Economically Stimulating

Life got ya down? Worried about mounting bills? The unemployment rate? The rising cost of attending sporting events?

The signing of Livan Hernandez?

Well there's good news on the horizon the economic stimulus package has been approved by our Congress. We all know that there are better ways to spend money than others. So before we all go willy-nilly on how to spend that small amount of extra money, I'm here to give some suggestions as to some prudent, and not so prudent ways to spend that extra money that comes into your pocket.

Ramon Castro
DO BUY: A giant head rest.
DON'T BUY: Real estate in New York City.

Mike Pelfrey
DO BUY: A subscription to Netflix.
DON'T BUY: A souped up golf cart.

Fred Wilpon
DO BUY: A lefty reliever.
DON'T BUY: "Ponzi Schemes, They're Not Just a Herman Edwards Blitz Package Anymore" by Bernie Madoff.

Ryan Church
DO BUY: An "I Love NY" t-shirt.
DON'T BUY: Driving lessons from Mike Pelfrey.

Freddy Garcia
DO BUY: Long term health insurance.
DON'T BUY: Hedgeclippers.

Frankie Rodriguez
DO BUY: More red tinted contact lenses.
DON'T BUY: Contact lenses that make you see three strike zones.

Oliver Perez
DO BUY: Something. Anything. It really doesn't matter. You can afford it now.
DON'T BUY: Anything that Rick Peterson might be selling.

Roberto Alomar
DO BUY: A good lawyer.
DON'T BUY: Jackie Chiles.

Brian Schneider
DO BUY: A better scriptwriter.
DON'T BUY: "Be an Offensive Force at the Catcher Position" by Charlie O' Brien

Jerry Manuel
DO BUY: Nextel Direct Connect for the bullpen staff.
DON'T BUY: Livan Hernandez's assertion that he can go one more inning. Speaking of ...

Livan Hernandez
DO BUY: Health and workout tips from Heath Bell.
DON'T BUY: Health and workout tips from his half-brother.

Luis Castillo
DO BUY: "Leading Off for Dummies" by Rickey Henderson
DON'T BUY: "Drawing an Inside Straight During a Playoff Game" by Rickey Henderson

Omar Minaya
DO BUY: Will Ohman
DON'T BUY: Oil Can Boyd (tempting as a 49-year-old may be)

A Picture Is Worthless

Carlos Delgado has done many great things in his career. Last night's achievement might have been his greatest: He finally hit a ball that Willie Harris couldn't catch.

Turns out Harris keeps a picture in his locker of a game winning catch (a walk-off catch?) off of Delgado last season that wound up, among other things, costing the Mets the divisional title. But he only puts it up in his locker when he plays the Mets. It didn't help him Thursday night, or at any point this series.

I'll use the above picture, one where Harris can only watch Delgado's home run sail over the wall, as my screen saver. But only when the Mets play whichever team Harris happens to be on. This means that I can't use it during the Pirates series in Pittsburgh, where the Mets have historically lost some awful games. This also means that Ronny Paulino is probably busy tacking some things up in his locker.

***

By the way, Orlando Hernandez thinks that Olympic gymnasts lying about their ages is totally reprehensible.

10 (Cue Bolero)

Your season looks a whole lot more beautiful doesn't it? Throw in a 10, a lot of things will seem more beautiful.

So, those of you who were complaining that David Wright and Billy Wagner were less than overwhelming* during the All-Star Game ... would you rather they pulled that tonight against Cincinnati? Would you rather David Wright's game tying blast off of Frankie Cordero had come against the American League? Would you rather Billy Wagner had gotten Evan Longoria out instead of the 6-7-8 hitters of the Cincinnati Reds?

What do you like better, home field advantage in the World Series ... or first place?

Yeah, I would have liked both too. But I guarantee you when Wright blasted that dinger off of Cordero that nobody was saying "damn, I wish he had done that on Tuesday." I'm the grumpiest Met fan on earth and I was dancing on the table. If I was dancing on the table, I guarantee you were too.

