Niekro's Knucklers

kniekro
Originally uploaded by dangunderman.

Once the Mets lost in the National League Championship Series to the Cardinals, I tried to claim that baseball was dead to me. Apparently, Joe Niekro took me literally.

Having spent my fan-influenced years in the Houston area, I spent much of my life rooting for the Astros. It was only when I became too cool for baseball (in college) that I finally let them (and the sport) go. By the time I rediscovered the pure genius of the sport, I was a New Yorker with a National League history. Naturally, I turned toward the Mets. (I'm probably one of the few Mets fans today, who wishes the Mets hadn't won the '86 World Series.)

Those Astros players of the late 70s and early 80s will always have a reservation at the restaurant of my heart. So it was with great sadness that my sister shared the news that former Astros pitcher Joe Niekro passed away on Friday at age 61. Sis, too, was a big Astros fan (we were "Astros Buddies"!)

Joe was one part of a pair of knuckleballing Niekro brothers. Phil had a longer, more successful career and ended up in the Hall of Fame. Joe was no slouch himself with over 200 wins, and his two best seasons were at the peak of my passion for the Astros.

Rumor has it, when Joe pitched, they turned the AC up at the Astrodome to blow toward the mound. The air currents caused his knuckleball to flutter like a butterfly. He was also once busted on the mound with having an emory board in his pocket, which he was apprently using to doctor baseballs. A little scuff on a non-spinning knuckler can make an enormous difference in its unpredictable trajectory. Nice work, Joe.

The obits I've read have talked about Joe's clubhouse presence and sense of humor. That's not really something I was aware of at age 7. But I loved watching the knuckleball. I think Joe is largely responsible for why I taught myself to throw a knuckleball. I can't throw it all that well, but it sure is fun to try, and every once in a while, I toss a good one, making all the lousy ones worthwhile.

Thanks, Joe, for introducing me to a much under-utilized pitch. Thanks for making those Astros teams so damned close to great (the franchise still hasn't won a World Series). And thanks for making that Astros uniform look so sharp.

Another Reason Vermont Rules

bernie
Originally uploaded by dangunderman.

Some of you may remember May of 2001, when Vermont Senator James Jeffords defected from the Republican Party. No, he did not become a Democrat. He became an Independent. But he voted with Democrats, and for eighteen short (and feckless) months, the Democrats held onto the majority in the Senate, thanks solely to his leaving the Republican Party. In 2002, the Republican Party took the Senate back, and it's been good times ever since.

Jeffords is retiring this year, and running for his Senate seat is long-time Congressman, Bernie Sanders, also an Independent. Too left-leaning for the Democratic Party, he is nevertheless getting their backing this election.

Meanwhile, he's getting hit from the further left by Peter Diamondstone, the Liberty Union Party candidate, a one-time friend of Bernie, but who's been pissed off since 1984 when Bernie threw his support towards Fritz Mondale. Don't piss off a lefty. They don't forget.

Well, the Senate debate in Vermont was a memorable one. Diamondstone went well over his time limit and cursed at some of the students asking questions. He finally became so pissed off during the debate that he got tossed from the room and arrested.

Rumor has it there was a Republican candidate participating as well. Some guy named Tarrant. We're still awaiting confirmation on that little piece of news.

In the meantime, go Bernie!

[And thanks to Phil for the link.]

Dickhead(s) of the Week - Follow-up

layskilling
Originally uploaded by dangunderman.

Remember Enron? It went under thanks to the greed of its leaders. Remember one leader named Kenneth Lay? He died. Remember the other leader named Jeffrey Skilling? Today he was sentenced to 24 years in prison for executing massive fraud on investors and employees.

Only Bernard Ebbers has received a longer sentence for corporate fraud than Skilling. Bernie wins, 25 years to 24. The highly-competitive Skilling must be burning up about that. On the other hand, Skilling has a better chance of surviving his prison sentence than Ebbers. Ebbers is probably burning up about that.

It's possible that you might hear pundits, commentators, colleagues, and jackasses stating that 24 years is too harsh a sentence for corporate fraud, "it's not like he killed someone," etc. Those pundits, commentators, colleagues, and jackasses will be wrong. The sentence is, in fact, lenient, when you think of all the people hosed by this Dickhead's massive fraud.

Dickhead becomes Shitbird... Ah, the cycle of life...

Sorry, Virgil

I keep forgetting that my links are all out-of-date. Virgil is, in fact, the Ballpeen Hammer link to the right. He changed the name of his blog about a year ago. Click on the Ballpeen Hammer link to the right, or follow this link for your convenience.

It's Over

Those of you paying a visit this morning will notice another live blog. Blogger was behaving a little strangely, occasionally posting entries out of order, but if you want to relive last night's amazing-game-with-the-terrible-outcome, read below. If you want to follow it in the order of the actual game, go to the bottom of yesterday's posts.

And be sure to check out the Virgil link to the right. He was doing his own live-blog. And occasionally cracking himself up throughout the game. Ad man was feeling a little lonely in the company of our clacking keyboards. Sorry, ad man.

I'm still in pain today. There is no joy in Sunnyside. But at least now I can go back to watching baseball as a detached observer.

Bottom of the 9th

Somehow I'm able to laugh at Tommy Lasorda still. But I'm dead on the inside.

Adam Wainwright is pitching vs. Valentin.

I'm feeling terrible for Heilman. He's been great.

Man, I can't take this shit. Valentin singles. Oh, man, I can't take it. Is that a glimmer of hope I smell?

Now Endy Chavez. (And Clifford "Motherfuckin" Floyd on deck. Me likey.) And Endy singles, too. Oh, my God. Fuck me. This is exceptionally stressful. And I don't know if I can't take it.

Clifford batting. Sore Achilles' heel and all. I can't take it. Cliff swings for the fences and misses. I can't take it. Come on, Clifford. Molina tries to throw behind to Chavez, but Endy's safe. Come on, Clifford. And Clifford lets a beautiful curve ball go by. Man, no doubt. Clifford got outpitched.

