The Mets Lost, But Still...

B&E readers will be relieved to hear that I made it out to my first game of the Mets season this past weekend. I know you've all been waiting for this report. The Mets had pretty much lost the game by the end of the first inning, so it was really not about the game. But here's a report, according to the notes I took throughout.

Pre-game
I take the trusty 7 train, and a man in Mets jersey is offering what advice he's able to a Scotsman, who's trying to find his way to Long Beach. The Mets fan has a southern accent, and considering he's on the subway to New Shea, he knows very little about the 7 train. I chime in, resulting in being heartily welcomed into their circle of conversation.

The Scotsman announces he doesn't know the first thing about baseball. The Mets fan says that it's like rounders. This is something the missus tries to insist upon, and not knowing anything about rounders, except that it's played mostly by girls in schoolyards, I try to defend baseball's honor.

The Scotsman is from just outside of Glasgow, and has one of the most incomprehensible accents I've heard. I realize that part of the Mets fan's difficulty in giving directions is his inability to understand what the Scotsman is asking. I've had a little practice with the Glaswegian accent, so I help out. After the Scotsman gets off to grab the Long Island Railroad, the Mets fan and I agree that if he has to ask anyone else for directions, it's going to be a real challenge.

The Mets fan is from North Carolina, just in town for the weekend, but he's somehow a Mets fan. We never get to the point in the conversation in which I learn why he roots for the Mets. We wish each other a good game and get off the train at New Shea.

The Mets have upgraded New Shea to include more of Old Shea and Mets history, the lack of which has been the biggest complaint about the new stadium (my biggest complaint is the new stadium's name, but I fear I'm in the minority on that one). One of the first things you notice as you come down the stairs is Old Shea's Home Run Apple.

I'm a fan of Old Shea's Home Run Apple. It's charming in a beat up, low-rent sort of way, and watching it pop up after those rare home runs added some humor to the celebratory event. I'm among those that wish they'd transplanted this Apple right into the new stadium, but the Mets front office sees it differently.

But I'm happy to say that it's right outside the stadium now, where everyone can enjoy it.

You can just see a really happy kid poking his head into the photo there.

It's a bit of a spontaneous trip out to New Shea, so I need to buy my tickets at the stadium windows. I have an uncanny ability to choose the wrong window every time. Today is no exception. The guy in front of me has a very hairy neck.

Maybe it's the slowness of the ticket line (a lot of walk-up buyers breeze by me) or just that I'm exceptionally cheap when it comes to buying tickets to New York Metropolitan games, but my seat is about as far from the action as it can be.

1st Inning
On the way to my seat, I decide to stand in the back of the field level to watch the first batter. Johan Santana deals to Nyjer Morgan of the Washington Nationals, and he immediately hits a triple. I decide that maybe standing here isn't a good idea.

By the time I get to my seat, the Nationals have loaded the bases, and before I know it, Josh Willingham has hit a bases-clearing triple that, upon further review by the umpires, is ultimately ruled a home run. A grand slam in the top of the 1st inning, and I've only just gotten to my seat.

The blind spots in this stadium are not insignificant. I can't see a large portion of the outfield. That's another complaint about the new stadium.

The first half of the first inning finally comes to an end, and I realize that I've forgotten to put on sunscreen. Well, my doctor says I need more Vitamin D. This is the view from my seat.

It's a pretty nice day, despite the score.

2nd Inning
The Mets look lackluster out there. Gary Matthews, Jr. comes to bat to James Brown, but Gary doesn't nearly bring the power that James did.

3rd Inning
The bathrooms are actually pretty nice at New Shea.

The Mets are in trouble again, but then bright spot Jeff Franceour throws a bullet from right field and ON THE FLY nails Adam Dunn at the plate. Dunn is out by such a distance that he doesn't even bother to slide or knock over the catcher. Jeff's got a cannon out there.

Johan Santana has Carlos Santana playing over the loudspeakers when he's warming up before the game. But I'm pretty sure he comes to bat to Michael Jackson's "It Don't Matter if You're Black or White." Which is unexpected.

