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I Don’t Know About This. Or Do I?

By comedyliteracy
June 26, 2009 //
0

Tonight’s starting line-up, as reported by David Lennon on his Newsday Mets blog:

Castillo – 2b
Cora – ss
Wright – 3b
Sheffield – lf
Tatis – rf
Church – cf
Evans – 1b
Santos – c
Pelfrey – sp

I guess the big deal, besides Ryan Church in center, is that Alex Cora’s been batting lead-off since Ty Cobb was chomping on baby-safe Havanas, and he’s now in the two-hole, moving Luis Castillo up.  Remember when Luis was batting eighth?  What a strange world we live in.

Cora’s 0 for 11 with a walk in the last three games, missing the jump-jive that was Wednesday’s win, and being a no-show in Carpenter’s near-clinic.  I don’t think he’s faultable for Pineiro’s or Carpenter’s dominance; I just suppose Jerry Manuel was tired of seeing no one on and one out.

Should be interesting, this Sheffield-batting-cleanup-after-cortisone, playing-that-tall-left-field-wall-on-inflamed-bursa-sac business.  I can hear Ken Singleton now, extoling the virtues of the DH.

…The DH is one of the most awful moves ever made in sport, by the way.  Just awful.  IF nine players show up for defense, those same nine players should show up for offense.

Sabathia had two homers and 7 RBI last year, in his time in Cleveland and Milwaukee.  51 ABs.  But can he run the bases like Chien-Ming Wang?

Fernando Tatis best get on the stick today, with authority.  There’s something about this game that feels iffy.  Then again, I just devoured a Good Humor Toasted Almond Ice Cream bar in under a minute.  That could be the source.

*Speaking of sources, thanks again to CBS Sports’ MLB Players Page.   

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Post Hoc, Ergo Propter Hoc

By omniality
June 26, 2009 //
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Yes.  Latin this early in the morning, after significant pop culture events conspire to make late-night YouTube hounds of us all. 

There’s no real good video for “Human Nature.”  My friend–of the baseball-learning the other evening–prefers “Man In The Mirror.”  To each their own.

Post hoc, ergo propter hoc.  After this, therefore because.  Id est (i.e.) gibberish.  But good gibberish.  Gibberish we live with on a daily basis.  I had socks.  You came over.  You left.  Socks are no longer where they were.  Never mind an enterprising soul put them in the wash; you took my socks!

In sport, interesting: the Mets were losing and listless.  Bring up Nick Evans.  Nick Evans drives in the coffin runs of the last two victories over the Cardinals (yesterday’s game: W, 3-2).  The reason the Mets were losing and listless was they didn’t have Nick “The Executioner” Evans.

I like Nick Evans and I love that bat stroke he’s got.  I also remember last year’s Colorado series where he came up and was an RBI-doubles machine, then fell off the proverbial cliff.  Back then, the reason why the Mets were losing and listless was the presence in the line-up of Nick “the Black Hole” Evans.

The Mets could be a lot better if Fernando Tatis wasn’t playing, hitting into double plays.  And then a blooper before Ryan Ludwick, and some decent stuff the night before.

Chris Carpenter takes a no-hitter into the fourth.  Ralph Kiner comes into the booth, and talks about Carpenter’s no-hitter, my roommate says.  Sure enough; no-hitter gone.  Mets with life.  (UPDATE: Brooklyn Met Fan appears to love him some Ralph Kiner.)

I love baseball, but at what I believe is the halfway point in my 2009 Citi Field Splurge Pack, causality is starting to wear me a bit thin.  It makes me want to walk into the park tonight and spout all sorts of nonsense about Pelfrey’s prowess and Sabathia’s lack thereof. 

(If I happen to see him, I will demand that Danny Meyer start pumping some distracting Blue Smoke aroma towards the field earlier than the fourth or fifth inning. …That’s a half-joke about Sabathia being a big guy.)

I’m excited for tonight’s game, as I always am, but I’m already sanguine about a letdown and in that, am anticipating a let down.  They took three of four from the Cardinals and lose to the Yankees.  The reason why they lost to the Yankees was that they took three of four from the Cardinals, and any sub-reason you’d like to assign.  No.  Gibberish.

