Five Going On 27, And One Going On Forever

How do you know you're not having a good September? How about when you're on the verge of losing your fifth game in a row, and already you're being tangentially compared to Anthony Young by the announce crew?

The good news is that with most of his future already in the past, most likely he isn't going to get a chance to get near 27. But that's the way the cookie crumbles when you're Nelson Figueroa, it's 2009, and David Wright is continuing to have horrible at-bats with men on base, and making fielding errors left and right. No wonder Met fans can't wait for the season to end ... they're just taking a cue from their leader, who seemingly can't wait for this week to end either.

Last season, we didn't want to end. But it did ... and with it came the end of the road for our home, Shea Stadium. Yesterday passed the one year anniversary of the final game ever at Shea. If there's one thing we've all learned as we look back with some distance between us and Shea, I hope it's this: The talk about leaving all those curses behind at Shea, that it was somehow the park's fault, that it was Shea that held all those evil ghosts in it that caused the Mets to lose in horrible, horrible ways, and that tearing it down would fix everything, and cleanse everyone of the dark chi that had enveloped us all? All crap. All of it. By that logic, there's about ten parks that need to be bulldozed if every ghost will indeed be eliminated.

If Shea was indeed a living, breathing mechanism with a soul, it certainly would be having a nice laugh at all of our expenses up in ballpark heaven with the rest of the dearly departed.

Drifting All The Way Home

People have asked me over the offseason if I thought the Mets could win with Daniel Murphy's defense in left field. My response was that if the Phillies could win with Pat Burrell playing left field, then the Mets could win with Murphy.

Murphy's drop which led to the two unearned Marlin runs had nothing to do with an infielder playing outfield. That had nothing to do with range, ability, nothing lying alongside of the UZR road. That was, plainly and simply, dopey. And we'll just have to accept that along with all of the good things Murphy is going to bring to the table, every once in a while he's going to do that. Hopefully, not all of his blunders are going to be the kind of mistakes that turn Johan Santana gems into Josh Johnson gems.

Now, here's the thing about this 2-1 loss which drops the Mets to 3-3: There's no reason for panic because they dropped two of three to Florida. Sure, you don't want to waste Johan Santana starts, and they haven't wasted many since that June day in '08 when women went crazy and Yankee fans were ... well, Yankee fans. You can, however, start panicking if the Mets lose two out of three to the Padres at home. And before you tell me I'm crazy for even suggesting that scenario against a team that Gary Cohen said would have trouble merely competing during a spring broadcast back on March 19th, remember this: Oliver Perez starts on Wednesday. Jake Peavy starts on Thursday. If the Mets somehow lose Monday's opener, then all those pigeons ready to push that panic button could be let loose by Thursday. Remember, this Padre team is 5-2.

(What it probably all means is that the Mets will lose Monday and win the next two. Logic? What's that?)

Hopefully, logic will hold for at least one game, and the Mets will pull out a win for the first real game ever in the new digs. Even with the two games against the Red Sox, even with me having been to one of them, I still don't know how I'm going to react to seeing a Mets home game that counts played somewhere other than Shea. Every opening day I was ever at was played at Shea. I was there for Craig Swan's two run single in 1980, after skipping school. (There were really only 12,000+ at that one?) I was there for Seaver's return in '83 ... again, after skipping school. Strawberry's dinger off of Pascual Perez in 1988? Yup, skipped school again. The Rockies' debut at Shea? I probably skipped some nutty college class for that too. In fact, I was at every home opener between '87-'93. If I hadn't skipped so much school I probably would have made more of my life.

And I have to admit that I was a little emotional after being at Citi Field for the first time, and having it really hit me that Shea is really gone, reduced to a pile of rubble that shrinks every day as if it was a division lead in September of '07. But the past is the past, and the future is upon us. If you're like me, you'll have to remind yourself every once in a while that progress is good.

My only hope is that the vibe from the stands, the atmosphere that made Shea so unique, the one that Mets fans created will make its way across the parking lot. There was always a certain roar that came from Shea that was so recognizable to me that I could close my eyes, have a random game on, and I knew that the game was being played at Shea. Something was always different from the roar after a strikeout at Shea than the roar after a strikeout anywhere else. That was more fans than building, but the building had a little something to do with it.

Who knows if that roar will return ... we're all still feeling our way through this new park, and you know that at least in the beginning, there will be a lot of people visiting more for new architecture and better food than to watch Luis Castillo butcher a ground ball. So that unique atmosphere might not be all there to start. That's to be expected. Hopefully familiarity and a pennant race will bring that atmosphere, along with some home field advantage, to the new digs. Here's hoping.

Happy housewarming.

