verducci. Donahue would then rub hot liniment all over Clemens’ body. "Then Donahue would rub the hottest possible liniment on his testicles,” Verducci writes.

"He’d start snorting like a bull," the trainer said. "That’s when he was ready to pitch." -Alex Belth, Bronx Banter

Well that explains it. Clemens never said "I thought it was the ball." He actually said "I thought it would cool my balls!"

Who knew liniment was a performance enhancing substance. Was it cream, or clear ... I wonder.

The Manifesto (New And Improved)

Guess that sabbatical I suggested last year wouldn't have been such a bad option, eh?

There's a saying, you might have heard of it.

"Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me."

That's how I feel. Not that this team duped me, but that I let this team dupe me. To a certain extent, we were all fooled by this team ... that this time would have been different. This team, with Daniel Murphy and Argenis Reyes and Nick Evans and an improved Mike Pelfrey and a more focused Oliver Perez and a rejuvenated Carlos Delgado and a revived Jose Reyes and a more honest Snoop Manuel and a less complicated Dan Warthen and Billy Wagner pitching from the windup and all of the moving parts that made the 2008 team less "bored" than their 2007 counterparts and that this team was choke-proof.

We put our blinders on and begged this team to tell us it would be all right. And if it wasn't going to be all right, we begged them to lie to us.

I was fooled. Again. Roger Daltrey, I'm not.

I was looking for the footnote to 2007. Seven games with seventeen to play is a monumental choke job. There were two footnotes that were possible when history was to look back on 2007. One of them was: "The Mets would bounce back from that horrible collapse to make the playoffs the following season." The other was "The Mets would plunge into the abyss after the collapse, missing post season play for the next 25 seasons."

No way did I think of the third option: "The Mets repeated their historic collapse of 2007 in 2008 when they were once again eliminated on the final day of the season by the Florida Marlins." But that's what we're stuck with. Because one choke is a fluke ... two is a trend.

(And three is grounds for contraction.)

Here's what's bothering me already about Collapse Part II: Every time somebody who watches maybe nine innings of baseball all year tell me that this team needs intangible, imaginary concepts like "heart" and "fire" and "guts". I've heard it already. I've used those terms. Sometimes, they apply. This year, they're inconsequential. We don't need "heart" or "fire" or "guts".

We need a bullpen.

Whereas 2007 was one giant choke, 2008 was more like many small chokes encompassed into a big picture that you need to look past the "big picture" to really see. Not that it's any consolation to us, but 2008 was less choke and more suck. If baseball was an eight inning game, the Mets would have had an eight game lead going into the final weekend of the season. Curse you Abner Doubleday for choosing the number 9.

But most of all, curse you Mets bullpen. Curse you Mets bullpen for being the sole ... and I mean the sole reason that the Brewers are going to Philadelphia and not to the golf course where they've been every year since Ben Oglivie roamed County Stadium. And curse you for forcing me to resort to the most simple and the least eloquent to put your accomplishments into a tidy twenty words or less:

You all suck.

When Oliver Perez was slugging through his innings of work on Sunday, I thought of the relief pitchers I would want to keep for '09. The first guy I thought of was Joe Smith. And I'm guessing that Snoop agreed with me. When Perez started slowing down, in came Smith into an impossible situation: bases loaded, one out. He was lucky to escape with only letting one of Ollie's runs to score.

The second guy I thought of? Brian Stokes ... because we need a long man. And he was second in to preserve the tie game that Carlos Beltran created with his two run HR that rocked the house for ... what turned out to be ... the final time. Stokes also didn't disappoint with a scoreless inning.

After that, I really don't trust anybody to come back. But if you had put a gun to my head for a third guy? You guessed it, the third guy in. Scott Schoeneweis.

Um, never mind. I'll stick with two.

But really, if everybody in that bullpen was to depart I wouldn't be heartbroken. Certainly, the only way anybody in that bullpen besides Smith and Stokes attends Opening Day at Corporate Field is either with a ticket or a contract with the Padres. And I'm to the point now ... at this very moment ... if anybody besides Johan Santana were to leave this team, I'd shrug my shoulders in an act of indifference. That includes the Carloses, that includes Jose Reyes, that includes the very handsome David Wright, that includes everyone.

And that's why I'm glad that the current team didn't show their faces at the Shea Goodbye ceremony. Some may disagree, but it took a lot of effort to get the angry crowd (or the portion that didn't leave right after the game like myself) to feel good about anything. And the ceremony actually accomplished that ... seeing this current crop of star-crossed imitators posing as Mets would only send the crowd back to step one of the twelve step program.

We certainly needed one today with the range of emotions the crowd had to go through today. Ticket holders today had just about an hour and a half to go from happy to angry to morose to sullen to nostalgic all at once. After the sixth inning, I'm thinking about changing work schedules so I could get to Game 3 of the Cubs/Mets playoff series on Saturday. By the ninth inning, I'm looking up at the soda stains on the back of the upper deck stands ... trying to take in every nook and cranny that this Stadium had to offer me in the last 32 years of my life, and resigning myself to the fact that "Holy crap, this is it. Once I leave here, that's that."

And that's why I had to stay. Some left, and I can't blame them. Everybody has to deal with these things in their own way. I stayed. I'm glad I did. It started with some reminders as to why we're thought of as second class citizens by the people that provide us with this stupid sport called "baseball", as we were told at 5:23 that the ceremony would start in five minutes. Eight minutes later we were told the ceremony would start in two minutes. This confirmed what we already knew: that this team's only good at counting when they're counting the money they're going to make by selling the dugouts and the championship banners and the NYC parks logos that encase the trees.

Sorry if that comes off as being petulant.

(Some Phillies website referred to my Choke Manifesto from last season as "petulant". I don't necessarily disagree, and there's sure to be more of it in the coming post, and in the coming weeks and months. So if you're expecting anything different, you might be disappointed.)

Then we were reminded that there were very important Mets that had "other things to do" rather than be here for the only closing ceremony that Shea Stadium will ever know. Great, more misery. Not that Nolan Ryan, Hubie Brooks, Mookie Wilson and the like didn't have better things to do. But after what Mets fans had to endure on Sunday, the previous week, and the previous two years, everything felt like a slight.

But then the players who were here came out. And we were excited again for a few minutes. The highlights, of course, were guys like Doc, Darryl, Piazza, and Tom Terrific. But what got me were the guys that helped introduce me to baseball that you don't see anymore. Did anybody really expect to see Dave Kingman come back (or for that matter, show his face in public anywhere?) When was the last time Craig Swan was at Shea Stadium? And my first ever favorite Met, Doug Flynn? They really invited Doug Flynn? Boy, I didn't think this organization had it in 'em to be all-inclusive and recognize players from all eras and not just the good ones. The Mets have been accused of not recognizing their history. Every single criticism in that regard has been well deserved.