They’ll lose to the Yankees because they won three of four against the Cardinals–the lesser known *** hoc ergo propter hoc, but the stock in trade of pessimists.  No.  Backwards gibberish.

(UPDATE: MLBlogs Network, I’m trying to keep a PG blog yet I’m citing Latinate phrases.  Is there REALLY a need to censor the Latin?  Can’t we find a censor that will accept contextual conditionals? 

Ugh.

Go here and read what I meant to have displayed.  Giggle like a pre-teen if you must.)

The latter softens the coming blow and the former takes the rest of the sting out of it.  The Mets are not invincible.  They weren’t in any year they played games in October.  But on this Friday morning, post hoc and *** hoc (…Lord, give me the strength…) seem to be defying the laws of physics: negative plus negative does not equal more negative, does not equal zilch.  Negative plus negative equals positive.  Hell. The Mets can take this game.  They can take the series.  They can go on a ten-game winning streak, and play Delgado and J. Reyes off the bench when they come back.  Exciting thoughts.

I have no real clue.  I’m trying to remember if I called Wilson Valdez “Wilmer” the other night.  I know my prospects but I only sort of remember my Joe Cool DFAs.  I haven’t done laundry and my “I’m Calling It Shea” T-shirt could’ve benefited from the Peter Venkman Ghostbusters II treatment: a couple hours hanging outside the window, and it’s fine.  Why am I wearing it?

Because I’m avoiding the object lessons of logical fallacies, as explained by smarmy damned Latin.  It’s come to this.  When I start pulling out my eyelashes and making wishes on them, you’ll know I’ve gone Stratosphere.

Mets vs. Yankees.  Pelfrey vs. Sabathia.  Bring on the voodoo dolls and the gypsy curses.

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Done Basking, Thirty Minutes Later

By omniality
June 24, 2009 //
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Do you think, perhaps, Johan Santana watched the offensive juggernaut that was the 2009 New York Mets tonight and wanted to shake each guy by the shoulders as he crossed home plate?  I do.

You tag the fifth starter for as many runs as you can; not that I thought the Cardinals were ceding the game at any point before the seventh.  Not even halfway through the seventh.  At the end of the seventh, perhaps a little ceding.  But you tag #5 for as much as you can, and hope you stay in that rhythm in the event that you face #1 tomorrow.

Man, I hope they stay in rhythm.  Johan is quite possibly the Alpha and Omega, but if I’m going to feel comfortable with him on the mound tomorrow, it’s gonna come by way of him being staked to a tidy five-or-six run lead.  Let him find some of the old magic.  Keep him from feeling stressed.

C’mon, it’s a home game.  He could throw it, ice down, shower, and still make it for drinks at the Met’s roof garden by early dusk.  Let tomorrow be easy.

**

Nick Evans looks like a scared little boy at the plate.  I should check my DVR to see if he had his eyes screwed shut when he gave it a hard ride.

**

Speaking of hard rides (this is a PG-13 blog), I leaped out of my seat on Schneider’s seventh inning two run double.  Had he hit three two-run homers in as many games played, I might have bought a Schneider t-shirt.  Do they even SELL those?

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ACTUAL Victories

By omniality
June 24, 2009 //
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Mets defeat the St. Louis Cardinals 11-0.

I suppose this was possible because it wasn’t technically a rubber game.

My thanks, too, to the TBRays, for the victory over the Phillies.

How ’bout that Fernando Nieve, at 3-0?

More when I’m not basking in the glow of an authentic blowout.

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Moral Victories

By omniality
June 24, 2009 //
0

None necessarily to be found during last night’s Mets game (vs. St. Louis Cardinals: L 3-0; leave me alone, numerologists) but one to be found while watching the game with a friend who knows very little about baseball that I don’t tell her.

Joel Pineiro (assume the tilda over the n) doubles.  Because Tony La Russa’s cute as a button, Brendan Ryan bats ninth.

Friend: “Wait, why’s that guy batting ninth?  Doesn’t the pitcher usually bat ninth?”
Me: “Very good.”
Friend: “So why’s he batting ninth, the shortstop guy?”
Me: “Because Tony La Russa’s cute as a button.”

