That's Two Down...

Carlos Beltran is already missing the beginning of the Mets season, having had surgery on his knee a short while ago. Now it appears that Jose Reyes will also miss the beginning of the season.

I've been keeping an eye on the Mets during spring training, as any B&E reader would probably expect, and there's been some real hope. Some of these youngsters can play. Last year, all you heard was that the farm system was depleted. Now, some of those so-called depleted players are showing off some real skills.

No one has heard of Chris Carter, but he's got a good sports name. Vince Carter is a hell of a basketball player. Joe Carter was a decent baseball player. Gary Carter is a Hall-of-Famer. And don't forget Jimmy Carter. That guy can throw the hell out of a peanut. But anyway, Chris Carter! Three home runs in three at-bats. Nice work.

Twenty-year-old Jenrry Mejia is suddenly in the running to be the Mets setup man, when he was expected to begin the year in Double-A. He's had a hell of a spring, and Jerry Manuel can't hide his excitement.

And it's just a matter of time before Josh Thole takes over as the everyday catcher. The Mets have a plethora of catchers at spring training, and they're mentoring the hell out of that kid.

But this news about Jose Reyes, and his elevated thyroid levels, is turning the 2010 Comeback Mets (or however it is that they're marketing this team in their desperation to sell tickets) back into the Familiar Mets of 2009.

Screw you, Mets, for getting my hopes up with the youngsters.

Lady? Check. Baseball? Check. Knuckler?! Check!

What's not to like about this little tidbit, B&E readers? First of all, it's about a woman. I like women. Secondly, it's about baseball. Gosh, I do like baseball. Thirdly, it's about a knuckleball pitcher. I do love a good knuckleball.

When you roll those things into one, you get Eri Yoshida, an 18-year-old knuckleballer in Japan, who might just become the first female professional baseball player. Watch the video. Like all videos in Japanese it's genuinely confusing and oddly compelling.

Man, I'm glad spring training is here.

Even though the Mets star centerfielder and shortstop are being interviewed by investigators about a doctor who allegedly gave out steroids (or something akin to it), and the star closer is out with pink eye.

Really? Pink eye? Jesus, guys, get it together.

The Hope of a New Season

The thing that's just terrific about baseball is that hope springs eternal. So your team failed (as usual) this year. It doesn't matter. February rolls around, you hear the magical words, "pitchers & catchers," and your team has the potential to be the best in the league, just like every other team.

Oh, unless you're the 2010 New York Metropolitans. Nope. They don't have that potential.

We're still a month from the kickoff of spring training, and the team's superstar centerfielder, Carlos Beltran -- who gets paid a whopping $119 million, who has decided without the team's agreement to have knee surgery, and who (apropos of nothing) has always had some sort of weird growth on the side of his head -- won't even be in the Mets lineup until May.

Yes, indeed. The Mets will once again be terrible. Yay.

Since it was first announced a couple of years ago, I've been rather annoyed by the Mets' partnership with Citigroup, which resulted in the naming rights to the new stadium. Citi Field. Blech. I mean, why would a such a stellar baseball organization want to be associated with an insolvent financial institution that's been so eager to keep sucking at the teat of the federal government?

But now the Mets seem determined to live up to the stunningly high standards of Citigroup itself. I sincerely wish it didn't make so much sense.

Let's go, Mets! Let's go, Mets! Let's go, Mets!

Oy.

Anyway, here's the second of the tasty Egyptian footballers, a fella called Gomaa, also courtesy of blondandeffective, for you non-baseball fans. Enjoy!

Boy, That's Some Start to the Off-Season

Nothing breeds failure like failure. Ah, Mets. Thou art so lame and useless.

Do the Mets get a pass for the 2009 season? Perhaps. After all, injuries plagued the poor bastards, and they never really stood a chance with so many theoretical all-stars out of the lineup.

Still, one can't deny the ethos of losing that surrounds this fair team I love. Perhaps deep down, this is why I love them. Hell, maybe it's not even that deep down. The Mets are losers. They've proven it time and time again.

And everyone in baseball knows it.

The Mets have been trying to make a splash with some trades and some free agents this winter, so far with little success. The best players have been snatched up by winners. Way to go, Yankees, Red Sox, and Phillies.

Meanwhile, the Mets made a pretty generous offer to the overrated Jason Bay. He's got no other offers on the table, and he's just sitting on it. Just sitting. Hoping for something better.

I'm guessing he'll sign with the Mets eventually and have a decidedly mediocre season. Maybe he'll hit a few more home runs than anyone did this past season, but hell, Rod Carew could probably do that. And he'll strike out a bunch and make some bonehead plays in left field and blow some games and become the next great Mets scapegoat, joining such names as Kaz Matsui and Ollie Perez and Luis Castillo (who managed to get off the shitlist in 2009 - congratulations, Luis).

So here's where I'm gonna find my 2010 Mets Joy: R.A. Dickey. First of all, his name is Dickey. Have fun with that in New York, buddy.

Dickey signed a minor league contract with the Mets. His career has been decidedly mediocre. But here's why I like him: 1) He's a knuckleballer, and there isn't a funner pitch to watch thrown in baseball; and 2) He's missing a ligament in his elbow that, in theory, allows pitchers to pitch well.

Because he's only signed a minor league contract, we probably won't see him on the Mets roster until, if history is any guide, May of this season, when he'll join the rotation. And then I can't wait to see the fireworks.

I might even get myself a Dickey jersey. Because who doesn't want a jersey with Dickey across the back.

That'll Show 'Em

Remember the New York Metropolitans? They're a minor league team that plays in Flushing Meadows, Queens. At least that's how it seemed this past season, as they staggered to a 92-loss season. Well done, Highest Payroll in the National League.

So what's the front office's biggest move during this off-season so far? A new jersey! It's a throwback - cream colored with blue pinstripes - to remind fans of the days of 1962, when the Mets lost 120 games in a season, the still-standing modern-day record.

Oh, and the Mets were also wearing this particular jersey when they won the World Series in 1969, but who can think of such nonsense after so absurd an inaugural season in New Shea Stadium?

The marketing masters in the New York Mets front office launched the new jersey just in time for Black Friday. Which unfortunately for the Mets' holiday income, coincided with Mets fans' still lingering bitter feelings over a job shittily done.

So as of Friday afternoon, the Mets Clubhouse store had sold exactly zero new retro jerseys.

Just wait until next year!

Scraping Bottom

I took a gander over at the Mets website to see if they're playing the Game of the Week on Fox.

The home page of every Major League Baseball team features a highlight from the previous game. Even if the team loses, the highlight will show a home run by the losing team or a great play in the field, etc. So as you might expect, on today's Yankees home page, for example, they show Derek Jeter breaking the all-time Yankees hit record. Congratulations, Derek. Even if I don't understand why you're dating Lila Garrity.

Anyway, today, the caption under the Mets highlight read as follows:

Omir Santos crosses the plate on a double-play ball, putting a run on the board for the Mets.

That's right. The Mets highlight is a double play that the Mets hit into.

It's been a long fucking season, B&E readers. But surely this is rock bottom.

And yes, today's game is on Fox. I look forward to an afternoon nap.

Ouchie Wouchie

Big news today. Senator Ted Kennedy died. So I'm going to say a few words about the Mets.

When the Mets began the 2009 season, this was their opening day lineup:

Jose Reyes, SS
Daniel Murphy, LF
David Wright, 3B
Carlos Delgado, 1B
Carlos Beltran, CF
Ryan Church, RF
Brian Schneider, C
Luis Castillo, 2B
Johan Santana, P

In last night's game, the starting lineup looked like this:

Angel Pagan, CF
Luis Castillo, 2B
Gary Sheffield, LF
Jeff Francoeur, RF
Fernando Tatis, 3B
Daniel Murphy, 1B
Omir Santos, C
Anderson Hernandez, SS
Nelson Figueroa, P

Two players from that original lineup continue to play: Daniel Murphy (who's been switched to first base) and Luis Castillo (the only player still in his original position). If I'd have predicted someone who would be out for the season at this point, I would've picked Luis Castillo. Go figure.

Church was traded. Schneider platoons with Santos. Reyes, Wright, Delgado, Beltran, and Santana are all on the disabled list. That's one disabled list for five all-star players.

Johan Santana is just the latest to join the injured crew. Since the season is a bust anyway, he's having bone spurs removed from his elbow now, so that he's got plenty of time to recover for next season.

See? Everyone related to the Mets - management, players, and fans - have moved onto next year.

Even the players who play every day now are mostly auditioning or practicing for next year. Murphy is honing his skills at first. Sheffield is hoping to prove himself indispensable enough to warrant a new contract. Francoeur, if he gets a new contract, will be an everyday player. Pagan is hoping to be an everyday man next year as well. Tatis is... well, he's probably hoping to be a bench man again next year. Santos has been a bright spot this year and could well take over as starting catcher for Schneider. Anderson Hernandez should be the starting second baseman instead of Luis Castillo, if he could just learn to hit. I've called him Batman on B&E in the past because of his amazing fielding. He made the single greatest catch I've ever seen in person.

What's my point? I'm sad about Ted, about health care reform, about our criminal justice system, about the feckless Democratic Party, about the destructive Republican Party, about my friend who passed away, and about so much more...

And I can't even fucking turn to baseball. Fuck me, B&E readers. Fuck. Me.

Karma Gives a Beatdown on the Mets

It's official: karma has taken a massive bite out of the 2009 New York Metropolitans. And I know the reason...