But Doug Flynn? Well played, evil geniuses ... well played.

It was all emotional, and it made us forget for a little while that our franchise is once again the joke of the sporting world. But it reminded us that this is it. The old barn is gone forever. No playoff games with the Cubs ... and no next season. It'll be knocked down and made into a parking lot by April.

It's a lot of childhood they're knocking down.

Unfortunately, every time I think about all the good times I've had at Shea, and even the multitude of bad events I've witnessed personally (Pendleton in '87, Gibson in '88, the Yankees clincher in 2000, Scott Speizio in '06), I'll think about the fact that while our bullpen sucks, it was former Met Matt Lindstrom officially closed out Shea Stadium by knocking the Mets out of the playoffs. And that it was the Marlins who were scooping dirt from home plate as a keepsake ... and as a symbol of conquest.

And that the Honeymooners episode that was shown tonight was the one I referenced yesterday: the one with the cornet. Everything was supposed to be louder than everything else. Instead, Shea Stadium exits stage left ... quietly.

Killer Fish

Yeah, this fish is ugly ... ain't it? Kinda like last night's game, with those fish.

Well good morning to you too. Now that you're awake ...

I didn't have a real good feeling going into that eighth inning ... as sloppy a defensive team as the Marlins are, they do have a habit of pulling through in late innings. I didn't expect the eighth inning to be quite as ugly as it was ... but that's what happens when Scott Schoeneweis comes into the game and faces more righties than expected. Three of 'em got hits. The other one was Hanley Ramirez. That's still no way to convince the brass you shouldn't be traded for Marcus Thames.

(But seriously, don't trade Scott Schoeneweis for Marcus Thames.)

But really, you could see this coming when John Maine was taken out of the game in the fifth with "shoulder stiffness", in what was at the time the strangest injury ever ... with Maine telling Jerry Manuel he was fine during John Baker's at bat, and then giving up a dinger to Baker on the next pitch, and then being lifted after the next hitter. Maine was pissed. He had that "Mike Piazza going after Guillermo Mota" look in his eye. But he finally did admit he was hurting. It's either not a good sign ... or it's an explanation of his latest struggles. In any event, that makes two injury riddled starters out of five. Which means those hoping or expecting the Mets to use their latest run as a springboard towards an easy pennant race should probably temper their expectation a wee bit.

Somebody Get ESPN Classic A Thesaurus

Paul Lukas, ESPN columnist and lifelong Mets fan, wrote a scathing review of Mike Piazza's Mets career in his Page 2 column today. The title of the column is "Good Riddance, Mike Piazza".

Whether you agree with the column or not (and judging by how much Piazza is beloved in this town, I'm guessing most of you will not), a column like that from a lifelong Mets fan doesn't bother me, because at least his opinion is informed and comes from following the team. And most importantly, I give points to Lukas for truth in advertising. He doesn't care for Piazza ... he laid out why he doesn't ... and his title led you to believe that a rip job was coming. If the title of the very same article was "A Tribute to Mike Piazza", then Paul Lukas would be ...

Well, he'd be ESPN Classic.

I quote Metsblog:

"ESPN Classic will honor Mike Piazza, who retired from baseball yesterday, with a five-hour tribute on Friday, starting at 2 pm. The Mike Piazza Tribute consists of three of his most-memorable games, including July 8, 2000, against the Yankees; Oct. 22, 2000, against the Yankees; and Sept. 21, 2001, against the Braves."

Now I'm nothing more than an idiot blogger. But correct me if I'm wrong: Isn't a tribute supposed to be a recollection of one's greatest accomplishments? You agree with that, right? All right great. Now answer me this: How do the first two thirds of that trilogy qualify as a damn tribute? On July 8th, 2000, Mike Piazza was concussed by Roger Clemens. On October 22nd, 2000, Mike Piazza was almost impaled by Roger Clemens. That's what ESPN calls a tribute?

That's a Dean Martin Celebrity Roast!

Since Dean Martin is no longer with us, maybe ESPN can get Andy Dick to narrate the so-called "tribute", complete with sound effects. Maybe ESPN Classic can show game two of last night's doubleheader during their Ryan Church "tribute".

Quantity Of Crap

There have been a whole bunch of days in the history of this franchise that have ripped your hearts out as Mets fans. Game 7 in 2006, Game 5 in 2000, Game 6 in 1999, Game 4 in 1988, and countless regular season games just in the last ten years that are too numerous to mention.

But in terms of sheer quantity of events today, this ... May 20th of 2008, may turn out to be a seminal moment in all of your Met rooting lives.

Think. Think about all that has happened in your lives today. First, you turn on SNY to see and hear everybody running around yelling "controversy!"

Of course, they're talking about the Ian O'Connor article in which Willie Randolph was wondering why SNY painted him in a bad light ... only showing him in moments of seething and frustration and not when he's schooling his players, and why Met fans were booing their team in April. And then he wondered how much of that has to do with race. And at the time, I saw this reaction to it along with others and thought that there really was nothing else of substance I could add.

But Randolph's reaction to the article on Monday could perhaps be stranger than the article itself.

"It does seem like it's piling on after a bit. But, I understand it. I think I mentioned feeling `almost racial.' That was a tongue-in-cheek kind of reaction to what I've been feeling. Not that this is racial. The Wilpons hired me not because I am black, but because they feel I can do a good job for them. They trusted me and hired me because I can do a job and not the color of my skin.

"There's been a lot of negative stuff going around here and I've been feeling some of that, and I was expressing how I felt at the time, but it wasn't anything to do with race and I wasn't trying to bring race into it.

"I'm not necessarily upset with anyone. I understand what they do."

The "tongue-in-cheek" thing bothers me. Not because I necessarily think that Willie's b.s'ing us. I mean, read the article. Anybody who cites Isiah Thomas as an example in his defense has to mean it tongue-in-cheek, right? Right?

But if he meant it tongue-in-cheek, then what exactly did he expect? Did he expect Ian O'Connor to print the quotes and then qualify the whole article by saying "but dear readers, he didn't really mean all that so everything you just read is useless"? Did he expect O'Connor to use judgement and not to print it at all? A very Pollyannic view of the world by Willie, don't you think? I mean, would you think that a guy who's managed a baseball team in a baseball market like New York for over three years (not to mention his time in the city as a player and coach) would understand a little better the way things work, no? That "tongue-in-cheek" thing doesn't translate too well to words on a back page.

