Ugly on the Outside

Game 2 - Mets

Mets 9, Reds 7
Record: 2-0

Wow, was that an eyesore. Remember when I used to blather on and on about winnable losses, losable wins, and snatching victory or defeat from the jaws of the other? Yeah, I'm back on that kick already, and we're just a few days into the season. Sorry. Tonight the Mets had no business coming away with a W. They blew chunks in several capacities, but the Reds handed this one to them like a Skyline Chili counter-girl handing over a Coney with the works.

Carlos Delgado seems to have picked up where he left off, 4-for-9 over the first two games with a 1st inning bomb tonight. He also seems destined to retain his title as worst defensive first baseman in the bigs. A bad bottom of the first for the Mets (the paragraph entitled "What Pelf Did" coming up) got worse on one of the shabbier attempts at a DP you'll see this side of Binghamton. Routine grounder to Castillo; slow flip to Reyes that just looked awkward; sloppy sling towards the general vicinity of Delgado; half-hearted slow lean towards the bounding ball as if extracting his cleat from the bag was like pulling a sand burr from a rag wool sock. Conversely, his overly quick cleat extraction from said bag in the agonizingly thorny bottom of the 9th inning cost the Mets again. DHelgado, 1B.

Mike Pelfrey had a rather bizarre night. How he managed to make it through five frames and actually notch a victory after his first inning disemboweling is puzzling. From the outset, he looked . . . what's the best way to put it . . . well, I'd call it either "thoroughly ill at ease" or "like a manure cart full of last week's dung." Immediately after Reds announcer Cowboy Brantley got done emphatically praising Pelfrey's usual control, the Mets' #2 starter couldn't find the plate with a GPS and a sherpa. And when he did . . . [trying to get MLC to treat me to some widgets where I could make some audio explosion noises here, but we're overbudget already]. But to his credit, he cooled off, never looking altogether groovular but putting up four goose eggs.

But when 2-0 became 4-2, Reds starter Edinson (The extra N is for "No way... he won 17 games last year??") Volquez settled into a groove, and things looked bad. A booted 6-4-3, however, enabled a 3-run Mets 5th, and a 7th inning Jay "Musta Had a Few" Bruce fall-down in right field gave the Mets just enough runs to build a lead they wouldn't blow.

Green/Putz/Rodriguez (not that guy who hangs around outside the urologist's office) weren't quite as infallible as in the opener. Each had a hand in nearly throwing back the game the Reds had coughed up. K-Rod channeled Johnny Franco, throwing almost nary a strike and relying on overaggressive swingers (like my dad did in the 70's) for the save. Made us sweat a bit, didn't you there, Frankie??

The whole night was poorly played, frustrating to watch, and always in question. But a win's a win, and I've seen the Mets squander roughly 70 or 80 of these in MLC's history. Salut.

Speaking of this blog, good to have the old gang back recapping games with vim and vigor. Congrats to Nick (on his fertile ways, not on his friggin' baseball team). Rob tells me TJ's on probation, but I think he'll come around. Game on, dudes.


Oh, and Pedro Feliciano: you're on notice. Yet again. Be better.