4th-6th Innings
I pay a visit to the New Mets' Hall of Fame and Museum, which is small (insert joke here) but quite satisfying. Plaques of Mets legends adorn the walls, video of previous World Series teams play on a loop, game-used equipment and other pieces of Mets history are presented behind glass. My favorite is probably the handwritten notes Casey Stengel took about his ballplayers on the hapless 1962 team.

This is a cute sculpture of Casey Stengel.

Isn't he cute?

A record of better days in Mets history: the 1969 World Series trophy.

Plenty of room in the Mets Hall of Fame for more of those. I suspect that won't happen this year.

7th Inning
I go for some food. I find that the item I return to at New Shea is the fried flounder sandwich at Pasternak's Catch of the Day stand. It's just good. I think it's even crispier this year.

Tasty, right?

I wonder when the Mets decided to sing "God Bless America" during the 7th inning again.

8th Inning
I take a seat in a shady area near my section. A punk guy is screaming profanities, and the two punk girls sitting with him are detached and amused. He's very tightly wound. He leaves before the game ends.

Still, there's some excitement, as Mike Jacobs, who's hearing the boo birds pretty early in the season, hits a two-run home run. It feels too late, though, which is weird, considering it's really not.

9th Inning
Francisco "Pink Eye" Rodriguez hits a batter in the 9th, and even though there didn't appear to be any altercation, suddenly the benches are clearing. I love watching the guys from the bullpens run toward the action because, of course, by the time they actually get there, they have to turn right around and go back to the bullpens. It's a funny tradition, the clearing-of-the-benches. Everyone is required to clear the benches, even if you have no intention of participating in any sort of physical violence. Ah, baseball tradition.

Jim Bouton actually has a very funny story about this tradition in his groundbreaking book Ball Four, the first of the sports tell-all books. I'm not going to retell it here because it feels like it would be too much work.

The Mets go out like a lamb in the bottom of the 9th.

They don't look good, B&E readers, I don't mind telling you. But a day at the ballpark is still one hell of a way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

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

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

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

Man, I'm glad spring training is here.

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

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

Okay, I'll Bite

Part of me wants to let it go, but apparently I can't resist...

Mark McGwire admitted steroid use. And man, former Bush press secretary Ari Fleischer earned the shit out of his crisis management fee.

Yes, it was a good strategy well-executed by all parties involved, even tears and (perhaps) genuine emotion from McGwire himself, all orchestrated to repair his image and give him a shot at becoming a member of the Baseball Hall of Fame, after yet another year of receiving "yes" votes on only 25% of the ballots, when 75% is needed.

Anyway, the whole theater of the mea culpa makes me want to fucking puke.

Still, I'm giving Mark McGwire a pass on steroid use. Not only that, but I'm also giving a pass to anyone who used steroids before 2003. Shit, baseball didn't even ban them until 2003, so no one was breaking rules.

Laws are a different matter, I suppose, and if there are prosecutors who want to waste time tracking down steroid users and their dealers, go ahead. It seems like a fucking waste of resources, but whatever. I don't care.

No, I'm dropping the steroid problem onto the heads of Major League Baseball executives and team owners and management. Fuck those guys. They were the true beneficiaries of steroid use throughout baseball. At best, they looked away. But they were lining their pockets with oodles of cash as baseball hit new heights of popularity, thanks to the very steroid users/home run hitters who saved baseball after the '94 players' strike. That the players are now the fall guys for this steroid "scandal" is fucking bullshit, B&E readers.

I have less sympathy for the players who used steroids in 2003 or later. They were officially breaking the rules then.

Anyway, baseball... Ain't it great?

And for my non-baseball readers, I offer this image of one of Egypt's hunkiest soccer (that's football in Egypt) players, courtesy of blondandeffective, who describes him as a "halal beefcake specimen." Who can't agree with that?

Now THAT is a Baseball Fan

As if I needed another reason to like Donald Sutherland (Keifer would be enough!), the Bats Blog on the New York Times website featured a story that gave me much pleasure.

The blog post by Tyler Kepner is discussing how the Montreal Expos, which hasn't been a team in Major League Baseball since 2004, is starting to jump back into the news, as former Expos greats get elected to the Hall of Fame: first Gary Carter and now Andre Dawson. Tyler tags on a nice anecdote at the end of his post.

