Games 23 through 25 - Mets
Nationals 5, Mets 1
Nationals 5, Mets 3 (8)
Mets 6, Nationals 3
Record: 12-13
The Mets muddled through the last week, posting a 2-5 record since last Saturday's swatting of the pesky Nats, and they trudged through a wet, lackluster weekend in Washington. Jae Seo calmed everyone's hopes down on Friday, Victor Zambrano has us nearly giving up on him, and Aaron Heilman finally had a plain old semi-decent outing after oscillating between stellar and stank all April. The hitters generally didn't, and it took a late rally to stave off a three-game sweep at the hands of the Ex-Expos. All in all, it was one of the dullest, most painful to watch events in this town since I caught D.C. Cab on BetaMax.
Somewhere in the course of things, the Mets had seemed to lose their fire, but here's hoping last night's redux of the early-season crunch-time surges will reignite the waning flicker in the pilot light of the Mets' engines.
That's about all I have to say . . . until I issue the obligatory 25-Game Check-Up.
Monday, May 02, 2005
Friday, April 29, 2005
TV Also Giveth
While I share the views of management regarding Major Asshole Scam Now, as always (MASN) as posted below in their entirety, I come here to celebrate cable television's magic. Specifically, I get to watch Tim Hudson face Mark Mulder this evening on TBS, while flipping to NESN to catch the Sox and Rangers.
So, I got that going for me, which is nice.
So, I got that going for me, which is nice.
Blacked Out Again
Remember how I pondered a conversion to membership of "Nationals District" during the offseason? I know, in retrospect it seemed a little half-hearted, but among my arguments for the big switch I mentioned the enjoyment of getting to watch my team night in and night out on local TV -- a sure "pro" in favor of the Nattys. That particular point is not only moot at this point, it's bizarrely contradictory.
There has been a very peculiar parallel between the increasingly publicized struggles of New Yorkers unable to watch Mets games and the until-recently under-vocalized absence of Nationals games on DC TV. They aren't the same situation, but the coincidence is still odd to me.
Mets fans in the tri-state area are left in the dark thanks to a tête-á-tête between Cablevision and Time Warner, but at least their plight has an end in sight with the Mets Network set to ramp up next year. That's not making it any more palatable for the radio-doomed Townshippers in '05, who don't see either side budging any time soon. If more national press could expose the greed, stubbornness, and corporate antics of the parties involved, one or both of the guilty parties might do the right thing and give the addicts their fix of Metball. Until then, Bob Murphy is missed even more than usual.
Meanwhile, down here in Nat-ville, there are more corporate cretins to blame . . . ostensibly. Comcast Sports Net and the newly formed Mid-Atlantic Sports Network (MASN) are at odds over MASN's arrival as the regional network to cover both Nationals and Orioles games. How can one channel air games for two teams, you ask? Good question, and while today's glut of channels at our fingertips may make you think that it's feasible, we're already seeing the effects of this shady, shoddy, shitty arrangement.
MASN (if only this slapped-together "network" could air on channel 9, since the punny connotations of MASN-9 are just too perfect) is supposedly airing Nationals games this year, with the O's projected to leap to MASN next year. That's where the big business brouhaha comes in -- Comcast is suing to keep the Orioles on their station. In theory, this would be the only year to see all the Nationals games, as next year the station might be forced to choose between the Baltimore and Washington games. Ah, yes, and in theory, a major sports league's front office couldn't possibly justify owning one of its franchises for three years while it foundered in limbo. Instead, roughly half of the Nationals games are airing on television in the Washington metropolitan area, and I'd be surprised if it's been 50% thus far. Today's Washington Post fleshes out the problem nicely and spells out the obvious problem with the current set-up: how is a brand new team supposed to gain a foothold in the new market without a TV audience?
It's not.
Which is why knowing who the brokers of the deal are takes this whole episode from simply stupid to sketchy, borderline criminal. The perpetrators: Major League Baseball and Peter "Diablos" Angelos. It all makes sense now, doesn't it? Angelos has a 90% stake in MASN, the Nationals' TV channel. So not only are they not going to air very many baseball games for his competition, but also -- who'd want to buy this franchise at MLB's MSRP of $400 million+ with these battleship-bowline-sized strings attached? Some arrogant buffoon with more money than brains, I guess. (Daniel Snyder, is that your phone ringing?) As it stands, the whole scenario has the ownership deal on hold for the time being, which only bodes ill for the Nationals. Unlike the Mets' quandary, though, there is no timetable for the situation's reparation. If MLB operates at its normal pace (if you squint, you can see the tortoise quickly pulling away), next winter will come and go without a resolution to this hideous mess, leaving the Washington franchise destined for another 5th place finish.
This has to be Bud Selig's last straw. I'd like to see the market for the Nationals plummet, based on this numb-skulled giveaway to Angelos and see the other 29 owners enraged at the front office's further bungling of this ludicrous chain of events. Honestly, at this point my faith in Gary Bettman to get things done right is twice what I'd invest in Selig.
The bottom line is that you can't watch the local club on any given night. And while that's senseless and infuriating to local fans, it -- coupled with my acquisition of the baseball package, enabling me to see more of the Mets than many NYC locals -- has made my decision to stick to my guns and hoe the road of a Mets fan seem infinitely wiser.
Gotta tell you -- it still pisses me off, though.
There has been a very peculiar parallel between the increasingly publicized struggles of New Yorkers unable to watch Mets games and the until-recently under-vocalized absence of Nationals games on DC TV. They aren't the same situation, but the coincidence is still odd to me.
Mets fans in the tri-state area are left in the dark thanks to a tête-á-tête between Cablevision and Time Warner, but at least their plight has an end in sight with the Mets Network set to ramp up next year. That's not making it any more palatable for the radio-doomed Townshippers in '05, who don't see either side budging any time soon. If more national press could expose the greed, stubbornness, and corporate antics of the parties involved, one or both of the guilty parties might do the right thing and give the addicts their fix of Metball. Until then, Bob Murphy is missed even more than usual.
Meanwhile, down here in Nat-ville, there are more corporate cretins to blame . . . ostensibly. Comcast Sports Net and the newly formed Mid-Atlantic Sports Network (MASN) are at odds over MASN's arrival as the regional network to cover both Nationals and Orioles games. How can one channel air games for two teams, you ask? Good question, and while today's glut of channels at our fingertips may make you think that it's feasible, we're already seeing the effects of this shady, shoddy, shitty arrangement.
MASN (if only this slapped-together "network" could air on channel 9, since the punny connotations of MASN-9 are just too perfect) is supposedly airing Nationals games this year, with the O's projected to leap to MASN next year. That's where the big business brouhaha comes in -- Comcast is suing to keep the Orioles on their station. In theory, this would be the only year to see all the Nationals games, as next year the station might be forced to choose between the Baltimore and Washington games. Ah, yes, and in theory, a major sports league's front office couldn't possibly justify owning one of its franchises for three years while it foundered in limbo. Instead, roughly half of the Nationals games are airing on television in the Washington metropolitan area, and I'd be surprised if it's been 50% thus far. Today's Washington Post fleshes out the problem nicely and spells out the obvious problem with the current set-up: how is a brand new team supposed to gain a foothold in the new market without a TV audience?