Reyes. Jesus, I can't take this. Reyes hit it hard but too close to Edmonds, who doesn't make any goddamn mistakes.

Lo Duca comes up to "Boogie Shoes." Down to the last out. Come on, Paulie. Fuck. I can't take this. I really can't. I'm feeling flushed. Light-headed. This is just terrible. Holy fucking shit. Paul walks. Bases loaded for Beltran.

Really. I can't take this. It's a fucking cliche of baseball. Bases loaded and two outs? What the hell is going on?

Beltran. This is what he makes $117 million for. Don't fucking blow this. And he blows it. Three strikes. Caught looking with the bases loaded. That's a season's worth of booing there, Beltran.

Fuck. It's over. The Mets lose. Fuck.

Relief, but sadness. Poor Heilman. Goddammit.

That's it. I'm done.

Top of the 9th

Heilman stays in with the score tied. I like that. He's one of the few Mets not killing me. And to confirm my faith in Heilman, he strikes out Edmonds.

They're showing the catch again. Holy shit. I can't get over it either.

That's because Rolen's up and he was the robbee. This time Rolen singles. Aw, damn. I can't fucking take this. Molina hits a home run, and now I'm fucking depressed.

Reyes makes a nice play to get Belliard, but who fucking cares? The Mets are down by two runs. I don't know if I can finish this shit. Shea fans are crying. I'm not there yet, but I'm totally deflated. Pinch-hitter Rodriguez blah blah blah blah. He's out. Mets are down to their final chance.

Mets 1, Cardinals 3

Bottom of the 8th

Come on, boys. I can't take this shit. Blow it wide open. Score some runs, goddammit. You're killing me.

Lead-off walk to Beltran. If you can't get a hit (and they haven't since the 1st damned inning), get on that way. Pitching change. Flores for Suppan. Man, Suppan pitched a great game. He killed me.

They're showing the replay of the Chavez catch again. I still can't fucking believe it. Now that killed me.

Delgado throws his bat at the ball to foul it off. Nice work, Carlos. Stayin' alive. Bee Gees. Carlos couldn't hold up his swing and strikes out. Damn. Now Wright. Man, this is killing me. Heart's racing. Thumping like crazy. Wright went around? I don't think so. Screw you, ump. You're killing me. Man, I'm stressed out. Come on, David. And he strikes out. Son of a bitch. His head was in left field.

And Green grounds out to first. Man, the Mets are fucking killing me.

Mets 1, Cardinals 1

Top of the 8th

I'm eating ice cream now. Homemade by Dana of Cart City Creamery. If she ever offers you ice cream, don't ask any questions. Just eat it. The cream cheese ice cream is outstanding. So is the chocolate, peanut butter, coffee, cookies and cream, dulce de leche, pistacio, maple, Mexican chocolate... Seriously, eat whatever she offers. It's fucking great.

Cornerstone grounds out. Scott Speizio with his annoying red soul patch is batting. I'm calling him Soul Patch from now on. Scratch that. I'm calling him Fuck Face. That soul patch is too annoying. He's a fuck face. And Fuck Face strikes out. They walk Pujols. Smart. Albert has that nasty-ass cold sore. Man, that thing's gross. Get that thing off screen.

And Heilman strikes out Encarnacion. Yahtzee.

Mets 1, Cardinals 1

Bottom of the 7th

Michael Tucker batting for Bradford. He hits a foul ball off his foot. Ouchie wouchie. And he flies out to Edmonds, who never makes a mistake. Reyes grounds out. So does Lo Duca.

It's raining now.

Mets 1, Cardinals 1

Top of the 7th

Man, I can't take this. Too much stress. And the Dunkin' Donuts "coffee" ad pisses me off.

They're playing "Take a Chance on Me" by Abba to say goodbye to Oliver Perez, and that's annoying, too. Perez, who scares the shit out of me, did a hell of a job. Submariner Chad Bradford now pitches.

Molina battles off a bunch of pitches. He flies out to Endy Chavez, who makes another remarkable, but routine, catch.

Valentin makes a nice play after it bounces over Bradford's head. Belliard's out. Suppan's batting. He grounds out.

Mets 1, Cardinals 1

Bottom of the 6th

They're showing the Chavez catch, which is even more impressive in slo-mo. The look on his face as he catches it. I can't fucking believe it. The Fox announcers are just repeating "un-believable." Shit's true. It is unbelievable. Chavez took two curtain calls during the commercial break.

Beltran grounded out, but I'm still on the catch. Fuck. Go right now to MLB.com and watch the highlight. It will please the shit out of you. Your shit? Right out of you.

Poor Scott Rolen can't get a break. Poor bastard.

Carlos Delgado walks. Nice work, Carlos.

I'm still on the catch. I'm barely paying attention. Except now Scott Rolen throws it into the crowd. Too bad Keith Olbermann's mother wasn't in the stands. He probably would've hit her. Alas. Boy, Scott Rolen really can't get a break.

They intentionally walk Shawn Green to load the bases. One out for Valentin. Maybe he'll get hit in the face with another pitch. That would score a run.

We're all participating in the EVERYBODY CLAP YO' HANDS! cheer at Shea. So that's nice.

Valentin strikes out, which blows. Now Endy's batting. If he can somehow top his catch, he will be remembered in Mets lore for all freakin' time. Not having a great postseason batting-wise, but now's the real chance.

And he pops out. Goddammit.

Mets 1, Cardinals 1

Top of the 6th

Man, I'm already laughing at the Borat movie. Awesome.

Lo Duca took a pitch in the neck. Ouch. Encarnacion grounds out to Wright. Perez is working slowly right now. I have no idea if that's a good or bad thing. But he's definitely slowing it down. And he lost him. Edmonds walks. Damn. Willie leaves him in.

HOLY SHIT!!! I CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE IT!! CHAVEZ JUST MADE THE BEST CATCH I'VE EVER SEEN OVER THE WALL! He snowcones the catch AND DOUBLES EDMONDS OFF FIRST! Rolen should've homered there, and Chavez stole it.

