Well, by now you've heard that the New York Mets have utterly ignored my letter below pondering the upside to relieving Willie Randolph of his managing duties. Oh, well.
As always with this ownership, the move itself was superseded by the PR equivalent of falling down a marble staircase with a Bloody Mary in your hand. Every organizational move in recent years -- from Art Howe's dismissal to Scott Kazmir's trade to Mike Piazza's move to first base and now this -- has been overshadowed by the bunglings of a executive office that is the antithesis of big-city savvy. There's a right way, a smart way to do these things so that everyone saves a little face and you don't look like you're pulling the day's agenda out of a hat. As it is, as it continues to be, the legacy of ignorance the dunderheaded puppeteers of this franchise repeatedly demonstrate gives Mets Township nothing even remotely resembling confidence in the team's future well-being.
Omar, Jerry . . . I just want to tell you both good luck. We're all counting on you. Looks like I picked the wrong week to stop sniffing glue, though.