Citibank. Citigroup. Citi Field.

Father and Son Wilpon, you should've named the entire stadium - not just the rotunda - after Jackie Robinson. Instead, you named it after a bailed out, insolvent corporation that has taken billions in taxpayer dollars and exploits anyone in the world that it can.

I've railed against this particular name on numerous occasions already. But I became absolutely convinced of Citigroup's curse this weekend.

At the beginning of the weekend, David Wright was the Last Man Standing amongst the Mets core players. Jose Reyes, Carlos Beltran, and Carlos Delgago have all been injured for most of the season. Various members of the pitching staff have gone down.

But David Wright was the solid presence in the lineup, playing every day and offering the only threat against opposing pitchers.

Until he got beaned in the head with a 93-mile-per-hour fastball from San Francisco's Matt Cain. Because he suffered a concussion and the Mets season is over anyway, David probably won't play again this year.

It's CitiKarma, Mets. I hope you've learned your lesson, or it's going to be a long 20 years.

Yo, Mets! A Modest Freakin' Proposal, Huh?

We Mets fans have accepted that this is a damned lost season. First year at New Shea was a bust. That's fine. Bad years with bad luck and bad injuries happen. Especially if you name your new stadium after a bailed out, insolvent financial institution.

Today, you're starting Bobby Parnell to see how he is as a part of the rotation. Terrific. Please do. Try some new shit. Mix it up. Give Daniel Murphy his much-needed extra playing time at first to get him comfortable and add to his chances of being a great player next year. Good idea. I'm all for it.

But as long as you're writing off the season, how about you lower those fucking ticket prices a bit, huh? How about you make it a more financially feasible option to get some better seats at this fancy-pants stadium of yours, huh? How about you give me some incentive to support this Triple-A team, huh?

Get us excited for next year, HUH?! Fucking HUH??

Food, Glorious Food

I'd just like to give another shout-out to Amy Goodman and Democracy Now! for putting together one hell of a riveting show yesterday. (If you come to this post or follow the link a bit after the fact, it's the Monday, August 3rd show in the archives.)

Please give a listen. It's about food (which I love) and bacon (which I love), and about the associations our brains make when we have a food experience, especially one that includes any delicious combination of sugar, fat, and/or salt. Chalking American obesity up to "laziness" has recently become a pet peeve of mine, and this is further dissection of the very complex issues around the food industry and American diets.

I tell you what else: it got me thinking about Shea Stadium. I'm talking about the Old Shea and not the New Shea officially known by another name.

At the Old Shea, a Mets game meant an Italian sausage with peppers, onion, and mustard (and I kid you not, I just salivated typing that) during the early innings, and a Carvel twist in a cup with hot fudge at some point in the middle of the game.

It never felt like a routine. It was genuinely what I wanted to eat every time I went to see the Mets play at Old Shea. The neurons in my brain required that this be my dinner (or lunch) at the stadium. It had all of the pleasurable experiences of being at a live Mets game (and if you remember, I also had a hell of a win streak there for a while), and between the addictive qualities of the sugar, fat, and salt and those good associations, I was helpless before the call of those obesity-causing sirens.

During this past off-season, I gave up sweets. I was actually concerned that I would need to blow my sugar fast during my first visit to the Mets new stadium. I so associated Mets games with Carvel (especially), I didn't know if I could do it.

But it was the place itself that had the association. Shea Stadium was where I ate Carvel. To keep me from eating Carvel, all they had to do was tear down the stadium! Thanks, Mets!

My visits to New Shea have created new food associations. Now I can't help but dream of barbecued pulled pork and fried flounder sandwiches. It's the same thing, really, only of a slightly higher brow. Better? Probably not.

At least gotten off the Carvel. There's not a lot one can say about Carvel's positive effect on one's health. But it does taste delicious on a hot summer's day.

Looks Like They Needed the Distraction

Recently, Tony Bernazard, one of the Mets' Vice Presidents (allegedly) ripped off his shirt and challenged members of the double-A affiliate to a throw-down. Later, he also got into some sort of altercation with the Mets' All-Star closer Francisco Rodriguez.

These are the types of baseball organizational occurrences that the press likes to call "distractions." Often these sorts of distractions are blamed for losing.

The Mets are having what can only be seen as a sub-par season of baseball playing. So when Tony's actions became a "distraction," General Manager Omar Minaya felt he had to fire Tony. In doing so, Omar blamed the reporter for doing his job. Looky! Another distraction!

Now it's been nearly a week of all this nonsense, and as you might expect, it's having an adverse effect on the team.

And by adverse, of course, I mean that the Mets were losing a lot, and now they've won five games in a row.

As long as the front office isn't paying attention to what goes on down on the baseball field, the players win.

Keep up the distractions, boys! We're counting on you to do whatever's necessary to make the Mets champions! Let's go Mets!

Oh, Right... The Mets...

Some of you may have noticed that I haven't had much to say about the Mets of late. There's a very simple reason for that: the Mets are terrible.

I didn't even comment on the Ryan Church for Jeff Francoeur trade, although I'm sure the missus will be disappointed about that if she reads about it here. She rather enjoyed the view of Ryan Church's ass in right field last time we paid a visit to New Shea.

Alas, that ass will now belong to Jeff Francoeur. I guess we'll find out next time we sit in the Pepsi Porch whether or not Jeff's ass was trade-worthy.

Oh, Mets. Some of you should be coming back from the Disabled List soon, but don't worry: I won't be holding my breath.

Self-Fulfilling or Inevitable?

I wrote that last post before the Yankees swept the Mets in their weekend Subway Series. In fact, I wrote it before the Mets had even lost one game.

It becomes easy to project on a team that's losing. "Their heart's not in it," is a phrase often heard about losing teams, and I'm certainly hearing it about the Mets. Maybe it's true. I'm not in the clubhouse. Maybe it's obvious that the Mets players really don't care at all.

I tend to think that's a crock of shit. The truth of the matter is that the Yankees' stars are healthy and on fire right now. The Mets stars are mostly injured or ice cold. The Yankees are almost half of the All-Star team. The Mets are mostly a Triple-A team. Their lead-off hitter was Daniel Murphy, and their biggest hit came from Fernando Martinez. Who the hell are these guys next to the likes of Mark Teixeira and Alex Rodriguez?

You can't tell me that Murphy and Martinez don't care. They're just nowhere near their prime yet. I'm sure the whole team hated the way they played against the Yankees. They were sloppy and weak. Who the hell wants to play that way?

We are the Mets. We care. Yes, we do. This weekend, however, the Yankees were better. And gosh, that's really too bad.

But, you know, often Microsoft wins.

Of Death and Mets

Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett, and Michael Jackson died this week. (As if you hadn't heard.) Those are three major icons, and I suppose I have thoughts about all three.

My strongest feelings are certainly around Michael Jackson, but the coverage has been so overwhelming, I'm not going to bother to enter the fray. But yes, I've been listening to Thriller and Off The Wall for the past couple of days.

I think I was just a year or two too young to go through a major Farrah phase. It was Farrah's replacement Cheryl Ladd that I thought was the real looker, and that they thought they could replace her with Shelley Hack... well, that's just insulting.

Ed McMahon... I mean, he's Ed McMahon. It's a little weird to me that two of the three announcers in those New York Lottery commercials are now dead. Look out Jeopardy guy, if these things do in fact happen in threes.

I was avoiding thinking about these three dead icons this morning and instead put my focus on this weekend's Subway Series. And as I put on my Mets cap, I got to thinking (again) about why I'm a Mets fan. I very much had a choice in the matter. I didn't grow up rooting for the Mets.

As I've mentioned before, I was a massive baseball fan in grade school, got distracted by girls and theater in high school, decided I was too cool for sports in college, and realized that I missed the hell out of baseball once I was an independent adult.

I was in a city with two teams. The Yankees were about to go on a run of four World Series Championships in five years. The Yanks were experiencing a renaissance. The Mets were not. Their best player was Todd Hundley, for crying out loud. It was a hard time to be a Mets fan. And the Mets broke my 1986 heart, when they unexpectedly beat my beloved Houston Astros. The cards were stacked against the Mets.

Visits to both stadiums really should've put the Yankees over the top. Yankee Stadium (the old one - haven't yet seen the new one) was a stellar place for baseball. You were close to the action; you could eat the history.

Shea was Shea. Holy crap that was a fucking terrible stadium in which to see a baseball game. You were far from the action; you felt like you were sitting in a giant mistake.

But at Yankee Stadium, I always felt surrounded by entitlement. Wall Street pricks got jacked up on coke and came to the game to take that edge off with several dozen beers. The combination was lethal. They suffered from massively inflated egos, and were aggressive to everyone around them, even their friends.

On the other hand, my god, Shea felt like home. Mets fans felt like a family, actually. They were lovable losers. These were my lovable losers. I too was a lovable loser. However long we'd been alive, we'd taken a drubbing for the duration. We woke up every day and had to live with ourselves, in a world where we worked too fucking hard for too fucking little pay.

Obviously, that is a simplification beyond simplification. I've come across some massively dickheaded Mets fans. And clearly not every Yankees fan fits the Wall Street stereotype. Most of the guys who work at the bagel store near my office are Yankees fans, and a nicer bunch of baseball fans you won't meet.

But instead of celebrity death this is what I was thinking about on the subway this morning, as I took the 7 train (this weekend's subway line in the Subway Series) on my way to work.