"It's now the first day that I can say without fear of backlash that you're going to have a tough time convincing me that both this team and this season aren't a complete waste of time." -Metstradamus/July 4th, 2008

Umm, yeah. Ten straight wins has convinced me.

It was an outcome that didn't seem too possible when Johan Santana got bludgeoned with a five run fourth inning and was lifted. It didn't seem possible when Javier Valentin crushed the Mets again with a sacks clearing double to make it 8-6. And it sure as heck didn't seem possible when Ken Griffey Jr. turned Fernando Tatis around with a screamer in the eighth, and you could clearly see my brother in the front row of the outfield stands bow his head in disgust.**

But then came the all-stars. First Wright with his poke off of Cordero to tie the game. Then, Carlos Delgado doing his Kosuke Fukudome impression*** with the bat to give the Mets the lead with a nice little single to left center. Then came the other all-star ... Country Time. 1-2-3. Count it off all the way to 10.

*That was a good pitch Evan Longoria hit in the all star game. I can't "Kill Bill" for that.

**Actually, my brother bowed his head because he dropped his cell phone. What you read was Hollywood license.

***Somebody I know thinks that Carlos Delgado should alter his swing to be more like Kosuke Fukudome. Whenever I try to wrap my head around that line of thinking, I get cramps so severe that I have to call out sick. It's worth noting that on April 30th, Fukudome was hitting .327, while Delgado was hitting .198. Now, Delgado's at .254, and the Chicago cult hero is at .276. I'm not sure what exactly that signifies, other than that I'm starting to get those cramps in my brain.

***

Oh, by the way ... you, as a Met fan, have to appreciate the irony of the announcement of Pedro Martinez's start being pushed back by injury coming on the same day that Orlando Hernandez injured himself on the first batter of his rehab stint in Binghamton. But this also comes on the same day that the Phillies made their deal for that big pitcher they've been waiting for. And it's the 5-12 booed out of Oakland Joe Blanton. While I feel the Mets dodged a bullet that the Phillies dealt for Blanton instead of A.J. Burnett or Matt Cain, it only means that Blanton will go 3-0 with a 1.12 ERA against the Mets down the stretch.

That's Just Fowl

The early results on Pedro Martinez's MRI came in. With our exclusive super zoom lens, here's a look at what doctors found:

Those birds will do a number on hamstrings.

All this talk about who's going to be the fifth starter, and now one of them is going to be the fourth starter after Pedro's injury. At least the bullpen showed how good it can be after Petey's shaky outing ... that is, until somebody named Robert Andino took some low-80's slop from Matt Wise and deposited it over the left field fence for a 5-4 Marlins win in ten innings.

Too bad Wise couldn't hear Keith Hernandez say that you can't continue to put pitches up in the zone as he did on the 2-0 pitch. The 2-1 pitch? It's going on Andino's mantle.

As for Petey, he's quickly headed towards the Orlando Hernandez region, where your starts are much anticipated, yet nobody expects anything out of you anymore. Pedro Martinez was a number two starter in ceremony only ... as far as I'm concerned, John Maine had the better chance to team with Johan Santana to create the 1-2 punch that teams fear anyway. Pedro got the second start of the season to keep his ego massaged. Now, he'll have his leg massaged instead.

And now here's the worst part: Pedro Martinez is injured while Mike Hampton is healthy.

Here's the second worst part: I have a friend at work who is ready to put Bobby Parnell in the Hall of Fame for his seven shutout innings this past spring. Now, he's probably ready to live on a billboard until Parnell is called up ... which means he'll probably alienate his friends and family, get fired from his job, and worst of all: not shower for weeks at a time, because Parnell isn't coming up anytime soon.

Trade Libs

I'm thinking this is how the Angel Pagan rumor got started. See how you do with it:

According to sources, the Mets are close to a deal that would send proper name to the team in exchange for proper name along with minor leaguer and cash. Mets front office employee had no comment, but an anonymous Mets source said that the trade is being made to create noun in their noun and that it would also provide first proper name with a change of noun.