It's not.
Which is why knowing who the brokers of the deal are takes this whole episode from simply stupid to sketchy, borderline criminal. The perpetrators: Major League Baseball and Peter "Diablos" Angelos. It all makes sense now, doesn't it? Angelos has a 90% stake in MASN, the Nationals' TV channel. So not only are they not going to air very many baseball games for his competition, but also -- who'd want to buy this franchise at MLB's MSRP of $400 million+ with these battleship-bowline-sized strings attached? Some arrogant buffoon with more money than brains, I guess. (Daniel Snyder, is that your phone ringing?) As it stands, the whole scenario has the ownership deal on hold for the time being, which only bodes ill for the Nationals. Unlike the Mets' quandary, though, there is no timetable for the situation's reparation. If MLB operates at its normal pace (if you squint, you can see the tortoise quickly pulling away), next winter will come and go without a resolution to this hideous mess, leaving the Washington franchise destined for another 5th place finish.
This has to be Bud Selig's last straw. I'd like to see the market for the Nationals plummet, based on this numb-skulled giveaway to Angelos and see the other 29 owners enraged at the front office's further bungling of this ludicrous chain of events. Honestly, at this point my faith in Gary Bettman to get things done right is twice what I'd invest in Selig.
The bottom line is that you can't watch the local club on any given night. And while that's senseless and infuriating to local fans, it -- coupled with my acquisition of the baseball package, enabling me to see more of the Mets than many NYC locals -- has made my decision to stick to my guns and hoe the road of a Mets fan seem infinitely wiser.
Gotta tell you -- it still pisses me off, though.
Thursday, April 28, 2005
The Trouble With Tom
Game 22 - Mets
Braves 8, Mets 4
Record: 11-11
Friends, New Yorkers, residents of the Township, lend me your eyes;
I come to bury Glavine, not to praise him.
The evil that Mets do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones;
So let it be with Glavine.
The alternate version of Marc Antony's words ("Shakespeare at The Met" with a new meaning) lacks the ironic tilt of the original text, i.e., this won't be a shout-out in shout-at's clothing. It's more literal, and miles less literary.
Countless words have been written and uttered about how Tom Glavine gets hammered by the Braves every time out, and they're not wrong. I contend, however, that Glavine, in this stage of his career, isn't merely bad against the Braves but bad against any team with even a middling level of talent. So far this season he's had good outings against only the emasculated Astros and the next-stop-5th-place Nationals, 22nd and 28th in the league in run production, respectively. Beyond that, he's been shelled by the Reds, Marlins, and Braves, and looked pretty shabby doing so. You can theorize all you want about familiarity breeding three-run-jacks and the Braves simply having his number, but when (a) greenhorn Wilson Betemit collects his first career home run off the guy and (b) other clubs get to him at will, it appears there's more to it than that. And there is.
Granted, there was plenty of discourse on the woes of Tom Glavine two years ago when his Opening Day start played out like the first scene of Saving Private Ryan, and a season of 9-14/4.52 didn't silence the critics who called him "mediocre," "bait and switch," "a giant waste of money," and even "total crap." (And that was just on this site.) Truth be told, however, if you were to magically eradicate his games against his former team that season, he would have had a much more respectable year. Minus the five outings versus the Bravos, his numbers would have been 9-9/3.80. On that 2003 team, the record is outstanding and the ERA is more than serviceable. That year, the scribblings detailing Atlanta owning old #47 were dead on.
Fast forward to last year. (You can do that at Misery Loves Company because we don't write squat in the offseason.) Glavine's 11-14/3.60 campaign -- yes, record and ERA are sometimes just the tip of the iceberg, but in this case, the old school numbers tell the tale just fine -- would have been 10-12/3.32 sans scalpings by the Braves, just marginally better. Though he was certainly still shaky against Atlanta, he wasn't that much worse against them than everybody else.
Now fast forward to . . . now. Tom Glavine still hangs out in that "Property of Atlanta Braves Baseball Club" T-shirt, but a higher and higher percentage of the league is getting to him every time out. He's getting peppered not only by former battery mates (Eddie Perez hit a crucial two-run tater off TG yesterday) but by random journeymen, utility guys, and futureless rookies of every squad. More and more guys will have personal highlights to tell their grandkids, "I hit a home run off a Hall of Fame pitcher." It's starting to get very ugly for Tom Glavine, and not simply because the Atlanta Braves hit him consistently hard.
In truth, Glavine may well have some gas in the tank, as the stats of the last couple of years contend. But worth noting is that Glavine, like many an aging veteran, was significantly stronger in the early months of the past two seasons and seemed to tire as the season played out. In '03, his ERA went up in every month but one, and in '04 he seemed poised to battle for the ERA title in the first half of the season, closing June with a 2.16 mark, but threw up (or was that me throwing up) monthly averages of 4.31, 5.79, and 6.69 over the last three months. He wears out. Duh. But if he's getting roughed up throughout April, as his current 5.67 ERA and my constant cringing throughout his starts seem to indicate, August and September might be bloodbaths the likes of which we haven't seen here in some time.
I guess I just wanted to dispel the SportsCenter-deep notion that Tom Glavine's troubles lie mostly within Atlanta, aka the city Peter Angelos should have targeted as being void of "real baseball fans." (Nice nasty aside with zero relevance, I know, but the opportunity to slag Angelos and Braves fans in one phrase cannot be resisted.) Somehow, though, this has come across as an assault on Glavine. So be it. His veteran presence, somewhere between that of the noble sages some other teams sport and the clubhouse carcinogens of last year, isn't worth the damage to the Mets' chances and the dollars it's costing them -- this year and especially next year, if that happens. Andrew at Chuck 'n' Duck mused a couple of weeks ago whether Tom Glavine is a Met, and he concluded that by now he is one. If May goes like April, it won't be for long.
Just to bookend utter drivel with sacred verse, let's hope April is indeed the cruelest month for the pitcher. I'm not so sure it will be, though. Prove me wrong, Tom Glavine. Make me look ignorant, and bliss will follow.
Braves 8, Mets 4
Record: 11-11
Friends, New Yorkers, residents of the Township, lend me your eyes;
I come to bury Glavine, not to praise him.
The evil that Mets do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones;
So let it be with Glavine.
The alternate version of Marc Antony's words ("Shakespeare at The Met" with a new meaning) lacks the ironic tilt of the original text, i.e., this won't be a shout-out in shout-at's clothing. It's more literal, and miles less literary.
Countless words have been written and uttered about how Tom Glavine gets hammered by the Braves every time out, and they're not wrong. I contend, however, that Glavine, in this stage of his career, isn't merely bad against the Braves but bad against any team with even a middling level of talent. So far this season he's had good outings against only the emasculated Astros and the next-stop-5th-place Nationals, 22nd and 28th in the league in run production, respectively. Beyond that, he's been shelled by the Reds, Marlins, and Braves, and looked pretty shabby doing so. You can theorize all you want about familiarity breeding three-run-jacks and the Braves simply having his number, but when (a) greenhorn Wilson Betemit collects his first career home run off the guy and (b) other clubs get to him at will, it appears there's more to it than that. And there is.