Finishing What Wes Helms Started

I'm sure most of you saw this on Metsblog, but for those that didn't, here is Shea Stadium's last stand earlier today:



I know the dream is coming. It may not be tonight ... it may not be tomorrow ... it may not be until next winter. But the dream is coming. It'll be the one where I'm in Shea Stadium, and Darryl Strawberry is trying to bat in the bottom of the ninth, down by three with the bases loaded against Todd Worrell through a driving rainstorm when the umps finally pull the tarp on the field. And we'll all have to go to the ramps to wait out the rain. Except that all of a sudden I'll look around, and the ramp that I'm on is one of the ramps in the above video, and the rest of the stadium will magically disappear, replaced by rubble. And I'm all alone watching the welder below slice open the piece of metal which sends the whole thing down. And I'll be grabbing on to the side for dear life but it's no use, because I'm going down with that last piece of rubble.

And when I emerge from the pile, the welder takes off his mask revealing himself to be Bobby Bonilla. And he's laughing at me.

Cue the cold sweat.

The Florida Marlins: Behind The Blow

Well, another red letter season has come do an end (and that red letter is F ... I'll let you figure out what that stands for.) And believe it or not, I still have s**t to say. The following is one in a series of random stuff I'm throwing against the wall about person or persons of my choosing. These are your New York Mets: Behind the Blow.

Somebody asked me if I was going to put the Marlins organization on the ballot for the annual Hall of Hate vote in 2009, after knocking out the Mets in 2007 and 2008. I can't do it ... because in '09, they end the season in Philadelphia instead of New York. So we might need them.

Now when they inevitably lie down and die against Philly to give them their third straight division title, then I'll think about it.

By the way, the Marlins have re-signed Wes Helms. I just thought I would mention that.

For close to four full seasons, I've tried like hell to point out the crimes of baseball: Suit-wearing casual fans invading ballparks. Shane Victorino being the Theo Fleury of baseball. Brett Myers hating the Mets and being an otherwise pillar of society. Cody Ross waiting to yell at Mike Pelfrey until he was a safe distance away from him. Hanley Ramirez and his intense jealousy about New York that festers into hate. Wallace Matthews' writing about the Mets as if he's that kid who's three feet shorter than you that keeps daring you to hit him.

Baseball criminals all.

But the worst part about the Mets spitting the bit two years in the row is that I can't keep the criminals out anymore. They've stormed the castle and they're drinking our alcohol. And I have nary the energy to argue with them anymore. Shane Victorino? You're not obnoxious at all ... you're gritty and gutty. Myers? You are a pillar of society. Cody Ross? Yeah, you're absolutely right ... how dare Mike Pelfrey's fastball run inside. Hanley Ramirez? Yeah, those days where you have hundreds and not thousands of fans at your football stadium? New York's fault ... totally. Wallace Matthews? You're completely writing what's in your heart, and not trying to break records for negative comments ... totally. Jimmy Rollins? You're right. Baseball needs more robots. How dare we show emotion? Bandwagon fans who get their tickets for free and know nothing about what they're watching? Sure, pose for pictures during play and block my view. What do I care? I'm just a paying customer ... which is latin for "sucker".

Though I will say that the new shirt that the Marlins are selling on their website has gone a little too far.

Also available in black or teal.

(Updated Editor's note: And with this, the venom is back. Because we need Joba Chamberlain's f***ing hat in the hall of fame to encourage the bloated legacy of a guy who hasn't pitched 150 innings in his career ... but he's a Yankee so let's all bow!!! But before you get upset about the lack of items from Shea Stadium's last game in comparison to all the Yankee items, don't be so sure that the Mets hadn't sold everything to the highest bidder already.)

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.

Anger Mismanagement

A lot of things bothered me about the Mets 14 inning, 10-8 loss to the Cardinals on Saturday.

Very few of these things happened on the field.

I mean, yeah the Mets left too many on the basepaths even though they scored eight runs ... and yeah, there were too many double switches in the sixth inning which I knew would come back and bite them if the game went into extra innings (which it did, with Country Time having to go two innings and Aaron Heilman having to go three, which against Albert Pujols is tempting fate waaaaaaaaaay too much.) But it doesn't get much more satisfying than Brandon Knight (The lost New Kid On The Block) bouncing back from a disastrous first inning to pitch five acceptable innings on the whole ... or more exciting than Carlos Delgado hitting two home runs (both of which were called by my Shea Stadium companion for the evening: "The Artist Formerly Known As Jinx" ... or more thrilling than Fernando Tatis jacking one to center field to tie the game in the ninth. I mean, the win would have been great, but I'm not going to waste my energy complaining about a game that probably would have ended 8-2 Cardinals if this was April or May.

No, I'm here to complain about what happened in the stands tonight. And please allow me to get right to the point:

You people who insist on standing at the bottom of the section having your friends take pictures of you while the game is going on in the background should never be allowed into a sporting event again.

