The Jam

Game 6 - Mets

Braves 3, Mets 2
Record: 4-2

Conveniently, on Friday, last-minute dinner plans meant I'd miss the game and forget to record it. The result: 11-1 dominance by the Mets over the hated Braves. Saturday and Sunday, however, I'd see the games in their entirety, much to my dismay. Today featured a much better-played contest than yesterday's knee-walking defense and overall eyesore, but it may have been harder to swallow. Saturday's mess could be easily discarded as "one of those games" -- and despite the poor play, a game the Mets were in until the last swing. Today, however, we have our first true "winnable loss," albeit a stat kept only here at Misery Loves Company. And that'll sting a bit more.

In addition to the irritation of losing a lead in the bottom of the eighth, this afternoon's outcome may have highlighted what some amid the Township have feared might be the true Achilles heel of this squad. While the majority of ink disparaging the Mets has fixated on the rotation, the early returns show that aspect of the ballclub to be in fine form. Meanwhile, with Duaner a goner for the foreseeable future, a goodly portion of bridging the gap from starter to Wagner will fall on the shoulders of Aaron Heilman. And that, my friends . . . [gulp] . . .

Aaron Heilman has done plenty of good for the New York Mets during his tenure in royal blue and blaze orange, but he's rarely been "unhittable." He's proven serviceable out of the 'pen with his eye really on the rotation -- a place where he has found success, and where one bad inning can be overcome. As a two-pitch pitcher (he has three, but he'll only use two of them at a time), though, he's probably better suited for relief work. I just can't get too comfortable with him on the hill in crunch time. At least not as comfortable as the Braves got.

Heilman entered with a 2-1 lead, thanks to outstanding work by El Duque. Another solid start from Mets pitching was nearly squandered in the 7th by Scott Schoeneweis. Heilman worked out of that jam with an out in that frame, but was subsequently knocked around in the eighth. The powerhouse trio of Shawn Green (who did homer to keep the wolves at bay for another day), Ramon Castro, and David Newhan went quickly and quietly in the ninth to seal it with a whimper.

I don't know . . . maybe I'm still thinking of last October again, a bad habit that's getting the better of me all too often this April. Maybe it still chafes my charlies to think of Yadier "Two-sixteen" Molina taking Heilman deep to quash our hopes, and maybe I have even more choler built up for his gophering than I do for Beltran's freezing or Dee-Dub's struggling or any other contributing factor. By New York standards, Heilman dodged the usual barrage for such a mistake, and while I am actually glad for that development, perhaps there's some underlying frustration and doubt in me when it comes to the guy. Like I said, I don't know.

All I do know is that while the forecast is still strong to quite strong in MetLand, that twelve-year old Manhattan punk in Yankees garb had better watch whom he heckles if Aaron Heilman coughs up too many more leads or he will definitely be finding himself nostrils-deep in the business end of an NYC trash receptacle. The "just happy to be here" nice guys of 2006 are long gone this year.

After the Fire

Games 4 & 5 - Mets

Mets 11, Braves 1
Braves 5, Mets 3
Record: 4-1

Perspective.

It's not just a dimension of art. It's not just a Peter Gabriel song. It's not even just a Liberian newspaper. It's the element in baseball fandom that is necessary to keep us from getting too jazzed up when the Mets steamroll their opponents in the first four games and ESPN unearths comparative stats from 100 years ago. It's awesome when they're crushing teams -- especially the Cardinals and Braves -- and it's fun to see the crazy stats, but perspective keeps the expectations for the next 158 games from swelling too significantly.

It's also what keeps us from diving off the wagon when our lads turn the corner and become pale imitations of the studs who jettisoned the squad to 4-0. Yesterday's contest in Atlanta began promisingly with a LoDuca smash off John Smoltz . . . and quickly soured. The very first defensive play for the Mets featured a would-be 4-3, one which doinked off Carlos Delgado's glove so oddly and ineptly that it instantly dredged memories of our old Arlington men's league softball team's poor-fielding first baseman, a guy who was good for 1-2 of those agitating drops a game. We silently stewed when his hapless glovework would lead to unearned runs. I was a bit more vocal yesterday when our major leaguer demonstrated the same gack.