And if Willie wants SNY to, as he says: "Show the whole person, the whole attitude, the whole persona", how about a freakin' reality show? Willie's World, perhaps?

Ah yes, reality. The same reality that smacks you in the face like it did me in the first inning of game one ... the very same lousy first inning that Tom Glavine couldn't get out of to save his life last September ... of the first game of the doubleheader today. He gives up a HR to Luis Castillo (of all people), then he loads the bases with one out and I'm thinking "Yes! Yes! Oh Sweet Revenge! Finally, Some Justice In This World!" (Yes, when I think, I think in capital letters.)

But no, Alou lines out to third and Carlos Delgado flies out to right field. And Tom Glavine got to do what he couldn't do during Game 162, and that's set down 17 opposing hitters in a row in the innings that come after number one. Before you knew it, Glavine was not only steaming towards a victory, but towards coming back for 2009 and proving that Citi Field is the perfect place to pitch a no-hitter.

(Thanks Tom. Coming up next ... my lunch.)

Sure, Tom Glavine may come back ... but before we go to game 2 in this doubleheader from hell, we are reminded that Pedro Martinez might not come back to throw a pitch in Citi Field, much less a freakin' no-hitter. And we find out that the next time Mike Piazza comes to Citi Field, it isn't going to be as a visiting player ... but it'll be to unveil his number 31 on the wall.

So now it's apparent that too many things are swirling around. Like sharks surrounding blood. So could there really be any other ending to a game two that featured the Mets being mowed down by the immortal Jorge Campillo (really? Jorge Campillo?), than one that involved actual blood ... like the blood from Ryan Church's head? Of course not. No, not just a normal loss to complete a run o' the mill sweep. What's so torturous about that? No, Ryan Church has to bleed and acquire his second concussion as a Met with a Yunel Escobar kick to the head (much like all the kicks in the head Met fans have taken in the last year.) The MVP of the team so far this season is morphing into Eric Lindros right before our very eyes. Absolutely excellent.

I wonder if Church will remember anything after a good night's sleep. I wonder if he remembers how good that Yankees series went.

I wonder if anybody remembers.

It's almost pointless to do this Heil-o-Meter thing again, since the whole team has a needle on the negative side right now. But the only thing us fans can do now is pile on ... it's all we're good for right now. Heilman comes into the first game, a game which was still pretty much in reach, and immediately gave up a walk and a home run. And the only thing I can do is laugh to keep from crying. And did you all notice that Matt Wise pretty much "pulled a Heilman" in the second game, giving up a crushing two run HR in the eighth to Mark Kotsay ... and Keith Hernandez couldn't tell if it was a fastball or a changeup that Kotsay hit? Kinda reminded me of Richard Pryor in Brewster's Millions, where he threw his 83 MPH fastball, and everyone in the ballpark thought it was his changeup because it was so damn slow. Matt Wise is Monty Brewster. With Aaron Heilman as Doug Sisk (Hey, with Ryan Church concussed and a roster spot perhaps becoming available, maybe Jorge Sosa can come back and "fortify" the bullpen.)

Mets Already 0-1 In '08

I wasn't hopeful about The Celebrity Apprentice. Frankly I thought the show, which had lost steam after the bizarre season in Los Angeles and not being on the air in practically a full year, had no chance.

But with the dearth of programming on right now, and with nothing to do until Rangers vs. Canucks at 10:00, we gave tonight's premiere a whirl. And I have to say that this soothsayer was very pleasantly surprised. I mean, we're not talking about television that's going to make you reflect on your life, but in a "Celebrity Fit Club" kinda way, it works.

(Editor's Note: If you do plan on watching the show online or if you DVR'd the show, I'm not going to reveal which celebrity was fired, but there is a ... SPOILER ALERT BELOW!!!)

The teams, divided into men vs. women, had to sell hot dogs for their first task ... the team that made the most money won the match. The women's team, finally coming to their senses near the end, decided to use their celebrity to sell hot dogs and bottles of water for $5,000 a pop. Olympic softballer Jennie Finch just happened to have in her cell phone the phone number of a certain Mets third baseman to help out.

David Wright, as if he was wearing a cape and using his x-ray vision, bought out the hot dog cart near the end of the challenge and started passing out free hot dogs to help Jennie Finch lead her team to certain victory.

Umm, except for one thing: The Men's team already had Finch and Wright beat by about $40,000.

So April hasn't even arrived and the Mets are already 0-1 in 2008. So since September 12th, the Mets blew a seven game lead, had a terrible off-season, and their best player couldn't even lead a Celebrity Apprentice team to victory. This winter just keeps getting better and better. (Next month, see Ruben Gotay lose to Mario Lopez in the first round of "Danny Bonaduce's Celebrity Checkers".)

But at least we learned that David Wright is a charitable lad who's in Jennie Finch's Five. For that, we can be thankful.

Update: Thanks to a valiant reader, here's the clip:



(Editor's note: The Mets are now 0-2 all time in Apprentice episodes.)

I Wonder How Mike Piazza Feels...

No, this isn't going to be a cry of vindication. I'll leave that to Jose Canseco.

And this isn't going to be a campaign to reverse the outcome of the 2000 World Series. Because then people in Houston will want '86 back. And people in Phoenix will want '99 back. And somebody who struck out against Josias Manzanillo and watched him run off the mound jumping and cavorting like a school girl will want that back. Those are memories I refuse to believe are tainted.

And no, I'm not starting the "Ban Roger Clemens From The Hall" movement. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Performance enhancers are not a Barry Bonds problem, and they're not a Roger Clemens problem. They are a baseball problem. Asterisks and banishment from baseball's Hall of Fame shift the blame on to the individual players, and it minimizes baseball's role in the so-called "steroids-era". The sport should be culpable most of all.

But I wonder: At this hour...at this very moment...with all of the history that Piazza has had with Clemens, the beaning in July of 2000, and the infamous bat throwing incident in that season's World Series...I wonder just what Mike Piazza is thinking at this hour. I wonder if he's thinking that he might have gotten out of the way of that pitch if it was just a little bit slower...which it might have been if Clemens was clean. Or is Piazza thinking that Clemens might not have thrown that bat if he wasn't on whatever he was on?

Those are some thoughts I'd pay a penny for.

***

In terms of the Mets that were involved, considering that it was a Mets clubbie that provided a lot of the information, the wreckage really isn't too bad in terms of the star quality of the players tagged in the report. The biggest one was probably Lenny Dykstra. The Mitchell Report talks of Dykstra's involvement in the early nineties. But anybody who was around in 1988 and saw the instant 20 pounds of muscle he had put on that winter because he wanted to be a power hitter had to have been thinking something wasn't quite natural there.