Second proper name is thought to be extremely adjective and will help the Mets stat line in the short term. His adjective contract is very adjective for the Mets in the long term, and many fans are expected to verb the deal, which makes Mets front office types very emotion. Mets brass thinks that this trade is a better option than signing free agent.

In other news, Orlando Hernandez has been diagnosed with a strained muscle, a fractured bone, and has come down with rare affliction, yet still hopes to be ready by date due to his new, less strenuous delivery.

Slow Pitch

Has there seriously been talk of Barry Bonds being signed by the Mets?

Seriously?

All right, let's put aside the fact that after a full night of rooting for a Mets team with Barry Bonds as a member would dictate that you take a full scrub bath with iodine after leaving Shea Stadium at night. Put aside your moral qualms for just a second here: At this point what's left of his career, Barry Bonds is a softball player. He plays seven innings, he jogs around the bases, and defense is an afterthought. This is the best the Mets can do to replace Moises Alou?

I advocate a deal for Xavier Nady if that's what it comes down to. But ... if it's a softball player the Mets are after, they have other options. Let's look at some as we do our part to spare the Mets the P.R. nightmare and media coverage bloodsucker known as Barry Bonds:

Jennie Finch, USA: The conversation starts and ends here when it comes to softball players. Finch went 32-0 in 2002 for the University of Arizona, and 15-0 for the U.S. National team in 2004. She would immediately slide into the role of 5th starter for the Mets. And she solves the age issue as she's young enough to be Orlando Hernandez's grand-daughter.

Kaitlin Cochran, Arizona State: She's only a sophomore, but she's already demolished the record books in the Pac 10, with a slugging percentage of .838 and 35 HR's in 377 career AB's. In a sport dominated by pitching, this is an accomplishment. Two problems here though: She's a lefty, and her favorite team is the Dodgers ... which tells me that she'd want to play for a west coast team anyway.

Dusty Diamond, Nintendo: I'm still trying to figure out whether Dusty Diamond is real, or just an old Nintendo video game, but it's addicting nonetheless.

Les Nessman, WKRP in Cincinnati: The guy I really want is the guy from that softball episode who caught line drives at third base with a beer can in his throwing hand. But since we have David Wright (and since Bailey Quarters isn't available ... I asked), we'll take Nessman who made a spectacular catch to end the episode in right field.

Metstradamus, Hoffman Park: Admittedly, I'm way past my prime, which lasted about two days. But I'm right-handed, I once hit .400 in a season, and spent most of my time playing first base ... although I can spell Luis Castillo and David Wright once in a while. I even had a walk-off hit robbed from me as a speedy runner was inexplicably held at third on a single to center field.

And, I'm young enough to be Julio Franco's grandson.

Please submit your suggestions here.

The Quads Match The Collars

Instead of a players only team meeting, maybe the gang should have had a seance to try to conjure up some ghosts from 1986 to give them some luck.

Actually, I thought they already took care of that in the ninth inning tonight, when three straight hits with two outs in the ninth all of a sudden looked very eerie, and very familiar. Let's just say that if Chad Cordero had thrown a wild pitch at Ruben Gotay's feet, I would have dusted off my Ouija Board.

But Gotay struck out to end the game. There are no ghosts resurrected from 1986. Keith Hernandez's chair at RFK Stadium had no more hits in it. And Gene Mauch is playing craps in heaven, rolling seven after seven while yelling "Let it ride! Let it ride!"

I wonder if anyone inside that clubhouse during that players' only meeting realizes how close they are to the brink of history...as in the worst historical regular season collapse this side of the California Angels. Nobody has ever been seven or more games up past September 12th and been overtaken. However, our team is doing a really good job of trying to execute this trick.

(Editor's note: If the trick is turned, then 1964 would no longer be Baseball's Most Memorable Collapse, now would it? That would mean that somebody would have to write the story of Baseball's New Most Memorable Collapse. The author of this blog would like to volunteer his services to you publishers out there.)

Do they realize what they're doing to us? Think about it for a second. Think about all the firepower contained in the lineup of the team we root for...yet we're reduced to depending on the offensive production of Miguel Cairo.