And there he was: the purest embodiment of the Mets fan. A portly, somewhat disheveled fellow wearing a Mets cap and t-shirt. His mouth hung open just a bit. The AC in the train car dripped every so often. It was landing on his thigh and sometimes on the hand he rested on his thigh.

Did he move? No. Did he wipe the water off his hand? No. He sat there and took it. It was everything he deserved. Just like that team from Queens. It's all he deserves. The meltdowns. The heartbreak. The leaky air-conditioning.

We take it. We were born to take it. We love these guys some call the Mets.

Why I'm Up at Stupid O'Clock

This morning, around 4:30 AM, in my half-asleep stupor while lying in bed, my mind started racing.

I was thinking about how Democrats have been saying for years now that if they just had control of the White House, the Senate, and the House of Representatives, they could pass real reform.

I was thinking about how maybe their idea of reform is different than mine.

I was thinking about how our country can't seem to stop fighting wars, even though the US Congress hasn't seemed to actually declare any wars.

I was thinking about how the US Congress is probably the least relevant branch of government, and it's no one's fault but the US Congress's.

I was thinking about how Mayor Michael Bloomberg is spending a gazillion dollars of his own money on his re-election, which only makes me want to vote for him less.

I was thinking about how few New Yorkers even know who's running against Mayor Mike. (It's City Comptroller Bill Thompson, not that anyone cares either.)

I was thinking about how not only has money from the health industry corrupted the debate on health care, but also how the personal investments our Senators and Representatives have in insurance and pharmaceuticals will make any real changes to the current system impossible, since they've got careers and personal fortunes on the line.

I was thinking about what an asshole Tom Daschle is for recommending to President Obama that he take a public health care option off the table when three-quarters of Americans support a public health care option.

I was thinking about what a relief it is that Tom Daschle isn't Secretary for Health and Human Services.

I was thinking about how the man who's probably more responsible for saving the Democratic Party than anyone, Governor-Doctor Howard Dean, has been marginalized by the party he put back in power.

I was thinking about how the New York Mets haven't lived up to their potential since 2000.

I was thinking about how I still don't really understand what exactly is going on in Iran.

I was thinking about how I really need to buy some pants that fit me.

I was thinking about how little money we have right now for me to invest in pants.

I was thinking about how I should really just get up and make myself some goddamned coffee, because now that I'm thinking about all these things, I'm not going back to sleep.

They Haven't Classed Up the Joint Too Much

I took a solo trip to Bailout Ballpark on Saturday and had another lovely visit. There were some autism awareness activities going on, which were pretty sweet.

About a half hour before game time, Sebastian Bach of Skid Row fame (not sure if you can really say he's of Jekyll & Hyde fame) took the field and sang a couple of Queens covers (We Will Rock You and We Are the Champions, of course), 18 & Life (the Skid Row hit), and another song I didn't recognize. It's probably from a new album.

But let me just say for the record: Sebastian Bach fucking rules. I mean, the songs weren't particularly good or anything, but he had the toughest job in the house there for a solid ten or fifteen minutes. The stadium was still mostly empty, and there were exactly zero people sitting in the seats he played to directly.

From my seat I had a pretty good view of the Taste of New York food court at the stadium, and that's where the throngs were. Shake Shack trumps Sebastian Bach, apparently.

God bless him, though. Sebastian was doing everything he could to get the tiny crowd excited. In that high-pitched hair-band voice of his, he screamed, "YOU READY TO ROCK THIS GAME, NEW YORK??" to which the crowd offered back a very tame, "Yay..." No matter how quiet the response, that Sebastian Bach kept on calling out for that response, bless his heart.

A couple of guys from the Howard Stern Show were involved in the awareness day, too, so naturally Sebastian Bach changed the words to include a little "Bababooey" also. Bababooey drank it up.

When it was finally time for the ceremonial first pitch, Bababooey (that's Howard Stern producer Gary Dell'abate, if you're not familiar with the show) took the ball. The stadium had filled up by this point, so Bababooey was pitching to a full house.

Now, it's pretty common for the ceremonial first pitch to fail to make it to the catcher on the fly. People who haven't ever thrown off a mound (or haven't since Little League) usually fail to compensate for the angle. So there tend to be a lot of bounced ceremonial first pitches. Most fans accept this and cheer anyway, even Mets fans.

Bababooey threw what had to be the single worst ceremonial first pitch I've ever seen in my life. Not only was his form horribly awkward, but the ball went off in a direction I didn't even think possible. It ended up so far from the catcher that it was an umpire who caught it.

And boy, did the boo birds rain down on Bababooey's head.

I actually felt a little bad for the guy. Back when it was on terrestrial radio, I would occasionally listen to the Howard Stern Show, and Bababooey is a massive Mets fan. I don't know if he's ever thrown out the first pitch before, but I'm sure it's been a dream for a long time. And he blew it. Man, he blew it bad.

After Mets ceremonial first pitches, the pitcher takes a photo with the catcher and ball as a souvenir. Bababooey's face was on the jumbotron at that moment, and he was bright red and looked absolutely miserable, forced smile notwithstanding. Poor bastard.

This is one morning I wish I had Howard to listen to. They are almost certainly busting his balls. After all, Artie Lange was there to witness the thing up close, and that guy was apparently an all-star third baseman in high school.

I'm just glad, though, that the pre-game included Sebastian Bach and Bababooey. With that fancy new stadium, it would be too easy to invite, say, Vampire Weekend and Ira Glass. For the Mets, it's really gotta be Sebastian Bach and Bababooey.

Late update: Because you know you want to see it, here's the disastrous pitch from Bababooey. Unfortunately, you can't hear the Baba-boos. Still, that's some pitch.

Things Ain't So Bad at Bailout Ballpark

First of all, I was very relieved to discover that yes, one can walk up to the new, smaller stadium on a beautiful day and get a ticket for that day's game. And we got tickets for only $15 a pop. Granted, it was just a game against the Washington Nationals, which is really more a team in AA ball, so it's a series in the lower pricing tier. But still, I find the day-of walk-up to a stadium very satisfying.

Because we didn't know what to expect from the crowds and all, we got out there a little before 11:00 am for a 1:10 pm game time. The 7 train in Queens used to let out at Shea Stadium-Willets Point. Well, the MTA got a little bit pissed off that some of that Citigroup bailout money didn't trickle its way down to them, so they refused to name the stop after the corporate sponsor. I'm as critical of the MTA as anyone, but they have my full support on this one.


If you haven't yet made your first trip to Bailout Ballpark, I recommend getting there early to see the place with limited crowds.

The Jackie Robinson Rotunda is quite nice, and people line up to have their photos taken with the giant 42. (For you non-baseball fans, that's Jackie Robinson's number, which is now retired in all of Major League Baseball. Oh, and by the way, for you non-Civil Rights fans, Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier in baseball.) I don't know who these guys are, but they really stood there awkwardly for a while.


There's a giant Mets shop in the rotunda. Alyssa Milano's Touch collection gets a lot of attention from the ladies who've been dragged to the game by their men. The missus resisted the velour Mets sweatpants, nearly snagged a sheen reversible Mets jacket, and instead went for a standard-but-cute orange t-shirt of a non-Alyssa design. She's got good taste, the missus.

Speaking of good taste, the food. Oh, good lord, yes, the food... Our first destination passed the Rotunda was the Taste of New York food court. We immediately shared a pulled pork barbecue sandwich from the Blue Smoke stand.


I also took a couple of pictures of us enjoying the sandwich, but I have an unwritten policy against putting up photos of me and the missus. Oh. I just wrote it. It's now a written policy. It was delicious. The sandwich, not the policy. Swine flu be damned. The missus also got a black & white shake from Shake Shack, and I broke my sugar fast to drink the last third of it. I think perhaps it was made by the loving hand of Jesus Christ himself.

We then made our way to the seats. I'd heard of course that all the seats at Bailout are good seats, and yet for $15 my expectations were pretty low. Still, they weren't bad at all. Except that any fly ball to deep-ish left field floated out of view, we could see the whole field. And even from the upper deck in fair territory out in deep left, I have to say, I didn't feel that far from the action.


OK, so maybe it looks really far in the photo. It's deceptive. I have an old camera.

And in case you don't know which corporate sponsor you should support, the Mets have given you plenty of options!


We still had some time before first pitch, so we decided to explore further and, hey, who knows? If we just happened upon the Taste of New York food court again, maybe, just maybe, we'd get ourselves some Belgian fries. Yes. Delicious.

We also came out to a walkway with this view of the Queens chop shops.


The chop shops were largely hidden from view at Shea, and it's the part of the city that Mayor Bloomberg is really hoping to develop like crazy. What Bailout Ballpark needs is a mall next door! He may even use eminent domain to do it. Hell, I'm sure it'll include some green space, too, but this is Queens, bitches. Junkyards and mechanics keep our economy going, too.

Around halfway through the game, we were ready for another foray into foodville. This time I wandered just beyond the Taste of New York over to the Catch of the Day stand and got us a fried flounder sandwich to split. Good goddamn it was delicious.


This would be my top recommendation for food at Bailout thus far, but having tried only four items in a ballpark full of what seem to be amazing options hardly makes for a well-informed rec.

And there are definitely still some kinks to work out with the service at the Catch of the Day stand. I had exact change in my hand, and yet I stood in front of the cashier, along with my sandwich, for at least five minutes while I waited for a manager to void the mistake the guy at the register made. During that time, I had a chance to watch the manager, who seemed to be fixing mistakes all over the place, which explains why it took her so long to get to my poor bastard. And no one back there seemed to know where they kept any napkins. It was finally another customer who told me that the napkins are at the "toppings stations" throughout the stadium.