Granted, there was plenty of discourse on the woes of Tom Glavine two years ago when his Opening Day start played out like the first scene of Saving Private Ryan, and a season of 9-14/4.52 didn't silence the critics who called him "mediocre," "bait and switch," "a giant waste of money," and even "total crap." (And that was just on this site.) Truth be told, however, if you were to magically eradicate his games against his former team that season, he would have had a much more respectable year. Minus the five outings versus the Bravos, his numbers would have been 9-9/3.80. On that 2003 team, the record is outstanding and the ERA is more than serviceable. That year, the scribblings detailing Atlanta owning old #47 were dead on.
Fast forward to last year. (You can do that at Misery Loves Company because we don't write squat in the offseason.) Glavine's 11-14/3.60 campaign -- yes, record and ERA are sometimes just the tip of the iceberg, but in this case, the old school numbers tell the tale just fine -- would have been 10-12/3.32 sans scalpings by the Braves, just marginally better. Though he was certainly still shaky against Atlanta, he wasn't that much worse against them than everybody else.
Now fast forward to . . . now. Tom Glavine still hangs out in that "Property of Atlanta Braves Baseball Club" T-shirt, but a higher and higher percentage of the league is getting to him every time out. He's getting peppered not only by former battery mates (Eddie Perez hit a crucial two-run tater off TG yesterday) but by random journeymen, utility guys, and futureless rookies of every squad. More and more guys will have personal highlights to tell their grandkids, "I hit a home run off a Hall of Fame pitcher." It's starting to get very ugly for Tom Glavine, and not simply because the Atlanta Braves hit him consistently hard.
In truth, Glavine may well have some gas in the tank, as the stats of the last couple of years contend. But worth noting is that Glavine, like many an aging veteran, was significantly stronger in the early months of the past two seasons and seemed to tire as the season played out. In '03, his ERA went up in every month but one, and in '04 he seemed poised to battle for the ERA title in the first half of the season, closing June with a 2.16 mark, but threw up (or was that me throwing up) monthly averages of 4.31, 5.79, and 6.69 over the last three months. He wears out. Duh. But if he's getting roughed up throughout April, as his current 5.67 ERA and my constant cringing throughout his starts seem to indicate, August and September might be bloodbaths the likes of which we haven't seen here in some time.
I guess I just wanted to dispel the SportsCenter-deep notion that Tom Glavine's troubles lie mostly within Atlanta, aka the city Peter Angelos should have targeted as being void of "real baseball fans." (Nice nasty aside with zero relevance, I know, but the opportunity to slag Angelos and Braves fans in one phrase cannot be resisted.) Somehow, though, this has come across as an assault on Glavine. So be it. His veteran presence, somewhere between that of the noble sages some other teams sport and the clubhouse carcinogens of last year, isn't worth the damage to the Mets' chances and the dollars it's costing them -- this year and especially next year, if that happens. Andrew at Chuck 'n' Duck mused a couple of weeks ago whether Tom Glavine is a Met, and he concluded that by now he is one. If May goes like April, it won't be for long.
Just to bookend utter drivel with sacred verse, let's hope April is indeed the cruelest month for the pitcher. I'm not so sure it will be, though. Prove me wrong, Tom Glavine. Make me look ignorant, and bliss will follow.
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
Shaking Off the Coma
Games 15 through 21 - Mets
Marlins 9, Mets 2
Mets 10, Marlins 1
Mets 3, Nationals 1
Mets 10, Nationals 5
Nationals 11, Mets 4
Mets 5, Braves 4
Braves 4, Mets 3
Record: 11-10
Whew. My apologies to the MLC faithful for my prolonged absence, but today is the first day of feeling even halfway human after a bodily devastating bout with New Orleans nightlife. When simply continuing to breathe takes all of my concentration (not to mention praying for death), blogging gets back-burnered. Fear not, folks, for I'll not darken the doorstep of Igor's or the like for at least another year.
Adding insult to injury is that fact that I have to little comment upon for the stretch of games I missed. The Crescent City might as well be on the moon, and save for catching sight of a few Mets scores along the way, my insight into the highs and lows of the five games from Wednesday through Sunday is as shallow as the Canal Street mud puddle I used for a pillow. They might as well have been played on some college kid's Strat-o-matic board 'twixt pizza deliveries. Thankfully, I can direct you to the rest of the Mets blogosphere for those recaps and remarks.
I did catch the past two games against the Braves, and by and large I liked what I saw. There were things to dread along the way, of course, like brief lapses in David Wright's defense, Braden Looper looking even less dominant -- after Roberto Hernandez looked vaguely reminiscent of Armando Benitez, the Mets being baffled by John Smoltz again, and Jose Reyes -- I could swear -- swinging at a ball over his head. Still, there were more things to applaud, like Aaron Heilman's bookend of a bad outing with another gem, that same bullpen bending but not breaking, Mike Piazza's bat taking to the smelling salts, and the continuing ability to rally under fierce two-out pressure.
There was also a handful of purely entertaining sights, including some skillful/gutsy/okay, pretty damn lucky plays in the field. First, a crazy play happened when a ball caromed off Heilman, was scooped by Wright and fired to first for one out, then gunned back toward third by Chris Woodward where Jose Reyes snagged the heave while diving and tagging Brian Jordan, who'd tried to advance on the throw. Well, he almost tagged him, but the ump saw fit to reward the remarkable play. Innings later, a grounder at Wright shot off his shoulder for a sure error, but ricochet rabbit Jose Reyes scooped it up and fired to first to save the play. The young third baseman's glovework eroded further as the night wore on, but the Mets did just enough to stave off a bad loss.
Last night's game did end in a losing efort, but "effort" is the key word there. The ninth-inning rally was as exciting a turnaround for the Mets' dormant bats as possible without notching a win. Things to take away from this loss included another two-out surge to match Monday's barrage, another wretched appearance for the Braves current and nearly former closer Danny Kolb (he's allowed 8 ER in 9 IP), and 12 more hits from a rapidly improving offense. Look, there are things to lament, but like I said, I'm feeling better today than I have in what seems like an eternity (but is several days), and that's spreading to my take on the Mets.
So, what do we know about the Mets that we didn't a week ago when I left off? Over the last seven games, the team was just slightly above .500, Pedro impressed, the bullpen didn't, the exciting defense was liable to make great plays and costly blunders, and it generally seemed like everyone on the team played a fair bit better than I'd have figured them capable of or a fair bit worse -- never exactly at their preconceived levels of talent. Seems like a microcosm of the 2005 Mets thus far. This team still hasn't quite figured itself out, but I'll give the Mets this -- they've shown an abundance of spirit and energy when it has mattered, which is more than Rob can say for his club across the aisle.
Marlins 9, Mets 2
Mets 10, Marlins 1
Mets 3, Nationals 1
Mets 10, Nationals 5
Nationals 11, Mets 4
Mets 5, Braves 4
Braves 4, Mets 3
Record: 11-10
Whew. My apologies to the MLC faithful for my prolonged absence, but today is the first day of feeling even halfway human after a bodily devastating bout with New Orleans nightlife. When simply continuing to breathe takes all of my concentration (not to mention praying for death), blogging gets back-burnered. Fear not, folks, for I'll not darken the doorstep of Igor's or the like for at least another year.