And then there's Shawn Green. The Mets Township lynch mob wants him on the next bus to any outposts from Tampa to Seattle. I still, almost stubbornly contend that throwing him to the scrap heap and swearing in Mr. Milledge (again) is another hasty, blind decision. Fortunately, for now it's mostly the fans who want the change, not Omar, Willie & the gang. Then again, if Shawn Green keeps flubbing flies in the sun that lead to big innings that in turn lead to losses . . . yeah, let's treat him like a pork roll sandwich during Passover. He's clearly on notice, despite hitting well in the first week.

I wasn't through the roof at 4-0, ever with Ollie Perez shining in utter defiance of the smirks and smearings in the press . . . but maybe I was close. I wasn't right back to hollering at the flat-screen when they kicked and stumbled through yesterday's game. But I wasn't that far off, either. Prudence dictates that we're not allowed to veer from the cool, calm, and collected at this point in the season. But where's the fun in that?

Drugstore

Game 5 - Red Sox

Rangers 8, Red Sox 4
Record: 2-3

Found a new side benefit of combining wine and Tylenol Cold & Flu - turns out their interaction causes fairly intense drowsiness, which worked out great last night, as I passed out just in time to miss Sammy Sosa going yard to close the book on an uninspired performance by every facet of the Sox roster.

Mediocre starting pitching - check. Julian Tavarez did very little cockle-warming in his nasty, brutish, and short 4 innings of work. It took him 87 pitches to struggle through those frames, a result of the ne'er good mix of inability to throw strikes and a prediliction for leaving breaking pitches up in the strike zone.

Indifferent defense - yup. J.D. Drew's ole effort on a sharply hit single in the bottom of the 3rd turned Michael Young's single into a Little League homer, as Young circled the bases after Drew whiffed. The Sox' new rightfielder compounded his mistake by airmailing 2 cutoff men, which allowed Young to avoid being cut down at the plate. Instead of having runners on 1st and 3rd and an 0-2 deficit, the Rangers tied the game on the play. Lucky for Drew that didn't happen during his first week at Fenway - the hatahs are locked and loaded, stoked by Boston's moronic talk radio culture.

Lousy relief pitching - you betcha. J.C Romero gave up the aforementioned bomb to the aged Sosa, part of a 5-batter, 5-hit, 3-run effort for the lefthander.

Inconsistent offense - bingo. The Sox did manage 4 runs - matching their second highest total over the season's first week - but came up wanting in way too many circumstances. Shortly before the magic medicine claimed me, David Ortiz left the bases loaded - robbed a little bit by a nice play from Rangers' starter Kevin Millwood. Manny ran the Sox out of more potential runs in the top of the first, getting thrown out trying to go first to third on Drew's 2-out single to left. All told, the Sox reached base 16 times on 11 hits and 5 walks - 4 runs in that scenario is fairly inefficient.

The loss was made the more grumble-inducing after the Orioles (hey - the season's first complaint about the Birds. Just like the salmon of Capitstrano, another harbinger of Spring) gacked up a 7-2 lead in the Bronx, with Alex Rodriguez' walk-off grand slam closing the deal. That's just what the AL East needs, A-Rod building some confidence. Hey - thanks, Chris Ray.

Curt Schilling goes for redemption on national television tonight. The Schilling of old tosses a dominant performance against the Rangers. The question of whether we get that guy or the old Schilling has quickly become one of the season's central and most pressing ones.

The Lemonheads

Game 4 - Red Sox

Texas Rangers 2, Red Sox 0
Record: 2-2

Here's to you...Robinson Tejeda. A Nation turns its lonely eyes to the batter's box, wondering why the Sox didn't bring their vaunted patience to the Ballpark in Arlington or whatever the hell the Rangers' yard is called these days. The Sox made 7 first-pitch outs in 34 plate appearances, with another 8 batters retired on the 2nd pitch of an at-bat. That's a recipe for an easy day for a pitching staff, and Tejeda and a pair of relievers never gave the Sox a chance, allowing a meager 3 basehits.

The blame goes deep for the offense, and while the season still isn't old enough to breed real worry, the Sox have now managed 12 runs in their first 4 contests, with only 1 homerun. David Ortiz' .133 start isn't much cause for concern, but Covelli Crisp's sluggish .154 out of the blocks isn't helping with that part of Sox fandom that's eager to jump grumpy on the centerfielder. The only real offensive bright spot today was that Jason Varitek didn't make any outs. And you think I'm kidding.

