"Afraid to Win": The Story of the 2009 Mets

A few weeks ago, when Derek Jeter was about to pass Lou Gehrig on the Yankees' hit list, I almost posted the following paragraph:

"While needless to say I love watching Jeter play, and I have nothing but warm feelings towards Joe Torre, when I see a quote from the ex-skipper about the Captain like: "Just the tenacity, the determination. He's not afraid to win," I do have a strong urge to bury my head in my hands and weep for the English language. No one in sports is as good as Torre at stringing a selection of pre-approved words into convincing but meaningless sentences. He's "not afraid to win"? How many professional ballplayers are afraid to win? Except Chuck Knoblauch, maybe? Is that really what prevents the average player from being Derek Jeter, their victory phobias? Gah."

I decided not to put it up, because it seemed too grouchy - bitching about one of Torre's well-meaning platitudes in the middle of a nice celebratory moment. But I remembered it the other day while I was watching the Mets lose, again, to the Washington Nationals... Maybe I was too hard on Joe Torre, I thought. Maybe this is what "afraid to win" looks like.


I'm not serious, of course - all the psychoanalysis in the world wouldn't make that shredded lineup a pennant winner. But this year's Mets will make you entertain a lot of strange thoughts. They've overcome all kinds of obstacles, and repeatedly defied the odds, to lose in a series of remarkable ways.

(SIDE NOTE: I also thought of my abandoned blog post when Knoblauch was arrested for domestic assault the other day. Afraid to win, perhaps, but not to - allegedly! - hit his wife. Lovely.)

Anyway, I think every Mets fan I know wants Omar Minaya and Jerry Manuel fired, though few have any hope that it'll actually happen. Given the staggering array of injuries, I'm not sure it's really fair to call for their heads... on the other hand, I don't think I can argue with it, either. There's a lot to answer for, and I don't know how else the team would be able to start spring training without this year's toxins hanging over them.

Then again, as an alternative, maybe they could try teaching their players how to run the bases and field grounders. Sure, winning is frightening - but just using both hands to catch popups, that's not so scary, is it?

Three Things About "Rookie of the Year"

So yesterday I caught the end of "Rookie of the Year" on TV, for the first time in a good 15 years. To refresh your memory, that's the one where a kid breaks his arm and it heals weird so he can suddenly throw 102 miles and hour, and the Cubs sign him, and he ends up playing in the Division Series against the Mets. (A rare baseball movie where the evil team is not the Yankees but still, please note, from New York).



I realized several things while watching this - well, the last 20 minutes or so, which is all I caught. The first was "holy shit, that's that kid from American Pie" - not Jason Biggs, one of the other ones, the guy who was dating Tara Reid. Never realized it at the time.

The second was "holy shit, at one time Gary Busey used to be considered a viable love interest."

Then the third thing. In the Big Game at the end of the movie, the kid, Henry, is pitching in the ninth with the Cubs up by a run (of course). And all of a sudden his arm stops working weirdly - he doesn't throw 102 anymore; just like that, he's back to normal 12-year-old-kid velocity. And it's not like he has an amazing curve or anything to fall back on. Once he realizes what's happened, he gets one out using the hidden ball trick; the second out by repeatedly calling the runner on first base a chicken and goading him into trying to steal and then basically tagging him out with a really weird variation on the hidden ball trick; and the third out by throwing a Folly Floater-type eephus pitch to the Mets' huge and ludicrously villainous slugger (who when he steps to the plate actually says, "Mwa ha ha ha ha!").

Of course I love the hidden ball trick, and you know I love the eephus. (I'm slightly less enthusiastic about a pitcher actually clucking and directing a chicken dance at a base runner... maybe not the classiest way to back into the World Series, plus I'm surprised the ump didn't warn him there). But this is where I thought: can you imagine the online fan reaction to the manager, Sal Martinella, during that ninth inning? Oh my god, TAKE HIM OUT OF THE GAME! The kid's got nothing! His velocity just dropped 30 miles an hour between pitches, you don't want to maybe get the trainer out there to take a look at him? Do the Cubs not have one single other pitcher left on the roster? Or even just a position player who pitched in college? Jesus. Sports radio talk show switchboards would melt under the weight of furious callers - the events of "Rookie of the Year" make Grady Little's choices in Game 7 of the 2003 ALCS look like Earl Weaver at his best. Even if they do go on to win the world series Martinella would probably lose his job and frankly, he would deserve to.

It's possible I may be slightly too old for this movie now.