Adding insult to injury is that fact that I have to little comment upon for the stretch of games I missed. The Crescent City might as well be on the moon, and save for catching sight of a few Mets scores along the way, my insight into the highs and lows of the five games from Wednesday through Sunday is as shallow as the Canal Street mud puddle I used for a pillow. They might as well have been played on some college kid's Strat-o-matic board 'twixt pizza deliveries. Thankfully, I can direct you to the rest of the Mets blogosphere for those recaps and remarks.
I did catch the past two games against the Braves, and by and large I liked what I saw. There were things to dread along the way, of course, like brief lapses in David Wright's defense, Braden Looper looking even less dominant -- after Roberto Hernandez looked vaguely reminiscent of Armando Benitez, the Mets being baffled by John Smoltz again, and Jose Reyes -- I could swear -- swinging at a ball over his head. Still, there were more things to applaud, like Aaron Heilman's bookend of a bad outing with another gem, that same bullpen bending but not breaking, Mike Piazza's bat taking to the smelling salts, and the continuing ability to rally under fierce two-out pressure.
There was also a handful of purely entertaining sights, including some skillful/gutsy/okay, pretty damn lucky plays in the field. First, a crazy play happened when a ball caromed off Heilman, was scooped by Wright and fired to first for one out, then gunned back toward third by Chris Woodward where Jose Reyes snagged the heave while diving and tagging Brian Jordan, who'd tried to advance on the throw. Well, he almost tagged him, but the ump saw fit to reward the remarkable play. Innings later, a grounder at Wright shot off his shoulder for a sure error, but ricochet rabbit Jose Reyes scooped it up and fired to first to save the play. The young third baseman's glovework eroded further as the night wore on, but the Mets did just enough to stave off a bad loss.
Last night's game did end in a losing efort, but "effort" is the key word there. The ninth-inning rally was as exciting a turnaround for the Mets' dormant bats as possible without notching a win. Things to take away from this loss included another two-out surge to match Monday's barrage, another wretched appearance for the Braves current and nearly former closer Danny Kolb (he's allowed 8 ER in 9 IP), and 12 more hits from a rapidly improving offense. Look, there are things to lament, but like I said, I'm feeling better today than I have in what seems like an eternity (but is several days), and that's spreading to my take on the Mets.
So, what do we know about the Mets that we didn't a week ago when I left off? Over the last seven games, the team was just slightly above .500, Pedro impressed, the bullpen didn't, the exciting defense was liable to make great plays and costly blunders, and it generally seemed like everyone on the team played a fair bit better than I'd have figured them capable of or a fair bit worse -- never exactly at their preconceived levels of talent. Seems like a microcosm of the 2005 Mets thus far. This team still hasn't quite figured itself out, but I'll give the Mets this -- they've shown an abundance of spirit and energy when it has mattered, which is more than Rob can say for his club across the aisle.
Raining and Pouring
Games 20 & 21 - Red Sox
Orioles 8, Red Sox 4
Orioles 11, Red Sox 8
Record: 11-10
There may have been more disgusting losses than last night's over the past 2 years, but I bet I could count them on 1 hand. Mike Timlin was the only pitcher who remotely did his job, and it wasn't enough to prevent the suddenly reeling Sox from blowing 5-1 and 8-3 leads to the Orioles.
As if that wasn't bad enough, this morning's Boston Globe reports that Curt Schilling is headed to the 15-day DL with a bone bruise in his ankle. This right on the heels of David Wells' 4-6 week shelving for a sprained foot. The John Halama Era will commence Tuesday.
I just found out about the Schilling news as I began to type this entry. I was fully prepared to come in here swinging, dropping f-bombs about the Sox' underachieving, about their laissez-faire attitude, about how Keith Foulke is toast, and about how gut-level infuriated I am right now that I spent $160 on the MLB Extra Innings package to watch the Sox lay turds all over the AL East. Instead, I find myself strangely possessed by the thought that the Wells/Schilling injuries could be a net positive.
Mind you, 'could' is the operative word in the preceding sentence. Logically, though, it would be hard to conceive the Sox having a more sluggish start to their championship defense. Whatever the reason, be it lack of focus from an offseason spent hobnobbing with the glitterati (I'm looking right at you, Johnny Damon - though your .350+ start is nicenice), or some sense of entitlement borne of the greatest 2-week stretch in baseball history, the 2005 Sox have to date ho-hummed their way to a record that defines underperformance. (I mean, hell, they have the same record as the Mets, for chrissakes.)
Now, the twin injuries to the Sox' overweight, overaged aces may serve to catalyze the squad's heretofore slumbering competitive instincts. Now, nothing less than full committment and grit gets this team through mid-May with anything better than a .500 record. Now, Foulke and Embree and Mantei (cripes, throw a strike, will you) and Clement, et al can't give away a game knowing that Schilling will pick them up tomorrow. Now, Terry Francona has to manage as if the games in April and May matter, because they do. Now, blowing a 5-run lead at home to the motherfucking Orioles isn't something to be shrugged off under the 'it's a long season' rubric, goddammit. And one more thing. Mark Bellhorn, you bat-holding ninny, if I watch you look at another meatball down Main Street for strike 3 with runners on 2nd and 3rd, I will not be responsible for my actions.
Ahhh. That felt good. Make me a genius, boys.
Orioles 8, Red Sox 4
Orioles 11, Red Sox 8
Record: 11-10
There may have been more disgusting losses than last night's over the past 2 years, but I bet I could count them on 1 hand. Mike Timlin was the only pitcher who remotely did his job, and it wasn't enough to prevent the suddenly reeling Sox from blowing 5-1 and 8-3 leads to the Orioles.
As if that wasn't bad enough, this morning's Boston Globe reports that Curt Schilling is headed to the 15-day DL with a bone bruise in his ankle. This right on the heels of David Wells' 4-6 week shelving for a sprained foot. The John Halama Era will commence Tuesday.
I just found out about the Schilling news as I began to type this entry. I was fully prepared to come in here swinging, dropping f-bombs about the Sox' underachieving, about their laissez-faire attitude, about how Keith Foulke is toast, and about how gut-level infuriated I am right now that I spent $160 on the MLB Extra Innings package to watch the Sox lay turds all over the AL East. Instead, I find myself strangely possessed by the thought that the Wells/Schilling injuries could be a net positive.
Mind you, 'could' is the operative word in the preceding sentence. Logically, though, it would be hard to conceive the Sox having a more sluggish start to their championship defense. Whatever the reason, be it lack of focus from an offseason spent hobnobbing with the glitterati (I'm looking right at you, Johnny Damon - though your .350+ start is nicenice), or some sense of entitlement borne of the greatest 2-week stretch in baseball history, the 2005 Sox have to date ho-hummed their way to a record that defines underperformance. (I mean, hell, they have the same record as the Mets, for chrissakes.)