Timmy Wake took his turn in continuing to uphold the pitching staff's end of the bargain, allowing 1 earned in 7 innings of 3-hit ball. Last year, in Wake's 11 losses, the Sox plated a total of *6* runs while he was in the game. Wouldn't blame him if he had ugly flashbacks this evening.

Speaking of ugly, the Sox turn to Julian Tavarez tomorrow to keep alive their chances at salvaging a series victory over the Rangers. I'm feeling sick as a dog and we've got an afternoon Easter Egg Hunt scheduled in 45-degree temperatures. If all breaks right, I'll be passed out by 8:30 and miss the whole tilt.

The Vapors

Game 3 – Red Sox

Red Sox 4, Royals 1
Record: 2-1

Yeah, I went there. Figured I’d better get that headline out of the way early. And it’ll never be more appropriate for a game recap than now. To paraphrase Dennis Green, Matsuzaka is what we thought he was. 7 innings, 6 hits, 1 run, 10 strikeouts, 108 pitches, and a handful of deep sighs of relief from the upper floors on Yawkey Way. Matsuzaka became only the 3rd pitcher in modern big league history to give up 1 or fewer runs and strike out 10 or more in his debut. The niggling demands of my employer meant that I was unable to actually watch any of the action, so I’ll have to wait until next week to actually see for myself.

By my reckoning, Matsuzaka’s got 2 more major early-season hurdles to clear before settling in to try to answer the long-term questions. If yesterday was a circus, even in frigid middle America, next Wednesday promises to be P.T. Barnum’s wet dream, as Matsuzaka faces Seattle in his Fenway Park debut. The first batter to greet him in his first start in home whites will be Ichiro. Somewhere, ESPN employees are putting a ball gag in Steve Phillips’ mouth to make sure he doesn’t say anything demeaning to Asians. For the record, P.T. Barnum’s wet dream has nothing to do with Steve Phillips and a ball gag.

In addition to his home debut, Matsuzaka’s first start against the Yankees will also be freighted with drama, manufactured or otherwise. That’ll likely come later this month, as the Sox and Yanks square off 6 times in the season’s first month. I’m going to take a sedative.

For the 3rd time in 3 games, the Sox scored a single in the top of the 1st inning when Manny’s booming double plated Youks. And for the 3rd time in 3 games, the pitching was the story – another solid effort from the bullpen culminated in Jonathan Papelbon’s first save of the season, a 1-2-3 mow-down of the overmatched Royals. The Sox’ pen has now given up 2 runs in 10 innings, and none over the last 8.

Dustin Pedroia kept up his early-season success, going 2-for-4 to conclude a 5-for-10 series. Julio Lugo doubled and generated the Sox’ second run by stealing 3rd and scoring on John Buck’s errant throw. Even Coco Crisp delivered a timely hit to plate the game’s final tally. The offense did just enough to keep most of the heat off of the bullpen in the late innings, but have played second fiddle to the arms in the season’s infant stages. That recipe will cook up quite nicely if those arms maintain something close to their early pace.

------------------

Sweet news from another corner of the Sox' system, courtesy of Surviving Grady: Jon Lester tossed 4 shutout innings against the Yankees' AA farm club, allowing 2 hits and striking out 5 of the 15 batters he faced. Awesome.

April Wine

Game 3 – Mets

Mets 10, Cardinals 0
Record: 3-0

Across the Township last night and into this morning, just above a murmur you could make out one agonizing, rhetorical question . . .

“Where the hell was this in October?”

It’s easy to ponder painfully what might’ve been if just a sliver of this all-around display of domination had been realized six months ago when it mattered much more, but there’s no point in belaboring it beyond a sardonic smile and a shrug. That was then, this is now, and while there’s not that much difference in the rosters that played to a much different finish in the NLCS, it’s still idle speculation and frustration.

It’s a far more pleasing outlook to heed Rob’s advice and look at last fall’s outcome as a necessary stepping stone towards a greater glory. I said early on last year that I thought the ’06 Mets fit the part of their 1985 predecessors, not a championship club but building towards one, and damned if the St. Louis Cardinals didn’t do their part to dash my hopes -- just as they did back in '85 -- when my expectations were exceeded.