Seriously, that is the most exciting play I've seen in years. Unbelievable. Chavez's catch was one of the best goddamn things I've ever seen. I can't even speak.

Mets 1, Cardinals 1

Bottom of the 5th

Oliver Perez is batting. Almost got a hit, too, but didn't. Willie's smiling during his game-time interview, not sweaty, not swarthy. Well done, Willie.

What's the deal with Albert Pujols's herpes? Or as Virgil says, "Weepy, crusty mouth sore." That's gross. No wonder you popped out, Albert.

Lo Duca flies out and almost kills Wilson and Edmonds, who run into each other. Wilson holds on.

Mets 1, Cardinals 1

Goddamn, this is a good and fucking tense game. I can't take much more of this.

Top of the 5th

I didn't expect to see Oliver Perez in the 5th inning. He still scares the shit out of me. But he's doing well.

Belliard gets a hit, goddammit. Suppan bunts him over. Chavez misses an out-of-play foul ball from Eckstein/Cornerstone. Then Eckstein gets hit in the toes. It's not the face, but it should hurt a little. Big strikeout. Wilson down.

Now Pujols. Oh, crap. Perez is pitching to him. Oh, man, oh, man, oh, Manischewitz. Holy crap! Willie's a genius! Pujols popped out to Reyes. I can't believe it.

Mets 1, Cardinals 1

Bottom of the 4th

I'm drinking a Virgil's root beer, in honor of Virgil, and because it's good.

Oh, the Borat movie. Please open soon, Borat.

Today, I saw a woman that looked like Scarlett Johanson, only ugly.

Delgado walks. Nice work, Carlos.

Tony LaRussa couldn't be less interested in giving his game-time interview. And he's got a nasty, sweaty upper lip. Nervous, Tony? Or just swarthy?

Wright hits into a fielder's choice. Delgado out and Wright on first. Green strikes out on a foul tip.

Valentin hit a foul ball a long way. Stupid foul ball. Valentin just got hit in the face by a bounced pitch. That must hurt like a motherfucker. He's gonna be purple tomorrow. Crap, that hurts.

Shea has gotten misty. Like the Johnny Mathis hit. And Endy Chavez flies out to end the inning.

Mets 1, Cardinals 1

Top of the 4th

Still 1-1, by the way.

According to John Cougar Mellencamp, this is our country. So that's nice.

Edmonds flies out. Rolen pops out (two hands, David Wright, goddammit). Molina pops out to Green (two hands, goddammit, Shawn Green).

Mets 1, Cardinals 1

Bottom of the 3rd

I'm having a piece of pizza. Suppan retires the side before I've finished the slice. But I also learned that Carlos Beltran has two of the gayest dogs in the history of dogs. And Flomax could limit your semen output. What the hell?

Top of the 3rd

I hate the Sharp Aquos ad. It doesn't look like a golf ball on the TV, for crying out loud!

Lewis says that Eckstein means cornerstone in German. Cornerstone bats now. For fuck's sake, Cornerstone doubles. Not a bad pitch even.

Mookie's stepson strikes out.

They're walking Pujols. Smart.

Encarnacion breaks his bat and hits into a double play. Yahtzee.

Mets 1, Cardinals 1

Bottom of the 2nd

Virgil, Lewis, and I agree that Spoon is a great band. I say check out "Girls Can Tell." It's a great album. Virgil just put on Movie Trailers on Demand. I'm starting to panic about missing the game. Go back, Virgil! Go back!

He went back. Whew.

Valentin batting. He pops it up. Encarnacion grabs it above the shorter, stockier Belliard. Belliard's gonna cut him after the game, but Valentin's out.

Jeff Suppan uses hair gel.

Endy Chavez batting. Grounds out.

Holy crap! Oliver Perez hits it decently. But right to the left fielder.

Mets 1, Cardinals 1

Top of the 2nd

Does anyone else think it's strange that car and boat racing are prominently featured in a beer commercial? Jay-Z notwithstanding, that seems pretty dumb to me. Idiot Budweiser.

Tommy Lasorda's a good performer.

In a heartbeat, Edmonds singles off Perez. Man, Perez scares the shit out of me.

Rolen pops out to Beltran. Now they're showing Perez's OCD of leaping over the foul line. Man, he scares the shit out of me. Even though he looks good so far. Still, no shit. All scared out.

Molina batting. Bloops a single. Edmonds on third. Dammit all to hell.

It's not our friend behind the dugout, so I don't have to be jealous.

Belliard now. He bunts on a safety squeeze, and Edmonds scores. Son of a bitch. Two outs and Molina on 2nd. Lady face painters. That's hot.

Suppan bats. Hit a home run against Trachsel. Not so against Perez. Strikes him out.

Mets 1, Cardinals 1

Bottom of the 1st

Got here right before the game started. Now I'm in it. Man, this series is killing me. I'm more bald and emotional than bald and effective.

A good omen for the game... A steel drum player was going to town on "Take Me Out to the Ballgame," while wearing a Mets jersey. I'll ignore that it was a Robbie Alomar jersey. That can't mean anything.

Jose Reyes bats. Jeff Suppan, pitcher for the Cards, did a hell of a job in his first outing. Lewis and I don't think he can possibly do that well again. Reyes is out. Grounder to shortstop.

Lo Duca comes up to the Bee Gees. He's awfully gay for a womanizing straight boy. He grounds out to Rolen.

Lewis thinks he may have just seen a friend behind the St. Louis dugout. Man, I'd be jealous as hell.

Beltran bats. Some kid has a terrible face painting job. Stupid kid. I like his enthusiasm, but he's gotta do better than that. Lewis is sending a text message, which is a bit anti-social, says Virgil, while we blog. Beltran doubles. Really stretches a single into a double. Nice work, Carlos.

Now Delgado. Opportunity, boys. Make some shit happen. Carlos walks. Good eye, Carlos.

