Think Classy, You'll Be Classy

I noticed, during a postgame interview last night, that LaTroy Hawkins -- now wearing #22 -- has a big yellow "RETIRE 21" sticker right above his locker nameplate.

I assumed that was a joke on this whole controversy, at first, and was suitably impressed... because aside from good breaking stuff, a sense of humor is probably one of the more crucial traits in a New York relief pitcher. But no -- per this AP article on the whole fracas, it's actually from retire21.org, a group trying to get Roberto Clemente's number retired throughout baseball ("Ya es tiempo!"). Oh, the irony.

There's even a t-shirt:


On the plus side, Hawkins pitched very well last night at a pivotal moment, as the Yankees slowly and clumsily clubbed the Red Sox to death, 15-9. Not the most graceful game the old Stadium has ever seen.

Meanwhile, there's good news from Shea, on a rare night when both teams were playing (and winning) at home. Jose Reyes seems to have his groove back, after a nudge from Carlos Beltran -- who apparently took three entire seasons to adjust to New York before he could feel comfortable opening up a bit to reporters, bless his mild-mannered soul. Anyway, David Lennon writes:

Carlos Beltran gave us a great story after the game. He revealed that he went to Jose Reyes Tuesday afternoon and pleaded with him to go back to his old ways: the dancing, the handshakes, the smiling, the laughing. No more Mr. Serious.

Since then Reyes has gone 6-for-9 with a double, triple and home run.

“I’m going to be the old Jose Reyes," he said. "I’m going to enjoy my game. I’m going to dance during the game. I’m going to do the handshakes with everybody. I’m going to keep everybody going with smiles in the dugout.”

Here's Beltran: "I didn’t think he was happy. I told him, ‘I want you to be the Jose Reyes you’ve always been. Forget about what people say. Forget what they write about you. Forget about what other teams think. Just be you.’”

Nice! I'll take Carlos Beltran over Dr. Phil any day of the week. The Times has more.

Personally, I'm thrilled -- I really hate the line of thought that says baseball players shouldn't be demonstrative, should try not to show too much emotion on the field. A certain segment of columnists, radio personalities, and fans throughout the years has always wanted athletes to essentially feign indifference at all times; this is supposedly "classy." I think it's just dull.

Granted, you don't want to be obnoxious about these things. But baseball is, after all, a form of entertainment, and it's always more fun when you can tell that the players care (speaking of Paul O'Neill), or when they reveal a little personality. I like Joba Chamberlain's scary-intense fist-pump -- hell, I like Jonathan Papelbon's fist pump. The Mets' handshake routines seem deeply good-natured to me, and if other teams really feel compelled to take offense, well, then that should lead to some good and intense games. You don't want Jose Reyes to dance? Pitch better.

Things Fall Apart

Sorry for the delay in getting around to Sunday's cataclysm at Shea. I was writing about it for tomorrow's New York Press, and I needed to sort out my thoughts for that first. When the game ended I was actually at a loss for words -- longtime readers will know this is not common -- and while that didn't last long, it's still hard to make sense of the whole mess: there were 20 different quite practical reasons for it, and yet on some level it really defied logical explanation. Yes, it was the pitching, first and foremost, and there was a lack of hustle at times, and a number of key hitters underperformed... all of that is true. But, man: the baseball gods were angry.

I also think this bumps the Mets fanbase up from sort of middle-of-the-road suffering to seriously put-upon. Seeing all those heartbroken kids at Shea was just wrenching... I mean, the Yankees sucked when I was growing up, but they never did anything like that to me.

It's amazing (har!) that one terrible game could totally wipe out all the good things Tom Glavine did for the Mets in his time in New York, but that's what just happened. I have to assume he'll be back pitching next year -- because how do you leave a 20-year Hall of Fame career like that? But not with the Mets, he won't be. I hate to say it, but he really hurt himself with his calm, composed postgame comments; what he said was fair, but if the fans were ever going to even think about forgiving him they needed to see some real emotion there. Meanwhile, ESPN has a rumor (Insider only) suggesting Glavine might sign with the Nationals next season, which, god, would just be depressing on every conceivable level.

I have to say, while Mets fans have the right to be just as freaked out, crazed and irrational as they need to be right now, the maelstrom of blame is getting out of hand. There are many very legitimate complaints to be made about Minaya, Randolph, Reyes, Glavine, El Duque's bunion et al, but does anyone really believe that the Mets collapsed because Reyes was out on the town too late with Luis Castillo? Come on now.

Meanwhile Scott Schoeneweis of all people has been accused of ordering steroids three years ago -- altogether now Mets fans: "why did he stop?!" -- though he denies it; and Billy Wagner complained to New York Magazine about Willie Randolph and Rick Peterson's bullpen management, though he has since apologized and claims that his remarks out of context. Good times. (By the way, that NY Mag article is generally well-written and I don't mean to nit-pick -- okay, fine, yes I do -- but how do you refer to Ian Kennedy as "fireballing"?).