Now, the twin injuries to the Sox' overweight, overaged aces may serve to catalyze the squad's heretofore slumbering competitive instincts. Now, nothing less than full committment and grit gets this team through mid-May with anything better than a .500 record. Now, Foulke and Embree and Mantei (cripes, throw a strike, will you) and Clement, et al can't give away a game knowing that Schilling will pick them up tomorrow. Now, Terry Francona has to manage as if the games in April and May matter, because they do. Now, blowing a 5-run lead at home to the motherfucking Orioles isn't something to be shrugged off under the 'it's a long season' rubric, goddammit. And one more thing. Mark Bellhorn, you bat-holding ninny, if I watch you look at another meatball down Main Street for strike 3 with runners on 2nd and 3rd, I will not be responsible for my actions.
Ahhh. That felt good. Make me a genius, boys.
Monday, April 25, 2005
Lost Weekend
Games 17 through 19 - Red Sox
Devil Rays 5, Red Sox 4
Devil Rays 6, Red Sox 5
Red Sox 11, Devil Rays 3
Record: 11-8
You'd think that 15 hours in a cargo van in a span of 36 hours would afford a body enough free mindspace to get some clarity on the first 3 weeks of the baseball season. And it should have, but instead, I spent most of those 15 hours trying to find a radio station broadcasting anything but Creed, Kenny Chesney, or This Week in God.
Just as well, I guess, as I've taken an early detour into my can't-figure-these-guys-out phase of the season. I've been here at various points in each of the 2 seasons we've chronicled the Sox and Mets, but it usually takes me half a season or so to get there. In the past 2 seasons, I've been cautiously optimistic - but really uncertain - early, then drifted into ennui before the team found a spark and made a run.
This year's got a different sort of feeling. I know this team is good, and they've even acted like it on several occasions. They've been in nearly every game thus far, wearing out opposing closers even in losing efforts. Unlike the last 2 seasons, though, they seem completely aware of how good they are, and their sense of urgency suffers as a result. They've shown the ability to come back time and again, so their heart isn't in question - just their motivation. It's almost as if they expect - they know - that they can come back at any point in any game, so what's the big deal. Well, nothing really, until an Alan Embree meatball becomes a massive walk-off blast by Eduardo Perez, or Curt Schilling's 3rd rehab start turns into a blown lead and another loss. Extrapolate that over a season - hey, we're idiots, 11-8 can turn into 24-12 in 4 weeks, so why are you wasting your time worrying in your little blog?
Problem is, left unchecked, that sort of confidence bordering on hubris becomes a tortoise and hare problem. Teams like the White Sox and the Orioles get on enough of an early roll that they get confident, which breeds more confidence, and the Sox piss away a few more 1-run games because - hey, we're good, we can turn it on anytime we want, and all of a sudden it's September and the Sox are fighting for their playoff lives. And a team as good as these Sox should be spending September shoring up their playoff rotation.
Not for nothing, the Sox showed some spark, getting their backs up on Sunday after an exchange of beanballs with the Rays. Though they led 5-2 heading into the 7th inning, I had a baaad feeling that they were preparing to gack another one to the Rays and usher in my first real blognutty of the year in the wake of a sweep. The Rays picked the wrong time to feel froggy, and jumped right into the wrong end of a 6-run beatdown. Almost reminiscent of the Sox' season-turning 11-10 win on July 24, 2004. Almost.
Not for nothing, too, the fact that my blogging has kept pace with the Sox thus far - perfunctory, steady, and just nothing much else. World Series hangover? Perhaps. Adjusting to the full immersion of the Extra Innings package? Doubtful, but I'm reaching for excuses. Relying on Whitney to carry the load, as the Mets' season promises to at least be more interesting than that of the Sox? Hey, now we're on to something. Here's hoping that NOLA didn't take too much out of my colleague.
As for the Sox, it could be worse, I guess. I could be a Yankee fan.
Devil Rays 5, Red Sox 4
Devil Rays 6, Red Sox 5
Red Sox 11, Devil Rays 3
Record: 11-8
You'd think that 15 hours in a cargo van in a span of 36 hours would afford a body enough free mindspace to get some clarity on the first 3 weeks of the baseball season. And it should have, but instead, I spent most of those 15 hours trying to find a radio station broadcasting anything but Creed, Kenny Chesney, or This Week in God.
Just as well, I guess, as I've taken an early detour into my can't-figure-these-guys-out phase of the season. I've been here at various points in each of the 2 seasons we've chronicled the Sox and Mets, but it usually takes me half a season or so to get there. In the past 2 seasons, I've been cautiously optimistic - but really uncertain - early, then drifted into ennui before the team found a spark and made a run.
This year's got a different sort of feeling. I know this team is good, and they've even acted like it on several occasions. They've been in nearly every game thus far, wearing out opposing closers even in losing efforts. Unlike the last 2 seasons, though, they seem completely aware of how good they are, and their sense of urgency suffers as a result. They've shown the ability to come back time and again, so their heart isn't in question - just their motivation. It's almost as if they expect - they know - that they can come back at any point in any game, so what's the big deal. Well, nothing really, until an Alan Embree meatball becomes a massive walk-off blast by Eduardo Perez, or Curt Schilling's 3rd rehab start turns into a blown lead and another loss. Extrapolate that over a season - hey, we're idiots, 11-8 can turn into 24-12 in 4 weeks, so why are you wasting your time worrying in your little blog?
Problem is, left unchecked, that sort of confidence bordering on hubris becomes a tortoise and hare problem. Teams like the White Sox and the Orioles get on enough of an early roll that they get confident, which breeds more confidence, and the Sox piss away a few more 1-run games because - hey, we're good, we can turn it on anytime we want, and all of a sudden it's September and the Sox are fighting for their playoff lives. And a team as good as these Sox should be spending September shoring up their playoff rotation.
Not for nothing, the Sox showed some spark, getting their backs up on Sunday after an exchange of beanballs with the Rays. Though they led 5-2 heading into the 7th inning, I had a baaad feeling that they were preparing to gack another one to the Rays and usher in my first real blognutty of the year in the wake of a sweep. The Rays picked the wrong time to feel froggy, and jumped right into the wrong end of a 6-run beatdown. Almost reminiscent of the Sox' season-turning 11-10 win on July 24, 2004. Almost.
Not for nothing, too, the fact that my blogging has kept pace with the Sox thus far - perfunctory, steady, and just nothing much else. World Series hangover? Perhaps. Adjusting to the full immersion of the Extra Innings package? Doubtful, but I'm reaching for excuses. Relying on Whitney to carry the load, as the Mets' season promises to at least be more interesting than that of the Sox? Hey, now we're on to something. Here's hoping that NOLA didn't take too much out of my colleague.
As for the Sox, it could be worse, I guess. I could be a Yankee fan.
Friday, April 22, 2005
Blankety Blanks
Games 15 & 16 - Red Sox
Red Sox 8, Baltimore Orioles 0
Red Sox 1, Orioles 0
Record: 10-6
We were about 30 minutes away from going on an early-season 5-day no-posting streak, as my afternoon is shaping up as a disaster and my weekend will be spent exploring I-95 between D.C. and South of the Border, while Whitney's already 2 Hurricanes deep at Pat O'Brien's. Lucky for you, gentle reader, I'm capable of cranking out paragraphs of barely cogent thoughts in a matter of minutes.