Todd Hundley? Nobody was going to say it and smear his name without any provocation. But the circumstancial evidence was all over the place. Forget the fact that he hit 41 home runs in '96 after hitting 15 the season before. But all of a sudden, he plays 153 games? He was a pinch hitter in 10 of those games, but continued as a catcher in seven of those. So there were 150 games when he put on the catcher's gear in 1996. Who does this?

And about this theory that the Mets stonewalled Lo Duca because of advance knowledge of this report? I don't buy it. There was knowledge of Lo Duca's use for years. Just check the report. The Dodgers knew:

"Steroids aren't being used anymore on him. Big part of this. Might have some value to trade . . . Florida might have interest. Got off the steroids . . . Took away a lot of hard line drives. Can get comparable value back would consider trading. If you do trade him, will get back on the stuff and try to show you he can have a good year. That’s his makeup. Comes to play. Last year of contract, playing for 05."

If the Dodgers knew, I'd bet money that other teams knew ... way back when. And if I were to bet money, I sure as hell wouldn't write a check! So no, I think this was common knowledge among the baseball community years ago, before the Mets even traded for him.

Mo Vaughn? With the injury problems he's had with his knee, we shouldn't be surprised either. I was surprised, because I myself thought the only thing he was injecting was jelly doughnuts, but that's just me.

But honestly, nobody should be surprised. Because as flimsy as you might want to say this Mitchell report is, he got the bottom line absolutely 100% right: Baseball and its union were slow on the upkeep on this. Everybody was. Athletes will always find a way to get a competitive edge, and always will. The governing bodies have to be the ones to restore order ... you can't trust 100% of a group that includes 750 major leaguers and many more minor leaguers to police themselves and be on the up and up. They're everybody's heroes, but they're athletes who not only want to win, but also represent a cross-section of life. Many different personality types will react to life's questions in many different ways. These decisions must be made for them by the high priests of America's pastime. In the past, those decisions were just to let performance enhancing happen, and look where we are.

(Metstradamus packs up his soapbox and walks away. And...scene.)

Mr. Baseball

So Mike Piazza says he'd be interested in Japan if nobody in the major leagues signed him.

Enjoy those dumplings.

Called Shot

Jose Reyes leads off the game with a single off of Matt Morris. This was overheard soon after:

"I want blood. Five runs in the first inning. Let's go."

Author of said quote? Yours truly. Yes, Metstradamus calls his shot and delivers with a virtual 500 foot bomb to center field (Not to be confused with Moises Alou's actual bomb to left field to make the prophecy come true.)

How does your soothsayer mark the occasion of telling the future? By trying to tell the future again.

"I don't think this one's in doubt anymore."

Metstradamus once again calls his shot and hits a virtual 320 foot shot to the warning track at PNC Park, proving once again that you quit when you're ahead.

Because from beginning to end, it was in doubt. Before you knew it, that 5-0 lead became 5-3 as John Maine struggled yet again. Then Guillermo Mota hit Jack Wilson with two outs to set up the fourth run, and every Mets fan that was in the building wanted to pull a Mike Piazza and chase him around the PNC parking lot.

Shawn Chacon and his throwing error opened the door for a five run Mets ninth inning to put the game out of reach at 10-4. But then Aaron Sele hit the mound instead of Billy Wagner to end the game...and predictably, all hell broke loose. So Country Time had to come into the game anyway and close things out. Thankfully, ten runs turned out to be enough.

Ten runs should be enough. Consider this: the Mets are 8-6 since Luis Castillo came on board (outside of an 0 for 6 against the Brewers in a 12-4 win, and an 0 for 3 against Florida last Saturday, Castillo has had a hit in every game that he's batted in a Mets uniform), and since Moises Alou started a run of 12 games out of 14 with a hit. His average has gone up in that span from .298 to .310, and he has had many big hits in the process. In those 14 games, the Mets have averaged 6 runs a game, and the only reason that the Mets only went 8-6 is because of Willie Harris, Guillermo Mota, and Aaron Heilman.

And yet, Steve Phillips comes on ESPN Wednesday night and says that he doesn't think that the Mets aren't going to make the playoffs because they're not hitting enough!!! For crying out loud, say that our bullpen stinks. Say our starters are struggling. Tell me that Moises Alou can't be depended upon 100% to stay healthy. Tell me that the Brewers, Marlins, Cubs, and Pirates aren't the best of competition. Any of that...I'll buy. Really, I'm not that difficult to satiate.

But all I had to do was go on the internet to find out that the Mets are hitting a ton. I mean, is it really that hard?

Yet these are the people dispensing information to the masses...and paid good money to do so. I give up.

If Looks Could Kill

I woke up on Tuesday, July 31st of 2007, thinking that there was a chance for it to be quite historic in the annals of baseball.

First it was trade deadline that came and went, with nary a whimper from the Mets during the last few hours...and I was flipping out in anger at my television. No, not because the Mets didn't trade anybody else. In fact, I was quite comfortable with the fact that the Mets didn't mortgage their entire future for Eric Gagne (although Gagne would have looked quite nice in a Mets uniform) or Chad Cordero (Jim Bowden probably tried to use his mind control on Omar Minaya thinking that he would fold like one of Jim Duquette's cheap suits, but to no avail...I kind of like Philip Humber anyway).

But because I had to listen to those boobs on Baseball Tonight for two and a half hours during their trade deadline special. (Just for clarification, I do not under any circumstances put Peter Gammons in the "boob" category...I like Peter Gammons and would gladly drink beer with him, so keep your complaints to yourself, please.) How John Kruk can go in front of a camera, brag about how Tad Iguchi is a winning player because he has a World Series ring, and then in the same breath tell us that Luis Castillo is just OK despite hitting 50 points higher than Iguchi and also having a World Series ring (I'm reminded that he was actually on the 1997 team, giving him two...two rings, which thanks to Toasty, strengthens my argument), while presenting himself as a non-biased observer of baseball absolutely escapes me. If the beer swiller would just take the Phillies pom-poms out from behind his desk and run around doing cartwheels chanting "Fricka Fracka Firecracka sis boom bah...Chase Utley Chase Utley RAH RAH RAH", I'd at least be happy that he wasn't putting on a front for the baseball loving American public.

But the moment when I wanted to throw a brick throughout the television was when former Mets GM (and current hall of hate member) Steve Phillips decided to add a little perspective to the trade deadline proceedings by letting loose with a story about how back in 2000 he was presented a ten player trade offer by Mark Shapiro with about 30 minutes left before the trade deadline, and by the way included Manny Ramirez, but he couldn't get ownership on the phone because there was two of them and he had to get approval and...