It's early in the season yet. Those things are bound to get figured out. Or not. Who the hell knows. It's a good sandwich, though.

Overall, I have to say, it really was an exceptional first visit to Bailout Ballpark.

Oh, shit! I forgot! The Mets won!

Digital Detox - Round 3 to... Hey! It's Bela Fleck!

Rest of the evenings and mornings were totally fine without the TV and internet. Those guys are a bunch of jerks.

But of course it's Saturday, and I'm blogging, so I guess I just ended my Digital Detox, especially since a few minutes ago I tried in vain to find out when the Mets ticket office opens out at New Shea.

So, where was I?

Right, the rest of the Digital Detox. Well, the missus totally bailed on me. I came home late from work one evening to America's Next Top Model on TV. I tell you what: even three seconds of Tyra Banks is no way to break a Digital Detox!

Anyway, we ate dinner with the TV off, but then the missus wanted to see which of those skinny bitties was getting chucked off the show. So I listened to music in the bedroom and read my book.

Right, so my book... I haven't actually read any fiction in quite some time. I've found it difficult to sit down and get absorbed into fiction. It's like my brain can't focus long enough. Or maybe it's just that when I've been trying I've been reading total crap.

So what do I pick up to read? Underworld by Don DeLillo. This thing is like 12,000 pages long. I'm also loving it. It's great getting lost in fiction again. But I'll be reading that for the next seven or eight years. So that's nice.

But yesterday, via The Nation on Facebook (see, the Digital Detox was really just more digital toxicity while at work), I got the missus and me some free tickets to Throw Down Your Heart, a swell little documentary about Bela Fleck's journey tracing the roots of the banjo back to Africa and playing a whole lot of swell music with amazing musicians there.

The best little bit was that Bela (and his brother the documentary director) did a Q&A after, and then Bela played a live tune for us all. I think this Bela Fleck character knows a thing or two about the banjo.

Those little free things in New York can really remind you why it's awesome here.

I've Got a Birthday Coming Up

With all my recent complaints about the name of the new stadium where the Mets play, this comes as a welcome option, you know, in case the missus is looking for birthday presents.

The Mets' New Archbishop

Catholics aren't generally known for their flexible stances on positions. They're remarkably consistent, which is something I both admire and admonish. I agree sometimes (no war and no death penalty), and I disagree sometimes (no choice and no gay marriage). But the positions themselves are longstanding and immovable.

Not so, it seems, with baseball loyalties.

From what I can gather, through some Googling, New York's new Archbishop Timothy Dolan is a giant baseball fan. He's a Cardinals fan by birth, apparently, but for the past seven or eight years that he's been in Milwaukee, he enthusiastically supported the Brewers.

Prior to his appointment, he apparently expressed his intention of rooting for the Yankees. But it was the Mets who got him to their stadium first.

And, naturally, in his first game at Bailout Ballpark, the Mets were playing the Milwaukee Brewers. Way to go, Mets! Challenge his loyalties immediately!

Archbishop Dolan shows flexibility not normally seen in the belief system of the Catholic Church, which tends to turn around more slowly than a super tanker.

I wish this demonstrated a flexibility on other issues, such as the gay marriage debate grinding its way through the New York State Legislature. Come on, state government, let's put it to the floor and get an on-record vote instead of getting thing stuck in back-room dealing.

Anyway, Dolan's already stated in no uncertain terms that gay people aren't people. They are sinners. Sinners don't get rights.

"Back-room dealing"? Maybe that is the best way to get gay marriage passed!

Beating a Dead Bank

Last night, the Mets christened the Jackie Robinson Rotunda at their new ballpark. Jackie's widow said a few words, and his daughter threw out the first pitch. The players all wore the number 42 (that's Jackie's league-retired number), and Jose Reyes scored from first base on a wild pitch just to show off his Jackie Robinson wheels. And the Mets won the game. All in all, a fine evening.

Bailout Ballpark, or as the team has insisted on calling it Citi Field, was designed to look like Ebbets Field in Brooklyn, where Jackie Robinson played with the Dodgers. Good call.

But Jackie deserves more than the rotunda. That the whole stadium wasn't named for Jackie Robinson is embarrassing, even more so now that the corporate sponsor is eating bailout funds for breakfast and, whether or not the executives at Shitigroup are willing to admit it, is totally insolvent.

I've complained on numerous occasions about the whole "Citi Field" thing, I know, but when I saw clips this morning, it just got my blood all a'boiling again. Jackie's widow says that Jackie would be humbled to have the glorious rotunda honoring him.

Well, fuck that, Mets. Give Jackie the whole stadium.

I'm just glad that when I finally get to Bailout Ballpark I'll have some Shake Shack around to wash that Shiti taste out of my mouth.

Mets Scouting Report 2009! Hitting!

Oh, yes, B&E readers, there's more! Who are the hitters, the base-stealers, the run producers, the total hacks? I explain everything right here! Enjoy a fish sandwich!

The Core!
New stadium, new glory?

Reyes, Wright, and Carlos-squared all return! Taller fences at Bailout Ballfield! Fewer home runs for Wright, C. Beltran, and C. Delgado! Nice thinking, architects! Silver lining! Giant gap in right-center! More triples for Jose!

The Fillers!
Will they overproduce? Probably not!

Luis "Once Decent" Castillo! They can't give that guy away!

Brian "Squatty" Schneider! His car dealership ad is funny! We're not laughing at that .240 average!

Daniel "Father" Murphy! Natural hitter! Breakout year? Still learning to play left field! Oh, dear!

Ryan "Every Sunday I Go To" Church! No, wait! Gary "DL" Sheffield! Poor, Ryan! Gary's old! Can he still hit? If not, Ryan's ready!

Bench!
Who the hell are these guys??

Alex "Nick and" Cora and Marlon "Harry" Anderson! Get some hits, boys! Nick "Janet" Evans! We'll see you when Sheffield gets hurt! Ramon "Raul-not-Fidel" Castro! Always the backup, never the bride! Jeremy "Learn To" Reed! You're just a young, wee thing! Fernando Tatis! Fernando Tatis?!

Let's play ball! Opening day in Cincy! Santana on the mound!

LET'S GO METS!

Mets Scouting Report 2009! Pitching!

Oh, B&E readers, you wacky baseball fans! An active off-season! A rebuilt bullpen! A New Stadium-That-Must-Not-Be-Named! Screw baseball! It's about the food! What?? Screw baseball?? I don't think so, B&E readers/baseball fans!

Exhibition game #1 is complete at Bailout Ballfield! Mets win 4-3! It doesn't count! What counts? Pitching! That's what counts!

Starters!
Solid Performers or Broken-down Bitches?

The Ace! Johan "Carlos" Santana! He may want to legalize pot, but time already almost stands still when he's got that changeup working! Whooooooaaaaa.

Number 2! Mike "Bats In The" Pelfrey! Came around last year! Hope that spike in innings doesn't result in injury! Prediction! Surprise Cy Young winner! You heard it here first! Now forget I mentioned it!

Number 3! John "Susan Collins Is Senator From" Maine! Please be healthy! Please! Please? Please, oh please, oh please ohpleaseohpleaseohpleaseohplease...

Number 4! Oliver "Twist" Perez! Please, suh! Can Oy 'ave sum'moh? 'Ello, Guv! What, ho, what?! Put another shrimp on the barbie! Si! That makes about as much sense as trying to predict a Perez performance on the mound!

Number 5! "He Shall Be Called" Livan Hernandez! He's old! He's experienced! He's out-of-shape! He's crafty! He's Cuban!

Bullpen!
Redemption or the Usual?

New closer! Francisco "Anything but K-Rod" Rodriguez! Can he possibly live up to the hype?? If he doesn't, the boo birds will have a new head to crap on! Yay!

J.J. Putz! Putz! We've got a pitcher called Putz! Putz! PUTZ! You hear me?? PUTZ! Can he throw? Who gives a shit! He's called Putz! PUTZ!

And the rest of the bullpen? Who cares! As long as they're good! And if they're not, there's the food at the new stadium! Shake Shack burgers! Fancy frites! Pulled pork! Fried flounder! Sushi! What? Sushi?? At a baseball field?? Whatever! We've got Putz!

Heh, heh... Putz...

Next up! Position players!

LET'S GO METS!

Just to continue an important conversation...

The fine folks at Gotham have gotten their mitts on the food at Bailout Ballfield, and they've got a report.

That's a fine lookin' burger... and flounder sandwich... and frites... and... sushi? Hell, I'm willing to go with it.

The Food at Bailout Ballfield

The menu at the Mets new stadium has been announced. Yes, they'll still have hot dogs and pretzels. But they'll also have Danny Meyer. That's right: the restaurateur who brought us Gramercy Tavern and Union Square Cafe will be feeding the masses at Bailout Ballfield.

I'd be concerned that the Mets were getting all hoity-toity on our blue and orange asses, except that Danny's done some fare in the realm of "ballpark appropriate" as well. Blue Smoke makes a mean barbecue, and the Shake Shack is all about the burgers and fries. Oh, and shakes.

Danny claims to be a big baseball fan, so in addition to his Shake Shack menu, he's making food he would want to eat while at a ballgame: pulled pork sandwich on a brioche roll, steamed corn on the cob with a dusting of a fancy-pants cheese I've never heard of, kosher "dog bites," and a few other things that sound mighty fine to this middle-class palate.

He will, of course, also be running the club restaurant that people like me don't get into.