Oh, you remember Miguel Cairo don't you? Once, he was the bane of the Mets existence when he wore your uniform in 2005. Now, he's the third place hitter on a team that regularly decides to bat their pitcher eighth. And now we're hoping that Cairo has a four hit day so that the Mets can stay 2 and 1/2 games in first place.

That's pathetic, but that's what our troops have reduced us to by giving up 47 runs to the worst hitting team in the National League...you know, part of that "easy" schedule we were "lucky" enough to draw these past two weeks. Don't they know nothing comes easy? Nothing comes easy to the team that has one pitcher in a boot, another pitcher in need of a boot, a third pitcher designated for assignment, and a fourth pitcher who was designated as the latest pitcher to blow a four run lead.

Oh yeah, and a 40-year-old left fielder with a tight quad...to match everybody else's tight collars. Joy.

So what's tomorrow's meeting going to cover?

Remember Our Heroes...Forget The Game

The ceremonies before Tuesday night's game remind us all that we should never forget the events of 9/11/2001, nor the heroes that emerged that day. For most of us, we don't need ceremonies to remind us.

But feel free to forget all of the actual baseball you saw after those ceremonies. (Not that there was much actual baseball that occurred.)

All last night's game accomplished was to put a hint of doubt in the minds of Mets brass...in the last two weeks, Orlando Hernandez has sandwich a foot injury with two pieces of soggy bread...a collapse against Philadelphia in the coupe de grace of their now meaningless sweep, and an eight run disaster against the Braves. Hernandez has been the Mets' biggest money pitcher this season, but let's face it: he's old. And he's liable to get a lot older at any time. Is this that time? It isn't as if the Mets don't have the luxury of being able to plug John Maine back into the postseason rotation (assuming you believe that Maine is indeed the odd man out when October starts) if Hernandez continues to falter in his next few starts. It wouldn't be an overreaction to think about putting Hernandez in the 'pen after two bad starts...it's just a reflection of the good problem the Mets have in having five solid pitchers to choose from.

Besides, we know from his White Sox days in 2005 that Hernandez would be useful out of the bullpen. And we know from this season that at the very least, he could be a good pinch runner in the playoffs. After all, he has two stolen bases this season, which is two more than Tim Hudson has. Maybe if Tim Hudson was a better baserunner, he wouldn't have gotten picked off second base on Monday. And maybe if Tim Hudson wouldn't have gotten picked off second base on Monday, he wouldn't be whining and hiding behind the imaginary unwritten rule of pitchers not picking off pitchers.

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.

Quite Frankly...

You know how you tease, kick, and mess with your little brother to no end because you can? But heaven forbid somebody else picks on him you get pissed and beat the ever lovin' snot out of him? He's my brother. Only I can tease him about his wavy hair, or his flood pants, or his velvet green jacket. If you tease my brother, you better at least be around often enough to buy him gum or take him to the arcade or something.

Well, the Mets are like a little brother to me. They're kind of like our little brothers. We can tease and punch and kick them all we want because we love our little brother about his bullpen, his stadium, or his crazy dances. But he who teases them without being around to support them will feel the wrath of the big brother.

Certainly, we've seen and heard enough from the national baseball pulpits and the local media with axes to grind. But when Stephen A. Smith decided to throw his stone at the Mets all the way from the annals of the NBA, well that's how you know that this has gotten way out of hand.

Stephen A. Smith is dogging the Mets? What, Kobe Bryant hasn't demanded a trade in the last ten minutes and he's bored?

The premise of his article was basically this: "Hey, the Phillies stink. But the Mets stink worse. So why can't the Phillies win the division?" I'll tell you why. Because while we're busy beating the Pirates and Nationals 5 of 6, the Phillies are splitting with those same teams. Because while John Maine and Oliver Perez are struggling at the moment, and while they may not be the most established pitchers out there, would Stephen A. Smith take Kyle Lohse over either of them? Would you?

If Tom Glavine is ancient, what does that make Jamie Moyer? Spry?

So who's next to take a swing at the Mets? Does Merrill Hoge want a piece? Perhaps Tommy Smith wants to say that the Mets are going to exit in the first round. Or maybe Carson Daly wants to tell us that the Mets farm system is weak.