Brendan Ryan bunts.

Friend: “Bunt!  To get the runner to third!”
Me: “Shh shh shh shh shh!”

Livan Hernandez picks up the bunt.  Omir Santos indicates first base.  Livan checks third.  No one there.  Not Joel Pineiro, certainly.  Brendan Ryan makes it safely to first.

Friend: “Wait, why’d he look over at third?  I mean, I know if he went to third, you want him out because he’s closer to home base.”
Me: “Home plate.”
Friend: “Right.  But there was nobody there.  He could’ve gotten the guy out at first.”
Me: “Yes, probably.”
Friend: “And the catcher guy was telling him… well, that sucks.”
Me: “Yes, definitely.”
Friend: “I mean, isn’t this pitcher guy like, crafty, or whatever?  He coulda made it out without a… um, run.”
Me: “Indeed.”
Friend: “Now the pressure’s on everybody.  Seems unfair.”
Me: “Life is rarely, if ever, fair.”

I’m fairly certain that few people watching last night’s game had a similar experience.  And given the awful tidiness of last night’s game, that’s a damn shame.

The hit and run with Livan Hernandez at the plate: que?  Have we regained such faith in Luis Castillo’s bald tires or were we expecting a double play?  Given the way the first five frames went, I guess pressure had to be applied.  But I’d much rather see the Mets try and freeze Yadier Molina with the “top” of the order than the “bottom” (again, I see little distinction at this stage). 

I know you apply the heat when the pot’s on the stove, but to extend a heinous metaphor, Livan went up without a pot holder, or even one of those flexible trivets.

A “trivet,” by the way, is a straight-up plate, or stone, or even piece of high-test textile one uses to protect a table from the heat of a dish or pot.  There.  Now you’ve learned something, too.

When the Mets lose a game and I need to travel from site of game-watching experience back home, I try to find a consolation song to listen to.  Lately, the song I’ve been using is “Agnes, Queen Of Sorrow,” by Bonnie “Prince” Billy (a.k.a. Will Oldham).  Excusing the portion of the song which breathes a reference to the passing of a child, I feel it sums up my experience as a fan in this long lean period.  One verse keeps cycling in my head:

If you wait another day
I will wait a day
If you wait another day
I will wait a day
Every time I think you say
It’s time for us to go our way
I say wait another day

Not getting rid of me that easily, gentlemen.  I seem to have taught a friend who’s admitted to having the memory of a goldfish that you don’t bat the pitcher eighth unless you’re Tony La Russa; you try for a bunt with nobody out and the runner in scoring position; if your catcher tells you first base, you throw to FIRST BASE.  That there’s a moral victory for me.  And I’ll take it.  See youse mugs tonight.

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I Had A Pun Scheduled For Today’s Title; Oliver.

By comedyliteracy
June 23, 2009 //
0

I watched the game last night against the St. Louis Cardinals (W, 6-4) in stages.  The first stage: Upper East Side of Manhattan, where I took notes in my head and quickly forgot them upon watching a plate of fried calamari get confiscated for… what?  Why take the plate away?  There was still food there; I was still eating it.  There was no signal.  I don’t care what you say.

Unbelievable.

The second stage, Brooklyn.  Pacific Standard on Fourth Avenue.  The MOST delicious microbrews.  I took full advantage.  And here now, are the full extent of the notes I took, unedited:

Different Stokes to move the world
Double paly on Pujols
How does castillo beat out that infield hit?
Guy Keith was demo-ing on was Schumaker
Dennys reyes can’t handle Fmart’s bunt
Yadier Molina has farty pants

I suppose he does have farty pants.  Let’s go down the line:

  • I feel like I watched Brian Stokes set up Albert Pujols in slow-motion.  It was satisfying turning to a fellow viewer, sitting to my left, and saying, “Double play.  Coming right now.”  And, sure enough.  Thanks for buying the pint, whoever the hell you are.
  • Hopefully I didn’t say actually say to her, “Double paly on Pujols.”  That would’ve been unfortunate.
  • I don’t know how Castillo beat out that throw for an infield hit.  I also don’t know how Omir Santos went 4 for 4, and I literally don’t know how Daniel Murphy hit that home run.  I was on the subway at that point, hustling to Brooklyn; as yet I’ve not watched the replay. (INSTANT UPDATE: he got a good turn on himself and powered through what appeared to be an unhealthy curve from Todd Wellemeyer.  Nice.)
  • I don’t quite know whether Keith was talking about Skip Schumaker, or Brendan Ryan, or Rick Ankiel, or what.  But I believe his pants were corduroy.  Anyone watching the game on SNY knows what I’m talking about.  The only thing more hilarious than seeing Keith Hernandez out of his chair in demo mode during a broadcast is how serious Ron Darling and Gary Cohen seemed to take it.  Ron was especially close to the danger zone.
  • I do know that Dennys Reyes didn’t look in any shape last night to handle a bunt, and sure enough he didn’t.  Can’t give Fernando Martinez a hit to help his average, but it helped the team, and that was enough.
  • I’ve already commented on Yadier Molina.

Think about the heartburn going into the bottom of the eighth, and think about how the bottom half of the line-up (though with these players, is there a bottom half of the line-up anymore?) manufactured a run:

Luis Castillo: infield single.

Fernando Martinez in for Stokes: bunt between Dennys Reyes and Yadier Molina.

Alex Cora: single up the middle on Dennys Reyes.  No extension on Reyes’s part to catch it because he can’t leave his feet; Cora safe; Luis Castillo scores.  Yadier Molina goes nanners.

The digital zoom on the camera catching the money end of the third base line had Castillo safe.  Molina catches it, Castillo geeks out, and grabs the plate as Molina tries to apply the tag.  It was close, but Castillo was in.

The run gives Frankie Rodriguez wiggle room against the middle of the Cardinals’ order.  Now, the middle of the Cardinals’ order isn’t exactly setting the world on fire, but today’s Mets aren’t sure things when it comes to putting out fires.  There was nothing more poetic, by the way, than yesterday’s crash on the RFK Bridge involving trainer Ray Ramirez, Jose Reyes, and a fire truck.  On the day that Carlos Beltran goes on the DL. 

I love a metaphor as much as the next guy, but c’mon.

I guess until Tim Redding loses a game, I can keep calling him Teflon Tim.  Dear Tim Redding: don’t lose any games.  We need them.  Love, Paul.  P.S.: Don’t call me.  Your facial hair is frightening.

**

Oliver Perez pitched in Port St. Luice yesterday.  Against the Charlotte Stone Crabs.

Here’s the recap.

I would review, but… no.  Just… no.

CHARLOTTE.  STONE.  CRABS. 

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After The Gold Rush

By omniality
June 22, 2009 //
0

Doom, meet Gloom.  Gloom, this is Doom.

Carlos Beltran has been put on the DL with that bone bruise business he felt last month.  He’d said it was painful yesterday as he ran about the base paths and in the field.  This according to MLB.com.

… .

I suppose it’s a good thing that Brian Schneider’s unloaded a couple home runs recently.  Let’s, uh, see if he can keep that going against the Cardinals.

Buh.

The problem with being a finesse team is that you typically need dominant pitching to stay in the game long enough to eke out runs.  But I’ve pointed this out before–the Mets’ starting rotation is:

  1. Johan Santana
  2. Mike Pelfrey
  3. Tim Redding
  4. Livan Hernandez
  5. Fernando Nieve

I repeat:

… .

Fernando Tatis will need to be more patient.  Gary Sheffield will need to pick his spots.  David Wright, at this point, must go fifty for his next fifty.  No pressure.

I’m heartened by Daniel Murphy’s picking up steam.  Word is Angel Pagan will be back at some point soon.  But this line-up’s lying in a burned-out basement, hoping for replacements.  And there are no real viable options out on the block.

So we will no doubt be watching some very interesting or very heartbreaking baseball as we work to the All-Star break.  Here’s hoping the rest of the NL East’s competition is as deadly to them as pursuing a physical activity for the purpose of earning a salary appears to be for the 2009 New York Mets.

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The Field

By omniality
June 22, 2009 //
0

A typing machine today… I really meant to post this one on Saturday, but you know the story.

The Mets play in a park that is literally devoid of an exclamation point.