Back in Black

Okay, okay, time to get this baby going again. I've been posting on the Banter all season, once or twice a week, but I fiiiiiinally finished my book (out March 16!), and I guess I ought to have my own online space again. The Banter's great for all things Yankee-related, but god knows there's enough to talk about with this year's Mets, and elsewhere in baseball too, and the occasional movie or TV review and yes, eventually, some book promotion (but I will certainly try to keep that to a minimum, or at least be as un-annoying as possible about it).

Anyway, I have a post on the Banter on last night's Yankees win. They're 30 games over .500 and, for the moment anyway, almost on cruise control. Being a pessimist I realize this does not preclude them from losing in the first round of the playoffs again, but even I'm not so glass-half-empty as to think they won't at least get to the playoffs.

I'll be in England next week visiting a friend, so I suppose it'll be August 26th before I can really get back to a regular posting schedule here, but I figured I might as well get started over the next few days.

"When the Legend Becomes Fact, Pitch the Legend"

Well, the Yankees' season is likely over... but that didn't keep me from writing a recap for the Banter about Saturday's supposedly Carl Pavano-started game. That's one of my better post titles, too, if I do say so myself.

And if we could somehow get "The Last Unicorn" to stick as a nickname for Pavano, I won't have wasted my time on this planet.

The Mets are in much, much better shape, the loss tonight not withstanding. I can't help feeling a little sorry for Willie Randolph. He got a huge standing ovation at Old Timer's Day at Yankee Stadium, and seemed to really appreciate it, but I think it was only really about about half "we love you, Willie!" and half "fuck the Mets." And I don't want to deny Jerry Manuel credit, because obviously he's done an excellent job, but surely the Mets' turnaround can't be attributed entirely to the managerial change, can it?

But anyway, more on the Mets later, as I now have to fall asleep while watching the US basketball team win a gold medal. Well... knock on wood, but come on.

One Pint of Blood is a Small Price to Pay

So I was at Shea today to donate blood in exchange for Mets tickets. And, okay, doing this two years in a row makes it harder and harder to successfully sell the idea that I'm in it for the interesting material, as opposed to because I'm so cheap and broke I'll literally sell my own blood for baseball tickets. Plus, afterwards I stood up too fast and got kind of dizzy, so I had to stay at a table in the Diamond Club for seemingly an eternity drinking apple juice like a complete wuss before I could stagger back onto the 7 train. But it was all worth it, because:

!

On the way in, I passed Fred Wilpon, though he was already past me before I could gather my wits to ask him a hard-hitting question about the trade deadline. Or even a soft-hitting question about the Burger Shack opening at CitiField next year. Anyway, the New York Blood Center organizers asked him if he wasn't donating -- and by the way, those guys are fucking relentless, with endless streams of emails and letters and calls; never, ever owe money to an NYBC employee -- and Wilpon told them he had to keep his head clear for the big meeting he was heading to. Which sort of piqued my interest... but, ultimately, not nearly as much as seeing Mr. Met did. So, sorry guys: I have no scoop for you, because I was distracted by a huge felt anthropomorphic baseball, and by apple juice.

--
Couple of recent Bronx Banter posts you may have missed, by the way, here and here; the first is a Walter O'Malley rant and the second talks about the Yankees' Farnsworth-Pudge Rodriguez trade, for those of you who might be interested.

Spanning the Spans

I've got a soft spot for the Twins, and have for years; they're probably my favorite non-NY team. For one thing, the immortal Bat-Girl made them seem incredibly endearing. Besides that, as I've mentioned many times, I like Ron Gardenhire (a wise and twinkly-eyed baseball gnome), I loved watching Torii Hunter and Johan Santana, and Pat Neshak, and now I like Boof Bonser -- yes, just for the name, but what a name -- and Joe Mauer and, even though he is currently one of the worst-hitting starting outfielders in Major League Baseball, speedy bat-sniffing Carlos Gomez*. But right now I'm especially loving them, because they've got:

1. Longtime Eephus Pitch favorite Denard "No Relation" Span, who with every fleet-footed triple increases the odds that significant numbers of people will one day be walking around in "Span" t-shirts and Jerseys, and improves the reputation of a surname I've spent much of my life sullying. He's kicking ass right now if I do say so myself, albeit in a very non-power-y kind of way.

2. Craig Breslow, who was one year ahead of me at college, and by all accounts as well as my own very brief experience with him, is one very nice biochem major. His appearance against the Yankees tonight was... ah... well, hey, he did set a record. Let's just leave it at that. But he's having a really good year overall and hopefully I'll get to see him pitch again this series.