Food was just one of the many complaints about Shea Stadium (may it rest in peace). And I'm glad that Danny has seemingly appeared to keep his audience in mind. Mets fans want their meat. Their beleaguered wives may need some vegetarian/pescetarian options.

Now, if the Mets could just do something about the ticket prices at Bailout, I could maybe even get to a game this year...

So Then, What's Citi Field Worth?

Hats off to HuffingtonPost, not that they particularly need a plug from me. They put together a short slide show of things that cost more than a share of Citigroup stock.

I was lulled into complacency by the cup of Starbucks coffee. When I clicked the "next" button, I was grateful that I wasn't drinking something...

Citibank ATM fees cost more than a Citi share.

Johan Santana's elbow is the least of our concerns. Citi Field can't possibly bode well for the Mets.

Citi Is Shiti

Well, we saw this coming. After so much bad publicity (or in this case, publiCiti), Citigroup is thinking of backing out of its $400 million marketing deal with the New York Mets which, as we all know, includes naming rights to the new stadium, still currently called CitiField.

Imagine that: you're a large part of the reason the economy is in the crapper, you're totally insolvent, you receive billions in bailout funds, and you're surprised that people aren't buying the argument, "But it's not the same money!"

Man, I hate these Citiguys.

It's been a rough financial off-season for the Mets' owners, the Wilpon family. First, they lose a bundle in the Madoff scam. Now, their corporate sponsor might be pulling its millions out.

How in the hell are they expected to sign Manny Ramirez if they keep losing money at this rate? Oh, Wilpons. You poor, rich people.

A Cuff? He's Only Got a Cuff?!

So this whole Bernard Madoff (pronounced "made off" much to the pleasure of the 24-hour news networks, which have taken us through enough "Madoff with billions" jokes to last a lifetime) story is old, and my comments are late. What are you gonna do? I'm busy.

It's a Ponzi Scheme! I had to look up "Ponzi Scheme" on Wikipedia because the elite media I read assumes I already know how it works. In case you, my readers, are as uninformed and ignorant as I am, a Ponzi Scheme has no relation to the Fonzie Scheme, in which Arthur Fonzarelli gets as many girlfriends as he can by banging his fist on the jukebox to get it to play a top hit of the 50s.

In a Ponzi Scheme, high returns are paid to investors with money from new investors coming in. That is, the money isn't actually earning any sort of yield. And like any pyramid scheme, Ponzi Schemes are destined to fail. So that's a very simple explanation and about all my bald head can absorb.

So Bernard Madoff with billions! AAAAH HA HA HAHAHAHAHA!

One of Madoff's (many) exceptionally wealthy investors was the Wilpon family. Fred and Jeff Wilpon are the father and son ownership of the New York Metropolitan Baseball Club.

As of this moment, the Wilpons are insisting that their personal losses won't affect their investment in the team. And indeed, Omar Minaya has already signed Francisco Rodriguez and JJ Putz (heh... Putz...) in recent weeks. But those signings occurred before Bernard Madoff with their millions! AAAAAAH HA HA HAHAHAHAHA!

I don't see how this won't affect the Mets. Minaya isn't done yet with his off-season moves, and it's the Wilpons who determine what he can spend.

Let's throw the fucking book at this Bernard Madoff. He's Madoff with the hopes of New York Mets fans. See? I'm not laughing. Meanwhile, he's sitting in the comfort of his goddamned penthouse apartment under house arrest with a cuff around his ankle, the Dickheaded Shitbird.

Alright... A modest proposal... The Mets new stadium is Citi Field. Since Citigroup got a massive bailout and much of the stadium has been built from government bonds, as far as I'm concerned, the new Shea is already owned by the people. The Wilpons have taken a bath, and although they say they're not looking to sell the team (which could well be their most solid investment), I think it's time we consider some new owners.

Let's look to the Green Bay Packers, a nonprofit, community-owned professional football team, the only such team in professional sports. The Mets are almost there unofficially anyway. Let's make it official. It's time for our local community to own the New York Mets.

Yeah, like that'll ever happen. Dammit.

We Got the Putz! We Got the Putz!

I was a bit afraid that since the Mets picked up Francisco Rodriguez, they wouldn't have the cash to get my top choice of bullpen help, J.J. Putz.

Alas, Omar Minaya put together a trade and not only did he give away a prominent Mets scapegoat (Aaron Heilman), but he picked up the Putz. Omar also had to give away fan favorite Endy Chavez, but still, we got the Putz!

So is the Putz any good? Well, he had a pretty good year in 2007, and had some injuries in 2008.

But who cares? We've got a real Putz in the bullpen! What more do we need?

Now We Just Need Him to Get a New Nickname

Dude! The Mets have an agreement with Francisco Rodriguez! He's like a top-of-the-line closer! We're talking about a real pitcher in the bullpen! As opposed to this past year, when the Mets had nothing in their bullpen at all!

I really hate his nickname. K-Rod. Fucking stupid. K-Rod. Get it?? You see, there's this ballplayer named Alex Rodriguez, who has the nickname A-Rod. But Francisco Rodriguez is a pitcher, and in the score book, a strikeout is recorded as a "K," and since he strikes out a lot of people, he's K-Rod. That's right: his nickname is actually referential to a guy who plays for the team across town. Plus, it's fucking stupid.

But I feel pretty good about getting that arm in a Mets uniform.

Best of all, even after Frankie's salary, there's still $8 million a year left from the Citigroup sponsorship, now being guaranteed by the United States Government!

Between that and all the tax breaks and government bonds and public financing the new stadiums is getting, we've got ourselves a genuine socialist ballclub here in Queens.

Power to the people! Power to the Mets! Power to the people! Power to the Mets!

Mets - An Off-Season Update

With all the Obama excitement, or "Obitement" as the kids like to call it, you three faithful B&E readers may have thought that I'd forgotten about my beloved, hapless New York Metropolitan Baseball Club. Alas, I have not.

The first no-brainer of the off-season was picking up the option on Carlos Delgado's contract for another year. There was nothing non-brainy about it until about halfway through this past season. Delgado was the Mets fan's go-to scapegoat (eat your heart out, Kaz Matsui) for about a year-and-a-half until June, when Delgado went on an offensive tear unparalleled in the league. At 36, he's still got it.

Otherwise, there's much rebuilding to be done, particularly in terms of the disastrous Mets bullpen. Mets GM Omar Minaya is seeking relief among Major League Baseball's corps of relievers.

So who will it be? Well, that Francisco Rodriguez had a hell of a year, although I suspect he's just got another couple of decent seasons in him before he becomes yet another Kaz Matsui. And K-Rod, the dumbest nickname for a pitcher ever, will be commanding a giant contract over many years.

There are a handful of other terrific options out there, too, but my heart is set on one man in particular...

That man is J.J. Putz, recently of the Seattle Mariners. Really, I just want an excuse to scream, "You Putz!" at ballgames all season long.

Yes, there will be excitement at the new Shea Stadium, which I'm not ready to call CitiField, although Bailout Ballfield or U.S. Treasury Stadium might work. And I see no reason why the Mets shouldn't have a pitcher whose name means penis in Yiddish.

It'll be particularly compelling on Jewish Heritage Night during International Week.

It's a Good Use for the Money

For a mere $400 million Citigroup bought the naming rights to the Mets' new stadium for the next 20 years.

Well, after being hit by $65 billion in losses, Citigroup appears to be the next in line for a governmental bailout.

But hey, no worries: even with the missing billions, Citigroup is going to hold onto its massive name and sponsorship deal with the Mets. I mean, hell, Citigroup doesn't have $65,000,000,000; so it's not like they're going to have $65,400,000,000.

Citigroup will almost certainly get its bailout. That Robert Rubin placement within the Obama transition team must feel like a pretty good insurance policy.

But let's get to the important stuff. Can the government bail out the disaster that has been the Mets recent late-season meltdowns? Maybe if the US Government owns Citigroup and the naming rights to the stadium, they'll give it the name it should've had all along: Jackie Robinson Field.

Or hell, what about a name referencing another racial barrier that's being broken these days? Barack Obama Field!

Hope, Change, Mets! Hope, Change, Mets! Hope, Change, Mets!

Phanatics!

I offer my personal congratulations to the Philadelphia Phillies, whose win of the World Series makes the Mets look like a slightly better team than they were.

Obviously, since I'm a Mets fan, I was pulling for the Rays. Because I don't much care for either team when it comes right down to it, I watched only part of all of the games and no single game in its entirety. And I missed the final innings of Game 5 because I saw a movie instead (Rachel Getting Married is very good, if a little sad).

But I'm hearing rumors that the Philadelphia Phillies Phaithful booed the shit out of Major League Baseball Commissioner Bud Selig. And this is coming just a couple weeks after the Philadelphia Flyers Ph/Faithful booed the shit out of Sarah Palin.

Booing the shit out of people I don't like wins a lot of points here at B&E. Yes, Philadelphians, you may teeter on the edge of violence, but perhaps that's what gives you the cohones to boo the shit out of people who need booing.

And man, Bud Selig and Sarah Palin need some booing.

Mr. Met's Darth Vader Moment

Star Wars geeks will recall the moment in Empire Strikes Back when General Veers is about to receive his orders from Darth Vader. An egg-shaped womb is opening up, and Veers catches a glimpse of Vader's disturbingly scarred head as the black helmet is put in place.

My seven-year-old self was terrified and nauseated by this disturbing reveal. It marked me, I tell you.