Seriously folks. It's bad enough when baseball people take shots at the Mets because at least they're paid to watch baseball (although taking into account some of the things that come out of their mouths, it's debatable how much baseball they actually watch...or whether they're actually watching it with their eyes.) But when columnists better known for basketball start taking shots at the Mets, it gets beyond baffling.

It's partly the Mets fault for losing games in the fashion that they have lately...the rip your heart variety that this franchise has been known for. And it's partly our fault for turning every bad loss into Game 7 of the 2006 NLCS. Met fans do have a tendency to go a little bit overboard. But that's the point. Met fans have every right to go overboard. Met fans live, die, and go to purgatory (winters only) with this team.

I wonder what Stephen A. has to say after this weekend's action...as while the Mets were busy sweeping the Nationals, the Phillies were losing two out of three to the Pirates. How much did we lose it after Thursday's disaster? Okay. Double it. That's what Phillies fans should be feeling at this moment. But as long as Stephen A. is telling them that the Mets stink worse than that, and as long as John Kruk is going on television and telling us that nobody in the N.L. East is starting to pull away...as the Mets go up five games on the field with less than fifty games to go...than why should they feel anything but confident? They're still the best team on paper, the Phillies...right?

I'm willing to put it on the line and say that finally, this may be the beginning of the run that the Mets have been hoping for. Something was different about the Mets this weekend. Seeing Luis Castillo clapping like a madman while traveling the bases with the go ahead run is starting to make me think that the fire might be back in the Mets' bellies. Seeing the rest of the team follow suit is heartening as well. Seeing Orlando Hernandez stalk the bench after pitching seven sweet innings and talk up everybody from the bench coaches to the peanut vendors showed me something (and kinda scared me a bit too, but in a good way.) And you know that Carlos Beltran hitting two home runs doesn't hurt as well.

Maybe I shouldn't be so hasty in proclaiming that. After all, Jake Peavy and Chris Young await the Mets at Shea this week, while the Phillies host the slumping Dodgers (and miss Brad Penny in the process), and the Braves visit the fairly terrible Cincinnati Reds, followed by the Cardinals. So it's a good thing that the Mets have that five game cushion to play with going into this week. But the way they shook off Thursday by dispatching of the Nationals makes me think that this coming week may not bring the doom that Stephen A. is probably expecting right now.

Victories! Everywhere I Look: Victories!

So much for pitch counts.

David Cone once had a 166 pitch game, but that was a nine inning game. Orlando Hernandez threw 130 times tonight, in six innings, at the age of forty...something. This means that for David Cone to match that feat, factoring in the age exchange rate, he would have had to throw 529 pitches to match tonight's performance by Hernandez.

(It's kind of like those commercials where they say that you would have to eat 250 bowls of your cereal to match one bowl of Total. Orlando, being as old as he is...or may be...should know all about the value of a healthy cereal.)

Tonight, a victory, made possible by Hernandez, and Mr. French Cooking himself, Jorge Sosa. Carlos Beltran hitting the ball hard and not being placed on the DL is another victory. Tomorrow, Hernandez's arm and Pedro Martinez's arm still being attached to their shoulder sockets would be two more victories. One more victory against the Pirates on Wednesday night and that's 5-0 in two days.

(If only moral victories counted in the standings.)

Sure, it was ugly in the minds of some people. Anything less than 12-0 against a team like the Pirates probably would have been considered ugly. But hey...in case anybody hasn't been paying real close attention lately, the Mets have been playing as ugly as Mike DiFelice sliding into third base (he may be born to catch, but tramps like DiFelice aren't born to run...no word on whether DiFelice's wife is named Wendy). So we'll take it. Take your Moises Alou go-ahead RBI's and go home before somebody changes their mind.

***

Chances are you laughed at something Keith Hernandez said during the game tonight. On those nights that I'm really paying attention, I always laugh at something he says. He's just a goofy human being, and we as Met fans should be eternally grateful for that, especially on those all too familiar nights lately where Hernandez has been the highlight of the broadcast, way above and beyond the actual game.