Anyway, the Yankees are back in the playoff race with a vengeance, but I'm still skeptical. Don't get me wrong -- this is a bit of a rebuilding year and if they can just keep things interesting into September, I won't complain. (Much). But it's hard to imagine that after playing mediocre baseball for nearly half the season, the Yankees will play significantly better after losing Chien-Ming Wang and Jorge Posada for the season. I mean, it's not as if they have top-notch studs on the bench, like Fernando Tatis and Argenis Reyes, ready to step into the void.

Wait... what?

Ladies and gentlemen, I present your first place New York Mets (and their Reyeses, or Reyesi). If I were Willie Randolph I would probably just unplug the TV, cancel my newspaper subscription, and take up either Zen meditation or heavy drinking.

---

Last but not least, congratulations to my friend Dan, one of the best Mets fans I know -- not because of first place, but because he got married yesterday, in an incredibly beautiful ceremony in Connecticut. (And I say that as someone who doesn't generally go sappy during weddings... seriously, it was beautiful).

And? He didn't check the score even once.

Crosstown Traffic

Okay... I leave town for a few days and all hell breaks loose. A-Rod and Madonna?

(Actually, that OK! story sounds like total bullshit, and I hate myself a little for even linking to it. But a couple of years ago, when the A-Rod hysteria was at its height, I swore I wouldn't write about him again unless he met some extremely unlikely criteria, one of which was having an affair with someone totally insane and unexpected... and while Madonna isn't my Grandpa Murray or anything, I do think this qualifies. Or, you know, would, if it were true).

Anyway. I'm in upstate New York for a few weeks, visiting my dad, who has recently purchased a hi-def TV that pretty much left me drooling with envy. I only got here in time for the last couple innings of tonight's Yanks game (because the traffic leaving the city today was un-fucking-real -- I mean I literally could have driven from New Haven to Providence and stopped for dinner in the time it took me to get from Flatbush Avenue to the Thruway), but man, baseball looks gorgeous on that screen. It's not so much the sharpness, but the depth perception; you can really see movement on the individual pitches in a way that I generally can't on my own elderly TV. I suppose it helped me be a bit more understanding of the fact that, for the third day in a row, the Yankees couldn't actually hit any of those pitches.

From what I could make out through the deafening static -- my dad's place is really too far for me to get the games on the radio, but this never stops me from leaving the station on so that once in a while when the car crests a hill I can make out something like "...six straight balls thrown by John Maine!" -- the Mets lost, too. If the Phillies and Red Sox (... fine, and Rays) had gone on major runs earlier in the year, this could've been one hell of a depressing baseball season in New York. And of course it still might be, but so far? Mostly it's just bewildering.

Anyway, it's late and I'm still recovering from road rage, so I better call it a night and stop A) wondering why the Yankees can't do any damage against one of the worst pitching staffs in the league, and B) remembering how much I dislike the Cardinals.

Oh -- and I had a couple of posts on the Banter last week which I forgot to link to here.

No, Wait...

... I spoke too soon. THIS is really the kind of thing you should try to announce at 3:15 AM:



Yep. Via RAB, the Yanks have signed... gah... Sir Sidney Ponson to a minor league deal. That sound you hear is the entire Scranton-Wilkes Barre Police Department whipping out their breathalyzers.

Ponson, famous for his multiple DUIs, inexplicable knighthood (wtf, Netherlands?), and occasional Aruban judge-punching, was released by Texas a few weeks ago -- and while you might assume he's learned his lesson and the Rangers just dropped him because he's not a good pitcher, you'd be wrong:

Ponson was reportedly put on notice after creating a serious disturbance at the hotel bar in St. Petersburg, Fla. during the team's recent road trip and told that further problems would not be tolerated.

He also reacted furiously after being taken out of a June 4 game against the Indians and with being pushed back from the start that was to follow that outing, prompting Rangers general manager Jon Daniels to say, "We don't feel Sidney deserves to be here or wants to be here."

Of course I doubt Ponson will start for the Yankees more than a few times, if at all (light a candle for Dan Giese), so this probably won't end up being very significant. But as much as everyone's been getting on the Mets the last two days, and rightfully so, let's be careful about bemoaning their lack of class as compared to the Yankees*, a team which within the span of a few hours has deliberately allied itself with both Sidney Ponson and the Hard Rock Cafe.