The Sox dropped double bagels on the Sons of Peter Angelos, which has my cockles all a-warmed. As those of you that are paying attention may recall, the Orioles have been a thorn in the Sox' side over the past 2 years, while rolling over obediently to their masters from the Bronx. It's early, but we're on pace for an overdue reversal of those trends in 2005. The O's have taken 5 of 6 from the Yankees, while dropping their first 2 to Boston. Last year, the O's single-handedly kept the Sox from winning the AL East - it'd be nice to actually get something of value from Peter the Greek in 2005.
Appears that the rumors of David Wells' demise, and the cringing induced by Matt Clement's mound presence were, um, slightly overblown. You'd think that after watching baseball for 30-some years, I'd learn to stop extrapolating truths from a single game, or even a handful of games. Good to see that the Sox' championship has added a modicum of rationality to my fandom.
Peter Gammons waxed breathlessly about Jason Varitek's influence on Clement during this morning's Mike & Mike show, claiming that the Sox catcher has completely changed Clement's mental approach. 4 games doesn't necessarily make a trend, but 2-0, 2.13 is a nice starting point. If Clement keeps this up, and if Varitek is truly the reason, the contracts both batterymates signed in the off-season will be bargains.
Old friend Nomar Garciaparra suffered a gruesome injury to his man region this week. I'll always hold a place in my personal athletic pantheon for Nomar, but his injury record over the past several years really raises the ugly issue of performance enhancement. I'd prefer to believe that he's clean and always has been, but my eyebrows are certainly raised.
On behalf of Whitney, I'll add the following: Pedro Martinez is a freaking stud.
Nothing more from here until Monday. Try to find something to do with your hands.
Red Sox 8, Baltimore Orioles 0
Red Sox 1, Orioles 0
Record: 10-6
We were about 30 minutes away from going on an early-season 5-day no-posting streak, as my afternoon is shaping up as a disaster and my weekend will be spent exploring I-95 between D.C. and South of the Border, while Whitney's already 2 Hurricanes deep at Pat O'Brien's. Lucky for you, gentle reader, I'm capable of cranking out paragraphs of barely cogent thoughts in a matter of minutes.
The Sox dropped double bagels on the Sons of Peter Angelos, which has my cockles all a-warmed. As those of you that are paying attention may recall, the Orioles have been a thorn in the Sox' side over the past 2 years, while rolling over obediently to their masters from the Bronx. It's early, but we're on pace for an overdue reversal of those trends in 2005. The O's have taken 5 of 6 from the Yankees, while dropping their first 2 to Boston. Last year, the O's single-handedly kept the Sox from winning the AL East - it'd be nice to actually get something of value from Peter the Greek in 2005.
Appears that the rumors of David Wells' demise, and the cringing induced by Matt Clement's mound presence were, um, slightly overblown. You'd think that after watching baseball for 30-some years, I'd learn to stop extrapolating truths from a single game, or even a handful of games. Good to see that the Sox' championship has added a modicum of rationality to my fandom.
Peter Gammons waxed breathlessly about Jason Varitek's influence on Clement during this morning's Mike & Mike show, claiming that the Sox catcher has completely changed Clement's mental approach. 4 games doesn't necessarily make a trend, but 2-0, 2.13 is a nice starting point. If Clement keeps this up, and if Varitek is truly the reason, the contracts both batterymates signed in the off-season will be bargains.
Old friend Nomar Garciaparra suffered a gruesome injury to his man region this week. I'll always hold a place in my personal athletic pantheon for Nomar, but his injury record over the past several years really raises the ugly issue of performance enhancement. I'd prefer to believe that he's clean and always has been, but my eyebrows are certainly raised.
On behalf of Whitney, I'll add the following: Pedro Martinez is a freaking stud.
Nothing more from here until Monday. Try to find something to do with your hands.
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
NOLA-bound
I'm taking my first vacation of the season, just a few weeks into it. I'm headed to New Orleans tomorrow morning for three days of music, sun, and hard livin'. Two years ago when I made the same trip, the Mets were already mired in last place, and it was a nice break. Not so this time around, when they're showing significantly more spark. A quick rematch of Heilman/Beckett and Martinez/Leiter followed by three against the Nats at Shea. (Here's betting I have a better chance of catching some Nationals action on the tube in Louisiana than in DC.)
7-7, one game out, technically in last place. I want to have double-digit wins by the time I return. You hear me??? (Just in case my harassment worked last night.)
Rob, man the fort until the end of the weekend. With the O's and D-Rays on the slate for the Sox, you should have plenty of incentive to recap.
7-7, one game out, technically in last place. I want to have double-digit wins by the time I return. You hear me??? (Just in case my harassment worked last night.)
Rob, man the fort until the end of the weekend. With the O's and D-Rays on the slate for the Sox, you should have plenty of incentive to recap.
'Tis Better to Have Led and Lost...
Game 14 - Red Sox
Blue Jays 4, Red Sox 3
Record: 8-6
Short and sweet this afternoon, as the demands of the real world intrude.
The Sox, by all rights, should have been out of last night's game early. Roy Halladay was dealing, with the notable exception of one curveball that caught too much plate, then caught the Mass Pike after stopping for a split second on the fat part of Manny Ramirez' bat. Bronson Arroyo was allowing multiple baserunners every inning - almost like he was bored with bases empty situations - then slamming the door on the Jays.
The Sox, by all rights, should have won last night's game going away. After Halladay became human in the bottom of the 7th, and David Ortiz drilled one to the cheap seats, the Sox led 3-1. Arroyo finished with 7 solid innings - throwing 73 strikes in 100 pitches. Alan Embree, theretofore stellar on the season, came in to get the Sox through the 8th.
The Sox, by all objective evaluation, gacked the ever-lovin' hell out of last night's game. Embree allowed the first 2 batters he faced to score, then Keith Foulke presided over a messy 9th inning that should have yielded more for the Jays than 1 run. (Sidenote: I'm going to have an aneurysm the next time a Sox pitcher does something stupid with an 0-2 count - in Foulke's case, he hit Frank Catalanotto with a slider with 1 out, nobody on.) In between, Jay Payton had to bat with runners on and 2 out in the bottom of the 8th because Terry Francona took out Manny Ramirez for defensive purposes after the Sox took the 3-1 lead. Dumb, and noted as such by Jerry Remy - even before it came back to haunt the Sox. New rule: No defensive substitutions for the game's hottest hitter until the final inning, unless the Sox lead by more than a touchdown. And, yes, I stole that gimmick from Bill Mahar. Sue me.
All in all, a terribly unsatisfying effort by the Sox in almost every aspect of the game. Here's hoping they take it out on Peter Angelos' boys over the next several days.
Blue Jays 4, Red Sox 3
Record: 8-6
Short and sweet this afternoon, as the demands of the real world intrude.
The Sox, by all rights, should have been out of last night's game early. Roy Halladay was dealing, with the notable exception of one curveball that caught too much plate, then caught the Mass Pike after stopping for a split second on the fat part of Manny Ramirez' bat. Bronson Arroyo was allowing multiple baserunners every inning - almost like he was bored with bases empty situations - then slamming the door on the Jays.