Does he remind you of anyone?

Never have I appreciated Phil Rizzuto more than when I realized about a week or two ago that Keith Hernandez, in all of his goofiness, is turning out to be our Rizzuto in the booth. As much as the Yankee affiliation turned me off to him, I realized later in life just how entertaining Rizzuto was.

And never have I appreciated the Scooter more than when the Yankees beat the Orioles on Monday night, and noticed a huge John Sterling likeness on the scoreboard with his "Yankees Win" phrase next to him. After I threw up upon the sight of that pompous forced schtick, I wondered aloud if Yankee fans will ever realize how good they had it once upon a time.

And twelve hours later, Rizzuto leaves us. If they don't realize it now, they never will.

In True John Franco Fashion...

Boy, that ninth inning scared the Orosco out of me.

Somewhere, the ghost of Randy Myers is having a good chuckle as Country Time decided to pull the ultimate escape act, as he loaded the bases only to get the next two batters to provide three outs in a 4-3 Mets thriller.

Maybe, as much as Chris Russo gets on my nerves, maybe he's right when he says that there's been something missing from the 2007 Mets as opposed to the 2006 Mets. While it's hardly a fair statement considering that the 2006 Mets were like that perfect regular season storm that comes once in a generation, it may have been true up until tonight.

You see when Orlando Hernandez was victimized by a two out walk to Willie Harris that turned into three Braves runs, it seemed that that something missing was going to remain missing, with Atlanta winning yet another series from the Mets.

But in the battle of trade deadline acquisitions set in the backdrop of National League East battle, Castillo defeated Mahay to get the Mets even with the Braves at three apiece in the seventh. You must understand how much pressure was packed in that at-bat...the difference between John Schuerholz being anointed a genius for all time, and Omar Minaya saying "Ha, take that you Liberty Media Slut!" (Honestly, I don't even know what that means.) And considering my admitted Luis Castillo man crush, it held higher stakes than even that. If Castillo strikes out, it's my butt on the line here.

Wrong again. Castillo ties the game, and takes the first step on the road to Brave slaying.

Then there's Moises Alou...the walking conundrum. Sure, we want David Wright and Carlos Delgado to hit. But we also want Moises Alou to hit with the bases empty, where he stood at .338 this season with three of his four home runs coming in...and not with runners in scoring position where he is at .167 entering Wednesday, including a rally killing double play on Tuesday. It's the catch 22 of life, and we're stuck with it. Even when he does hit a home run his reward is Jose Reyes making fun of his swing. What a drag it is getting old.

Billy Wagner pulling one out of the John Franco playbook though, is no drag. Loading the bases with nobody out and still coming out on top is exciting, exhilarating and exhausting at the same time. Maybe that's what we've been missing...a mind-blowing escape act that you can put in the win column.

And on your cardiology report.

Go Ahead, Tug On Superman's Cape

If you're a Met, and especially if you're Ruben Gotay, you can tug on Ryan Dempster's cape. Because when you google "Ryan Dempster Mets Blown Lead", you get May 17th, 2007. And you also get today.

Yes, Ruben Gotay is Dempster's Kryptonite. Remember, David Wright and Carlos Delgado, who got today's rally going, never got their chops on Dempster in the first game. But Ruben Gotay singled through the left side to drive home the second run of that inning. Today? The only difference was that it was the third run of the inning. But it was, again, a single through the left side. Weird part? Today's ninth inning was almost that ninth inning in reverse. If it wasn't Gotay, Wright, and Delgado, it was Wright, Delgado, and Gotay. And both games featured disappointing relievers making their record 1-0 (Ambiorix Burgos in May, Guillermo Mota today...and by the way, I couldn't even watch Mota in the eighth. I actually left my house, took a walk, ran some errands, and held my breath. And then got home and watched the bottom of the eighth in fast forward like I was ripping a band-aid off of a fresh wound.)