*I've heard a lot of this, even from Mets fans, who I can only assume are so aggravated right now that they're suffering from selective memory loss. Never mind that smarmy crypto-offer the Yankees made to Joe Torre just last fall -- I mean, Billy Martin would have killed to be fired as tactfully as Willie Randolph was.

This Better Be Another Ambien Hallucination

So, sometimes there are advantages to being an insomniac. It's 3:18 AM, and the following press release from the Mets just showed up in my inbox:

METS NAME JERRY MANUEL INTERIM MANAGER

OBERKFELL, WARTHEN, AGUAYO JOIN COACHING STAFF

ANAHEIM, Calif., June 17, 2008 – The New York Mets today named Jerry Manuel interim manager, replacing Willie Randolph. Manuel, in his fourth season with the Mets, had been bench coach since 2006. The Mets also named Ken Oberkfell, Luis Aguayo and Dan Warthen to the coaching staff. Rick Peterson and Tom Nieto have been relieved of their coaching duties.

Mets General Manager Omar Minaya will hold a briefing with the media Tuesday, June 17 at 2:00 P.M. PT (5:00 P.M. ET) in the media room at Angel Stadium. Mets Manager Jerry Manuel will meet with the media immediately thereafter.

Because nothing says "I'm proud of the decision I just made" like announcing it at 3:18 in the morning!

Okay... I have a number of questions here, all of which fall under the broader umbrella of "What the fuck are the Mets doing?"

First of all, why would you send this out literally in the middle of the night? Because everyone sane and normal is asleep, there is no mention of this story on mets.com, espn.com, the NYTimes, MetsBlog, or anyplace else I've seen so far, leading me to wonder if I am perhaps just losing my mind. This may be the first time in my entire life I actually break a news story (well, if you can consider publishing the contents of a press release to be "breaking a news story") not related to funny names, at-bat songs, or facial hair.

But honestly, late hour aside, I find the timing of this completely bewildering. Why would you fire Willie Randolph NOW, after a win, at a time when the Mets have won four of their last six games, and when by most accounts Randolph was handling the intense pressure very well? If Omar Minaya and/or the Wilpons weren't actually waiting to see how the team performed before making a decision, what the hell were they waiting for? Why not fire him weeks ago, or indeed at the end of last season? At the very least, why make Randolph and his coaches fly to California first, if nothing he did there was going to make a difference? Why put him and the team and the fans and the beat writers through weeks and weeks of this if, as now seems clear, they were going to fire him no matter what?

Yeesh. What a mess.

Maybe something happened in the last day or two that I'm not aware of. Otherwise, this has to be one of the most incompetently handled personnel decisions since the days of George Steinbrenner vs. Billy Martin.

...Ah, there we go. The story is up on Mets.com. They managed to get it up before 4 AM, too -- classy!

LOL Mets

Well I'm back from a weird but largely fun reunion weekend, and you know, I never thought I would say this -- my college self would recoil in horror if she could hear me now -- but there might actually be such a thing as too much open bar. Like, say, nine hours a day for two days in ninety degree heat. (I'm getting old, apparently, but not so old that I can just turn down free booze). It was really great to see people again, though... at least from what I can remember.

Anyway, I've got a recap of last night's Yankee game up at the Banter. As for the Mets, well, they were thoughtful enough to clear up any misconceptions their fans might have had last week that the team was turning things around, instead embarking on a listless five-game losing streak.

But don't worry, Shea faithful: inspirational pieces of paper ARE being handed out! From the Daily News:

Tuesday, before facing the Diamondbacks, the Mets players emerged from a brief players-only, closed-door meeting, each carrying a piece of paper with a blueprint for a future that includes the postseason.

No part of it included blowing a four-run lead and falling, 9-5, at Shea…

…One player allowed the Daily News a quick glance at the sheet, which looked a lot like a flow chart with a series of arrows. At the top was the team's record entering Tuesday night's game, 30-32. Near the bottom was a circled final regular-season record of 92-70.

Below that was an arrow pointing to a single word: "Playoffs."

The sheet also had several phrases and motivational messages. One said "We B4 I." Another read "team above self." A third message was "we have time."

“We B4 I”? Seriously, that’s going to be your big inspirational team slogan? That's gonna get you back above .500? And is spelling out "before" somehow uninspiring? Guys… UR DOIN IT WRONG.

Pedro the Lion

I had a post on the Banter yesterday, about the Yankees' little-remembered early 80s disaster of a mascot, Dandy.