Donald Sutherland was a big Montreal Expos fan, and would attend games quite frequently, especially back in the late 70s and early 80s, when they weren't a joke team. If his agent needed to get a hold of Donald in the middle of the game, rather than call his cell phone, still more than a decade from being available, his agent would call the front office, which would post a message on the scoreboard at the dome. "Donald, call your agent."

During a particularly tense game, Donald's agent called, needing an answer about a particular project. The game was too important, and Donald hung up on him. Once the game seemed safely won, Donald, feeling relieved, called back his agent and said, "I don't care what the deal is. I'll do the movie."

The movie was Robert Redford's Ordinary People, a movie only slightly less depressing than the demise of the Montreal Expos.

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

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

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

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

And everyone in baseball knows it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hangover? David, Please.

In David Wells' autobiography, which he totally wrote himself, he discusses pitching his perfect game while hungover. It's certainly not the first claim of a major baseball accomplishment performed under the influence.

For my money, there's no more colorful baseball story than Dock Ellis's 1970 no-hitter, which he claims to have thrown while freaking out on LSD. And I rather like this new video, which I found on the new sports page on HuffPo. I've embedded it for your viewing pleasure.

Can I Get an "Oy!"?

The past few days have been upheavalous, a word I just made up.

As I've stated on numerous occasions, I don't much care for the overly personal here on the B&E. I'd much rather discuss baseball (the Mets are terrible!), punctuation holidays (dog's cock!), and politics (yes, the right-wing is racist!).

But alas, sometimes the personal creeps into my blogging life. It is, after all, what goes on inside this bald, effective head of mine.

Back in February, I'd gotten the OK from my boss to take a sabbatical, and since it's so very difficult to balance everyday life with creative output (the output suffers), I figured I'd apply to some of those residency programs like the one I used to work for in Vermont. In May, I got accepted to one. In October, I was spending the month there.

It's a small program in the hills of Kentucky, and it really did seem like the ideal place to figure out this new project I'm mulling over. It had nature, solitude, a small community of artists, and no cost. I was going to start driving on Thursday, see a cousin, his family, and a high school friend en route, and arrive on Saturday for a month of writing and creative rejuvenation.

On Friday, I got an email that they're dealing with a health emergency and have had to suspend their residency program for the rest of the year.

Meanwhile, I'm ready to go. But where? So I've got feelers out, scrambling for new options, and I must say, the outpouring of support from the people in my life has been pretty amazing.

My worst-case scenarios are pretty good, actually. Empty houses and cabins in idyllic locations. And there are some long-shot possibilities at other residency programs. So I'll end up somewhere.

But I'm pretty bummed to be missing out on this place in Kentucky. It was everything I was looking for.

And it was only a few hours from the Louisville Slugger Factory and Museum!

We Poor, Oppressed White People

Because I'm a straight, white man, there are things I can say to my fellow straight, white men that, for example, a lesbian Latina can't. From people outside my ethnic and sexual identity majority, it would be condescending and inappropriate. So please, allow me to speak frankly to the other straight, white men out there.

Dudes... We are not oppressed.

In fact, because we are white and straight and male, we have just about every advantage that birth can offer. Yes, some of us have seen hardship. Class boundaries, too, are real, and upward mobility is a challenge that runs across ethnic, gender, and sexual identity lines.

But seriously, dudes... We are not oppressed.

Allow me to use a baseball metaphor (since we are straight, white men). When we are born, it's like our lives have a guy on third base with nobody out. Being male puts a runner on first; being white lets that runner steal second standing up; and being straight causes the pitcher to stop paying attention, allowing the runner to sneak into third.

The odds of our success are therefore much higher. If I get a hit, that runner scores a point for my life. Hell, I can fly out, and the chances are pretty good that the runner scores. Jesus, there's even a chance that I can ground out, and if the infield is playing back, the runner scores. And get this: If the pitcher throws me a nasty split-fingered fastball in the dirt, it's possible that I will strike out, and yet that ball will scurry away from the catcher, allowing that runner to score. I call that "the George W. Bush run."

