Can I Get A Sandis For My Workbench?

The NHL trade deadline is my excuse to mention Sandis Ozolinsh.

It's just a great name.

Say it with me: Sandis Ozolinsh.

What does Sandis Ozolinsh have to do with the New York Mets?

Well, they thought that Kaz Matsui would be their Sandis Ozolinsh...you know, an offensive defenseman at second base...a terror with the bat and a whiz with the glove. But the only whiz that caused any trouble was the one that put Ozolinsh in a substance abuse program earlier in the season.

But the subject of trade deadlines will be an interesting one for New York's baseball team...as it was for New York's hockey team (in my world, there's only one of each). Because with all the off-season moves the Mets made for 2006, you wonder if they have anything left for the July 31st deadline. Save for the courtship of Manny Ramirez's services, there wasn't anyone left to add at the deadline. Will there be any more salary available for the trade deadline? Will there be any holes to fill?

Of course, the NHL is now different from MLB in that hockey has a salary cap...so all deals are made with salary ramifications in mind. But the Mets are on a self imposed budget that they are close to maxing out on now. That, combined with the fact that most positions are filled with top-flight talents and salaries, means that it's probably going to be a quiet July in Flushing.

If they are to trade for a second baseman (which isn't likely as long as Kaz continues to be the albatross that ate the 7 train), it will probably happen in spring training with Tony Graffanino and Todd Walker being shopped now rather than later. Outfield will only become an issue if heaven forbid Cliff Floyd's kidneys are in worse shape than we think. Starting pitcher? At this point, the only way the Mets go after a starter is if it's a top flight starter...and the only way the Mets get a top flight starter is if they include one Lastings Milledge in the deal. And after seeing Milledge play, the only way they include one Lastings Milledge in any deal is over my cold hard body.

(Some wish that could be arranged.)

So what does that leave? A lefty middle reliever perhaps? While perhaps necessary, it would hardly break the bank and get anybody's blood boiling.

So there you have it. The Met trade deadline will be uneventful. And that's the first prediction of 2006. The second prediction of 2006 is that somewhere on a Denver blackboard during major league baseball's trade deadline, Pierre Lacroix will be writing "I will not trade my number one goalie for a physical and mental wreck" 5,000 times.

But he'll probably be writing it in French... in which case, it's: "Je ne commercerai pas mon gardien de but du numéro un pour une épave physique et mentale."

No Small Market Feat

It's been a couple of days since we lost Kirby Puckett. In that time, there have been many things written and eulogized about Minnesota's fire hydrant that there really is no need for me to weigh in. But I didn't want to let it pass without saying at least a few words.

Kirby Puckett's legacy has reverberated throughout the Twins organization up until this very minute, and will continue to do so. And I'm not talking about the impressive feats performed during the 1991 World Series (feats so impressive that "Game Six" means something totally different in Minneapolis than it does in New York City.)

No, I'm talking more about the hold that the Minnesota Twins have on baseball players. Players like Paul Molitor and Dave Winfield, who spent many more seasons with other clubs...and more successful seasons elsewhere, talk about their time in Minnesota as if they had spent their whole career there. Guys who came up in the Twins system such as Doug Mientkiewicz (remember him?) Jacque Jones, and Torii Hunter stayed with the Twins much longer than anybody would have thought a player of their calibre would have stayed in a market like Minnesota, and a ballpark like the Homerdome.

The same could be said about guys like Kirby Puckett and Kent Hrbek. Certainly, Puckett could have gotten bigger bucks after his contract was up in 1992. Instead, he stayed with the Twins, setting a precedent for hometown loyalty that while not applicable to everyone who wears a Twins uniform, certainly seems more prevalent there than it should be. Guys like Torii Hunter don't stay Twins had it not been for Kirby Puckett, and his understanding that the astroturf isn't always greener on the other side. Think about it: Puckett's raise from close to three million to $5.3 million to re-sign with Minnesota would be considered modest by today's standards...although 1992 isn't that far removed from today.

And that's why Puckett's death is so sad. This isn't someone from my childhood. This is someone I watched play baseball after I was already in the work force. The video of Puckett using the bag that passes for a wall in center field to rob many an unsuspecting hitter of a home run is still fresh in my mind...not black and white, not at all grainy. It's still there. Still fresh in my mind. Still clear.

I remember Wally Backman sometime after the Mets won in 1986 said: "I can't wait until 2006 when we can all come back and celebrate the twentieth anniversary of this victory." Sure enough (and way too fast), 2006 is here, and the Mets have planned that celebration, August 19th. There are other things, other celebrations planned for that very special team. I hope after Puckett's untimely passing that we realize how lucky we are to have everybody come back for that 20th anniversary. Because the following season, Minnesota will have a 20th anniversary of their own. And the biggest and brightest star from the 1987 World Champions will be out. He isn't going to be there in 2011 either...the 20th anniversary of the '91 champs, and of that Game Six. And those celebrations will never be what they should be.