Sorry for my recent absence -- I've been in major crash mode, working on my book. I have been watching, though. Three quick thoughts:

-No one these days wants to let themselves get too excited about Pedro Martinez's possible impact on the Mets' season, because we all understand that he's likely to tear some major muscle in half every time he bends over to tie his laces. But after watching him pitch last night, even if it was just against the Giants, it's hard not to indulge myself and wonder... suppose Pedro stays healthy? The simple act of my writing these words, from 3,000 miles away, may very well be enough to snap his fibia. But just suppose. That by itself would make the team, but my highly scientific calculations, 15% better and 47% more fun.


-I'm glad Willie Randolph didn't get fired. Sometimes you need to make a change for change's sake, and I can understand that -- but given that he's working with a flawed roster courtesy of Omar Minaya, and that there's no compelling candidate I'm aware of available to replace him mid-season (Wally Backman?), it would have felt like scapegoating to me.

This is also the second time in eight months that the Wilpons have made it crystal clear that they're thinking about firing Randolph, without actually doing so. I don't understand the strategy here. If you don't have confidence in the guy, fire him; if you do, give him a little public support. (And if you want to fire him but can't, suck it up and fake the support). Otherwise you just piss of your manager and your fans simultaneously, which is a neat trick but not really productive.


-Wondering what Hideki Irabu is up to these days? Of course you were! The Times has the answer. You know, it's really unfortunate that when I hear the words "Hideki Irabu," I think not of a trailblazer who pitched intermittently well for the Yankees during their late 90s run of success, but of the phrase "fat pussy toad." Such is the power of the soundbite, I guess. But it sounds like Irabu is enjoying a happy and quiet retirement in California, and I'm glad.

It's a good article, and well worth the read - but damn Billy Witz for drawing parallels, however indirectly, between Irabu and Joba Chamberlain. Noooooooooo!

--

This weekend I'll be out of town, and likely without TV, as I drown in nostalgia-laced booze at my 5-year college reunion. But I should be back on track and writing here regularly after that.

Pizzle Rot in the Bronx

Hey, Mets fans -- never say the Yankees never did anything for you!

It's going to take many more than two games for the Mets to prove they've turned a corner, but this weekend certainly started things off in the right direction. Whether it was actually mental -- a team meeting, clearing the air, finally playing with the much-vaunted "sense of urgency" -- or just the expected offensive improvement finally arriving, the Mets looked better than they have in many many months.

They also made a good argument for some form of instant replay. Can someone please explain the reasoning against this? How do you justify having the truth readily available to hundreds of thousands of schmoes watching on TV, but denying it to the handful of professionals actually getting paid to determine the correct call? Of course, this kind of thing happens all the time... but now that it took place during a game roughly half our nation's sports writers were covering, maybe we can finally get something moving here.

Meanwhile, back on the farm:

So my dad lives upstate and has a bunch of sheep, and apparently some of his flock have become infected with something called "Pizzle Rot." Now, I do not know what exactly Pizzle Rot is, nor do I care to find out*, but this is still my new favorite term. It sounds like something you'd get from unprotected sex with Snoop Dogg. Extremely vivid, and so even if you've never heard it before, you probably have a good enough sense of its meaning to use it in a sentence.

As in, "this Yankees team plays like they've got Pizzle Rot."

As noted in this space earlier, May is too early, in my opinion, for panic, or even intense worry. This is the time for stewing. The odds of the Yankees pulling off a phoenix-like resurrection two years running are slim; I don't know that they'll win their division this year, or even claw their way to the Wild Card. But that said, the odds of the Yankees ultimately playing better than this? Pretty damn good.

-
*I only got as far as "The infected ulcers can spread through the opening to the mucosa of the preputial cavity." Okay! I refuse to Google "preputial cavity"**; some things can never be unlearned. You know, when I was little, I wanted to be a vet...

**Fine -- curiosity got the better of me, and I looked it up. Not recommended. Associated key words: "cesspool," "wetness," "protozoa," "bladder," "circumcision," "scrotal skin," "smegma or bacteria."

Eephus Pitch: your go-to source for commentary on New York baseball and obscure ovine scrotal diseases!

Subway Series '08: Resistable Force Meets Movable Object

So! Fresh from acquitting a man of second degree murder (I was totally like Henry Fonda! Except if all the other jurors had agreed with him from the start and didn't actually have to be convinced of anything), it's time to get back to the really important things in life.

Things like previewing the Subway Series.

#7: "You a Yankee fan?"
#5: "No, Baltimore."
#7: "Baltimore? That's like being hit in the head with a crowbar once a day."