In the year of our Lord 1986, the Redbirds exited the gate as if they expected to repeat, notching a 7-1 start while the Mets moseyed out, dropping three of their first five. Despite the early stumble, those Mets had come close to the postseason the year prior – 98 wins couldn’t get them in back in those days – and their determination was never keener. By the end of April, the Mets were 13-3, the Cards were 8-10; a month later the records were 31-12 and 17-27, earning first and last place respectively. Soon enough, Whitey Herzog (even less likable than St. Louis’s current skipper) and the Cards were Judge Smails to the brash Mets’ Al Czervik. (“Hey, Whitey, where’s your hat?”) The Cardinals’ supposed repeat ended in a losing season; the Mets built on the ’85 ire and . . . well, you know.

I’m not presupposing anything. I’m just saying.

In the long, meandering march to October, you can’t get too bogged down or pumped up by early April results. Still, it’s hard to be anything less than optimistic after sweeping through the Cardinals like they weren’t even there. The Mets outscored St. Louis 20-2 over three games, and last night’s 10-0 beatdown – despite Braden Looper sticking it to every foolhardy Metsblogger who’d salivated at seeing him on the docket – stands as a definitive opening remark in the Case of the 2007 New York Mets.

Every team says in springtime that their mission is nothing less than a title, when in actuality only a handful can claim a viable stake in contention. (Leave parity to the NFL; this is baseball, where small market franchises have as much chance of hoisting the trophy as mid-majors in the NCAA tournament.) This Mets team is clearly one of the contenders, a few naysayers (where starting pitching is concerned) be damned.

This weekend the Metropolitans will have a chance to make another statement, visiting Turner Field to take on a resurgent Braves squad. What passed for a rivalry for the last four or five years was really more of a bully & victim scenario, with the Braves beating up on the Mets until the roles were reversed last year. This year, though, expect to see more of a truly adversarial relationship between the two, with Philly hanging around just to annoy everyone.

Ollie Perez, another part of what one member of the think tank that is the Atlanta Journal-Constitution’s sportswriting staff called “a ghastly rotation,” gets to either confirm or refute the masses of skeptics and their puddle-deep insight. To some extent, we still might be in wait-and-see mode on the Peterson Principles where several key arms are concerned, but right about now I can’t wait for each game’s opening pitch. That’s what an opening-series bludgeoning of the defending champs gets you. So far, so good.

Faster Pussycat

Game 2 - Red Sox

Red Sox 7, Royals 1
Record: 1-1

Quick and dirty post this morning to clear the decks for this afternoon's international extravaganza/Matsuzaka debut. Suffice it to say that our long National nightmare is over, the Sox finally ending their 6-game road losing streak to the *gulp* Royals. If that ain't the most damning indictment of the 2006 Sox' underachievments, I don't know what a'is.

Decent, albeit truncated, outing for Ebby Calvin, who required 94 pitches to get through 5 2-hit innings. Matsuzaka scoffs in his general direction and shoots a look at Tito suggesting that it'd be a bad idea to ask him to leave a game after firing only 94 bullets.

Mike Lowell probably cost Beckett an extra frame by gacking consecutive chances in the 3rd inning, then made his miserable fielding day worse by throwing one away in the late innings. The bully was strong to very strong, posting 4 innings of 1-hit ball - if Snyder, Lopez, Romero, and Pineiro can do that consistently, the Sox will waltz away with the AL East. Also, this morning brings us news that if a frog had wings, it wouldn't bump its ass every time it jumped.

Lowell redeemed himself slightly by plating the eventual winning runs with a 2-run, 2-out double in the first. J.D. Drew looked solid at the plate, and Youks belted the Sox' first homer of the season to essentially put the game out of reach in the 7th.

Bummer that the game was broadcast on the Royals network, meaning the Paul Splittorf's ultra-monotone Midwestern cadence supplanted Jerry Remy's dulcet New England accent. I'm looking forward to April 10, when the Sox play their home opener. Can't wait to hear what Wally the Green Monster's been up to.

Television

Game 2 – Mets

Mets 4, Cardinals 1
Record: 2-0

Last I checked in, I closed with yet another declaration of my affinity for this game, but when love becomes pure addiction, there is no greater fix than the one the Extra Innings package provides. A trip to the park can’t be surpassed in many regards, but gluttons for the national pastime can ingest maximum horsehide by flipping through game after game – further enhanced by TiVo. It’s worth admitting you’re a geek just to experience such baseball overload.

Tonight was the first night of the season to offer just that.