David Wright. This guy's been cold as hell. Now's his chance for redemption. Like Shawshank, baby. Think Andy Dufrense. And he clobbers a bloop single into right field, and Beltran scores. Yahtzee! Delgado reaches third. I'm totally aroused right now.

Shawn Green batting for the Mets. Everyone's favorite Jew. He lines one right at Rolen. A lot of bat, but nothing more. Hell, I'll take it!

Mets 1, Cardinals 0.

LET'S GO METS!

Live blog, baby! Here we go!

Top of the 1st

One down, with Eckstein flying out against Oliver Perez.

Oliver Perez scares the shit out of me.

Lewis is sitting here with me tonight, along with Virgil (follow the link). Virgil's live blogging as well. Let's see how soon before we give up on this endeavor.

Oliver Perez strikes out Preston Wilson. Two away. Perez still scares the shit out of me, with his erratic, lack of rest ways.

Albert Pujols scares the shit out of me, too. But in a different way. The towels are flying at Shea. Pujols monster pop up straight up, and Delgado drops it. Oh, for the love of Pete. Perez is doing well, you jackasses, so make the goddamn play. Wright should've taken over that play, but didn't.

Now Encarnacion. He pops it up, too, and Shawn Green catches this one, thank God. Lewis yells at Shawn for worrying about his falling hat before he's even closed his mitt.

Mets 0, Cardinals 0

Abbreviated

The Mets win, and as exciting as it is that they've bounced back to force a game 7, I'm having a hard time handling the stress. I've become a heroin addict.

The New York Times ran an article yesterday I really wanted to comment upon. It was about how Dick Cheney feels the love when he travels to the midwest. The six-year-old who was obsessed with Dick Cheney ("I just like him! I really do!") was, naturally, from my hometown of Topeka, Kansas. There's a Lesson from Kansas there somewhere, but I don't have the time to figure it out. Seems like a scary fucking lesson, though.

Potential recent Dickheads might have included Mark "I'm gay! No, I'm a drunk! Wait, I was abused!" Foley; Bob "I Need the Salary to Pay My Legal Bills and Refuse to Resign" Ney; the Fox baseball commentator tag team of Thom Brennaman and Steve Lyons, who spent a minute making fun of a blind man sitting in the stands (Steve has also gotten canned for implying that Lou Piniella stole his wallet because he speaks Spanish, a racial slur I'm not even sure I get); Representative John Sweeney of New York, who may have gotten some travel paid for by Jack Abramoff (good luck with your re-election campaign, buddy); and Bill O'Reilly, who has apparently become addicted to his crazy pills, most recently claiming that a mother's life is never in danger due to complications during pregnancy. Dickheads all.

Dude, I gotta get ready for work!

The Only Amazin' Thing Is That I Slept At All

dachshund
Originally uploaded by dangunderman.

I try to be understanding during the playoffs, even when the Mets are involved, so when the missus suggested we see a movie last night, I agreed. It was an early-ish, after-work screening, so I could still get back in time to see most of the Mets game.

We saw The Departed, and it was by far the best Scorcese film I've seen in the last decade. Very intense. Yes, film snobs. I know it's based on a Hong Kong movie called Infernal Affairs. But Infernal Affairs doesn't have Marky Mark in it. And Marky Mark plays one of the best badass cop motherfuckers in the history of cinema. It's a supporting role, but a juicy one, and Marky Mark handles it as well as he used to handle his pectoral muscles during his Marky Mark days.

But I left the multiplex feeling very stressed out. My solution? Watching the rest of the Mets game. The Mets were already losing 3-2, and they were listless. After the Cardinals made it 4-2, the Mets almost got something going in the 8th inning, but when they failed to deliver, I got too annoyed and angry to watch the 9th. It was one of those games I could tell would have no surprises. Which pissed me off.

So I went to bed and read my book for a while. Anytime I read a trade paperback, the pretentious side of me doesn't want to share the title. It must be a crappy book if it's in trade paperback form. But fuck that. It's Perfume by Peter Suskind. And it's about an scent-obsessed mass murderer.

There was no respite from the stress, dear B&E readers. Movies, baseball, and books are all relaxing activities for this bald man, but alas, it was not to be last night.

(I had to use flickr to get this thing posted. Something wrong with blogger. So I thought you'd all enjoy seeing the dachshund again. Ain't he cute?)

A Word About Fandom

face painters
Originally uploaded by dangunderman.

I write this shortly before Game 4 of the NLCS, with the Mets down two games to one and the most frustrating pitcher on earth about to take the mound for the Mets. Pessimism courses through my veins.

Thursday night, however, I was at Shea Stadium for the first game in the series, a game the Mets won, sitting in the upper deck along with the rest of the real fans.

During the playoffs, the upper deck is reserved for those fans with the less expensive season ticket packages. For example, I was sitting with people who, during the regular season, had a Monday/Thursday home game ticket package with seats in the Mezzanine. Their package included the rights to purchase playoff tickets. Playoff seats, however, are worse than regular season seats. Why is that, do you ask?

You know how if you watch a baseball game, especially one in a major city like New York, the cameras will occasionally show a celebrity at the game? Yeah, there are a few more comps handed out by the stadium to the respective participants, ballplayers, advertisers, sponsors, etc. They get better seats. Because they're better than us.

But the upper decks are filled with genuine fans -- fans with real passion, fans without irony, fans without reserve... Seriously. Real fans.

I haven't spent enough time at other stadiums to get a sense of the fans outside of Shea. So it's very possible that my description of a Mets fan could apply to true fans everywhere. My thoughts on the subject are still half-baked, and I suspect my words will be as well, but the thought of those Mets fans on Thursday night have been tickling the back of my head ever since that playoff game.

The Mets fan embodies a complete lack of snobbery. He (and Mets fans are predominantly male) has a hard time finding his seat, he has no fashion sense, he occasionally has no teeth. He has an inferiority complex thanks to the neighboring and usually superior American League team across the river in the Bronx. When I sit among my fellow Mets fans, I'm both proud and embarrassed to be one of them.