Excuses! You mean to tell me that Steve Phillips can't reach his ownership at a moments notice in the span of 25 minutes to get a trade approved? FOR MANNY RAMIREZ? Do you realize how different the 2000 World Series would have been with Manny Ramirez in the outfield? I need to be convinced right now that I don't want to punch Steve Phillips in the face...because unless the five names going back to Cleveland were Mike Piazza, Robin Ventura, David Wright, Jose Reyes, and the fetus of the next Hank Aaron, that's a fact I wish I never knew.

But then came tonight's game, and the hate that I feel for Phillips stands in awe to the hate that I feel for Guillermo Mota right now after he blew Tom Glavine's 300th victory (if you had Aaron Heilman in your "Who's Going to Blow Glavine's 300th Victory Pool" as I did, you lost), because Glavine's next shot at 300 comes on Sunday night, where this blogger has a previous engagement with the police...actually let me clarify: a previous engagement with The Police (capitalization is important here) and 76,000 of my closest friends.

Heck, forget me...how about the hate that Christine Glavine feels for Mota? Did you see the look she had on her face when Mota was walking off the mound? My crack staff heard an exclusive report that Christine Glavine was chasing Mota around the parking lot after the game (no word on whether Mike Piazza is laughing his ass off right now).

But give Christine Glavine's husband credit for going on the road, going to a place where he hasn't had a lot of recent success, and pitching his tail off (with help from Shawn Green and his sweet diving catch). It's a shame that the offense couldn't score a couple of more times for him, including on Green's double in the gap where I initially got really excited, and then gave up hope when I realized it was Carlos Delgado rounding third and heading home instead of a slightly faster runner like Luis Castillo...or Rusty Staub...or dirt. (Ask me, that was the turning point of the game right there...but nobody asked me.)

But who knew that it would get exciting after Glavine left. I mean, how about that catch by the man I like to call "Long Lastings Flavor" in the ninth...two men out and three men on...nowhere to look, but inside...where Lastings Milledge responds to pressure (cue the organs).

And how about Prince Fielder's two foul balls leading off the 12th which is straight out of every bad baseball movie you've ever seen (along with some good ones, I guess), before leading off with a single, setting up L.L.F.'s second diving catch to save the game in that inning? (So he misjudged the ball which forced him to dive...that's mere details my friends.)

How about another North American sighting of Moises Alou, as he stole a base in the 13th inning? When you add the stolen bases that Orlando Hernandez and Julio Franco have had this year, that means that the Mets have as many old people stealing as Enron did. Unlike Enron, Alou's thievery meant nothing.

Aaron "Doc Windgate" Sele continued the excitement by dancing in and out of trouble...until that unlucky 13th inning where Geoff Jenkins hit a frozen rope ending a night which not only saw history go down the tubes on all fronts, but a night where the Mets burned through their bullpen to the point where Thursday's starter Jorge Sosa had come in to pitch. What does that mean? Heck, it may mean that it's a good thing that Philip Humber wasn't traded, because we could see that young man on Thursday.

It also means that Christine Glavine is staring down Guillermo Mota all the way to Wrigley Field.

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.

True Colors In The Hood

"My life fades. The vision dims. All that remains are memories. I remember a time of chaos. Ruined dreams. This wasted land. But most of all, I remember The Road Warrior. The man we called 'Metstradamus'". -Narrator from Mad Max 2 (with some blogging license at the end)

I have returned.

And I bring you the head of J.D. Durbin!

All right, maybe it was more like a Phillies mini-helmet which I ate my ice cream out of. Still, as the Empire State Building appeared on the horizon as I rolled back on New Jersey Transit, I felt like one of those warriors from Mad Max or something, holding up my symbol of victory in proxy of young Mr. Durbin's head. An offer to the gods of the New York Skyline, as if the city told me upon leaving: "If you don't bring back a win, don't come home."

Thankfully, now at 4-0 on the road, I've always been able to come home.

It was an interesting day to say the least, starting out with a smooth ride on NJT to meet my ride (in spite of my floundering inability to find the track at Penn Station, and find my way off the train...wondering why the doors aren't opening even though there's no platform). Then the rest of the way listening to Paul Lo Duca gripe about the media on the car ride. (Why is everything interpreted in the most damning possible context? And why hasn't Lo Duca figured out by now that the best way to keep the media off his back is to not bring up anything about "speaking English" in a lockerroom famously known for its Latin players...although this is the first time I've ever heard someone get tagged as racist for saying that someone can speak English.)

Then, a bad exit choice by us, and some terrible directions from a couple of gas station attendants who looked at us like we had three heads when we mentioned the Walt Whitman bridge put us in downtown Philly, forcing us to take Broad St. to the complex. Now for those who have never been to Philadelphia, stay away from Broad Street! The traffic lights may be the most disjointed in the country, taking the "flow" out of "flow of traffic". (And take Exit 3, not Exit 4.) But we still got there on time and in our seats for the 1:30 start, which was better than my last trip, when I didn't even have a seat, and got there late.

(Food note: Last year, it was the cheesesteaks that lured me to Philly. This year, the attraction for me, thanks to Mets Grrl, were the crab fries. Highly recommended.)

I loved the Philly fans today, constantly reminding us through the Mets early game offensive run that "hey, you know you're doing this off of a single A pitcher, right? Wait until the nightcap when you face Cole Hamels!" (Oh, much more on him later.) For the record, yes we were quite aware of who your pitcher was. And at the end of play today, he's still employed by your team. So we are not the ones hanging our heads in shame for being able to hit him. Thank you, drive through.

There was one guy sitting next to me who saved his most fervent Met bashing for when I wasn't sitting in my seat. Yeah, that's manly. I mean, he had ample opportunity to kill us when the Mets were trotting out Guillermo Mota and Aaron Heilman, who are about as useful as a bag of plastic hammers right about now. (Flippin' Heilman...0-2 count on a .202 hitter and he lets Pat Burrell hang around until he gets a pitch he can serve up to center field to make it a 6-5 game. Way to go, clutch!)

Thankfully, there was Billy Wagner (with no Burrell at the plate) to finish things off and send us home happy...if not swiftly. Damn, the traffic coming out of the Bank is simply atrocious, as one lane of traffic was allowed to pass while the rest of us were made to crawl along. It was like coming home from a Jets game! We were moving so slow that...and I can't be sure of this...I could have sworn that I saw a couple attempt to get busy in the back of their SUV while waiting for the second game to start.