It's hard to say at this point which under-performing New York team is more desperate for wins. Yesterday I had a Yankees fan friend try to tell me that the Mets were in much worse shape right now, because while the Yanks just lost three of four to the Devil Rays, who are now a legitimately good team, the Mets had lost three of four to the "softball girls" of the Washington Nationals. (Side note: I was genuinely sorry to see the great story that is Nelson Figueroa designated for assignment, but that line is a parting gift that will, I expect, keep on giving). My friend was sort of kidding... I think... but the point is that when you're getting into discussions about which New York team just lost three of four to the less lousy opponent, it's a good indication that we're not exactly in a Golden Age right now.

I think the Mets are having a slightly rougher time, though, not because their current situation is any worse (actually it's better, as they're just 2.5 games out of first, while the Yankees are flailing about in last place), but because of last year's lingering bad taste. In a reversal of the normal New York baseball order, Willie Randolph's job is in more immediate jeopardy than Joe Girardi's, the fans at Shea seem less forgiving than those at the Stadium, and there are signs of clubhouse trouble in Queens regarding, as Billy Wagner put it, "accountability." They're under an enormous amount of pressure.

Now normally, as regular readers will be aware, I don't make predictions. Better to let other people go out on a limb, then mock them for it later if they're wrong, that's my feeling. But what the hell: it's the Subway Series, and I haven't gotten any good angry emails in a while, so let's make an exception.

FRIDAY: Johan Santana vs. Darrell Rasner.

...Um.

Sure, sure, I know, anything can happen in baseball -- sometimes Sir Sidney Ponson throws a gem, sometimes Jake Peavy has a lousy outing, anyone can win on any given day. But "lopsided" is an extremely kind way of describing this matchup. Santana and Rasner have both pitched well this season, but the difference is that Santana is still below his career norms, whereas Rasner is miles above his; gotta figure that'll correct itself at some point.

Prediction: Mets, natch. Nothing's a must-win in May, but a loss tonight would be awfully tough for them. Besides, given the way the Yankees have been hitting lately, I'm not sure Santana could give up more than two or three runs to them even if he was actively trying.

SATURDAY: Oliver Perez vs. Andy Pettitte.

This is a tough one to call, because Perez is so... charmingly unpredictable; he has much better stuff than Pettitte these days, but a significantly less developed sense of how to use it. If you could stick Pettitte's brain in Perez's body you'd have a Cy Young winner, but sadly science isn't quite there yet. Besides, I'm not sure how that trade would work... "Today the Mets acquired Andy Pettitte's brain from the Yankees, and in return sent Carlos Delgado's ability to bunt against the shift at least just once in a fucking while to Jason Giambi in the Bronx."...

Prediction: Yankees, I suppose, though I'm already second-guessing myself, because without A-Rod and Posada, the Yankees haven't hit lefthanders at all -- not even a little. But I'll say Pettitte rises to the occasion with one of his tough six-inning, three-run aversions of disaster, while Perez is eventually done in by a few too many walks. And/or his bullpen.

SUNDAY: John Maine vs. Chien-Ming Wang.

Well, eventually someone's going to have to score a run, right? This should be a fun one.

Prediction: Yankees. Great matchup, but I've got to give the edge to Wang, just barely, because I can see the Yankee lefties doing some damage against Maine; in two starts against the Yanks, he has a 16.50 ERA in 6 innings pitched. While, on the other hand, Wang pitched one of his best games ever against the Mets at the Stadium last June.

However, by Monday, you should understand exactly why I don't make predictions.

A few other notes:

-Kyle Farnsworth, who, I was under the impression, generally walks around the Yankees clubhouse wearing camo undershirts and reading hunting magazines -- when not body-slamming opposing players -- apparently bakes excellent peanut butter cookies. Well, either that, or this is the longest typo in Daily News history.

-Every sports blogger on the planet already mentioned this, but Hank Steinbrenner's quote from a few days ago bears even further mocking:

"This is going to get turned around," Steinbrenner said. "If it's not turned around this year, then it will be turned around next year, by force if we have to."

All together now: "by force"?! He does understand that this is a baseball team, and not a hostage situation or a hostile foreign nation, right? You can't just like invade Robinson Cano and make him start hitting better. Classic.

Kei Igawa III: Updated

With many, many thanks to "unmoderated", clearly the best commenter in the world:


So, I was right! Well, not about Kei Igawa deserving another chance, but about how I'd regret/deny ever having said that he deserved another chance.