The obvious highlight of tonight’s action was the Met game, which became another happy jab to the World Champion St. Louis Cardinals. As an aside, I’ll stop mentioning them as such when Joe Buck stops mentioning it once a half-inning. I accept and endorse his Redbird bias on the St. Louis broadcast (one of the drawbacks of the ticket), but I don’t have to listen to it. After he elevated Yadier Molina’s 2006 NLCS performance to one of all-time heroism each and every time Molina entered the batter’s box, I had to mute Mr. Buck. As this deep, digressing aside sidetracks this post before it even gets started, I mean, honestly – Molina’s numbers going into that series were way, way worse than Dent’s ’78, Boone’s ’03, Mazeroski’s ’60, Hendu’s ’86, any of the guys in the conversation. It’s painful just to think about, and catching the increasingly grating Joe Buck – in his first Cards-cast of the year and on a night when the World Series rings were presented – is not helping. Even when Endy Chavez entered tonight’s game and they aired the clip of the greatest moment of any sporting event I’ve ever attended, Joe quickly turned a tip of the cap toward Endy into yet another reminder of how it all played out. Annoying. Naturally, if the Mets had won and SNY were doing the same thing, you can bet I’d be eating it up. But they didn’t, and I’m not.

Whew. Take a breath, Whit. The Mets won. (Clearly there is still some baggage from last fall.)

Anyway . . . the Mets did win, and in convincing fashion once again. The bats weren’t nearly as dominant, thanks to Kip Wells’ effective wildness, but the defense shone for a second straight night and El Duque was super-sharp. Ignoring a Scott Rolen blast, the Duque threw seven just-about-flawless frames. That there is some music to the Mets fans’ ears, and a staving off of the inevitable “I told you so’s” to come the first time a Mets starter struggles. It has been the insight-less analysis du jour for months to use the expression “question mark” somewhere in regards to the Mets’ 2007 rotation. Here’s hoping for and believing in a solid, critic-quieting delivery from the underrated crew that updates the menu.

Scott Schoeneweis looked intermittently crisp and imprecise in the eighth, mowing down a pair of Cards before issuing a four-pitch walk to the elfin one and allowing a single to Chris Duncan (who normally hits lefties as if wearing an eyepatch). With the three-run lead and Pujols striding plateward, Willie called for Aaron Heilman while I tried to fight off thoughts of how much I’d rather have a healthy Duaner Sanchez in this spot. Heilman got it done, though, inducing an easy fly on a full count. The first deep sigh of the year, the first extended arms fist raise. Nice.

And Wagner was aces in the ninth; a terrific outing. Nicenice.

A few thoughts on the Mets . . .
Echoing ECA Mike, I am hoping Shawn Green gets his bat out of his tuchas before he’s dumped for clubhouse supplies and Lastings Milledge II: Electric Boogaloo hits right field. We the fans instinctively and fallibly believe in whoever isn’t in the lineup far more than the fellow who is. Milledge had a fine spring and still appears to be a stud prospect, but he’s not even a year removed from the rush job that had him .233ing and being the whirling dervish in Fenway. Ease him into the role, don’t fast-track him. Meanwhile, Green is a veteran hitter who deserves a few more benefits of the doubt than anyone seems to be giving him. Granted, he’s been blindly flailing the bat around like Wendy Torrance at the Overlook so far, but all I am saying is give Green a chance before hurrying Milledge back into a pressured position.

And does anyone else not like the way David Wright has looked at the plate – since say, last September?

On the non-Mets front, and back to the beautiful orchestration that was baseball on TV tonight, I managed to pause the Mets action and flip to three separate games’ final at-bats, all with the tying run at the plate or on base. Great stuff. Of comedic note was old MLC punching bag Dan Wheeler blowing a lead and taking the loss against the Pirates – thanks to old friend Xavier Nady. I chuckled way too fervently to maintain my usually balanced karma, and even had to apologize to Mr. Wheeler while doing so. It just seems like every time I watch him, he implodes as if on cue. And it’s so much more amusing now that he does so for another ballclub.

And finally, if you didn’t see former Tide/Met Jason Tyner’s stolen base tonight (one that proved to be critical, as he became the winning run for the Twins), try to find it. He stumbled and dove about eight feet shy of second base, did the worm the rest of the way in, and was somehow safe because the throw was that wide. Highly entertaining.

John Maine versus Braden Looper (!) tomorrow night. Give me a sweep and an SNY broadcast and I’ll be a whirling dervish myself.