Heck I was even able to leave the car in traffic to ask a policeman about the easiest way to get to the elusive Walt Whitman bridge, when a kid then comes up to me in my Pedro Martinez jersey and warns me "man, don't wear that jersey in the hood." What? Your fans can't heckle me to my face and I can't wear my jersey in your hood? I'll tell you what, if I wear my Brian Leetch jersey to a Flyers game, then I'll worry (and wear armor underneath...because, as you know, we must protect this house). Until then...

Silly me thinking I could get back to New York in time to watch the second game (I blame the traffic, but I also blame Charlie Manuel's waste of time at the beginning of the game, checking Orlando Hernandez's cap for pine tar or chocolate or whatever Manuel was searching for). Instead, I stepped into my hood just as the second game ended, with only time enough to watch highlights, which included Cole Hamels not only throwing 3,287 pitches in three innings (oh yeah, wait until you face Cole Hamels indeed), but throwing behind Jose Reyes on a 3-0 count after thinly veiled threats to go after Paul Lo Duca.

Here's another fact about Cole Hamels that you may not know: Do you know what you get when you take Cole Hamels, take about 15 mph off his fastball, and add about 15 points to his IQ, do you know who you get?

You get Shawn Estes!

Yes, we haven't forgiven Estes for missing Roger Clemens' girth in retaliation for Mike Piazza. But Cole Hamels, who talks like he's been in the league for 100 years, was so dumb that in his lame attempt to send a message on a 3-0 pitch to Jose Reyes behind his back, that it went all the way to the backstop allowing the run to score. Not even Shawn Estes pulled off a Merkle like that! Way to go Cole. And shame on that umpiring crew for saving Hamels' bush league hide for immediately issuing warnings, ending any chance that John Maine would send another "fact" Hamels' way (not that Maine would have retaliated but still.) I initially thought from the radio broadcast that Hamels had been wild all game so this was just a by product of that. But after seeing it with my own eyes? There's no way there wasn't purpose to that pitch. No way. I'm not sure I can be convinced otherwise on this.

"YOU! You can RUN, but you can't HIDE!" -Vernon Wells (not that Vernon Wells) from Mad Max 2

Your day is coming.

Attica! Attica!

"We won yesterday. If we win today, that's two-in-a-row. If we win tomorrow, that's called a winning streak; it has happened before." -Lou Brown, Major League

And on Sunday, it may happen again, thanks to Orlando Hernandez, the bullpen, and David Wright for a 1-0 victory at Shea Stadium on Saturday night.

No thanks to Marvin Hudson or the 7 train.

There was one of those magical Shea Stadium moments as Mike Piazza brought out the lineup card for Oakland before the game. I of course missed it because of the MTA, which put the D train on the C line bringing me to 42nd St. instead of 7th Ave., then two 7 trains fill up with Met fans before the announcement that the train would not be running from Times Square, but rather from Grand Central, adding more time to my commute, and putting me in the ballpark at the bottom of the first, and in a seat at the top of the second.

Game day, and there's limited 7 train reliability. My tax dollars at work.

Thankfully, Paul Lo Duca threw my tantrum for me in the sixth inning at home plate ump Marvin Hudson.

Now look, you don't show up the ump on balls and strikes...and that's what Lo Duca did. But don't you think that if a catcher is complaining that something is wrong? Why would a catcher show up the home plate ump knowing it may cost him, at the very least, some calls later in the game...or perhaps his presence in the game? I'll tell you why, because Marvin Hudson was obviously inconsistent. I couldn't tell from where I was, but if Lo Duca is making a production out of balls and strike calls, something is wrong.

(By the way, the "Paul Lo Duca" chant you heard tonight after the incident? All me. I started it. Unfortunately, the "Attica! Attica!" chant didn't catch on. One day...)

Orlando Hernandez had his splendid eephus pitch on the mark, the bullpen worked around a Carlos Delgado misplay in the ninth, Fluff Castro replaced Paul Lo Duca and started the winning rally, and David Wright got enough wood on the ball on the last pitch to pull out the victory. Did the "Curly Shuffle" which was played in the middle of the ninth have something to do with it? I'd like to think so. Bottom line? We win one on Sunday against Joe Kennedy and the swingin' A's, that's called a winning streak.

It has happened before.

***

I now have somebody to blame for making steroids popular. Drum roll...

Thom Brenneman.

During the Giants game on FOX (my faaaaaaaavorite baseball network), there was a graphic showing the NL all star game leaders...including Jose Reyes. From the corner of my ears, I could hear game announcer Brenneman say "oh, well Jose Reyes shouldn't be there, J.J. Hardy should."

What?

Jose Reyes doesn't deserve to start the All Star game? Why? Because J.J. Hardy has more home runs? Thom? Have you seen Jose Reyes' stats? Or do you just value home runs?

Disclaimer: I think Jose Reyes deserves to start the all star game. I think J.J. Hardy deserves to start the all star game. They're both having great seasons. I have both players on one of my fantasy baseball teams, so I hope both of them rock the world the rest of the season. I think you can also make a case for Hanley Ramirez. All three deserve to be a part of the San Francisco festivities. And I certainly don't think J.J. Hardy is on steroids...

But as long as Thom Brenneman dismisses what Jose Reyes has done because J.J. Hardy has more home runs, all that's done is further the notion that nothing but the long ball counts. Indirectly, steroids are glorified.

Or could it be that Brenneman is sticking up for the poor midwestern player who doesn't get any votes because he plays in teeny little Milwaukee? Boo hoo! Don't like it Thom? Here's an idea, put the Brewers on FOX more often instead of chasing Roger Clemens all the time!

Attica! Attica!

***

You know you want to hear more rants like that. And if you tune into New York Baseball Live on 1240 WGBB AM from 9-11PM ET, or you hook yourself up to the internet, then you just might hear one. I will be on in the second hour to discuss my views on Paul Lo Duca's temper, Jose Reyes' statistics, and if you're lucky, an anti Yankee rant or two. And all that in a ten minute segment. Impossible? You're just going to have to tune in and find out.

Aramis Ramirez: The Final Frontier

You may have missed this, but China has recently, and successfully, launched the Nigeria Communication Satellite into orbit from the Xichang satellite launch center in China.

Unfortunately, the satellite was knocked out of orbit by Aramis Ramirez's grand slam, launched by Scott Schoeneweis at Shea Stadium in New York.

Before it could knock any satellites off the air, it turned a manageable 3-1 game into a 7-1 disaster, and it was well on it's way to the 10-1 debacle that it turned out to be.