Here's another weird part, the Mets beat Carlos Zambrano, who has been...if not the greatest thing since sliced bread, has been definitely on that list since late May. So what do the Mets do? Why they listen to their new hitting coach and take hundreds of pitches, leading to seven Zambrano walks, and heat cramps after Fluff Castro's home run.

It seemed as if Mets hitters spent the first eight innings listening to the preachings of their current hitting coach, with long AB's against Zambrano and Bobby Howry (Delgado's first four at bats resulted in walks)...and then resorting to the "see it, hit it" philosophy of Rick Down in the ninth (Delgado's RBI double gave the Mets the ninth inning lead). It's tough when you have an angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other. (Lord help you if you have Hojo and Down having an argument in your head, and then Rickey Henderson chimes in and leaves all the other voices in your head speechless.)

Give credit to Orlando Hernandez, who while this wasn't a huge game, had a little juice to it with both the Mets and Cubs in first place, Chicago being as hot as they've been, and Zambrano on the mound. Hernandez was brilliant today with his movement, his eephus pitches, and all of that ice water in his veins. But also give credit to Pedro Feliciano, who I never, ever worried about until today's outing, since he's been shaky the last couple of spots he's been in. Today, however, he got the right handed Matt Murton swinging in a big spot in the seventh, and now I can go back to not worrying about him. There's enough to worry about.

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.

Addition By Fire

It wasn't so long ago where Lastings Milledge was the brash rookie on the cusp of blowing up at the media for their unfair portrayal of him, and it was the wily veteran pulling him aside and keeping him from the harsh spotlight, while explaining to him how things worked, giving the young man lessons in humility and selflessness.

Not even a year later, it's the same young man pushing the wily vet, now painted in some circles as the selfish one, out the door.

The many moves of Omar Minaya and company over the last 24 hours all had purpose...just maybe not the ones you might think. Julio Franco could always balance out his diminishing skills with his positive clubhouse influence and with a sprinkled in hit every now and again...that is, until the hits stopped coming, and the positive clubhouse influence came into question. Was he selfish? Did he think more about his playing time than about where he fit into the team's overall plans...or even his place in the universe?

Silly me for thinking that Franco had a little existentialist in him. In fact, Franco acted like the jilted lover who tried to paint it as if he was going to dump the Mets before the Mets dumped him. A 48-year-old with the same thought patterns as a 16-year-old...if not necessarily the same bat speed.

But if Franco was surprised that it was the Mets who cut the cord and not Franco, then think of how surprised the rest of us were. By the time 2006 ended, Franco had already started showing signs of being the waste of an out that he is at this point. But the Mets had understood that the only reason Franco chose the Mets was because of the second season that they gave him...so the Mets became Warren Beatty in "Heaven Can Wait" in that boardroom when he talked about going to the Super Bowl, and when we get there, let's already have won. It was a rant about doing things the right way, and not being ruthless. The problem was that the Mets weren't going to any Super Bowl or World Series by doing the right thing. The Mets had done their part and more by Julio. But it was time to cut the cord. Omar isn't running a retirement home here. And I hate to say this, but doing the sentimental thing for an aging ballplayer is for the fourth and fifth place teams that have no other reason for the paying customer to come see them (see: Todd Zeile putting the tools of ignorance on for one last game in 2004).

And as for Rick Down? Hey, the Mets had become complacent. It used to be the Mets who would have slower than dirt players steal bases against sleeping teams, or just simply making the smart play. Over the last month or so, it was the opponents who would turn that around on the Mets. Teams like that need a shakeup...and benching Jose Reyes for an inning in a game that you're losing by four runs isn't quite enough. Once you eliminate all of the coaches that would make no sense to fire, all you had left was Down. No matter what you feel about the job he did, and he probably wasn't as bad as 2005 and 2007 made him look and certainly not as good as 2006 made him seem, you have to admit that it made the most sense to let him go as your shakeup scapegoat.

Of course, firing Rick Down didn't buy the Mets a run with a runners on second and third and nobody out in the eighth inning, but you have Milledge scoring the winning run on a single to center field...from first base. Try that with Julio Franco.

You have Jose Reyes turning a single to center into a double by hustling...a far away concept just a week ago...and you have Orlando Hernandez stealing a base...just like old times (emphasis on "old").