The Sox, by all rights, should have won last night's game going away. After Halladay became human in the bottom of the 7th, and David Ortiz drilled one to the cheap seats, the Sox led 3-1. Arroyo finished with 7 solid innings - throwing 73 strikes in 100 pitches. Alan Embree, theretofore stellar on the season, came in to get the Sox through the 8th.
The Sox, by all objective evaluation, gacked the ever-lovin' hell out of last night's game. Embree allowed the first 2 batters he faced to score, then Keith Foulke presided over a messy 9th inning that should have yielded more for the Jays than 1 run. (Sidenote: I'm going to have an aneurysm the next time a Sox pitcher does something stupid with an 0-2 count - in Foulke's case, he hit Frank Catalanotto with a slider with 1 out, nobody on.) In between, Jay Payton had to bat with runners on and 2 out in the bottom of the 8th because Terry Francona took out Manny Ramirez for defensive purposes after the Sox took the 3-1 lead. Dumb, and noted as such by Jerry Remy - even before it came back to haunt the Sox. New rule: No defensive substitutions for the game's hottest hitter until the final inning, unless the Sox lead by more than a touchdown. And, yes, I stole that gimmick from Bill Mahar. Sue me.
All in all, a terribly unsatisfying effort by the Sox in almost every aspect of the game. Here's hoping they take it out on Peter Angelos' boys over the next several days.
Alrighty Then
Game 14 - Mets
Mets 16, Phillies 4
Record: 7-7
You're welcome. Any time.
Okay, maybe my outburst didn't have anything to do with the Mets' record-setting night of seven HR's and 16 runs against the Phillies. Maybe it had more to do with the softball field they call a stadium up there, where flicks, pops, and flairs reach the seats. Maybe it had something to do with Vicente Padilla's rocky first start of the season and some scuffling middle relief. Maybe it was more about some contagious offense and some good hitters shaking off a recent bad stretch. Maybe, just maybe these games inevitably happen over the course of a season, and it has nothing to do with what some doofus with an Internet connection types about his team.
Or maybe not. All I know is that you Mets fans who scoffed at my inane ramblings yesterday, wondering what happened to the last vestiges of sensibility and cohesion at MLC -- you want me off the wall, you need me off the wall. You're welcome. Any time.
Mets 16, Phillies 4
Record: 7-7
You're welcome. Any time.
Okay, maybe my outburst didn't have anything to do with the Mets' record-setting night of seven HR's and 16 runs against the Phillies. Maybe it had more to do with the softball field they call a stadium up there, where flicks, pops, and flairs reach the seats. Maybe it had something to do with Vicente Padilla's rocky first start of the season and some scuffling middle relief. Maybe it was more about some contagious offense and some good hitters shaking off a recent bad stretch. Maybe, just maybe these games inevitably happen over the course of a season, and it has nothing to do with what some doofus with an Internet connection types about his team.
Or maybe not. All I know is that you Mets fans who scoffed at my inane ramblings yesterday, wondering what happened to the last vestiges of sensibility and cohesion at MLC -- you want me off the wall, you need me off the wall. You're welcome. Any time.
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Conspiracy Update
Caught last night's Marlins/Nationals game on ESPN. Though the crowd was substantially smaller than Friday's - by more than 15,000 fans - the crowd noise was noticeably more audible and crisp. ESPN: lively Washingtonians reveling in the joy of having a baseball team. MASN: dead crowd.
I'm not kidding about this.
Ok, not much.
I'm not kidding about this.
Ok, not much.
Reality in the Rear-View
Game 13 - Mets
Phillies 5, Mets 4
Record: 6-7
While I appreciate the praise my colleague has issued in lieu of philosophical musings of his suddenly surging Sox, I need pressure to write like I need (another) hole in my argument. As it turns out, I don't think we're looking at any "comedic gold" today, just some gilded stuff today from your favorite comedic gelding.
According to the team, Kris Benson got a little action on the side yesterday, which should please his teammates.
Now on to the serious stuff. The Mets are back in sole possession of last place in the National League East once again. Feels like home, doesn't it?
They're on the verge of another streak, and it's just wearing me out. All of this streaking is giving the fans whiplash, as I used to say in college. Now, it's well documented, especially on this site (in the form we title "Blather. Rinse. Repeat."), that to put too much energy into the innumerable highs and lows of a season will quickly and surely drive you mad. I've spouted a thousand times about the necessity of maintaining an even-keeled approach to the Mets' season, one in which the jagged peaks and valleys look like my polygraph when I talk about my minor in English, and yet the damnable Mets won't permit it. Losing five in a row to start a season is wretched, and their doing so cast a pall that had even the lobotomized Buddhists on Valium in the Township freaking out a little. (You'd be surprised.) Then they stormed right back with six impressive wins, earned the label "the hottest team in baseball" from the national media, and presented the image of a squad that, while unable to boast a surplus of pure talent, is more promising and thoroughly solid than we'd figured. They seemed to be meshing as a unit well beyond the number of games they'd logged together. They were finding new and creative ways to win, whereas the Mets of yesteryear were the innovative losers. A strangely positive vibe infiltrated even the most fatalistic of fans. In short, the Mets made it pretty damn hard not to get fired up.
Whoops.
At this point, the Mets Township Balloon of Enthusiasm (okay, this post is starting to read like Pink Floyd lyrics) is slightly deflated, down from the full-blown vigor of last week. Two more losses could induce a shriveling effect that rivals airings of The Crying Game at Polar Bear Club functions. The return to earth for me is more sobering for me than most (figuratively, natch), but it was a pretty quick trip for my mates in the Mets blogosphere. It's apparent that they have a more suitable mentality for this journey. Kaley at Flushing Local seems to have it, writing of "stark realism" and how 81-81 is still the most likely destination for this team. (How I got strong-armed into wagering on 85 wins remains a mystery.) Meanwhile, Joe at the Pancake House makes some very good points about some very bad trends that bode ill for the boys in royal blue and blaze orange. Tempered optimism or pessimism is the order of the day in baseball fandom, but for someone never known for mood swings, I'm somehow bipolar in my rooting for this team. Such a rookie demeanor -- everyone knows that the baseball season is a long and bumpy road. In fact, it's a lot like the dart game Bumpy Road, where the running gag is mock overenthusiasm over early success or failings. It's a bumpy, bumpy road . . .
A grizzled veteran Mets fan like myself has seen this all a thousand times by now. Is it that the Mets' shoddy play leads me to drink, which leads me to forget? (Blacking out means never having to say you're sorry.) I don't think so. Rationally, I am right there stride for stride with the rest of the level-headed die-hards. A man's got to know his team's limitations, Harry Callahan (a big Giants fan) once said, and I definitely do. It's just . . . it's just that . . .
It's just that the last few years of dashed hopes, ruined plans, and redundant letdowns were so ugly that by now I'm overeager for something better. It's just that dammit, the Mets should be better than this, and yet so obviously they're not. It's just that pulling for your favorite club shouldn't always be about maintaining perspective, mollifying reactions, and keeping a steady eye on the big picture. Sometimes it's okay to ignore those pesky facts, get pissed off about another itinerary limited to stays in fourth and fifth place, and try to will the team to victory with a "Come on, you bastards! Get your heads out of your asses and start playing like you mean it!"