Garbage

Game 1 - Red Sox

Kansas City Royals 7, Red Sox 1
Record: 0-1

My youngest daughter just poured a half-gallon of pee on our living room floor. And in the scheme of things, that was a more pleasant experience than watching/following the Sox' season opener in Kansas City. She's in the middle of potty training. I only wish I had as viable an excuse for the Red Sox.

On this beautiful spring afternoon, the worries of the Nation were in full bloom. Curt Schilling looked every bit his advanced age, getting in trouble from the opening frame, ultimately giving up 5 runs on 8 hits in just 4 innings to a middling Royal lineup. The bullpen did slightly better, but only slightly, allowing 2 more Royal tallies over the final 4 frames - with the final run scored on a particularly fat hanging breaking ball courtesy of erstwhile closer Joel Pineiro. And Jason Varitek, he of the .100ish Spring Training batting average, stayed in his - *ahem* - groove, going 0-for-4 and only getting 1 ball out of the infield.

While the fears of the Nation took center stage, the gotta-have hopeful elements of the lineup didn't do much to breed confidence. Julio Lugo debuted in Boston road grays with a 1-for-4, 3 strikeout effort. Coco Crisp, the much-hoped bounceback candidate opened up 0-for-3.

Even the givens kept their powder dry in this one, with Manny and Papi combining for 1 hit in 7 trips, though Ortiz' 1st-inning double plated the Sox' only run. J.D. Drew, Kevin Youkilis, and Dustin Pedroia passed for bright spots in this otherwise bleak effort, turning in a 5-for-9 outing.

And despite all that, as my colleague notes just below, we don't know anything today that we didn't know yesterday. I just hope that my daughter hasn't graduated to tossing her shit around the room by Wednesday, when Josh Beckett makes his first start of the season.

Minor Threat

Let the record show that Julio Lugo opened the 2007 Red Sox season by taking a ball low from Kansas City's Gil Meche. Let the record further note that it's 80 degrees and sunny here in the Nation's Capital and all is very, very well in the world, other than the fact that I'm inside an office while I type those words. Finally, while we're noting things for posterity, let it be publicly declared that ESPN's Gamecast has way too much going on for these aging eyes to adequately assimilate - I just now realized that Lugo struck out and Kevin Youkilis singled, even though those things happened 3 or 4 minutes ago.

Oh, and David Ortiz just doubled in Youkilis. Glad to have you back, pastime.

Genesis

Game 1 – Mets

Mets 6, Cardinals 1
Record: 1-0

The over/under on how many times during the month of April that Rob or I type something that roughly translates into “it’s still too early to make any judgments” is 14, so let’s just get one of them out of the way. Wouldn’t be prudent . . . at this juncture . . . to get ahead of ourselves. Not gonna do it.

That said, there is nothing quite like Opening Day, or in the Mets’ case, Opening Night. And there’s nothing like stomping the World Series Champions in something of a rematch from last fall’s NLCS to kick off the new campaign. It felt good, and there’s nothing wrong with a sliver of revelry after watching it. Most of us in the Township are no dummies; we know that Tom Glavine hitting his spots and the lineup driving in runs is the given (or it had better be), with the rest of the rotation and the bullpen –which bent but did not break last night – presenting significantly more of a variable. But baseball is baseball, and when anything can happen but the expected positive result still does, be pleased.

Glavine becomes more of a Met and less of a Brave all the time; there’s no question which lid he’ll don on the plaque, mind you, but those first couple of shaky years at arm’s length seem a distant memory.

The aforementioned pen made things interesting more than once last night, but man oh man, did the defense come to play. Reyes’s wizardry is the standard; Beltran’s unadvisable but dazzlingly effective gun to the plate was a bonus; Alou’s diving catch and Valentin’s two-turning were absolute gravy, but critical to the outcome. If the Mets can muster that level of play on a regular basis, that kind of D will make any sort of pitching staff seem Grade A.

As an aside, here’s a tip for Hollywood: think about making Miami Vice: The Early Years, featuring David Wright as a raw Sonny Crockett, Jose Reyes as a young Rico Tubbs, and Jose Valentin as a (no matter how young he is, he always looks old) Lt. Castillo. Okay, maybe it's a stretch, but 'Stache’s resemblance to the stoic Lieutenant distracts me a fair bit. At the very least, it’s worth a cheesy Mets promo poster.