When Aramis Ramirez is in New York, he's the greatest enemy that the space program has...if you remember (and believe me I tried to forget) he hit the same set of green seats against Steve Trachsel last July with a home run that traveled 425 feet. Obviously, he didn't want to limit the souvenirs to the people in the mezzanine box seats, so this time he hit the less expensive reserve seats with the grannie. Sure he was helped out by a slight 18 mph breeze to left field, but if that's all he needed, maybe the launch center in China should rethink their more expensive methods of satellite launching.

"That would have been an out in most parks."

"Name one..."

"Yellowstone."

So now John Maine is 5-1 instead of 5-0. He wasn't fried to a crisp as he could have been, he kept the Mets in the game for the 96 pitches and five innings that he lasted, and that's a good thing. All we can ask of Maine at this point is that if he's going to have an off night (7 hits and three walks for a game WHIP of 2), battle and keep the team in it, which he did.

Of course, Maine's counterpart Carlos Zambrano picks a great night to stop sulking over not getting that contract extension signed before the Cubs announced an impending sale of the team. Zambrano (I'm going to resist the easy "has been pitching more like Victor Zambrano" joke because I feel I'm better than that...all right, maybe not) has been subpar all season long until breaking out of the slump tonight in Flushing, going eight innings and giving up a lonely home run to Shawn Green. The Mets had opportunitites off of "Z", with Paul Lo Duca getting the big two-out hit only to have Green chucked at home...and Endy Chavez leaving a few men on the basepaths tonight with a couple of two out at bats.

And of course, tonight featured the inevitable "stick it to your former teammates" game, this time by Cliff Floyd. Floyd (who's healthy while Moises Alou is not...gee, who knew?) had three hits, a run batted in, and scored ahead of Ramirez's blast, following in the footsteps of famous "stick it to ya" games such as Mike Piazza's two HR's, Tom Seaver's complete game, and whatever Victor Zambrano has in store for us for whatever team he's playing for (because you know that will be the worst of all).

All we could have really hoped for was that Cliffy got an ovation fitting of a man who played his heart out in his time with the Mets. He did so during a time when such players seemed to be few and far between...case in point: 2003, when he basically played on one leg until the Mets were eliminated from playoff contention. It's easy to be remembered for your accomplishments towards a winner. But Cliff Floyd showed what he was all about when the chips were down...when you really find out what someone is made of. We know what Cliff Floyd is made of, and the crowd showed him that tonight...although no matter how loud the crowd would have gotten for him, it would have never seemed like enough.

Of course, Cliff will surely test the limits of that love with another bushel of hits in the next two games. It's inevitable.

Mets Get Britn-i-fied!

Team bonding 101: Cut hair.

It's the oldest trick in the book. Shaved heads work probably as well as the playoff beard, with a little added instant gratification involved too. Hair on the floor and suddenly large ears will do that.

Twenty-one out of the twenty-five Mets, along with trainer Mike Herbst shaved their heads before today's game (and it's a good thing Herbst shaved his head, he looked too much like Ted McGinley, who you know as the death knell of every television show known to man, with that hair.) It worked, making them more aerodynamic and somehow in turn gave their bats more speed as well in the first inning, as they rode a three run first to beat Matt Cain and the Giants 4-1.

Of the four Mets who didn't shave their heads, three of them get a pass: Jose Reyes, because how much more aerodynamic does he need to be? Tom Glavine, because you don't mess with a future hall of famer on the night he pitches. And Aaron Sele, because he has family photo day on Thursday...professional photos are expensive, and remember that those things hang on the wall forever. For--e--ver! You don't want a team bonding activity immortalized on your living room wall.

Then there's Aaron Heilman.

I can't think of a good excuse for Aaron Heilman. Or at least I don't think we were told a good excuse by the SNY broadcast crew. I'm sure there is one, we just haven't heard it yet. It's all good though, because surely Heilman will follow suit and bond with the rest of the team, right?

Right?

Oh never mind. The last thing I'm going to do is get on Aaron Heilman after a win in which he didn't even pitch. Tuesday night was the cure for what ailed the Mets after the awful 9-4 loss on Monday. Tuesday night was the very reason why teams should still be scared of the Mets this season...because what teams are mentally together enough to do something silly like shave their heads and laugh it up after an ugly loss like Monday night? Most teams would simply forget about a loss like that and move on. These Mets? They take it one step further and have their best player shave everybody's heads before the next game. Worries? Not on this team.

Side note: How ironic is it that the Mets pulled off their most famous haircut bonding ritual in the home of Armando Benitez, who was involved in the most infamous haircut in Mets history, his shearing of Rey Sanchez during a blowout loss in '03. Tonight's haircuts are waaaaay different than that.

Night and day different.

***

It's too bad that the Mets of the 80's never did something like this, or else we would have gotten to see Keith Hernandez in all his cranial glory. Hernandez claims he would have never done this, so we're left to wonder what Keith Hernandez would have looked like bald. Well, if you're demented enough to try to imagine that, wonder no more:

Or what about the Mets of the nineties? Would you have wanted to see this:

Can you even imagine Mike Piazza going for something like that? I know he was crazy enough to crop his flowing locks and dye them blond...but bald? Thank goodness that timing is everything.

Divine Plan?

Are you there, God? It's me, Metstradamus.

Twenty years ago tonight, the Mets won their last World Series championship thanks in part to Mets icon Mookie Wilson and his ground ball though the legs of Bill Buckner.

Twenty years to the day later, I commemorate that moment by posting a picture of Mookie Wilson in a damn St. Louis Cardinals wool hat during Game 4 of the 2006 World Series.

Why?

Why am I being punished? What did I ever do to you? Did you really need to pour salt in my gaping wound? I understand that you have a divine plan, but no divine plan should ever include Mookie Wilson wearing a blood red wool Cardinal hat twenty years to the day that Jesse Orosco threw his mitt to you as a sacrifice to your so-called "divine plan".

And was Tsuyoshi Shinjo in your divine plan too? You remember him, don't you? After all, five years ago, you helped hasten the Mets' descent to the core of the baseball universe by presenting them with Tsuyoshi Shinjo.

Five years later...

...Shinjo ends his career with a Japanese league championship as a member of the Nippon Ham Fighters.

So let's review God: Tsuyoshi Shinjo fights ham, is a cult hero, and he retires on the very top of his game. Meanwhile on this side of the Pacific Ocean, Carlos Delgado attends the World Series as a spectator recovering from carpal tunnel surgery (probably from visiting this blog too often), Mookie Wilson is wearing a Cardinals hat, Satoru Komiyama still stinks, and I'm at home trying to calculate how many blows to the head with a whiffle bat would render me unconscious.