The Yankees continue to treat .500 like a soft, warm bed on a cold morning. They're four games back of Boston, which is nothing to stress over in May, but they're also still two and half behind Tampa Bay, which I find disturbing. (I know at some point -- one day soon -- I will have to accept the Devil Rays as a legitimately good contending baseball team, but I'm not there yet). And if Sunday's game hadn't been rained out, Derek Jeter was going to bat 4th. I know batting order doesn't actually have much effect on the outcome of games, statistically speaking... but, with all due respect to Captain Intangibles, I really, really miss Alex Rodriguez.

Across town, the Mets are doing a little better, and they're tied with the Phillies for what I choose to think of as "real first place". (I'm ignoring the Marlins, because they will resume sucking by July at the latest). The Mets have a few positive signs recently -- yeah, what else is new, but still -- and I have to add my voice to the chorus apologizing for having underestimated Ryan Church. He's been one of the Mets' best hitters, he plays very good defense, and he hasn't even had to apologize for any "remarks about Jews" yet; excellent signing all around. 

Anyway, I've been on jury duty for the last week and am heading back there bright and early tomorrow, but should be back on schedule when this trial is over. (It's actually a murder case... and I'm not allowed to talk about it yet, but when it's done, I'm totally going to try and find some awkward and unlikely way to tie it into baseball, so I can write about it).

Let's See Pedro Fix a Hard Drive

So, the Mets are looking a bit better these days... though it seems every time I say that, they go on a losing streak. Whatever else happens, it's awesome that seventh starter Nelson Figueroa has been more than just a feel-good story. Furthermore (and I don't know how I missed this earlier), according to a 2002 Milwaukee Journal Sentinel article, he's also an electronics whiz:

"He's incredible," Brewers manager Jerry Royster said. "When we were in Cincinnati, my computer went down. My hard drive was totally shot. He maneuvered around and somehow came up with a system that would allow me to do all my work.

"Normally, I would have to call Hewlett-Packard to get that kind of work done. Are you kidding me? This guy is just amazing."

...

Not long ago, Brewers clubhouse manager Tony Migliaccio was so frustrated with the slow response of his laptop that he was ready to grab one of the autographed bats that decorates his office and smash the computer to bits.

Enter Figueroa.

"I was in here yelling and he came in and asked if he could take a look at it," Migliaccio said. "I was a little nervous about that at first, but I let him. My machine was going through all these setups that I didn't need and it was slowing things down. He went in and changed a few things and said, 'Let me go on the Internet and find you a memory chip.' ... it works great now.

"Nelson is fixing things for guys all the time. He's been invaluable to this organization for all the time and money he's saved by repairing things."

Now that's what I call a small-market team! Anyway, it's a fun article, though clearly not written by a New Yorker:

"Figueroa grew up in a tough Coney Island neighborhood on the 14th floor of an apartment building just across the river from the World Trade Center."

"Just across the river"?! Brooklyn Heights is just across the river; Coney Island is an hour away by subway. You can't get too much farther from Manhattan without -- well, leaving the city. And who'd ever want to do that?




Finally, do you buy that Carlos Delgado doesn't believe in taking curtain calls after relatively insignificant home runs, out of "respect for the game"? Or do you think he's just pissed at the fans for mercilessly booing him all season? Either way, he may have a point. But I personally feel that any time you do your job so well that 50,000-odd people applaud, chant your name, and beg you to take a bow, you should pretty much just go with it, you know? How often do you get the chance?

Of course, I speak as someone who, if I'm extremely successful in my field, MIGHT hope to one day get 20 people in folding chairs -- half of them homeless -- to quietly clap for me in a Barnes & Noble basement...

Today the Backstop, Tomorrow the World

Watching the Mets-Braves game Saturday, I discovered, to my dawning horror, that there is now yet another catching Molina in the majors. Supposedly this Gustavo, called up from the Mets AAA team during Brian Schneider's absence, is not related to preexisting catching Molina brothers Bengie, Yadier, and Jose... but I'll believe that when I see an impartial DNA test. Is any team safe from Molinas? Sure, Jose has done an excellent job for the Yankees, and yeah, he appears to be a good teammate and a hard worker. But over the years Molinas have absolutely destroyed New York teams -- I know Mets fans will vividly recall a certain Yadier home run; in the 2005 ALDS Bengie hit .444 and slugged .944(!) against the Yanks -- and I don't trust them one bit. Suddenly Brian Schneider's mysterious "thumb infection*" looks a lot more sinister.