Omar Minaya was on Mike and the Mad Dog this afternoon-- they were pretty hard on him, but fair for the most part. Minaya didn't say anything especially shocking (except that, it sounds like, he really was considering firing Randolph for a little while there); he was careful to be politic, but he also owned up to some of the team's problems. MetsBlog has a good recap of what was said. Anyway, it was an extremely interesting and emotional interview; then Bud Selig came on the show and I... he talked a lot about... it was... zzzzzzzZZZZZZzzzzzz...

Yes, leave it to the Commish to valiantly step in and soothe the pain of agonized Mets fans by lulling them into a gentle, healing sleep. Anyway, two words for the Mets front office this winter: Johan Santana. Give the Twins whatever the hell they want, and do it with a smile.

Brace Yourselves For KEI IGAWA: 2 FAST 2 FURIOUS

Okay, so briefly, before I go off on Lou Piniella, there was a long but entertaining game today.

The highlights: Tyler Clippard pitched his way right back to Scranton, and Tom Glavine was -- here's a phrase you won't see too often -- not as good as Luis Vizcaino. Here's a phrase you'll see even less often: Mariano Rivera was not as good as Luis Vizcaino. Those words look ugly on the screen, but the Yanks hung on for an 11-8 win.

In other news, Jose Reyes tricked Clippard into balking him home, because he is, as has been noted here before, awesome; Alex Rodriguez is on pace for 736 home runs (guesstimate); and Carlos Beltran, following long gritty at-bats from Carlos Gomez and Reyes, with the tying runs on base, popped out on the first pitch he saw, and is going to take a lot of flak if he doesn't un-slump himself pronto. I really do think the Mets will be fine... but that's predicated on the belief that at least one Carlos will get back on track relatively soon.

I feel for Clippard, who was by my count literally the Yankees' seventh choice for fifth starter this year (after Igawa, Karstens, Rasner, Hughes, Wright, DeSalvo - am I forgetting anyone?), and given that, did about as well as anyone could expect. Until today, when he walked Jose Reyes to lead off an inning, on five pitches, twice. Tyler! Do not poke the bear!

I also feel for Glavine, who's stuck on win 295. He's made five starts since then, but only the last two were actually bad; this will not stop people from speculating that he's "lost it."

You know who I don't feel for? Derek Jeter. Dude's doing fine.

If You Can't Even Bring Pepper Spray to a Ball Game Anymore, The Terrorrists Have Already Won

Big series this weekend, obviously. I was going to put up a post before heading up to the Stadium tonight, but ran out of time, so when I say I was predicting a strong effort from Oliver Perez you'll just have to take my word for it. I didn't know how strong, though: 2-0 Mets. The offense was mostly Reyes, really showing off for Yanks fans with three steals, two singles, and a homer. See? Not overhyped. Roger Clemens was solid, and it's too bad that was wasted, but I'm just relieved that he didn't get confused and throw a bat shard at Paul Lo Duca. That wouldn't have ended well.

I usually get a kick out of my neighbors at the Stadium, but tonight I was seated near some unbelievable douchebags. The kicker was the row of four drunk 20-something hedge fund guys directly behind me; they kept clumsily kicking me and the Jersey girls next to me (also sloppy drunk, but happy, friendly drunk, which is fine by me), every other word out of their mouths was "faggot," and they never stopped loudly complaining about their seats long enough to pay the slightest bit of attention to the game. (I should probably add here, before Mets fans let this confirm their worst stereotypes, that two of them were Mets supporters). The indisputable highlight came when one guy got into a long screaming match with the mother of a 10-year old boy sitting next to him, claiming that the kid had spilled mustard and ruined the hedge-funder's "$100 pants." Words can't express how deeply I regretted not having any pepper spray on me.

Fortunately, the ride back on the 4 train was a font of totally affable, often hilarious Mets-Yanks banter, which restored a bit of my faith in humanity.

Anyway. Tomorrow is Tyler Clippard vs. Tom Glavine, which would, to put it mildly, seem to favor the Mets. You know, just a tad... it's tough not to favor the guy with 100 times more career wins. Sunday is Chien-Ming Wang vs. El Duque, which is a tougher one to call, but certainly ought to be fun to watch. As always, I look forward to seeing the eephus.

Random notes:

-I've got a couple posts up on the Banter: Your Mostly Arbitrary Guide to the AL All-Star Ballot (fun for the whole family, if the whole family doesn't mind a little cursing) and a recap of yesterday's win over the Diamondbacks.

-David Wright is now 15 for 15 in stolen base attempts this year -- pretty impressive for a guy who's not remarkably fast.