It's possible that I'll fucking blow it. It happens. If you're a Mets fan, you know. You see that guy on third and know the chances are pretty good he won't score. But if I'm the one batting, it's on me. Only if I were a real bitch would I blame the crowd or the umpire or the opposing players for my own personal failings.

So get it together, dudes. We are not oppressed.

I mean, racism? Really? Racism is an institutional problem in this country stemming from hundreds of years of historical oppression. I reject by definition that members of minority groups are racist. Your group has to be in power to be racist. I accept that there are bigots within ethnic minority groups. But until one of those ethnic minority groups becomes a majority that institutionally oppresses white people because they're white people, I will not call them racist.

In other words, "reverse racism" is a concept that doesn't exist in reality.

So come on, dudes. We are not oppressed. Seriously, fellow straight, white men: there is oppressed, and there is us. Oppressed is not us.

And to all of you straight, white men in positions of power currently making the argument that you are oppressed... It just doesn't quite hold water, seeing as you're senators, representatives, talk-show hosts, TV personalities, etc., etc.

Honkies, please...

Stay Classy, Staten Island

We had a bit of a work outing last night, taking in a game at the Ballpark at St. George on Staten Island. The Yankees' independent single-A affiliate, cleverly called the Staten Island Yankees, play there. And I do love a minor league baseball game.

Local news (NY1!) has occasional reports of the rising obesity problem in New York City. I think maybe those studies are all taking place at the Ballpark at St. George. But that's not really what I want to share with you, my dear B&E readers.

These Single-A players are pursuing a dream. It's possible, but unlikely, that one of the players we saw last night will work his way through the minor league system and make it the pros. These guys have a long way to go, and the odds are stacked against them.

At this level, I root for individuals. I have absolutely no loyalty to the Staten Island Yankees or the Aberdeen Ironbirds. But I'm pulling for these players. So when an Aberdeen Ironbird player smacked the ball into the corner and sped his way to a triple, I just said, "Nice!"

The father in the family sitting in front of us gave me a pretty good glare. He had some long hairs coming out of the tip of his nose.

He'd already sort of annoyed the colleague sitting next to me by sticking his elbow in her beer, and after I got the glare, she told me that she was reading his text messages over his shoulder earlier in the game. One said:

FUCK U COCKSUCKER U GAY MOTHERFUCKER

I didn't see the message, so I'm not sure if it actually used the texting vernacular or caps or punctuation, but that's what I imagined when she shared that with me.

The gay slur is still ubiquitous, isn't it?

But this one just doesn't make sense. I mean, if Hairy Nose is fucking his mother, he's not gay. He's got issues, but he's not gay.

Now, if the mother in the family had gotten that text message, it'd be closer to accurate, I suppose, although the cocksucker part would perhaps imply that she's not gay.

I just don't think that text message was very well thought out.

The Mets' New Archbishop

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

Not so, it seems, with baseball loyalties.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Food at Bailout Ballfield

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

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

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

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

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

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

Xady Watch - Frozen Assets

Once again, B&E reprises the old Xady Watch feature, because Xavier "Who?" Nady is in the news again. Unfortunately for Who, the news isn't baseball-related.

Who and fellow Yankee Johnny Damon had indirect investments with the Stanford Group. Allen Stanford is another billionaire financier accused of fraud (TPMMuckraker has fine coverage if you're interested). Who and Damon currently have their assets frozen.

Damon will pull down $13 million this year, and Who will be making just over half that amount. So it's not like they're going to be destitute or anything, but Who is trying to buy a damned New York City apartment at the moment, and good luck getting through a co-op board when you don't even have use of your credit cards.

Co-op Board Member: So tell the co-op board a little about yourself.
Xady: I'm Xavier Nady, outfielder for the New York Yankees.
Co-op Board Member: I'm sorry, Who?

Good luck with the frozen assets and apartment hunt, Who. We're all pulling for you.

Bringing Back the Niekro Knuckler

Sometimes my general love for baseball and the stories therein outweigh a particular team fandom, and that includes my beloved Mets.

A little more than two years ago, one of my favorite pitchers of all time, Joe Niekro, passed away. I love the knuckleball today because of Joe.