You also have Reyes and Ruben Gotay with a Mets first: back to back jacks to start the game. Making history is a good thing. Being in the lineup to make history because Jose Valentin was sporting a team colored gauze pad because he tried to break up a bar fight? That's just like old times too...like Cooter's in 1986 old. (Reports that Rick Aguilera was somehow involved are not, I repeat, not confirmed.)

And you have Reyes cleverly throwing to third base to nail a runner in the ninth inning, as he didn't do when the Mets were in their funk.

Now add it all together, and then add Rickey Henderson. Imagine the comedic possibilities, and enjoy the second half.

Blood On My Hands

You don't know how hard it is to type right now, being that my eyes are bleeding from their sockets after gouging my eyes out with long needles during the bottom of the fifth inning.

But here's the bright side, when you combine the red of the blood with the blue of my mood spilled all over my white Mets jersey, you have the perfect color scheme for America's birthday. So at least it's festive.

This whole series brought back some bad AFC Championship memories.

It doesn't help that curveballs in that city act like helium balloons, as Orlando Hernandez's eephus pitch acted like to Todd Helton who was halfway to first base on his bases loaded walk in the fourth inning before the ball got halfway to home plate.

And you know we talk about how batted balls go farther, and how pitches stay up. How about throws from the infield? After the Helton walk made it 4-3 Rockies, Jose Reyes made shall we say, a bad decision going to first base on a backhander in the hole and two outs rather than going to third base. The ball took off in the mountain air and landed somewhere in Grand Junction to give the Rockies two more runs.

But all was not lost as the Mets pulled within 6-4 in the top of the fifth. But then all was lost as Hernandez had to leave the game due to incredibly high pitch count (some scientists put the number somewhere between 124 and infinity), paving the way for Guillermo Mota to enter the game to keep things close.

Instead, Mota gave six runs in two thirds of an inning causing some to wonder whether that was actually Mota, or Richard Todd throwing a touchdown to the guys in the wrong colored jersey.

And now, after a 17-7 loss, I'm blind.

But you know what gets my goat throughout this whole thing? It's the fact that for the first time ever, a team has swept the Yankees and the Mets during one regular season. And people who read that can't help but paint a picture in their minds of Yankee fans and Met fans commiserating together about the Rockies. That vision is inaccurate and grossly overstated. The conversation in the bar would actually go like this:

Yankee fan: "So you got swept by the Rockies too, huh? Too bad you don't have twenty six world championships that you can rest your head on at night."

At which point the Met fan would break their bottle over the Yankee fan's head and walk out of the bar with their heads held high...unlike the actual Mets, who leave Denver with their tails between their legs, Oliver Perez on the DL, and Sandy Alomar Jr. on the roster (a youth movement). Never have I been so happy to have the team in Houston in my life. At this point, anywhere but Denver.

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.

A Cheese-Break

The Mets and Cardinals were washed out tonight.

And because of such, Mike Pelfrey has been washed out for Friday's doubleheader. And that's a relief. Because there was a part of me that was scared that Pelfrey would pitch the day game instead of John Maine. Now, at least if Maine is pushed to Friday night, Orlando Hernandez, who was supposed to go tonight, will go in the afternoon and not Pelfrey (and if you believe what you read here, it will indeed be Orlando Hernandez in Friday's afternoon game).

Why do I care so much about who goes in the afternoon?

Well let's just say that your friendly neighborhood blogger will be off on another adventure. A repeat trip to try to duplicate the success of last year's jaunt. Some would say that sequels are never as good as the original. But I'm willing to take that chance...and hope that the karma of a 3-0 lifetime road record (along with the karma of "The Metmaster") will trump the karma of Chase Utley and bad sequels.

No, I don't expect to see Carlos Delgado and Keith Hernandez on the Amtrak again. In fact, I know that's not possible. But besides a victory, there's one sequel I'm looking forward to:

I'm bringing a bag full back to New York and will enjoy one of them on my couch for the nightcap. Can I bring one for anybody else?

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.