-David Pinto at Baseball Musings discovers that in the course of his career, Derek Jeter has at least one hit in 77.9% of his games played, which is good for second-highest in the last 50 years (min. 1000 games played), behind only Ichiro. Interesting stat. Joe Morgan on ESPN has pretty much ruined this word for me, yet I have no choice but to call that "consistent". Michael Kay noted on YES a few weeks back that Jeter says he wants to play 10 more years; if he's actually serious about that, and if he stays healthy, he has a very legit chance at 4,000 hits. Big ifs, but still.

-Tyler Kepner points out that the Mets drafted Clemens, but chose to sign Steve Phillips instead. If you're the guy responsible for that decision, how do you ever get over it? That's a real sell-all-your-material-belongings-and-move-to-a-Thai-monastery kind of fuck-up.

-The Diamondbacks left their scouting report lying around the dugout after last night's game. Whoops! MSNBC has the AP story (via Deadspin). Interesting... but one question: what the hell is a "good cripple hitter"? Other than Jorge Posada, apparently? I really feel like I should be familiar with this term (which by the way could probably stand to be updated), but I've never heard it, and Google is for once not helping. Anybody?

UPDATE: Never mind! Per the Times, "A cripple hitter is one who jumps on a pitch when he is ahead in the count." Thank you.

Was That Really Necessary?

Well, I just watched baseball's first-ever televised draft... and I regret it. Deeply. I read up on some of the likely top candidates beforehand, but the truth is I'm not qualified to have much of an opinion on draft selections, and any case, it's by all accounts an epic crapshoot. It's not like basketball or football where a lot of fans know who these people are and have seen them play on a regular basis; and while being a great college basketball player gives you pretty decent odds on being at least a solid NBA player, the same does not hold true with baseball.

Plus, and this is really my main bone of contention: Bud Selig, whatever you may think of his policies, has the charisma of a dead halibut. Just fifteen seconds of that nasal monotone and I feel my eyelids drooping uncontrollably; this man should not be on my television screen for more than two minutes at a time, let alone four hours, and if I sound harsh, it's only because I'm feeling somewhat traumatized. I will now stare at Jose Reyes on my TV screen for as long as it takes to get that taste out of my mouth and rediscover my joie de vivre.

Anyway, I'd certainly heard of Vanderbilt pitcher David Price, who was expected to go first and did. He had this great anxious smile on his face, which managed to combine "awesome, I'm the #1 draft pick in the country!" and "oh god, I have to go play for the Devil Rays now." This whole worst-teams-pick-first thing, I get the reason for it, but it really punishes the nation's best amateur athletes, doesn't it? You have earned the respect of the country's most knowledgeable scouts as a true competitor... congrats! Enjoy Kansas City!

With the 30th pick in the draft, the Yankees took a pitcher named Andrew Brackman, who I will now immediately begin confusing with Wally Backman. Apologies in advance. The consensus seems to be that he's massively talented (and tall! very tall!) but comes with some health concerns. People who know more about this than I do seem to think it's a good idea, and hopefully they're right; when I think about it, I suppose I like the idea of a riskier, higher-upside move. You can usually find a solidly mediocre pitcher on the free-agent market, after all -- no need to waste a draft pick on it.

The Mets, meanwhile, took a reliever named Eddie Kunz. Another year I might have mocked the notion of taking a reliever with your top pick. This season, though, I look at Luis Vizcaino, Ron Villone, and the grisly remains of Scott Proctor's right arm chilling in the Yankee bullpen and say, "good thinking."

Jose Reyes and the 24 Baldoons

You know, Mets fans and reporters, and even players, keep saying the team "isn't clicking." Listen, your team is 21-12, tied for first, with one of the lowest team ERAs in the National League. Having watched the Yankees closely throughout April, let me tell you: the team is clicking. Yeah, yeah, I know, Delgado's not hitting, Franco is injured, whatever. Until you've watched Chase Wright's consecutive home runs ,and Kei Igawa, and Phil Hughes' hamstring, and Jeff Karsten's freakishly broken leg, and Doug Mientkiewicz in the same lineup as Miguel Cairo and Wil Nieves... you don't know from "not clicking".

Anyway, the Mets all shaved their heads in solidarity before Tuesday's game, for no particular reason except, apparently, general unity and amusement. Awesome. David Wright started it Monday night, and everyone else followed the next day, with Carlos Beltran in charge of the clippers. Even some of the coaches and trainers joined in. The only holdouts were Tom Glavine and Aaron Heilman, who submitted after the game (a seven-inning, one run gem good for Glavine's 294th win); Aaron Sele, who has a family portrait scheduled today; and Jose Reyes, who is too fast to be caught and whose style probably took a long, long time to cultivate. I'm sort of torn here between berating Reyes for not just joining his teammates, and respecting his self-confidence and stubbornness in holding out, because you know that must've been a whole boatload of peer pressure to withstand. I think I'm going with respect.

Incidentally, this look turns out to really suit Moises Alou. Not everyone was so lucky.