If you go to Citi Field, and stare at its “Citi Vision,” you’ll note the aesthetes were smart enough to spice up some of the garish advertising with a clear, concise “LET’S GO METS” at the top.

 

lets go mets.JPGBut that’s all.  Not “LET’S GO METS!!!” (which would have killed me for the two superfluous exclamation points) or “LET’S GO METS!” (much better) or “LET’S GO METS!” (fine).

LET’S GO METS

reads like

BUTTER
SAUSAGE
DISHWASHING DETERGENT

or

MARK
PLEASE REVIEW AND MAKE NOTES
PAM

or

STOP GET TICKET

…which threw me in my youth.  Everyone was stopping.  Weren’t tickets bad?  Shouldn’t we be GOING to AVOID TICKET?

I’m not a fan of the name “Citi Field,” but they (the Mets) signed a contract with Citi, and that’s that.  This stuff about taxpayers’ money doesn’t wash.  I know from budgets; yes you can look at it as being all in one pool; no, they don’t sign a contract in 2006 for $400 million over twenty years and NOT project where the money would come from.  Projections based on revenue wrong?  Sure.  That happens.  Adjust and move on.  There’s plenty to be mad at Citi about without picking on $20 million a year in “excess spending.”

But all the nonsense did spark an email discussion with ticket plan friends about what the park would be renamed, in the event that all hell broke loose and Citi split. 

The favorite was “Metropolis,” until it was pointed out that Metropolis is glass and steel, not brick and iron.  The name was modified to “Metropolis Park,” and lost its luster.

“Iron Triangle” was next on the list; an homage to the chop shops next door.

I bought an “I’m Calling It Shea” t-shirt from No Mas, and I call the park Shea more often than not, out of habit I’m in no rush to break.  But Citi Field is less a stadium and more a ball park; to call it “Shea Stadium II” would be weird; to call it “Shea Field” would seem like a demotion; there’s an aural dissonance with “Shea Park.”

Frankly, I’m surprised they went with “Citi Field,” given what else rhymes with “Citi” and the exact nature of the Art Howe era.

If Citi ever imploded as a company, the Mets could make a ten-degree turn and start calling the place “City Field.”  I have a friend from New Hampshire who seems to know next-to-nothing about baseball, and believed for months that “City Field” was its true name.  Negative.

I have little to offer by way of foolproof suggestion; I think it would be wrong to memorialize anyone living (Seaver Field) or double-dip on anyone who’s passed (Robinson Park).  Aside from MetLife, I can’t think of a decent corporate sponsor, and besides, we’re trying to get away from that sort of thing.

Not really looking to open this whole can of worms again, though, really.  What I’d really like is for that sign to read:

LET’S GO METS!

…and in a non-sellout font.

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So Here’s My Theory:

By omniality
June 22, 2009 //
0

Bobby Parnell doesn’t want to be traded.

He’s the kid staying over at the cool friend’s house for the weekend, and on Sunday morning he breaks a dish or smashes a lamp, thinking that when his parents come to pick him up, there’ll be such a ruckus about how bad he is that they’ll leave him there.  “I don’t want him.  Breaking lamps; drawing on the walls; nine runs and eleven hits over ten days and three innings pitched?  You keep him.  He likes the pool here, anyway.”

You may argue that the Mets’ pool is above-ground and hasn’t been skimmed since Papa Delgado hurt his hip down at the factory, and they also had to cut down on cheese and Charmin toilet paper.  I’ll argue that Papa Delgado has nothin’ to do with nothin’ around here as far as Bobby’s concerned; the Mets have a losing record in June but the Phillies are swooning, so they’re living on credit.  The Mets are still a contender.  Any team that trades a power hitter or a front-line pitcher to the Mets either feels they’re out of contention, was never in contention to begin with, or is smoking something delightful.

Or you may argue that Bobby’s pitching badly because he DOES want to be traded, but to someone who’ll take him in this condition.  My guess is that’d be the Nationals.  If that were actually the case, then I’d want no part of him.  Ladies on the bus.  Gangstas on the field.  All that good stuff.