So imagine my shock and horror to witness the same thing in reverse on my beloved Mr. Met after the final presidential debate.

Someone took his head right off! Right on camera! He walked away like everything was fine, but man, that's gotta hurt.

I relived the General Veers/Darth Vader moment when I was already at my most vulnerable: after a presidential debate. I haven't been the same since.

As a point of interest, General Veers was portrayed by the actor Julian Glover. Julian was also a James Bond baddie in For Your Eyes Only, the bad guy who drinks from the wrong grail in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, and the voice of the giant spider in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. I don't know if any other actors can say they've been a part of all of those franchises. Certainly none that also taught me Shakespeare during my junior year abroad in college.

How many of you saw that name-drop coming? Woo-HOO!

It's September: the Mets Suck

We all remember what happened to the Mets last year. (If you don't, just Google "biggest meltdown in baseball history.")

In general, the Mets haven't looked as listless this year as they did last. There have been major chunks of the season in which they appeared to care, and at times they've even been having some fun.

The biggest frustration of the Mets over the past three seasons is that they so clearly have the talent. In 2006, they really felt like a team that would go all the way, and they almost did. In 2007, they squandered their massive talent in spectacular fashion.

Obviously this year's final results haven't yet been determined. They had a three-game lead in the division toward the end of last week, and now they're down two games. So that's a huge five-game shift over about six games. And they still have a one-game lead in the wild card, over the only team floundering just as badly: the Brewers.

But here's the thing about this year... The Mets bullpen just isn't good. Closer Billy Wagner is out with an injury for the rest of this year and next, and the rest of those guys are just fucking tired. Four of them pitch every day.

They might yet make it to the playoffs. But I can't see the Mets making any real run at things. They just don't have the relief pitching. And Johan Santana can't pitch nine innings every day.

So as they go through their mini-collapse, I'm emotionally prepared this year. No need to worry about me, dear B&E readers.

For you non-baseball fans, I offer you Mets centerfielder Carlos Beltran. Check out those pecs! And check out B&E: now 40% gayer!

So Much For Distraction

The Mets were supposed to take me away from the bullshit that is the current presidential campaign, and what do they do? They fall apart.

I attended Sunday's game, which they lost in the 9th inning. And they've been losing ever since. From three games up in the division to down by a half game.

Some say it's last year all over again, but fuck that: it's the goddamned presidential campaign all over again.

And now Fernando Tatis is out for the season. Fernando Tatis??

So what do I turn to now? Easy. Vast quantities of smack. It might still hurt, but at least I won't care. About any of it. Or anything else.

Remember the Mets? Remember Shea!

I've become obsessed with this election with day-to-day feelings ranging from "it's all going to work out for the best" to "I'm never overestimating my fellow citizens again; hell, I won't even estimate them." My addiction to polls, political coverage, and left-leaning websites is not good for my blood pressure.

So what better respite from the non-stop, unhealthy, and tabloidy election season than the New York Metropolitan Baseball Club?

Thanks to the election I've been writing about my Mets a lot less often lately, but I've still been following along, watching games when they appear on my limited TV channels and heading out to Shea when I don't forget that I've got a ticket.

I've just returned from what could turn out to be my final game at Shea Stadium, since it's being torn down at the end of the season. (There's a slight possibility, if the Mets make the playoffs, that I'll win the opportunity to purchase post-season tickets.) The Mets won a wild one, 13-10.

Shea is an industrial dump of a stadium, which is part of why I've always liked it. It's a terrible place to watch baseball. The Plebeian seats are particularly far from the action, because Shea wasn't created for baseball specifically. The New York Jets played there, as did the Beatles. So in terms of watching the game, the new stadium should be an improvement.

Still, I've got a warm spot in my heart for Shea. I've seen some great games there over the years, and it's been a big part of my life in New York, especially since 2000, when I moved to Queens.

And it's the Queens charm of Shea that I'll miss. The Home Run Apple popping out of that magic hat is dented, cheap-looking, and cheesy as hell. It's also a highlight for its lameness. I'd have been exceptionally disappointed if the Mets hadn't hit a home run at last night's game, and thank goodness David Wright delivered the goods.

I'm not alone in my fondness for the Home Run Apple. The Save The Apple campaign failed and, as announced by the Daily News, there will be a newfangled, fancypants Home Run Apple as part of our newfangled, fancypants stadium.

It's too bad, really. A touch of the old to go with the new would've really added some non-corporate, non-Citibank, genuine Queens mojo to the new stadium.

I'm going to miss that Shea Stadium.

Democratic Convention Watch 2008 - Joe Biden

Biopic of Biden. Praise, praise, praise. Family man, politically experienced, and the rest.

He's being introduced by his son Beau, who's the AG of Delaware and is about to head off to Iraq with the Delaware National Guard. Good intro. He's making the whole place cry with the story of his mother and sister's death and Joe's decision (reversed) not to serve in the Senate.

His son is talking about the stutter. The kids called him "Dash," as in the punctuation. That's a better nickname than Bubba, which I liked already. But that's it: he's Dash. Vice President Dash Biden.

And because he's off to Iraq, he's asking people to be there for his dad. Man, he's pulling out the stops. Good intro, Beau my man.

Heeeeeere's Joe!

He's a talker. Let's see how he talks. He's not afraid to express his love for his wife. I like that. I love the missus.

And he accepts the nomination! Whew! That's a relief. I wasn't sure there for a minute.

Joe's doing pretty well so far. He's showing off his mother, telling the lessons he learned through tragedy and more, and I swear to god, I think he's sincere.

There have been a couple of "Freudian slips" calling John McCain "George W. Bush." I'd say they were staged except the speakers (Kerry and Biden) seemed genuinely surprised at their mistake. They're either better actors than most politicians or they really did slip.

The missus likes Dash's hushed tones. He's a better performer than most speakers. He pulls it off, the hushed tones.

John McCain is his friend. Here we go. He profoundly disagrees with John. He just said, "taxes" when he meant "tax breaks." Whoops. "That's not change; that's more of the same." Doesn't quite roll of the tongue of the crowd, but they're trying.

"We don't need a soldier; we need a wise leader." That's a good point.

The missus is chanting, "That's the change we need" with Joe's call and response lines.

I like that Joe's not afraid to call the Bush administration "abysmal." He's questioning McCain's judgment, which is what he's been hired to do. John McCain is wrong and Barack Obama is right. Go to town, Biden. I don't know about this warmongering talk, but I like that you're fighting McCain at least.

And he's done. There we go. I hope that Mitt Romney is McCain's pick for VP. Biden will tear him a new asshole, debatingly speaking. Oh, I would like to see that.

Hey, look! It's Barack on stage with Joe, introduced by Jill. Barack's thanking the great speakers of the rest of the convention. And now he's speaking off the cuff? He's got no prompters. It's a short speech, but hell, he just rattled off a few words there.

And there's the Bruce Springsteen to close the speech, because who better, really?

Shields and Yarnell? Shields said Beau Biden was the highlight of the night for him. There are a boatload of Bidens on stage. Jim Lehrer says, "And here are the little ones," because how often do we see four-year-olds waving at the crowd? Only every convention.

Buzz on the floor afterward? Serious excitement.

Historians? Big night, huge help, giant setup for tomorrow. The historians see Hubert Humphrey in the night. Ah, Hubert Humphrey. Poor Hubert. Historians approve.

Yarnell thinks that this night puts pressure on McCain. Especially with his veep choice. Yarnell thinks that it points inevitably to Lieberman. He's the only antidote to Joe Biden.

And they're done for the evening. So am I.

By the way, the Mets won. Back in first place! A good night for Democrats and Mets fans!

A Strangely Large Number of Rocks

I had a dream this morning that I was somehow swept away in Mayor Mike Bloomberg's entourage. He was on his way to throw out the first pitch at the Yankees game, and he and his security detail were clad in Yankees jackets.

So there I was, standing on the grass at Yankee Stadium during the "Star Spangled Banner." It felt pretty cool, I have to admit.

But the field wasn't in very good condition. The grass was frayed along the edges and in the dirt was full of gravel. Yankee Stadium was a glorified sandlot.

And I was totally wearing my Mets cap.

The All-Star Break Can Blow Me

The Mets are on a freakin' tear right now, winning nine games in a row, only to be interrupted by the All-Star break. Is there anything Bud Selig can't screw up?

Mezzanine Reserved Row D Is Ideal for Rain Delays

Hey, Mets fans (a.k.a. B&E readers)! The Boys of Shea Stadium are playing like a real team again. They've even won five in a row. I hesitate to say it was firing Willie that got the Mets going, but maybe Jerry Manuel scares the players into doing better.

Last night was another victory, one that featured a half-hour rain delay. My mini-ticket plan is in the mezzanine reserved area about two rows deep under the upper deck overhang. So when it began pissing down rain, we had the perfect seats to enjoy the downpour. It was really satisfying. It's funny the simple things that can make you happy. The heavy rains made me very happy.

Overall, it was a short rain delay, and when the players came back to finish the game, the Mets held on to win. A great evening at Shea, complete with Carvel ice cream.

The Douchebag Report:
Welcome to a new Mets game feature! At most baseball games, one ends up sitting next to a douchebag or two. And we Mets fans are not only no exception, they nearly define the douchebag fan! So why not call them out?

Big douchebags sitting behind us. I didn't hear any gay slurs, but they did spend a good deal of time commenting on how disgusting some of the lady Mets fans looked, and the only time the fucking idiots stopped talking was when a more attractive lady Mets fan sauntered by. And their baseball-related comedic banter wasn't remotely funny. Four out of a possible five douchebags.