The ironic, observant part of me finds the Mets fan to be hilarious. The earnest side of me empathizes (after all, I'm a fan, too). And the desperation of the Mets fan is overwhelmingly sad.

The playoffs are no time to be objective or ironic. I rooted for the Mets in earnest. I chanted, "Let's go, Mets!" I heckled the Cardinals pitcher with calls of "WEEEAAAVERRRR!" I high-fived my neighbors as Tom Glavine finished another shutout inning. I woke up hoarse the next day. And it was just great.

The game was a pitcher's duel. Tense, exciting stuff. In the sixth inning, Carlos Beltran hit a monster home run. The resulting two runs would be all the scoring the game would see. Shea Stadium erupted like I've seen only twice before (stories for another time -- lucky you, B&E readers). The upper deck was shaking.

And even while I was pumping my fist in the air, and screaming, "YEAH!" I was grabbed from across the aisle, embraced by a complete stranger, bruising my ribs on the handrail. This man was close to tears.

And for just a heartbeat, during this moment of pure joy, I feel tremendous sadness. This man has nothing but these Mets. He lives alone. Or maybe with his abusive mother, even though he's at least forty. His boss rides his ass every fucking day of the week. He struggles with gambling debts. His drinking problem caused his wife to leave him, and he hasn't felt the touch of a woman in over a year. Except for that one he paid to touch him about six months ago. Unfortunately he's still paying for it today, and the medication's side effects includes sleeplessness and oily discharge. Beltran's homer is this man's only joy.

I'm a Mets fan, of course, and I want them to win. But it is imperative that the Mets win for the sake of this man. It is vital, for his health and safety, that the Mets succeed. It will be the only success of this man's life. If the Mets lose, this man will not survive. And I would fear for the safety of his boss, mother, and ex-wife. And of course for the woman who gave him the clap.

You must win, Mets. You must. Lives depend upon it.

(The photo features the worst doctoring job I've ever seen.)

Everyone Gets Punished

spam
Originally uploaded by dangunderman.

My apologies to you, dear B&E readers, but I've decided it is time to turn on the "word verification" feature for commenting.

If you tend to read comment portion of things, here, at B&E, you may have noticed recently that the spammers have gotten through. In a simpler, purer time, it was enough that I didn't have a "blogspot" address. Somehow, making the jump from Blogger to a real dot-com address was too much for spammers.

But when there's marketing to be done, the marketing will get done. It is, after all, time to make the donuts. But I see no purpose to this marketing beyond annoying readers of now-sporadic blog posting (and, naturally, the blog's writer).

I get a little thrill when I receive comments. It makes me think that maybe someone's reading the now-sporadic pap I throw up onto the screen. And I want to do whatever I can to encourage people to tell me what's on their minds.

So no one is more disappointed than me in the decision to add a hoop to jump through for commenting on B&E. So please keep the comments coming, dear readers.

Unless you're spamming motherfuckers, whom I invite, with as little respect shown as possible, to have sex with themselves.

A Word to Latecomers

You might notice a great number of posts tonight. I did a live blog of the Mets game. If you're so inclined, read from the bottom up for chronology. Baseball begins in the first inning and ends in the ninth.

I'm tired. And happy.

Bottom of the 9th

I'm tired now, and I missed who was Chevrolet Player of the Game. I can't care. I just want the Mets to win already.

Wagner vs. Martin - Wagner wins, striking out Martin.

Wagner vs. Speechum Betimit - Wagner wins, striking out Speechum and making him look ugly in the process.

Wagner vs. Ba Loney - Ba Loney is not baloney, slapping a single into left.

Wagner vs. Ramon Martinez, whoever the hell that is - A battle, but Wagner wins with a flyout to Green in right.

METS 9, DODGERS 5

Hugs, celebrations, beer, and champagne. Now I'm pleasantly tired. I'm going to shower and go to bed, dreaming of my Mets and enjoying this victory. The NLCS is next, boys, so as Mad-Eye Moody might say, "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

Way to go, boys!

Top of the 9th

Alright, people. It's fucking late. And there's one inning left. Commercials are ridiculous. Let's play ball!

Saito vs. Green - Saito wins, Green grounding to Ba Loney at first.

Saito vs. Valentin - Saito victorious, striking out Jose.

Saito vs. Julio Franco, who will outlive Methuselah -- He cannot out-swing Saito, who strikes him out.

Mets 9, Dodgers 5, with one half inning to go.

Bottom of the 8th

Jon Lovitz really makes Subway sandwiches look unappetizing. The humpback whale calls inside the Holiday Inn is pretty funny, I guess, but I think I'm feeling forgiving because the Mets just added to their lead.

Aaron Heilman faces Furcal here in the 8th. Greg Maddux just impressed Phil and me with his bubble blowing abilities. Furcal's got a full count. And Furcal dumps a single into left. Aw, damn. Fortunately, Lofton's batting now, and he reliably pops out. I like that Kenny Lofton. Marlon bats. And while he does they show Lofton emoting in the dugout. Lo Duca makes a nifty snag behind the plate to save a wild pitch. And with the count full to Marlon, he hits it hard but right at Beltran in center.

Kent the dick faces Heilman now. They just put up a factoid: "Needs triple for the cycle." I just don't see it happening. Even with three -- THREE -- triples this year. Instead he softly lines a single into center, off the end of the bat. Boy, he's a good player, even if he is a dick.

Now it's Drew vs. Heilman with two on and two outs. And Drew grounds softly to Delgado who steps on first for the third out. Yessir!

Mets 9, Dodgers 5.

Top of the 8th

Those Fudge-um ads for Dominos freak me out, I don't mind telling you.

Chris Woodward pinch-hits and immediately doubles down the left-field line off Brett Tomko, the new Dodgers pitcher.