Live From The Clinic

A Yankee fan made this comment to me yesterday, so you'll understand that the metaphor involves hard drugs. But he told me: "you know, I can't get into spring training baseball. Don't get me wrong, I love baseball...it's my crack cocaine. But spring training is like methadone. I mean, it's okay...but it's not crack."

Now the hardest powder I've ever ingested are those lik-a-stix that you had as a kid, and the only thing I ever smoked was a Frosted Mini-Wheat (don't ask), so I was going to have to take his word for it. But I kept the comment in mind as I flipped on the television today for a little Dominican Republic vs. Venezuela world baseball. It's not quite regular season baseball, yet a little stronger than pure methadone. It's like methadone cut with angel dust...I guess.

The first thing I noticed was Big Papi's face, which I thought was involved in some sort of accident, or maybe a high stick from Jeremy Roenick. But apparently, it's a design. Not a tattoo, more like one of those temporary deals you get in the cracker jack boxes. Which begs the question: how strong is the methadone David Ortiz must be taking to put that on his face?

I guess it's just Papi being Manny.

All right all right, Papi merely acts as a bridge for me. And this is how you know it's March. The pride of Venezuela and the skeleton in the closet of the Mets rotation, Victor Zambrano struck out Ortiz on a pitch three feet inside and two feet in the dirt. Yeah, the pitch had stuff...but in July, Ortiz lets it go by for ball four.

A few pitches later, Zambrano throws one that goes a foot over Moises Alou's head and to the backstop. Unlike Papi, our own Victor Zambrano is in mid-season form. Later on, I get a load of new Met Jorge Julio throwing a beach ball to Adrian Beltre that at this moment is orbiting Mars. And then it occurs to me: If this is spring training, and spring training is methadone...I need detox.

Now!

Between Pedro's toe, Delgado's tendonitis, Zambrano continuing to play the elephant in the punch bowl, and Julio doing his Armando Benitez impression, I'm at the front door of the Meth clinic with more shakes than Dairy Queen. And all I want to do now is shoot up with something that will take away the pain of wild pitches and gopher balls.

Or maybe a simple dose of Winstrol will do it.

Speaking of drugs (silly blogger, segways are for kids)...

Sure, we all pretty much knew that Barry Bonds was juicin'. Although the evidence is largely circumstantial, where there's smoke there's fire...and there's enough smoke here to make Cheech and Chong jealous. But as it becomes increasingly clear that we've all been duped with these home run records, it leaves a sinking feeling. Think about it. You grew up revering the home run record of Roger Maris. It seemed untouchable didn't it? Then you think you've witnessed something special not once, but twice! And the first time you saw the single season home run record broken, it merely brought the sport all the way back from the oblivion it plunged itself into when a players strike killed the 1994 season...which should have been the first time Maris' record was broken by Matt Williams. But now, you find out it was all a farce. It wasn't real.

It's kind of like you go to an all-boys school for four years...and then you graduate, and the first thing you do is scout for women. And you walk up on someone with the finest female form you've seen in your life...and you walk behind her for a few blocks before you get up the nerve to say hello to her. And right before you do...at the very moment you are reaching to tap her shoulder, she turns around...

and it's a guy.

And that's the home run era in a nutshell. Lipstick on a pig.

The worst part is that baseball let this happen. It's their lack of rules, their undersized ballparks, their propensity to look the other way, their refusal to kill the golden goose which was genetically engineered to lay big golden eggs that busted many home run records...including one and and eventually maybe two of the most hallowed home run records that exist.

Get me to the clinic...immediately.

But get me out in time to see Bonds pass Hank Aaron...off a Jorge Julio fastball.

Taking Stock

Here's what I know:

I know my reason for hating this World Baseball Uniform Sale/Tournament. It trumps everything I said before.

Bernie Williams, playing for Puerto Rico, with Mets surrounding him...on his own team and the opposition...in the Mets spring training facility...getting a "Let's Go Bernie" chant from the crowd (obviously not screened at the gate for pinstripes) in the fifth inning as he batted against Billy Wagner in the 5th inning of Puerto Rico's 6-1 exhibition win over the split twice squad Mets.

This is what happens when you mess with the natural order of the universe with a dopey tournament. You get Bernie Williams chants at Tradition Field.

Bud Selig, the blood is on your hands.