Everyone in the starting lineup for New York recorded a hit, including Glavine, but it was the infield’s turning of four double plays – including a spectacular one started by an amazing snare by Valentin – that kept this from being a tighter affair. There was plenty to enjoy, not much to frown about (except perhaps Paul LoDuca taking a foul ball off his hand), and Baseball Season 2007 is underway with a smile.

Sometime during February or early March I thought to myself that the excitement and heartbreak of that October night at Shea seemed like years and years ago, thanks to my burying any off-season thoughts of the Mets into hibernation, like a depressive’s repression. Last night was a letter-perfect Mets awakening for me, and it’s as if that loss in Game 7 happened last week. God, I love baseball.

Missing Persons

Rob's been dominating the MLC space of late, and this cameo won't offset that, but let this be a mini-trailer for the feature presentation. Misery Loves Company has always been an April-October production. Though other blogs carry on throughout the off-season, we still fend off the pressure to resemble the 24/7/365 sports news media monster, full of sound and fury with the fabled significance.

We'd rather go ice fishin' in the winter and keep just enough of a hot stove lit to keep us warm. We'd rather engage in other pastimes beyond baseball. Hell, we'd rather work on other related and unrelated projects and steer you there. But come April Fool's Day, we'll be here waiting for you with plenty of prose -- equal parts pithy and pissy, to be sure.

Until then, we'll just be getting settled in here. In case you missed our comments on the subject, we've agreed on the terms of the 2007 Case Bet with the usual accusations and regret:

Rob predicts the Red Sox will win 97 games
Whitney predicts the Mets will win 95 games
Boston Red Sox -2

And let there be 24 malted beverages of choice delivered from the loser to the winner. Game on.

In actual Met news, Duaner Sanchez's comeback trail now resembles the Ho Chi Minh Trail, minus the fun stuff. It's about now that we among the Township start to peer at that roster cautiously, helplessly hoping that the bullpen holds fast. It's only March, and there's a tiny bit of tension that wasn't there in February, but it's a far cry from the muscle-tightening that will take place if the Metmen stumble out of the gate.

There's every chance that the 7-8-9 frames could feature Schoeneweis, Heilman, and Wagner; "The Fourth Reich" seems to be a nickname in very poor taste, but strap on the lederhosen when these guys get the ball, because once they start serving up their Bavarian cream, it could get interesting. (You'll note that I avoided any references to a certain infamous Deutsche zeppelin and homonymous usages of the word "worst." I'm just not in mid-season form yet.)

Every analysis of every team at this point in the calendar must contain a few question marks. Some are larger than others. After the performance of the '06 Mets, the ifs aren't quite as fearsome, but they're still there. It's odd how comfortably calm Rob and I both are, just eager to get this thing rolling.

Three and a half days until the New York Mets re-enter my life like a space capsule returning to earth. Expect a lot of sudden heat, some dead air, a big splash, and a lot of cheering. There's always a chance of tragedy, but we've got a lot of good people working on ways to minimize the chance of that happening. All right, folks . . . it's go time.

N.E.R.D

The always on-target lads at Fire Joe Morgan have noted with particular interest the escalation of the ongoing feud between Curt Schilling and Dan Shaughnessy (read No. 38's take here). I'm interested, too, if only because it's unique to see an athlete fight back effectively in this usually one-sided battle. The disintermediating power of the internet must be terrifying to Shaughnessy and his ilk, as his cowardly (and poorly aimed) column illustrates in stark relief.

But I come here not to bury the CHB, but to gawk incredulously at the following commentary from Schilling, also unearthed by the FJM team. Here's Schilling discussing what appears to be a particularly gnarly episode from Everquest, an online roleplaying game:

Q: Tell us some of the most interesting adventures you have had while playing Everquest? Did you ever do something really stupid? Something that you are really proud of?