Reyes is 2-for-11 this series. That was my average in the Connecticut River Valley Baseball League in Vermont. And Reyes lines out to Lofton. Lofton can't throw for shit, so Woodward tags and takes third. Nice work, Chris.

Lo Duca does one of the sweetest things I've ever seen with a bat, and shoots a bloop into right field, sticking the bat out to meet the ball, and scoring Woodward. Boy, that was a nice piece of hitting. I like that gambling, womanizing Lo Duca. Tomko balks, but Lo Duca had already taken the base because Tomko hadn't even looked at him. Lo Duca should get an extra base for Tomko's boneheadedness. Anyway, Lo Duca's on 2nd now for Beltran, who walks. That's first and second with one out. And Tomko's out.

Commercial break for the pitching change. Fox shows a montage that implies the Dodgers are winning. So that was weird.

Takashi Saito now pitches for the Dodgers. So their closer's expected to get five outs. Good luck with that.

On a routine grounder to Speechum Betemit, in an attempt to double up Beltran and Delgado, Speechum throws it into right field. Lo Duca scores, with the Carloses on the corner now. And Wright bats. That was an ugly play.

Wright strikes out on a not-quite-checked swing. Chavez really crowds the plate. I've never noticed that before. So Chavez pops out to end the inning, but what the hell? The Mets get two more.

Mets 9, Dodgers 5.

Bottom of the 7th

We've taken to flipping channels during commercials now. And why not? Commercials are dumb. No offense, ad man (see link to right).

Mota's back for more. After one pitch, Martin flies out to center. Me likey. Speechum Betimit pops out to Wright in foul territory. Again, Wright catches it with one hand. Two hands, David. But two outs nonetheless. James "Ba" Loney lines a single into right. I was really hoping for a quick three-up-three-down inning for Mota. Alas, Ba Loney gets a hit.

Saenz pinch-hits. He's a hefty fella. And Mota is behind 3-0 on Saenz. WTF, Mota? He throws a strike. Now it's full. Man, I feel tense. Come on, Mota. And he strikes him out. Boy, that's a relief. Nice work, Guillermo "Manny" Mota.

Mets 7, Dodgers 5.

Top of the 7th

Those "Gas Pumps Hate Us" ads are funny, perhaps, but I don't buy that crap from Chevy.

Buck O'Neill passed away, apparently. Nice of McCarver and Brenaman to throw away that information so callously. Couple of insensitive pricks. Now these two white guys are trying to express outrage about Buck not being inducted into the Hall of Fame. Take it easy, fellas.

Chad Billingsley now pitching for the Dodgers. Like that kid that starred in "A Christmas Story" and the Messy Marvin commercials. OK, that was Peter Billingsley, but still...

Endy Chavez hits a single just passed the diving dick, Kent. Shawn Green's had a good night so far, and he's batting now. Instead of hitting another double, Green hits into a double play instead. Furcal has some arm, man. Valentin strikes out on three pitches, so, uh, that's a short half inning for a change.

Mets 7, Dodgers 5.

Bottom of the 6th

Now the commercials aren't affecting my mood. This game is getting long. Seriously. This is a slow game. I like baseball, so slow isn't that big a thing, but soon, the missus is going to want to go to bed, and this game might just still be going into infinity.

Guillermo Mota pitching for the Mets now. He used to plunk Mike Piazza, just for laughs. But now we like him because, you see, he's a Met. Rafael Furcal grounds out. I don't want to jinx this, but Furcal has really stunk this series. Maybe that's the source of the sulphur smell that Endy Chavez is always noticing.

Kenny Lofton, who's struggled like hell, bloops a single to center off Mota. And now we've got the tough part of the lineup. Marlon and Kent the dick. Marlon blows a nice bubble in the batter's box and steps in. Again, this game grinds to a halt as Mota keeps throwing over to first base. Eventually, after some timeouts and more throws, Marlon flies out.

Shortly thereafter, Kent the dick hits a double that bounces into the stands. Second and third now and two outs. JD Drew wastes no time in flying out to center to end the inning and the threat. Me likey.

Mets 7, Dodgers 5.

Top of the 6th

Shawn Green bats against Jonathan Broxton, some young, fat bastard of a pitcher. Boy, I'm in a foul mood. Bastards.

But I just got a piece of kickass pumpkin pie and Green hit a double. That cheers me somewhat. A lot, actually. I've got pie and the Mets have momentum. Let's go Mets!

Valentin batting. And he fucking popped out. What a waste of an at-bat. Michael Tucker pinch-hits for the walk-meister Pedro Feliciano. The Fox announcers are talking about potential match-ups for tomorrow, but it would be nice if it didn't come to that. Oliver Perez, indeed. Full count on Tucker. And Broxton walks him. That feels pretty good. Unlike the walks the Mets gave up in the bottom of the 5th.

Jose Reyes has not hit well in the series, and he bats now. I hope those last few pitches by Broxton are an indication that his control is going south. Dodger Stadium clearly has a live organist, which can be heard while Grady Little comes out for a visit. I like live organs at baseball games. So they do that right in LA. Now Broxton is just throwing as hard as it can. It's working. He's got Reyes swinging late. But he's also fouling off pitches. So it's becoming a good at-bat. Reyes hits a bloop single into centerfield and Shawn Green scores. Reyes' two hits this series have been good ones. Big ones.

Lo Duca hits a soft flare behind Furcal, and Michael Tucker scores. Lo Duca makes it to second on the throw home, and Reyes is on third. This is a good inning. I'm guessing it was my pie that made all the difference. Phil makes one hell of a mean pie.

Beltran bloops a single, too. This is just like the first inning. Bloop single and another run, as Reyes scores. That's three runs this inning. Boy, this feels good. I'm telling you: it's a fucking great piece of pie. Broxton looks on the verge of tears, now facing Delgado. Broxton's eaten some pie in his day, and I'm glad he hasn't eaten Phil's pie. It's the pie that makes all the difference.