Phillies 5, Mets 4
Record: 6-7
While I appreciate the praise my colleague has issued in lieu of philosophical musings of his suddenly surging Sox, I need pressure to write like I need (another) hole in my argument. As it turns out, I don't think we're looking at any "comedic gold" today, just some gilded stuff today from your favorite comedic gelding.
According to the team, Kris Benson got a little action on the side yesterday, which should please his teammates.
Now on to the serious stuff. The Mets are back in sole possession of last place in the National League East once again. Feels like home, doesn't it?
They're on the verge of another streak, and it's just wearing me out. All of this streaking is giving the fans whiplash, as I used to say in college. Now, it's well documented, especially on this site (in the form we title "Blather. Rinse. Repeat."), that to put too much energy into the innumerable highs and lows of a season will quickly and surely drive you mad. I've spouted a thousand times about the necessity of maintaining an even-keeled approach to the Mets' season, one in which the jagged peaks and valleys look like my polygraph when I talk about my minor in English, and yet the damnable Mets won't permit it. Losing five in a row to start a season is wretched, and their doing so cast a pall that had even the lobotomized Buddhists on Valium in the Township freaking out a little. (You'd be surprised.) Then they stormed right back with six impressive wins, earned the label "the hottest team in baseball" from the national media, and presented the image of a squad that, while unable to boast a surplus of pure talent, is more promising and thoroughly solid than we'd figured. They seemed to be meshing as a unit well beyond the number of games they'd logged together. They were finding new and creative ways to win, whereas the Mets of yesteryear were the innovative losers. A strangely positive vibe infiltrated even the most fatalistic of fans. In short, the Mets made it pretty damn hard not to get fired up.
Whoops.
At this point, the Mets Township Balloon of Enthusiasm (okay, this post is starting to read like Pink Floyd lyrics) is slightly deflated, down from the full-blown vigor of last week. Two more losses could induce a shriveling effect that rivals airings of The Crying Game at Polar Bear Club functions. The return to earth for me is more sobering for me than most (figuratively, natch), but it was a pretty quick trip for my mates in the Mets blogosphere. It's apparent that they have a more suitable mentality for this journey. Kaley at Flushing Local seems to have it, writing of "stark realism" and how 81-81 is still the most likely destination for this team. (How I got strong-armed into wagering on 85 wins remains a mystery.) Meanwhile, Joe at the Pancake House makes some very good points about some very bad trends that bode ill for the boys in royal blue and blaze orange. Tempered optimism or pessimism is the order of the day in baseball fandom, but for someone never known for mood swings, I'm somehow bipolar in my rooting for this team. Such a rookie demeanor -- everyone knows that the baseball season is a long and bumpy road. In fact, it's a lot like the dart game Bumpy Road, where the running gag is mock overenthusiasm over early success or failings. It's a bumpy, bumpy road . . .
A grizzled veteran Mets fan like myself has seen this all a thousand times by now. Is it that the Mets' shoddy play leads me to drink, which leads me to forget? (Blacking out means never having to say you're sorry.) I don't think so. Rationally, I am right there stride for stride with the rest of the level-headed die-hards. A man's got to know his team's limitations, Harry Callahan (a big Giants fan) once said, and I definitely do. It's just . . . it's just that . . .
It's just that the last few years of dashed hopes, ruined plans, and redundant letdowns were so ugly that by now I'm overeager for something better. It's just that dammit, the Mets should be better than this, and yet so obviously they're not. It's just that pulling for your favorite club shouldn't always be about maintaining perspective, mollifying reactions, and keeping a steady eye on the big picture. Sometimes it's okay to ignore those pesky facts, get pissed off about another itinerary limited to stays in fourth and fifth place, and try to will the team to victory with a "Come on, you bastards! Get your heads out of your asses and start playing like you mean it!"
Monday, April 18, 2005
Milestone!
Hey, just checked the Sitemeter stats and noted with puzzled approval that we're officially averaging over 100 visits per day. *To which I say, who the fuck are you people, and don't you have anything better to do with your time?
*Alternate ending: To which I say, thanks Mom and Dad.
** Second alternate ending: To which I say...and boy am I wearing out the refresh button on my browser.
*Alternate ending: To which I say, thanks Mom and Dad.
** Second alternate ending: To which I say...and boy am I wearing out the refresh button on my browser.
Thanks, We'll Take It
Game 13 - Red Sox
Red Sox 12, Blue Jays 7
Record: 8-5
The Sox outlasted the Jays this afternoon, winning the annual Patriots Day game in somewhat ugly fashion, giving up 17 hits, committing 2 errors, and trying hard to squander a 9-1 lead.
In truth, the Jays never had a chance in this one. Toronto had to travel from Texas yesterday after their game against the Rangers, and then get to Fenway at an ungodly time this morning to prepare for an 11:05 am start. Bud Selig just keeps giving and giving to John Henry and his merry band. Thanks, again, Bud. Can you do something about the audio on Nationals' telecasts?
Heckuva tradition, Patriots Day. Where else can you tie one on before lunch in a socially acceptable manner, then wander out into a crush of sweaty, also-drunken humanity just in time to watch the Boston Marathon come through Kenmore Square?
Curt Schilling struck out 10 today, which is the good news. He also needed 118 pitches to do so, and only lasted 5 innings. The bats certainly picked him up, notably Messrs. Ramirez (2 more homers), Nixon, and Damon.
In the spirit of Schilling's abbreviated outing, I'm done with this entry. Didn't see the game, barely had a chance to follow it online, and have nothing even remotely interesting to say about it. All you Metbloggers that seem to be flooding this site should be happy - less Sox stuff for you to have to wade through to get to Whitney's comedic gold.
Red Sox 12, Blue Jays 7
Record: 8-5
The Sox outlasted the Jays this afternoon, winning the annual Patriots Day game in somewhat ugly fashion, giving up 17 hits, committing 2 errors, and trying hard to squander a 9-1 lead.
In truth, the Jays never had a chance in this one. Toronto had to travel from Texas yesterday after their game against the Rangers, and then get to Fenway at an ungodly time this morning to prepare for an 11:05 am start. Bud Selig just keeps giving and giving to John Henry and his merry band. Thanks, again, Bud. Can you do something about the audio on Nationals' telecasts?
Heckuva tradition, Patriots Day. Where else can you tie one on before lunch in a socially acceptable manner, then wander out into a crush of sweaty, also-drunken humanity just in time to watch the Boston Marathon come through Kenmore Square?
Curt Schilling struck out 10 today, which is the good news. He also needed 118 pitches to do so, and only lasted 5 innings. The bats certainly picked him up, notably Messrs. Ramirez (2 more homers), Nixon, and Damon.
In the spirit of Schilling's abbreviated outing, I'm done with this entry. Didn't see the game, barely had a chance to follow it online, and have nothing even remotely interesting to say about it. All you Metbloggers that seem to be flooding this site should be happy - less Sox stuff for you to have to wade through to get to Whitney's comedic gold.
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