Look, I know this is the last season of Shea Stadium. Fine. You want to preserve your memories. Fine. You want a picture of yourself in the House That Kranepool Built. Fine. But it's bad enough you stand at the entrance of the section between innings and block everyone from getting to the bathroom or the snack line before it fills up. Tonight, you took to standing at the entrance of the section while the play was going on and blocking our view of the game!

And believe me, I'm not writing this because of one bad apple ... or two, or three even. There were no less than 30 people who, either at the entrance of the section, or the top of the bar around row F which lied in between sections, had their pictures taken by their friends during play! DURING PLAY!

You know what's worse ... this wasn't happening from innings one to four while we're barely paying attention. This was happening in the fifth inning. The sixth! The seventh! This was happening in the BOTTOM OF THE NINTH INNING WITH THE SCORE TIED AT 8-8!!!

And not just one picture, mind you ... people were doing this in groups of seven or eight, one or two at a time! "Okay, let's take a picture with you on the right and me on the left ... all right, now switch places and let's take a picture this way ... all right now let's give the camera our bootylicious pose ..."

Let's get one thing straight, America: I DID NOT COME TO A BASEBALL GAME TO WATCH YOU PLAY AMERICA'S NEXT MEDIOCRE MODEL!!! SIT THE #$%& DOWN AND WATCH THE #$%&ING BASEBALL GAME THAT YOU, I, AND THE PEOPLE WHOSE VIEW YOU'RE BLOCKING PAID GOOD MONEY TO SEE!!!

I mean really, does anybody come to a baseball game to ... pray tell ... watch a damn baseball game anymore? I swear to you, during the bottom of the ninth while the family photoshoot was going on, there was a couple in the tunnel within eyeshot of the game making out. 8-8 in the ninth, and they're making out. What drove me insane was that when the ninth inning ended, the couple then left the tunnel and went back into the concourse like "oh, now it's safe to leave ... we won't miss anything." Unlike all the action they caught while they were playing tonsil hockey.

All right, I see that I need to lay down some new rules to live by. Here they are:

• If you came to a baseball game to get rip-roaring drunk, there are these hot new places that are especially made for you to do that. I don't know if you've heard of them, they're called bars. Check your local yellow pages for those.
• If you came to a baseball game to make out, you should know that for the money that the Mets are charging for tickets these days, you can probably take that money and get an hourly rate at the Lincoln Motor Inn. This way, you can make out in private and even grope each other if you'd like ... beds are much more comfortable than plastic seats. You can even use the television to have the Mets game on in the background. I say this as a public service.
• If you came to a baseball game to have family photo time while the game is going on so that you can capture the best of your family and the action of the ballgame at the same time ... there's a place for you too. Got a pen? Here goes: JCPenney! I'm sure if you ask, they'll key in a nice photo of Shea Stadium behind you. You could probably have JCPenney key in the Buckner play too so you can tell your friends you were there.
• And the most important rule to live by ... as always ... sit down and watch the game!!!

The sad part is this: While this was the first time I've noticed this run rampant ... it's only going to get worse as the games left at Shea count down until the end. And at the new field: With only season tickets and day of game tickets being sold at lord knows what price, this new contingent of spectator will only spread like wildfire. But this is what Fred Wilpon wants ... this is what Bud Selig wants ... this is what Roger Goodell wants ... this is what Woody Johnson wants with his PSL's that are designed to drive out the fan who chants for his team at key moments in the game, and bring in the spectator who chants when the scoreboard tells him to ("Everybody clap your hands!" Screw you and don't give me orders!!! I'll clap on my own time, thank you.)

And if this is who is going to be surrounding me at the ballpark or at the stadium or at the arena, then I will gladly take my ticket money and put it towards a 43" flat LCD screen and watch my sporting events from the comfort of my living room, while I'm blogging about the next thing that bothers me.

(Editor's note: My friend says I have anger management issues. I wonder if he figured that out when I was yelling at these people to sit down, or during the 11th inning when I yelled at Aaron Miles to go back to his treehouse and make me some cookies. I'm not sure.)

Shea Stadium: The Board Game

Off days and rainouts stink.

What is a Met fan to do on those lonely off days and rainouts during April besides wonder why Willie Randolph consistently mismanages his bullpen?

Well now, you can combine off-day fun with Shea Stadium nostalgia with a great new board game titled: "Shea Stadium: The Board Game"! Can you get through a day at Shea without being pinched by the ushers, buying a cold knish, getting into an fistfight with a Yankee fan, or seeing Carlos Beltran strike out in a big spot? Now, you can experience the fun, excitement, and frustration of seeing the Mets at Shea Stadium from the comfort of your own living room! So help celebrate the final season at Shea Stadium with this addicting board game!

*Click board for optimal view ... template shamlessly stolen from here. Extended game play may cause drooling and dizzyness.