The next Tigers catcher.

What do the Molinas want from us, I wondered Saturday, and what will they stop at to get it? Well, I guess that last question has now been answered: nothing. Resistance is futile, and both New York teams have fallen. One day soon fans in Boston and Detroit will wake up to find that Jason Varitek and Pudge Rodriguez have been turned into Molinas. The next domino, though, will probably be Minnesota, where Felix Molina is lurking in the minors. Skeptics, heads in the sand, may point out here that Felix Molina is, primarily, a second baseman. Sure... for now. Watch your back, Mauer.

In all seriousness, losing Posada is a big blow to the Yankees, who are hovering around .500 as it is. It's not a season-killer or anything, but there's really no way to replace his production. Jose Molina has been impressive so far, but keep in mind that making nefarious plans for world domination can be quite stressful. I only hope it won't become a distraction for the whole team.



*... How exactly does someone get a thumb infection so bad it requires an overnight hospital stay? The Mets say there was no cut or other obvious cause. I don't think I want to know.

Commence Fretting

I've got a recap of last night's Yankees game up at the Banter.

As for the Mets, I started a post Saturday about how they were really hitting their stride, but I never got around to putting it up... and now, of course, they're in a slump. Everything is just magnified this early in the season, but as I've said before, you have to pace yourself -- which is why I have made myself this handy summer schedule of appropriate baseball emotions:

Fret: April 16th.
Stew: May 3rd.
Worry: May 28th.
Freak Out: July 10th.
Panic: July 30th.Despair: September 4th.
Throw Self into Gowanus Canal*: September 20th

I may need to iron this out a little more -- only three weeks for freaking out, but well over a month for worrying? -- But this is the rough draft. Input welcome. Anyway, I'll write more later, after some mild fretting.

*Never -- NEVER -- actually do this.

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.

Linkfest

So, I've got an article on the Mets' and Yanks' respective Opening Days and new stadiums in this week's NY Press. Click here to check it out.

And! Because too much is never enough, I've also got a post on last night's Yankees game up at the Banter.

In the meantime, I only got a chance to quickly skim through the Mets' win, but it was another stong Mike Pelfrey outing. I'm thrilled that The Legend of Go Big Pelf is spreading.

Billy Traber: Quasi Supernormal Incremental Precipitation Inducer?

In one of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy books -- yes, I'm a geek -- there's a minor character, a truck driver, who's constantly bitter and complaining because although neither he nor anyone else has figured it out yet, he's actually a rain god:

All he knew was that his working days were miserable and he had a succession of lousy holidays. All the clouds knew was that they loved him and wanted to be be near him, to cherish him, and to water him.

I bring this up because I'm beginning to suspect the Yankees have something similar going on this season. It rained out Opening Day in the Bronx, it rained in Kansas City, it's raining in Boston, and today the weather caused some unfortunate fans to get stuck watching NASCAR, of all things, instead of the end of the game. I figure if an unwitting rain god is causing this, it must be someone new to the team, and so my money is on Billy Traber, who always seems vaguely unhappy:


Rain god or no rain god, the Yanks lost to the Sox today, but the good news is that Mike Mussina pitched pretty well in the losing effort. I expect that, when/if the Yankee offense eventually decides to join the rest of the team, the resulting massive change in his routine will unnerve Moose, causing his ERA to skyrocket.

Meanwhile the Mets lost to the Brewers, 5-3, in Johan Santana's Shea debut. Fans are taking an understandable but incorrect message from this -- I've heard a lot of people say things along the lines of, "Hey, Santana's only human." Nope, wrong. He just wants you to think he's only human. All part of his strategy. You'll see.

Finally, the Mets are currently having what honestly has to be one of the best promotions in baseball, at least in theory:

"New York Mets and Gilman Ciocia Offering Fans Free Tax Prep at Shea Stadium

...For the third year in a row, the New York Mets will partner with the personal tax team of Gilman Ciocia, Inc. to offer free tax preparation and filing to Mets fans attending games on April 12, 13 and 15 at Shea Stadium.

Professional accountants from Gilman Ciocia will be at the Mets Team Store located behind home plate on the Field Level throughout the game to lend this complimentary tax preparation service for last-minute filers. The service that includes filing extensions is free to all Mets fans that have purchased tickets to any of the following games..."

Now, I'm not sure what caliber of tax prep these people will be able to offer -- to potentially thousands of people, for free. But since TurboTax's advice to me at this point is, basically, "Shoot yourself in the head," I suppose it could hardly hurt to try.