No time for a hottie this morning, non-baseball fans.

There Is No Streak

New York's abuzz with Mets/Yankees games. In their previous meeting this season, the Mets took two from the Yanks at Yankee Stadium and had one rain-out. The rain-out was made up yesterday afternoon, and with the drubbing of nine RBI from aging slugger and occasional fan scapegoat Carlos Delgado, the Mets swept the Yankees at Yankee Stadium for the first time ever. Good times.

Naturally, I attended the night game at Shea, where the Yankees returned the favor and clobbered the Mets 9-0. Ouch.

So whatever mojo I may have had as a fan influencing Mets victories at Shea... Yeah, that's gone.

A side note, relating to Gay Pride Week. Trash-talking is a popular pastime between Yankees and Mets fans, often all in good fun, although as last night's blowout continued, we saw more and more security guards running around to break up fights and kick people out.

So what does this have to do with Gay Pride Week? Well, gay slurs are a frequent trash-talking approach taken by the less imaginative fan. So when, for example, a Yankees fan suggested loudly that Pedro Martinez get his ass off the mound and become a bullpen coach instead (perhaps a decent idea, actually), the inebriated Mets numbnut sitting nearby taunted, in return, "Only when Derek Jeter and Alex Rodriguez start going out, fucking faggots!"

It didn't really make sense as a reply to the Yankees fan's comment. But "fucking faggot" is really a classic. I mean, it works on so many levels. "Fucking faggot" is to sports taunting what a banana peel, pie in the face, or groin kick is to slapstick. You just don't fix what's not broken. You don't reinvent the wheel of trash-talk.

Oh, did I say "classic"? I meant "classless." When you take the discourse as low as "fucking faggot," you really present yourself as a douchebag, dickhead, cock-knocker, fartmunch, and pigfucker.

In defense of the homophobic Mets fan, he had also bragged loudly that over the course of the doubleheader, he'd downed no less than seventeen beers. The beer man suggested he not tell the beer man that. And the beer man served him number eighteen anyway.

Shea Stadium: All class.

OK, So Maybe He Can Kick Ass

This whole Willie Randolph firing from the Mets has me feeling pretty crappy about the crappy Mets. I've been giving Willie the benefit of the doubt here. After all, how do you motivate a bunch of overpaid, under-performing wannabe superstars? Is it Willie's fault that a player making more than ten million dollars this season alone is totally average in every way?

At the same time, I'm not going to be a big Willie defender. After all, the Mets have lost more games than they've won this year (and yes, there was the well-documented collapse of last season), and Willie's been the man in charge. At least where game decisions are concerned.

But seriously, the manner in which he was fired? Classless.

So do these overpaid, under-performing lame-o's need an ass-kicker? When the rumors of Willie's firing first surfaced, I was thinking management would put in place someone like Larry Bowa or Lou Piniella. You know, someone who instills fear in their players because they've got tempers like Yosemite Sam.

Instead Willie was replaced by his bench coach, Jerry Manuel. Truth be told, I don't know much about Jerry. He's had some success in the past as a Major League manager. He was Willie's bench coach. He sat there and calmly muttered advice to Willie. He probably knows a thing or two about baseball. But an ass-kicker? I don't know.

Because the whole Willie firing left a bad taste in my mouth, I opted to take a short break from the Mets. I'd heard something about how during Jerry's first game as manager Jose Reyes had some sort of hissy-fit on the field because Jerry wanted to pull him. I was like, "Terrific. Jose's acting like a five-year-old testing boundaries with his parents." And I didn't think much else about it.

Enter Titivil, not my usual source for baseball news. His post pointed me in the direction of this story.

Well, holy shit. Jerry Manuel threatened to "go gangster" and use a blade to spill the blood of his All-Star shortstop. Maybe he is what the Mets need in a manager.

Still, Willie, you got totally screwed.

And Omar, look out, baby. This is the team you built. If they don't succeed now, it's your fucking problem. And Jerry Manuel's not afraid to get out his trusty blade and cut you.

For the non-baseball fans, I offer a gangster hottie:

The Mets Stink, and It's All Tom Nieto's Fault

The Mets finally fired Tom Nieto. This has been a group of underachieving, overpaid wannabe superstars, and no one is to blame more than the lackluster first-base coach.

In the last week alone he tried to hold Jose Reyes at first on a triple, he flat-out refused to take Carlos Beltran's ankle armor after a walk, and his pep-talks ranged from, "Take a seat; there's no point" to "Thirty-seven planes have flown over Shea since the third inning."

And don't even get me started about his butt pats. I mean, let's face it: those things are caresses with a dollop of squeeze.

A New Streak?

I attended last night's Mets game, and the difference was astounding. It wasn't just that they won; they played like they cared. Two-out rallies, solid defense, decent pitching, delicious Carvel ice cream with hot fudge served in a souvenir helmet. So although it's too early to say that the Mets are back, the Mets are back.

And because I tried to post this for Mike Piazza's retirement, and it didn't work, I offer you ladies and gay fellas this choice image. Enjoy.

My Mets Streak - R.I.P.

The Mets have lost six of seven, Willie's under fire from management, and the fans are getting restless. So I figured last night was a perfect time for me to take my winning streak back to Shea.

Alas, even my Mets mojo couldn't overcome the magnitude of their suckitude. And so my streak ends at 16 (or so) games, spanning over parts of three seasons. The Mets play with no passion, no fire, no attention-span. Jose Reyes provided all of the offense, hitting two home runs, but he balanced that with a booted ball in the first, which resulted in two unearned runs. The Marlins then earned a few more runs, and the Mets didn't seem to care enough to answer.

Prior to the game, Willie had a two-hour-plus meeting with management, presumably to discuss his future (a potentially very short future) with the team. Maybe this group of underachievers needs an ass-kicking manager. The strong, silent type doesn't seem to be inspiring them much.

I wonder if Coach Eric Taylor of the Dillon Panthers knows anything about baseball.

Mets Streak, you were an awesome force of winning energy. You will not be forgotten.

Maybe He'll Join the AARP

In spite of a particularly busy week, I can't let Mike Piazza's retirement from baseball go without comment.

I haven't always been a Mets fan. In fact, I became aware of baseball (and began playing) when my family lived in the Houston area, so for most of my life, I was an Astros fan. I might well be the only Mets fan who remembers 1986 with both clarity and sadness.

When I went off to college, sports were decidedly uncool, and I pursued other interests. I didn't really begin to follow baseball again until after the infamous strike of '94. In 1996, when Yankees fever was reaching its pitch in NYC, I have to admit that I got caught up in it. I was thrilled when the Yanks won the World Series.

But I'm a National League guy, so I started attending Mets games instead. In fact, when David Wells pitched his perfect game for the Yankees on my birthday in 1998, I had decided to attend the game at Shea Stadium instead. I was a bit bummed, I admit, but I had made my choice, the Mets were my team, and Mike Piazza actually joined them less than a week later.

The mid-nineties had been a rough time for the Mets, and when they signed Piazza to a giant, multi-year commitment, it was difficult to understand why Piazza would agree to lock himself in to play for such a lousy team for such a long time.

But led by Piazza, those Mets teams of the late 90s and early 00s were some of the most exciting teams I've ever followed. Other than Mike, there were no real stars. They were a ragtag bunch of solidly good players over-achieving and having a blast doing so. Todd Zeile? Rick Reed? Benny Agbayani? I mean, really, come on.

Yes, there was heartbreak, and it's a real shame that Piazza wasn't rewarded with a Mets championship ring for his efforts, but the ride was a good one.

Like so many other Mets fans, I say a fond farewell to Mike Piazza to whom I offer at least partial credit for my rediscovered love of baseball. What other player in what other market would need to answer questions from reporters to confirm that he's straight?

(And if the Blogger glitch ever gets worked out, the accompanying photo should offer enough beefcake to those B&E readers who don't much care for the baseball.)

But What's Really Astonishing...

John Edwards endorses Obama. A third staunchly pro-Republican seat in Congress (this one in Mississippi) turned Democrat. And Fernando Tatis hit a single in last night's Mets game.

Really? Fernando Tatis?

As Mel Allen might've said, "How about that?"

This is Bad Even by MTA Standards

A Mets article in the New York Times leads with this:

The journey from Brooklyn to Queens is a short one geographically, but it took Nelson Figueroa 13 years to make the trip.

Looks like Nelson discovered the perils of the G train!

Zang! zzP-POW! Wocka-wocka-wocka!

The Phillies Lost, so by Default...

On my first trip to (the last season at) Shea Stadium, the Mets beat the Phillies. Really, the Phillies beat themselves, what with those four errors and six unearned runs. But hey, we'll take it!

For years, the rivalry in the National League East was a Braves/Mets thing. The Braves kept winning the division, and the Mets were sometimes close. Occasionally (as in 2000) the Mets would advance further in the playoffs. Other times, the Braves would defeat the Mets in the playoffs. It was a classic rivalry. Some racist, homophobic trash-talking from a cracker-ass relief pitcher hopped up on the juice added the necessary color.

During last night's game, some meathead (and, dare I say, douchebag) Mets fans got trashed and started screaming at a nearby Phillies fan. A little fun, even borderline mean-spirited razzing can be a good time, but these taunts were full of "faggots" and "fucks" and screamed at the top of their lungs.