A: My first foray into Lower Guk was a lot of fun. My favorite memories are pretty basic. Completing the Robe of the Lost Circle quest was a blast. Camping Raster was a nightmare, but I got stupidly lucky. I had pretty much resigned myself to camping Scythehands in the Mino room, logging in, seeing another monk already there camping, and waiting. One night I log in, and there's a 55 level monk there. Great guy. He's been there for like 12 hours. No Raster -- pop, despawn, pop, despawn -- still no Raster. Now I'm in about my 3rd day there -- total time camping him maybe 5-10 hours tops -- but getting some good groups when I did have the camp (lotsa guild mates showed up and we pulled and got great exp). Anyway, this guy says ok, one more spawn and it's yours. So I wait and this guy says 'screw it' and leaves. I get a full group and we get the camp. We are there for about 2 minutes when we are in a major, major brawl and we barely survive. I'm laying there, feign death style, and no one in the group is hurt but me. I have no mend and about a bub of health. My group runs some frogloks down the hall to finish them off and POP! RASTER! If there was a way to scream louder than caps in EQ I was doing it. Man I am straight panicking because I know I have NO CHANCE soloing and the party has run off. I'm in my hotel room; it's like 5am, and I am straight hollering, in EQ and in real life. Bottom line is the group comes back, heals me, and kills Raster! WOOT!

I mean, wow. That's really...something. If we could get more professional athletes involved in the world of multiplayer gaming, Roger Goodell could certainly sleep more easily, among other things. Pacman Jones would be making it rain in Lower Guk instead of Las Vegas, and Joey Porter would be using feign death style instead of uppercut/roundhouse against Levi Jones. The world would be a much safer, if far, far geeblier place.

WOOT!, indeed.

Southern Culture on the Skids

I'm not certain, but I think I saw Ebby Calvin Beckett throw not one but several curveballs for strikes during the first inning of this afternoon's Grapefruit League tilt against the Devil Rays. It was a bit warm here today, and I might have been feeling the effects of my first cold beer of the day, so don't go running off and spreading the news. Beckett didn't get any help from his defense, with errors by both Julio Lugo and Kevin Youkilis costing the Sox an early unearned run, but he did settle in for a tantalizing 7-inning, 3-hit, 0-earned run outing.

Beckett's prediliction for rearing back and trying to throw his redass gas past everybody got him into significant trouble last season, in combination with his thick-headed Texan independent streak. If he's really learning to pitch instead of get by on his God-given talent, a wing and a prayer, then 2007 could be fairly well spectacular for the still-young righty. If, as Mr. Kipling noted, is a mighty, mighty word.

That aforementioned beer, by the way, came courtesy of a neighbor who received a Beer of the Month Club subscription as a gift but...doesn't drink beer. I'm enjoying his largesse while trying to figure out how to break the news to his wife that he's gay. Today's selection was Santa's Butt, a tasty winter porter from England's Ridgeway Brewery. Not exactly apropro for the warmest day of the year, but delicious nonetheless.

Smoking Popes

Long day of mostly forgettable meetings yesterday, so this is my first opportunity to really think about the news that erstwhile Sox closer and projected starter Jonathan Papelbon is heading back to the pen for the forseeable future. All signs seem to indicate that both Papelbon and the Sox' front office wanted to make this move, which bodes well for organizational harmony. Additionally, the media is reporting that the ballclub is pretty happy with it, which is a positive from a confidence and chemistry perspective.

On the other hand, this leaves a bunch of questions, the answer(s) to which will reveal the ultimate value of the change.

1. Julian Tavarez is now the Sox' 5th starter. Tavarez pitched pretty well in 6 starts at the end of last year, but that was garbage time with far less pressure than he'll face now that he's critical to the Sox' pennant chances. If he's solid, say 150 innings at league-average ERA, then I have to like their odds. If he stinks, though, the Sox 5th starter slot could be the source of much consternation, at least until we know...

2. The status of Jon Lester's recovery. The Sox are better informed (y'know, duh) than anyone about Lester's health and strength. If they feel he'll be able to contribute during the second half of the season, then Tavarez is a reasonably low-risk gamble. If they don't expect much from Lester, then the Tavarez experiment could really blow up, unless...

3. This opens a door for Roger Clemens to come back to Boston. It's now a pretty compelling fit both for the Sox and for the Texas Con Man. My disdain for Clemens is well documented and remains active. I'd have no choice but to hold my nose and root for the Sox if they hired that mercenary bastard, but man would I feel dirty doing it.

On balance, then, I'm supportive of the move. Papelbon seems much happier, and is saying all the right things about his excitement for closing for now and for the next 10 years. The Sox plug a major hole while creating a much smaller one (because the incremental lift in going from Pineiro et al to Papelbon is a hell of a lot greater than the incremental loss in going from Papelbon to Tavarez) and have some options if Tavarez doesn't pan out. All's well that ends well, so long as the ending doesn't feature a 44 year-old douchebag wearing No. 21.