And did I mention the dreams I have been having? You know, the one where I'm playing poker with Mike Scioscia, So Taguchi, Terry Pendleton and Luis Sojo...and I go all in with pocket jacks but everyone else has pocket aces and the flop comes and it's three more aces? Surely you must be trying to tell me that everyone else in baseball has aces while all of ours are either hurt or old. Oh God, you and your symbolism.

Oh, and did I also mention that after I lose all of my money in the dream, Glenn Close comes out of the kitchen wearing her 1993 model Mets uniform and serves everybody boiled rabbit while Mike Piazza and Guillermo Mota are baking a bundt cake.

Yes God, that's a mighty weird dream. But it's no more weird than Mookie Wilson wearing a Cardinals hat!!!

By any chance, does your divine plan include ripping my still beating heart from my chest, rolling it down the streets of Pamplona to be stomped on by drunken tourists and bulls? Because at this moment I would welcome it. It would be less painful. If you had a sympathetic bone in your body, you would consider that course of action and end my pain and suffering once and for all before you do something really hurtful like embroil Gary Cohen in a money laundering scandal and replace him by re-hiring Fran Healy.

Yours in misery,

Metstradamus

(No rabbits were harmed in the writing of this post.)

Walk It Off

OK, so here is a query for the all knower of walkoffs; and this isn't trivia, this is something out of curiosity...

Chris Woodward said after Tuesday night's victory that it was the first time ever he hit a walkoff HR in his baseball life. Lenny Dykstra's walkoff HR in game 3 of the NLCS was Dykstra's first walkoff HR since Strat-O-Matic. Now there's gotta be someone back in the annals that was around for a long time and then hit his first ever walk-off HR with the Mets. Mark Simon comes up with some great stuff for his Met Walk-off blog, so I fully expect him to tie tonight's HR in with something super cool from the Mets distant past. I know he can do it (if he hasn't already), so don't forget to check Mark Simon's blog often!

OK, on to business at hand, observations from tonight's dramatic 3-1 11 inning victory over the Padres...

Was that really Mike Piazza batting sixth tonight behind David Wright? I did one of those cartoon double takes where I shake my head so violently that my brain hit my skull. I'll give it to Willie, what ever you may think of his X's and O's, Willie Randolph will eventually turn wrong to right. It took a while, but he finally got it done. The only question is: was this Randolph's decision, or was it Piazza who went to Randolph to take the pressure off him and request the change? My guess would be that it was Piazza, but we'll find out. And while the move didn't result in a lot of runs tonight, in the long run, it will make a difference if the Mets go on a big run. And what better time to do it than now...after San Diego, you have three with the mediocre Dodgers, and three in Denver against the putrid Rockies.

It was the first time since May 12th, 1993, Piazza's rookie season, that he's batted that low in the order. And here's why tonight's lineup change was for the best: There have been 55 at bats this season where Piazza has ended an inning with a runner on base...that does not count the 5 outs that Piazza made to end the game, and the two outs Piazza made before walkoffs. In those 55 at bats, batters that led off the following inning has an on base percentage of .400 (22 for 55) with two HR's. Most of those hits came courtesy of Cliff Floyd, and most of the outs came courtesy of Doug Mientkiewicz and Marlon Anderson. David Wright was starting to have success in that category before tonight's move.

Meanwhile, going back to Willie Randolph correcting mistakes, tonight we learned that "Dae Sung Koo" is Korean for "Doug Sisk". With all of the lefty batters you are going to face with San Diego, Los Angeles, and Colorado, would you leave yourself with Dae Sung Sisk as your only lefty in the pen? Braden Looper had to face 5 lefties in 6 batters tonight, which could have been a disaster, but to Looper's credit, he was very low maintenance tonight en route to the win. Koo faced three lefties tonight, got none of them out.

There seems to have been very specific moments that Willie Randolph has lost patience with people. Felix Heredia had his early on. Hitaway DeJean had his moment against Seattle. Danny Graves might have had two, against Pittsburgh (the Jack Wilson grannie) and against Atlanta (giving up a run in three batters and 75 seconds). Tonight may have been Koo's moment.

And in an observation which may not be totally unrelated to Koo, I get the feeling that Kaz Ishii has pitched his last game as a Met. The evidence is mounting...first, Ishii's turn is skipped because of the off-day yesterday. Then, the Mets don't announce their starters for the Dodger game. Finally, Aaron Heilman warms up during the seventh inning tonight. But after Looper's stint, where it would have made sense to warm up Heilman again in case the game goes long, Juan Padilla warms up, and was ready to start the non-existant 12th inning. Why else would Aaron Heilman not be made to come into the game, except that he's starting on Friday, and the warm up tosses in the seventh was part of his off day throwing schedule in anticipation of returning to starting?

With players getting DFA'd left and right such as Alan Embree of the Red Sox, Heilman perhaps getting ready to start, and Steve Trachsel getting ready to return, do the Mets really have a choice but to release Ishii? He's not a long reliever...he's not a short reliever...and he's proven that he's not much of a starter right now. The tea leaves are coming together for Ishii, and the leaves are spelling out "D.F.A." And if I was Mr. Koo, I wouldn't look into New York real estate right now either.

And if I were Royce Ring, I wouldn't get too comfortable in Norfolk.

(Editor's note: Of course, after I go on and on about Ishii being gone and Heilman returning to the rotation, it looks like Ishii is going to pitch Thursday against Jake Peavy. Ishii has outdueled Dontrelle Willis this season, but I get the feeling that the Mets are almost conceding this game, and would be looking towards the Dodger series with Victor Zambrano, who originally was pitching against Peavy, going against Jeff Weaver on Friday, and Pedro pitching the Saturday game. I'm still going to say that Ishii will not make the 2005 finish line as a Met, but he has at least another start in him. And I still say Dae Sung Sisk is in trouble.)

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Barry Larkin making a comeback?

A more likely scenario to replace the anemic Cristian Guzman includes Tampa Bay's Julio Lugo. Rafael Furcal would be intriguing, but the Nats and Braves would never trade now. Would the Nats get Furcal for 2006? That would seem entirely possible.

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The A.J. Burnett deal to Baltimore seemingly hit a snag.

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Billy Wagner is a better fit for the "win now" Red Sox than for the "win now but keep an eye on the future" Mets.

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And finally, I agree with how you've voted in the poll so far, and I'm ready to officially agree with Andrew. If the Mets were to trade the farm, let it be for the 25-year-old Adam Dunn, and not the 31-year-old Mike Sweeney. Power hitters in Shea scare me, especially those who strike out a lot like Dunn...but if you can move either him or Floyd to first base without there being a federal investigation, then it would be worth it.