Joe's son Lance made his Major League debut a few years back, and I was a bit disappointed to learn that he was a position player, a first baseman who could hit pretty well.

Lance has largely been an average player, and since his father died, he's been even less than average, which resulted in his release by the Astros last season, giving Lance an early retirement at age 30.

But Joe taught his boy how to throw a knuckleball, and Lance would often entertain his teammates (and "kneecap" them) with it. Lance's uncle Phil (Joe's knuckleballing Hall of Fame brother) works in the Atlanta Braves organization. Phil is honing Lance's knuckleball skills, and Lance is hoping to kick off a new pitching career with the Braves, following in his father's footsteps.

Because I'm a Mets fan, rooting against the Braves in just about any situation comes naturally for me (although recently it's been more fun to root against the Phillies, not that it's been working particularly well).

The sentimentalist in me, however, wants Lance to succeed, and I'll be rooting for him when he's on the mound. I just love a goddamn knuckleball, and I loved watching Joe pitch. I always hope that Tim Wakefield has a good outing when he's pitching on national TV, and I'm not remotely the biggest Red Sox fan.

The knuckleball is a dying art in baseball. Pitching coaches don't know how to coach it, and catchers hate to catch it. It either completely baffles hitters, or it's the equivalent of lobbing a softball in there. It's exciting and unpredictable and makes for fantastic baseball.

More knuckleballers, please. Best of luck to you, Lance Niekro. Make papa proud.

Pitchers and Catchers Tomorrow!

Oh, it's almost time for spring training, B&E readers/baseball fans! And there's been a lot of baseball news of late, if you consider drug use "baseball news."

Performance-enhancing drugs keep making headlines. A-Rod admitted using them back when he was young and stupid, like only 26, but you know, it was all just the culture at the time, and I felt all this pressure, and excuse excuse excuse excuse, and he's totally a clean Yankee and always has been a clean Yankee. Nothing to see here, folks, except my hairless pectoral muscles and exceptional ball-playing abilities unless it's October.

Speaking of performance-enhancers, Miguel Tejada put in his guilty plea for lying to Congressional investigators about a teammate's use of drugs. How the hell did Miguel think he'd get away with that? It's not like he's a member of the Bush administration or something. So in his plea Miguel says that he was once given a shot of human growth hormone, and he threw it away without using it. I totally believe him about that. Totally. Totally.

And then of course there was the revelation that yes, Virginia, Barry Bonds did test positive for steroids. As evidence in his trial those tests might get chucked, but that doesn't really matter anymore, does it? He's an asshole everyone dislikes immensely, and now it OK to publicly call him a liar.

Players on steroids. Meh. It's not that I don't care. I want baseball to be clean. I like pitchers' duels, small ball, and low-scoring games. I just particularly hate that the buck stops with the players. Owners and management are culpable too, and in fact profited from the monster home runs more than anyone, but no one's going after those guys, who awarded the giant contracts to the big hitters.

Then, unrelated to steroids, there's this little story, first broken by the New York Daily News. Roberto Alomar was an All-Star second baseman, and some would probably say that he was one of of the all-time great second basemen. He played for the New York Mets for a couple of seasons and was an unmitigated disaster. He suddenly stopped hitting, he made boneheaded plays in the field, and he became one of the Mets fans' favorite scapegoats.

My expert punditry about this story: shit is fucked up. Robby's ex-girlfriend has filed a lawsuit that accuses him of making him have unprotected sex with her even though he has full-blown AIDS. See what I mean? This shit, true or untrue, is seriously fucked up.

Robby's lawyer says the lawsuit is frivolous and, "He's healthy and would like to keep his health status private." Excuse me, Mr. Lawyer, but if you want to keep his health status private, you shouldn't announce that he's healthy. I mean, you just publicized that he's healthy, so his health status is no longer private. I'm confused.

A bunch of other media outlets have picked up the story now, but buried deep in the Daily News article and not mentioned by others is that Robby told his girlfriend that when he was 17, after playing a game in a Southwestern state, he was raped by two Mexican men.

Shit. Is. Fucked. Up.