Delgado strikes out. Too bad. He could've really done some damage. Now Wright. That first pitch was one to hit out. But he let it go by for strike one. Beltran takes second, just because he can. Now they're calling Wright "clutch." The Wright love-in continues, but David strikes out to end the inning.

But the Mets get three and retake the lead.

Mets 7, Dodgers 5.

Bottom of the 5th

Those Baby Ruth ads between innings? Listen to the way the voice over artist says "nougat." NOUGAT! Yeah, I can't really describe it with letters, but he really shouts it enthusiastically, like it's really the thing that separates the Baby Ruth from all the other candy bars. Never mind that dozens have nougat. NOUGAT!

Furcal bats against Oliver now. It appears that Furcal got hit by a pitch. But the umpire isn't giving it to him. If it did, it just grazed him, and Furcal put on a stellar performance. Still, he earned the base and didn't get it. Poor bastard. Instead he hits a broken bat grounder to Delgado. One away. Poor bastard.

I just got interrupted by a very cute dog.

Lofton tries to bunt his way on, and Oliver makes a nice play, and flips to Delgado for the out. That's two.

Marlon Anderson hits a solid single. That guy's a good ballplayer. I've always liked Marlon. He's not a dick like Jeff Kent, who bats now. Oh, fuck me. Jeff Kent, that fucking dick, just hit a two-run home run. He really hit the shit out of that ball. He's still a dick, but man, he hit that ball hard. The Fox announcers are calling him "clutch." I'm calling him a "clutch dick."

Now Drew hits a slow-rolling single. Come on, Darren Oliver. You got two easy ones to start with. Let's close out this inning already.

Kent has a nasty looking mustache. Man, that guy's a dick. Good player, I guess, but what a dick.

And that's gonna be all for Oliver. Submariner Chad Bradford comes in to pitch.

I'm always less tolerant of stupid-ass commercials when the Mets aren't doing well, and the TGIFriday's ad with the stupid girls misspelling asparagus just pissed me off. A lot. That goes for the Fox sitcom ads, too. 'Til Death. Does anyone think that's funny? I just think Jeff Kent's a dick.

Bradford rules, though. Big fan of a submariner. He even submarines over to first. That's weird. Martin faces Chad. Jesus Christ, I don't know how he got his bat on that pitch, but it falls into left field for a single. Nice work for Martin. But Jeff Kent's still a dick.

Now Speechum Betemit. The last third of this inning has been rough. Bradford walks Speechum. Looked like a fucking strike to me, but the umpire disagrees. I'm rolling my eyes like passive-aggressive JD Drew. Not screaming like that dick Jeff Kent. Willie takes out Bradford and brings in Pedro "Jose" Feliciano. I like Feliciano, too. He's got "nasty stuff," as McCarver is wont to say.

Loney faces Feliciano with the bases goddamn loaded. This is hurting my heart. Suddenly the home plate umpire isn't calling strikes for anything close, when early on, anything close was a strike. Feliciano just walked in a run. That really pisses me off. Walks are bad anyway. But with the bases loaded? Unforgiveable. What are you doing Pedro?

Now Nomar Garciaparra, torn quad and all, is batting. Bases still loaded, and the Mets losing. This took a terrible turn, this game. And it really hurts my heart. Nomar's a twitchy motherfucker. And he grounds back to Feliciano, who makes the easy play.

Still, a rough inning. Ouch. Seriously. Ouch.

Mets 4, Dodgers 5. And now that terrible John Cougar Mellencamp "This Is Our Country" Chevy ad is playing, and that pisses me off more than the stupid TGIF girls. And Jeff Kent's still a dick.

Top of the 5th

Mark Hendrickson pitches for the Dodgers now. Delgado bats. I've never seen such a weak hit from Delgado. Rolls it to first. Easy play for the first out.

Oh, and that was Speechum Betemit that got doubled off third base at the end of the 4th.

The Fox announcers are continuing their love affair with David Wright. They're now showing childhood photos. Yes, David looks the same. But really, McCarver, Brenaman. You guys are so gay. Wright walks, and they flatter his speed next. So gay.

Endy bats for the first time, having replaced Clifford in left. Endy's great. He's from Venezuela, but I don't think he's related to Hugo Chavez, even though they share a last name. Although Endy does occasionally complain about the sulphur smell that lingers in the Mets dugout. He hasn't sourced the smell yet. Not sure which of his teammates is Satan.

Meanwhile, Endy hits into a double play to end the inning.

Mets 4, Dodgers 2.

Bottom of the 4th

Kent, Drew, and Martin up this inning for the Dodgers. Kent's being a jerk about the strike zone. He's yelling at the ump without looking at him. Man, that guy's a dick. Dickhead of the Week? Don't know. We'll see about that. But he's definitely in the running. I don't know why I hate that guy so much. But what a dick.

Kent gets a single. What a dick.

JD/JT Drew/Snow rolls his eyes at a strike call. Passive-aggressive asshole.

Now McCarver is bitching about Trachsel throwing over to first, as if it's totally pointless. It's good for Steve, McCarver, you impatient douchebag. Not pointless at all. Yes, it's slow, but it's your job to fill in the blanks with your blather. In fact, maybe that's why he's complaining. He doesn't know what else to say. Sorry, McCarver. I would've thought after decades in baseball you'd know what to say.

Drew flies out to Green.

Reyes attempts to make a tough play but throws a bit wide. First and second now, and only one out. Speechum Betemit bats. Come on, Steve. You can do it. I believe in your pitching abilities. I affirm you. I support you.

Another eye roll, this time from Betemit. Looked like a borderline pitch, probably a ball, but McCarver and Brenaman are making it sound like he was given a birthday cake. What the hell is the matter with you guys? It wasn't that far inside.

I have no idea what just happened, but a routine fly ball fell right in between people. It was too high for no one to get that, but no one was even close to it. Now it's bases loaded with one away. Seriously. No idea what just happened. But that's bad news for the Mets.

Activity in the bullpen now for the Mets.