Or you may argue that he’s sincerely trying to do a good job, he’s struggling under the use and the pressure, and I’m wrong for assuming any ill intent.  You’re the most correct, certainly, but that theory’s no fun.  Nuh-uh.  Citi Field’s got the Nintendo Wii, and Danny Murphy’s Honda Civic is awesome to bomb around in on off days, cranking the Dropkick Murphys and the *Mighty Mighty Bosstones, and Old Man Stokes has the funniest stories.  He’ll break enough stuff until the trade deadline, after which his parents’ll have gone, and he’ll be good.  He promises.

*Besides once again using the CBS Sports MLB Players’ Page, I do not mean to imply that Daniel Murphy is a fan of the Mighty Mighty Bosstones.

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“En-dy Cha-vez!” ::CLAP, CLAP, CLAP CLAP CLAP::

By comedyliteracy
June 22, 2009 //
0

Woof, Endy.
 
Woof.
 
ACL, MCL, cartilage, all busted, along with the season, and next season’s spring training, at least.
 
That should not be the consequence of playing hard. Playing hard should earn you fame, cheers, and a good night’s sleep. Instead, Endy Chavez gets an indeterminate amount of time on the Mariners’ DL.  Not.  Cool.
 
I’ve seen the replay; can’t really fault Yuniesky Betancourt, either.  He was chasing for it hard; maybe he didn’t hear Endy calling for it… .  It was just nasty luck.
 
The guy could barely hit a lick in ’08 for the Mets, but I love Endy Chavez still. My plan tickets have me entering Citi Field, regularly, through the Left Field gate, and observation as well as a note from Metsblog from way back leads me to believe that the silhouette at the gate is that of The Catch. Spectacular.
 
I attend my Friday games with a Mets fan and a Yankees fan, and they were with each other, at a bar, during Game 7 of the 2006 NLCS. The Yankees fan (he’s a SHINING example of one of the good ones; find yourself a Yankees fan who loves baseball so much that he’ll gladly plunk down $300 on fifteen METS games) regularly tells the story of how he believes he blacked out briefly when Endy made The Catch, and as soon as the relay was coming in to first, he was standing on his bar stool.  Cheering his guts out.

I was home, and shaking on my floor, on my knees, fist pumping in the air. My landlord–the octogenarian war veteran living (by choice!  by choice!) in the basement–was shouting as loud as I’d ever heard him. My sister, living with me at the time, came out of her room believing someone had broken in or I’d fallen from the roof.  Neither was the case, but had a thief broken in, we’d’ve stood in front of the TV together and watched the replay on my DVR; had I been watching on my roof and fallen out of excitement, then adrenaline and euphoria would’ve been enough to sustain me while I took in the rest of the game, and walked to Lutheran Medical.
 
I cried in 2006 because of The Catch. I drank HARD after strike three to Beltran, but I cried after The Catch.

The MLB highlights promo that runs at Citi before every game draws my loudest cheers for The Catch. Not the Grand Slam Single or Piazza’s home run at the game post-9/11.  The Catch was one of the greatest grabs in all of sport.  And I’m going back to when the ball was invented. I’m talking centuries here.  

The only way I could be hyperbolic about this is if I were to say that a greater catch has never been made in all of imagination.  I once scaled a sixteen foot-high wall to rob Ryan Howard of a home run, then flung my glove, El Duque-style, at Shane Victorino off second for an unassisted double-play that ended the inning. On my way back to the dugout I flipped off Oliver Perez, who was heading to the mound (in this version, he’s been traded to the Phillies).  That catch was SLIGHTLY better than Endy’s.
 
A knock against my Yankees fan friend is that he repeatedly states that The Catch can’t truly be considered great because the Mets wound up losing that game. Obviously I disagree.

You can’t deny Endy’s spirit, Endy’s hustle. (By no means am I saying he was the only one on that 2006 team that had it.) It’s a great play because, in that moment, the Mets were alive, and the potential for turning the tide, rather than just holding it off, was there.  It was the physical manifestation of that feeling I got when the Mets won games in late September, chugging to the finish line, and DiamondVision showed the crowd one word: “BELIEVE.”

We could believe then because of Endy.  I will continue to believe because of Endy.  I believe he’ll get better, and I hope he still has many playing years ahead of him.

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