This wasn't Puerto Rican pride happening either, so don't give me that jazz. There were no "Let's Go Carlos" chants for Mr. Beltran. No chants for Javy Lopez, or Alex Cintron. No, these were Yankee fans starting trouble. These are undercover operatives torching religious establishments trying to start demonstrations and violent rallies and civil wars when all anybody ever wanted was to watch baseball in peace.

***

Here's what else I know:

Juan Padilla, after pitching today against the Mets for Puerto Rico (and while we're at it, where were the chants for The Fly in Port St. Lucie?), bowed out of the tournament because his arm didn't feel 100%. I hope that meant "my arm isn't up to full strength yet and I need to compete for a spot in an already crowded Met bullpen", and not "my arm suddenly has a twinge after trying to throw hard in a Puerto Rican uniform and I need to bow out before my shoulder falls out of its socket".

I'm guessing the former. But if it's the latter, that's more blood on your hands Bud.

***

Here is what I learned so far this spring:

Many Met fans have seen Lastings Milledge play at one point or another. Today was my first opportunity to see him. I saw two balls hit hard, and I saw a hustling diving catch in the ninth inning of a meaningless game.

Needless to say, I was impressed.

If Milledge is wearing a Red Sox uniform in April (or any other uniform other than a Mets organization uni), I'll find a way to blame Selig for that too. After all, he does have to sign off on the deal, no?

***

At least one of Steve Schmoll's pitches has yet to cross the plate. I've seen less fluttering in moths.

***

Everyone tuned in to the ESPN Puerto Rico/Mets tournament missed the Mets other game today, a 16-2 loss to Los Angeles. I for one, didn't miss it one bit. The Dodgers hit a franchise record 57 home runs today as Met pitchers made a star out of Andy LaRoche (just like they did with Adam last year).

***

Steve Phillips, working for ESPN, interviewed former assistant (and current head honcho) Omar Minaya in the booth during today's game. He told heart warming stories about how Omar was the "idea man", coming to Phillips with ideas after ideas, getting them all shot down. Then Phillips came up with an idea that of course Minaya agreed with (as you would all do with your bosses to keep your job). Gee, maybe Steve would still have a job if he had listened to his assistant every now and again.

Wrong Answer

I don't quite know how to feel about this, so I'm not going to come out with both barrels blazing on this one (It's spring training for me too, you know.) But just when I thought that the Wilpon's had abandoned their small market penny-pinching thinking, comes this. David Wright, only the team leader in RBI's a season ago, was taken advantage of by his lack of leverage and pigeon-holed into a 2006 salary of $374,000. (Wright got a raise of $9,000 on cost of living expenses alone...why isn't that in my contract?)

Management is no doubt thinking that if Wright gets special treatment in this case, then future players at the same point in their career will ask for the same special treatment, and the Mets want to be able to claim that nobody gets special treatment. And that's fair...sort of.

BUT...

If that is the case, and notice I'm trying to be true to my zodiac sign and attempt to see both sides of the issue here, then the Mets should not let this linger too much longer. They can still say they stuck to their guns on the issue, and that might be valuable to them down the road with another player. But when you send a message that you're held to the same standard and measured with the same slide rule as Butch Huskey, Bill Pulsipher and Alex Ochoa, well let's just say that Art Howe made more sense...sort of.

The smart move here is to sit Wright down in July if he starts off on a similar pace to 2005, and get a deal done...even if it's a million...generous for what he's making now yet a mere carrot compared to what he could be making in the future. The Wilpons seem content to stick their heads in the sand and not answer the door when it knocks. But they're going to have to pay for David Wright's services (not to mention the revenue he brings in via ticket and merchandise sales). If not now, then later. And if they wait until later, then some other team or teams are going to have a crack at the player that ESPN called a "franchise player". Paying now gets you that "hometown discount" later on.

More World Baseball Hater-Ade

So what, exactly is Bud Selig thinking at this moment?

After all, Billy Wagner opting out of the World Baseball Uniform Sale/Tournament has our fearless leader figuring out a marketing strategy to either sell Gary Majewski USA jerseys (not quite the star power Selig had in mind) or convince Jennie Finch to pitch for Buck Martinez's Team USA (you want ratings in the United States? That'll do it!)

But the way Selig runs things, pitchers are secondary to the process anyway. You can be sure that Bud wants 12-11 games out of this W.B.U.S.T. They mind as well "self-hit" like we did in the playground.

In any event, the departures of Country Time and Pedro The Toe from the tournament are a welcome relief to Met fans (now if Juan "The Fly" Padilla can be convinced that this is a horrible idea). Because nobody wants to see an important cog in the 2006 season have their arm fall off in a tournament so hokey, one of it's logos looks mysteriously looks like an upside down WHA logo. How can anyone take this tournament seriously?

Jennie Finch, please pick up a white courtesy phone...Ms. Finch, white courtesy phone.