Goddamn base hit by Not-Garciaparra. OK, his name is Loney. He knocks in two runs on a nice piece of hitting. And because Beltran bobbles the ball, Loney's into second base. Second and third, still only one out.

Darren Oliver got ready quickly, and Willie comes out to get Trachsel. Seriously, Trax, you did pretty well. A rough inning here, and Willie's gotta stop the bleeding, but I believe in you. You're a good pitcher, Steve. Meanwhile, Phil and I talk about the strategy forming. Get the Mets pitcher into the 4th inning, then bring in the reliever. Hey, if it works, why the hell not?

Ethier pinch-hitting for Maddux. He lines out to Darren Oliver, who immediately fires to David Wright to double off Martin. Jesus Christ, Willie looks like a genius now. Double play to end the inning, and crush the Dodgers' momentum. Still the Dodgers get two.

Mets 4, Dodgers 2. A long half inning. Sorry about that, readers. Bored yet?

Top of the 4th

Reyes grounds out to first. Lo Duca grounds out to Maddux.

The Fox announcers are really being hard on Maddux, saying how hard he's struggling, but the Mets' hits haven't been all that solid, except for Green's double off the wall. Ease up on Maddux, boys. Brenaman, you're an insensitive prick for making fun of the blind guy.

Beltran pops out in foul territory.

See, McCarver? Maddux just dominated the Mets that inning. So shut up already. But of course he won't shut up because he's paid to talk about the game and entertain sit-at-home jackasses such as myself.

Mets 4, Dodgers 0.

Bottom of the 3rd

Endy Chavez comes into left field for Clifford.

Greg Maddux bats, and flails a bunt attempt for a strike. Tim McCarver is giving Grady Little hell for letting Maddux bat. Phil disagrees. It's only the third inning. I'm not sure that I care enough to comment. But Maddux strikes out. And they show the clip of Little leaving in Pedro one batter two long back in '03. Like it's the same thing with Maddux now. Stretch. Some people really carry grudges.

Furcal goes to a full count again. And walks. Oh, that blows. I don't like Furcal being on base. Lofton bats. Man, I hate walks.

This is where Steve gets his quirky rep. He's ground this game to a halt. Throwing over to first a lot. Working so slowly, it's become his leisure time.

But he gets Lofton to pop out to Green. Two outs.

It's hard to believe that I'm getting bored. It's a Mets playoff game, for crying out loud. But man, it's slowed way down. Trax is really being careful now. Don't you worry about it, Steve. I support you working slowly.

Furcal steals second. And his helmet bangs into Reyes' knee. Ouch.

Former Met Marlon Anderson pops out to Reyes, who fortunately doesn't have to catch with his sore knee.

Mets 4, Dodgers 0. End of three. Only three? We're a third of the way through this? Feels like we should be halfway already. We're not.

Top of the 3rd

One answer might be to do less play by play.

Delgado's out. That's one.

The announcers are doing a little feature about David Wright, who now bats. I think maybe the announcers are in love with him. They've called him hot, engaging, and nice. Dynamite. Ease up, fellas. You're gaying up Fox. Speaking of which, Lofton grabs Wright's fly ball.

Now the announcers are telling us their schedules. I don't know why they think we care where they'll be. So you'll be in San Diego and maybe St. Louis. Seriously, fellas. Why do we give a shit about that?

Cliff hits a two-out single. I like that Cliff might be getting hot. The guy has use of about a third of his kidney at any given time, and a sore Achilles tendon to boot, and he's getting some hits. So that's nice.

Our local Jew, Shawn Green, hits the top of the wall with a long fly ball, and Cliff limps home and winces as he slides. That can't be good. He's really in pain as the trainer checks him out. Oh, man, that's bad news. But he did score a run, and Green's on second. Maddux is walking Valentin and Floyd gets some care. Trax now bats, and I totally believe in your batting abilities, Steve, even if Cliff Floyd now has his shoe off and gets a rubdown from the trainer. It's looking like he's going to be out this game now.

Trax grounds to Speechum Betemit who steps on third to force Green.

Mets 4, Dodgers 0. But Cliff looks down for the count.

Bottom of the 2nd

Russell Martin hits the first pitch for a single. This kid's good. And he's on first.

Now my favorite player name of all time is batting. Wilson "Speechum" Betimit. He flies out to Cliff Floyd. One out.

James Loney, i.e. Not-Garciaparra, bats now. Holy crap, that was a nice play. Jose Reyes fields a ground ball up the middle, trips and falls, gets up, steps on second base, and fires to first for a double play.

Now that's a quick inning.

Mets 3, Dodgers 0

I wonder if there's a way I can make this more interesting. Both for you and me. Let me think about this for a few innings...

Top of the 2nd

Trax is leading off the inning, the only Met not to bat in the 1st. You can do it, Steve. I believe in the power of your bat.

The announcers are apologizing for insulting a blind guy who was using a strange contraption (called a Jordi - hello, Star Trek) to be able to see the game. Nice going, Brenaman, you insensitive prick. Trachsel grounds out to Redneck Kent.

Reyes quickly grounds to first and Not-Garciaparra bobbles the ball. Reyes beats Maddux to first. Maybe. It's close.

Lo Duca batting again. On a pitch out, they gun down Reyes stealing 2nd. Reyes almost beats the throw, but it was a solid throw and he's out. Damn. One out.

OUCH! Maddux plunks Lo Duca in the shoulder or tricep. So he's on first.

Beltran hits a routine grounder to Furcal who flips to Kent for the third out. Nothing doing this half-inning for the Mets.

Mets 3, Dodgers 0.

Bottom of the 1st

Steve Trachsel's called quirky by some. And crappy by others. He gets a bad rap, says I. Sure, he's had a few bad outings, but for a while there, he was the most consistent pitcher for the Mets. And anyway Just because he's got OCD doesn't mean he's a hack. You do your crosswords, Steve. I believe in you.

This is Steve's first playoff appearance, apparently. Good for you, Steve.

Rafael Furcal is a Met killer. Or was when h