When NY1 reported on the Roberto Alomar lawsuit yesterday morning, to accompany the story they played clips of his many mishaps on the field at Shea Stadium - double plays, strikeouts, errors, etc. The editor of the piece was clearly a Mets fan, still resentful of Robby's meltdown. That shit is fucked up, too.

But starting tomorrow, there's actual spring training baseball happening. There's even some unofficial spring training baseball happening already. I can't wait to read about baseball again and not all this fucked up shit.

Because that all that shit is fucked up.

I Guess If It's the Only Way...

Some of you may have heard that here in the United States of America we just elected our first African-American president. His name is Barack Obama.

So once President Obama's term is up after four or eight years, will we go right back to white men? How about a woman? Maybe an Asian or Latino? How about an openly gay president? We've never had one of those.

(Obviously, we've had closeted gay presidents: James K. Polk was a particular flamer; William Howard Taft was a charter member of the Bear Club; and Andrew Jackson was overcompensating.)

What will it take? Well, if Iceland is any indication, it'll take a massive financial meltdown and full-on governmental collapse before an openly gay person will become the leader of a whole country.

From what I can understand (and let's face it: I don't really), Iceland's problems are like our problems in the United States on a healthy dose of steroids. George Mitchell worked on Major League Baseball's steroid report, and now he's the special envoy to the Middle East. And that has nothing to do with anything!

How Long Before Opening Day?

I don't know if it's the arctic weather or what, but something about this past week has gotten me ready for baseball season. Just like all of you B&E readers!

The Mets have found themselves in a world of hurt over the design of their inaugural season patch. It's so bad that it even made an appearance on the Colbert Report. As good as Stephen's report is, I have to say I'm somewhat partial to this presentation of the logo's runners-up.

Balancing my lack of enthusiasm for the new uniform patch (which follows the design vocabulary of the Citigroup brand - a little marketing lingo for you on B&E!) is this little Playstation3 video of the Mets new stadium (CitiField, a.k.a. Bailout Ballfield, a.k.a. Barack Obama Park). It all goes by pretty quickly (stupid hip MTV editing), but I have to say that I'm pretty excited to see a Mets game in a real baseball-appropriate stadium.

And I rather liked the industrial dump that was Shea Stadium. Now that it's being demolished, of course, it's really an industrial dump.

Speaking of Barack Obama Park, the Mets single-A independently affiliated Brooklyn Cyclones know a thing or two about their demographic. For one day, they will become the Baracklyn Cyclones and offer Barack Obama bobbleheads (although I think bobble-ears would be more appropriate), economic stimulus pricing, universal health care (i.e. free Band-Aids to the first 1,000 fans, which isn't quite "universal," but very appropriate for the state of our health care system), and more. Minor League Baseball promotions are the best.

Finally, as most of you know, the missus and I keep an eye on the goings-on in Scotland. The utter lack of baseball in Scotland is a giant "con" on my list for moving there. It turns out there's not an "utter lack" after all.

The Scotland Baseball League looks very ragtaggy, with mismatched uniforms and a website reminiscent of the site for the league I played for in Vermont, which makes me think I could possibly qualify for the national team. I wonder if they're playing with logs and stones, and I sure hope they're wearing cups under their kilts.

Now I'm just being a jerk, of course, and the truth is there's nothing I covet more than the Scotland Baseball jersey.

Man, But I Do Love a Knuckleball

A five-foot, hundred fifteen pound 16-year-old pitcher has become the first woman drafted to play professional baseball in Japan with men. Eri Yoshida's secret? A wicked, side-arm knuckleball.

More pitchers should throw a knuckleball. It keeps catchers on their toes, it goes wherever it wants to, and when it fails to flail, it gets hit and hit hard. It's the perfect recipe for a fantastic baseball game.

I want Yoshida to pitch for the Mets. I really do. Someone get on the horn with Omar Minaya.

Phanatics!

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

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

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

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

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

Panic

So this morning, as I was doing my regular trolling of the political websites that feed me and my neuroses, I suddenly panicked. Yes, I'm concerned that the Republican Party will figure out a way to steal this election, but no, that's not what caused my panic.