Now, I'll defend a certain amount of colorful, salty language at a ballpark, but this was obnoxious even for those of us who don't get terribly offended by linguistic unimaginativeness. I think a family near us complained to an usher, who came and asked them calmly to sit down and shut up. The usher had no pull with these douchebags, and one dude in particular just wouldn't stop screaming obscenities.

It took some time, but security finally made its way and escorted the douchebags out.

My buddy and I then discussed that if the National League East rivalry becomes more about the Phillies vs. the Mets rather than the Braves vs. the Mets, it has the potential for being a lot more volatile. Not only are the rival cities much closer in proximity, but Phillies fans really seem to care with the same passion as a Mets fan.

The thing that was always disappointing about the Braves rivalry was that you couldn't help but feel that when push came to shove, Braves fans kinda didn't give a shit. I'd say it was because they just knew they were better than everyone else (which was usually true), but they couldn't even sell-out playoff games. What's wrong with those guys?

Fans in Philly are famous for getting raucous, rowdy, and violent. It got so bad at Philadelphia Eagles games that they set up an official city court within the stadium to immediately charge the evil-doers with a crime.

I hadn't seen behavior this relentlessly aggressive at a Mets game before. I didn't like it. Nope. Didn't like it one bit.

Look, I read Among the Thugs. I know I'm not cut out to be a hooligan.

For this pander, I thought I'd post a photo that's sure to please my straight male and lesbian readership. You straight ladies out there that don't much care for baseball: don't worry your little selves. You'll get your hot dudes the majority of the time.

Early Season Highlights

We're just two games or so into the baseball season, and already there's just so much excitement to report. Here's the B&E Baseball Cheat Sheet:

The Mets had themselves a lovely opening day. Johan Santana pitched brilliantly, and all the right bats got in on the action, showing much promise for the season ahead. In game two, Pedro tweaked a hammy, and Matt Wise had his coming out party as this year's scapegoat. And he's not even a Japanese second baseman!

Older fans of B&E may remember Xady Watch, the weekly rundown on Xavier Nady's success in the Mets right field. Toward the end of the 2006 season, Xady got traded to Pittsburgh, where he's been stuck ever since. But he's still playing every day! And on opening day, Xady hit not one but two home runs, including the game winner in the 12th. It's nice to see Xady in the headlines, particularly for the Pittsburgh Pirates, who've had one hell of a tough time of things in recent years.

Some of you may have heard of Alex Rodriguez, a.k.a. A-Rod, a.k.a. Stray-Rod (when he's caught hitting the town with women other than his wife), a.k.a. Ster-Rod (when linked to Canseco's steroid dealer - and actually I haven't seen that one anywhere, but I figured why the hell not.) Yahoo! News was kind enough to post a little ditty stating that A-Rod is making more money this year than the entire Florida Marlins roster. And yet the Florida Marlins have won more World Series championships (two) than Alex Rodriguez (zero).

President Bush got booed mightily at the Washington Nationals opening day during His Royal Highness's ceremonial first pitch. Nationals Manager (and former Mets third base coach) Manny Acta served as catcher. Manny's a fine bald man who, if you believe Keith Olbermann, is also a left-leaning political junkie who enjoys arguing with the right-leaning members of his coaching staff. I'm assuming that when Manny handed Dubya his ceremonial first ball, he didn't say, "You're a war criminal," but it's nice to know that he might've been thinking it. Keith's video about the boos can be found here.

And because I've promised pandering to the non-baseball B&E readers, I offer you this fine photo of five young, hot shortstops from 1997, four of whom are still playing even. Usually with their shirts on. (Thanks to Deadspin for enjoying homoeroticism in baseball as much as I do.)

Mets Scouting Report 2008! Position Players!

You've been waiting, B&E readers, and I'm now delivering! But will the Mets deliver a World Series victory in their final season at Shea Stadium? Will they even make it to the post-season? Much depends on the non-pitchers, too! Who do we have? What do they do? How do they look? If the picture is any indication, they look like really hot thugs!

Familiar faces! New blood! Keep your eye out for September meltdowns! Check out the starters!

Wright & Reyes!
Affable All-Stars with their best years ahead, or troubled adolescents who stop hitting when it matters most? I'm asking you, Jose!

David speaks English! LoDuca's gone! The press will talk a LOT to David! He might get some important hits, too!

Jose! Jose-Jose-Jose! Jo-se! Jo-se! That's a song you can't hear in print! Jose, you don't have to pretend to have fun when you hit that slump! Just get on base and make shit happen!

The Carloses!
The muscle in the middle of the lineup, or the dead weight dragging down the options of the front office? Depends on whom you ask!

Do better, Beltran! Do better, Delgado! Their play is worth half their salaries! Wait! Nothing is worth half their salaries! They really get paid a lot. A LOT! For the love of all that is good in this world, do better!

Other starters!
Genuine contributors to the cause, or false prophets making falser claims? That doesn't make sense!

Luis Castillo! Second base! Multi-year contract! Bad knees! I'm ready for Anderson "Batman" Hernandez! But I think he's not ready for us!

Brian Schneider! Catcher! An upgrade? From the Nationals? Low expectations guarantee success!

Ryan Church! Right field! Replaces Jewish Shawn Green! Asked his chaplain if Jews are doomed to hell! Chaplain said yes! Chaplain suspended! Church concussed in spring training in karmic retribution! Play ball, righteous one!

Moises Alou! Left field! No, wait! Hurt again! Still!

Endy Chavez! Left field! Fans love the Endy! But wait! He platoons!

Angel Pagan! Left field! His name is a contradiction in terms! Ryan Church is confused!

The backups!
Continued production off the bench, or seat-fillers on Emmy night? The Wire should finally win an Emmy!

Ramon Castro! Perennial backup catcher! Wait! Injured! Raul Casanova! Backup catcher! Look out, ladies! Damion Easley! Functional! Marlon Anderson! Functional! Fernando Tatis! Really?! Fernando Tatis? WTF!

That's the bulk of it, B&E readers/baseball fans!

Fernando Tatis?!

LET'S GO METS!

Mets Scouting Report 2008! Pitching!

Oh, yes, B&E readers! I'm about to hit you full in the face with my 2008 Mets scouting report! You have to indulge me! No pandering to non-baseball fans with pictures of the sexy-sexy for scouting reports! It's the Mets! You get the ace! Johan Santana! Using that change-up to sneak in the back door of your souls!

So what's in store for Mets fans (a.k.a. B&E readers) in 2008?!

Starting pitching!
The best four-and-a-half man rotation in baseball or under-performing tired-out tossers? If last year's any indication, it depends on the month!

The ace! Johan Santana! He replaces Tommy-Gun Glavine! $137.5 million cheap! And he works once every five or six days! I want that job!

Number two! Pedro! No wait! It's John Maine! He's younger! Best spring training in baseball! He's Mr. March! Look out!

Number three! Pedro! He hasn't pitched in a spring training game this year! He's a veteran! Practice is for fags! Bullpen be ready! Minor leaguers be even readier for that early call-up! Pedro! Make your appointment with the doctor now! Great clubhouse guy!

Number four! O Perez! Oh, puh-leeze! You give me agita! Throw strikes!

Number five! El Duque or Mike Pelfrey! Oy!

More pitching!
Best bullpen in the National League or under-performing tired-out tossers? Wait! I used that line for the starters!

Billy Wagner! The closer's even older this year! Heilman! Poor bastard still wants to start! Pedro Feliciano! Not that Pedro! Duaner Sanchez! Dirty's still hurt! Scott Schoewenouewnweiscz! HGH made his name longer! Jorge Sosa! Like Sammy only a pitcher not on the juice! Joe Smith! Don't submarine yourself back to the minors!

Stay tuned for the B&E Scouting Report on the position players!

LET'S GO METS!

Here It Comes!

That right, B&E readers (a.k.a. baseball fans)! We're less than a week from Opening Day! I've been doing very little reporting from this year's spring training, but inside, I've been feeling hope, optimism, and despair--those emotions every Mets fan feels throughout the baseball season.

Let's go, Mets! Let's finalize that tenure at the industrial dump called Shea Stadium with a World Series victory!

Yes, we can! We are the change we've been waiting for!

He's Got Confidence in his Manhood

Mets reliever, Ambiorix Burgos, had $270,000 worth of jewelry stolen from his hotel room in Port St. Lucie. Somehow he got all but $30,000 of it back. Ambiorix is a mediocre relief pitcher (possibly getting better), and I don't think he's making much more than the league minimum. So what the hell is he doing with more than a quarter of a million dollars worth of jewelry in the first place?

Oh, the Love. Yes, the Love

I was a bit busy this week, which kept me from writing a proper Valentine's Day post.

On February 14th...

PITCHERS AND CATCHERS REPORTED TO SPRING TRAINING! Let's go Mets! Save the team, Johan Santana!

Baseball, I've missed you. I love you so.

The Good News of Yesterday

Rudy Giuliani came in a distant third in Florida, and THE METS GOT JOHAN SANTANA! Yes, there's still a deal to be worked out, but specifics shmecifics.

All of you B&E readers (aka baseball fans) are probably surprised and dismayed at my lack of baseball reporting during this off-season. Well, I've been quiet because the Mets have been quiet. I'm not going to spend valuable time reporting about a mediocre catcher and a few fair relievers.

But Johan Santana is news indeed. The Mets will begin the season with a legitimate number one starter, and it feels good, B&E readers, I won't lie.

All of you non-baseball fans out there have had a good break from the baseball story, so no hunky picture today. I barely have time for this post, must less all the searching it would take to find a photo of, say, sexy Rudy Giuliani.