As of November 5th (well, the 6th in practicality), I don't know what I'll write about to entertain the B&E readers. The election will finally be over, and so will the baseball season. Politics and baseball: those are my bread and butter topics.

My well will be dry, dear B&E readers. I sure hope you bear with me. I guess I'll need to do more research into hedgehogs.

Maybe I'll Give the Phillies a Pass This Round

It's my duty as a Mets fan to root against the Philadelphia Phillies. Hence, my support for the Los Angeles Dodgers in the National League Championship Series.

But over the weekend, Philly's hockey fans really came through in a big way. Sarah Palin was pallin' around with the Philadelphia Flyers management and dropped the ceremonial first puck. The Philadelphia Flyer faithful booed the shit out of her.

Oh, Flyers fans. I sure am glad that your booing wasn't deterred by the presence of Palin's pregnant daughter, or by that other little girl who likes to lick her brother's hair. After all, they were pallin' around with Sarah Palin.

Now I'm torn. Do I root for the Phillies because I see eye-to-eye politically with a good chunk of Philadelphia sports fans? I mean, they're the Phillies, the Mets' rivals. But they booed Palin mercilessly. And that's Fan Support I Can Believe In.

Apologies to the Dodgers and (Devil) Rays

As long as the stock market is still crashing and the election is even uglier, let's return to baseball.

That's right, B&E/baseball fans! The playoffs continue!

The usual is happening again, I'm afraid. My support is a curse. In each round I pick the teams I'd like to see win, and so far, only one team has advanced. My temporary fandom of the Angels, Brewers, and Cubs doomed them. (Although, to be fair, the Cubs have their own set of issues.) Only the (Devil) Rays survived my cheers.

So now the (Devil) Rays and Red Sox face off against each other in the American League, while the Phillies and Dodgers go head-to-head in the National League.

Since I'm now rooting for the (Devil) Rays and Dodgers to continue on, I fully expect to see a Red Sox-Phillies World Series.

(To non-baseball fans, I was looking for an image of some sexy Tampa Bay (Devil) Rays players, but couldn't find anything quickly. So instead I offer this one, which goes with this story. I want to know whose job it is to scrub the paint off those things.)

Adopt-a-Team

With the Mets failing to make the playoffs (again) and October baseball just a couple days away, it's time to join the fandom of other teams. So what are the options?

A.L. East Winner, Tampa Bay (Devil) Rays:
Pros: Young, exciting team no one ever expected to stay good all season long, Cliff Floyd. Cons: Florida baseball blows, no more "devil."

A.L. Central Winner, TBD:
The Chicago White Sox and Minnesota Twins are still duking it out over the next couple days.

A.L. West Winner, Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim:
Pros: Rooting for winners leads to satisfaction. Cons: Rally monkey, wishy-washy about where they're from (L.A., Anaheim, or California??), "Meh, it's the west coast."

A.L. Wild Card Winner, Boston Red Sox:
Pros: Long history of losing. Cons: They've become the New York Yankees of the A.L. East.


N.L. East Winner, Philadelphia Phillies:
Pros: Long history of losing (more than 10,000 losses!). Cons: I hate the Phillies.

N.L. Central Winner, Chicago Cubs
Pros: Exactly 100 years since their last World Series victory, cursed. Cons: Do we really want baseball's last curse to be broken?

N.L. West Winner, Los Angeles Dodgers:
Pros: Joe Torre, Manny being Manny. Cons: Totally undeserving to be in the playoffs, "Meh, it's the west coast."

N.L. Wild Card Winner, Milwaukee Brewers:
Pros: Haven't been in the playoffs since 1982. Cons: Owned by Bud Selig's daughter.


Usually I pick one National League team and one American League team to root for seriously, with a few teams that I grow to like for no reason. And usually whatever teams I root for lose. So if I've picked your team, you have my apologies ahead of time.

In the National League, I've gotta go with the Cubs. The baseball sentimentalist in me would love to see the Cubs win their next World Series on the 100th anniversary of their most recent World Series victory, even though baseball would be a lesser place if they did. Cubs fans would be truly lost if they won it all. They'd lose their moral centers. Chicago would be a dangerous place.

In the American League, I'm all about the (Devil) Rays. The underdogs have kicked ass all year long, former Met Cliff Floyd is a great veteran presence for all those young kids, and they won a division that included the Red Sox and the Yankees. I mean, come on, people, that's a great story.

My dad grew up in Minnesota, so I've always got a soft spot for the Twins. So I'll be keeping an eye on them over the next couple days to see if they make it to the post-season.

I'll follow my gut for the World Series. I've usually developed some form of attachment to one of the teams, but I don't always know what team that is until I'm watching. In general, I'm a National League fan. It's a superior game to the American League version.

Let's go, [insert team name here]!

Remember the Mets? Remember Shea!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I'm going to miss that Shea Stadium.

We Went to Carolina!

And we have pictures to prove it! It was a great trip! See? We hiked Grandfather Mountain!


We went to a Durham Bulls game! Because no vacation is a vacation without baseball!


And look! Here's a step!


This step the last remaining feature from the parsonage we lived in when I was really small! And it was on this step that my big sister and I were nearly killed by our father! In fairness, he was just giving us a wagon ride! But we were shouting, "Faster! Faster!" and he went faster faster! He took us down this step and around the curved curby bit, and we went tumbling! Then we went bleeding! Then we went screaming! Then our knees went scarring!

A Strangely Large Number of Rocks

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

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

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

And I was totally wearing my Mets cap.

Xady Watch - Yankees

Some of you may recall a feature on B&E called the Xady Watch. It followed the exploits of one Xavier "Who?" Nady, rightfielder for the New York Metropolitans. The feature ended when the Mets panicked and traded Nady to the Pittsburgh Pirates, where he has been playing ever since.

Until recently, that is. Who is back in New York City for another stint, this time with the New York Yankees who, rumor has it, play in the Bronx.

Xady's had a hell of a year with the Pirates, hitting .330, and because the Mets are a bit short on corner outfielders, I fully expected Who to come back to the ball club in Queens. Alas, the Yankees, too, felt short on healthy outfielders and they snatched him up.

In other news, Who and Wife-of-Who had their first child, Xavier Henry Nady VII. Who is Xaveir Nady VI, with a middle name of Clifford and a nickname of Who. The middle name is apparently flexible in the Xavier Nady family. Welcome, Who, Jr.

All Hail Marvin Miller!

As regular B&E readers well know, I loves me some baseball. And even though today the Mets found themselves alone atop the National League East for the first time since April 19th (Let's Go, Mets!), I'm going to give a little shout-out instead to a fella that many people haven't heard of: Marvin Miller.

This weekend, the Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York, will be inducting Goose Gossage, the legendary reliever, and everyone will celebrate by eating goose meat deep-fried in goose fat, with a side of French fried goose skin. They'll sleep with their goose down comforters. And maybe they'll goose the bottoms that walk by, for good measure.

So what does all this have to do with Marvin Miller? Nothing, except that he won't be getting inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame.

Marvin Miller probably had more influence on the game of baseball than just about anyone. OK, so Jackie Robinson was a pretty big fucking deal, too, and maybe more influential. But Marvin Miller is right up there with Jackie Robinson, and I say that to praise Marvin.

For without Marvin, there'd be no baseball players' union, no collective bargaining, no free agency, no pensions for ballplayers, no thorns in the sides of all those greedy bastard owners. Like what he did or hate it (and yes, I like it), the man had a powerful influence on Major League Baseball.

So how come he ain't in the Hall? Well, he was almost elected in by the veteran's committee in 2007, receiving 63% of the vote (or 12% short of the required 75%). He was on the ballot again in 2008, and he received only 25%. What happened between 2007 and 2008? Did it become public that he had nothing to do with any of those things after all?

Not exactly, no.

You see, the Hall of Fame board changed the rules. Instead of a group of about 80 former players, executives, and sportswriters voting, the Hall created a committee of twelve to select from among the baseball executives. On that committee sit several of Marvin's enemies, including a few current and former owners who did serious labor battle with Marvin over the years. Shockingly, Marvin got only three votes.

Someone who got ten votes, enough to get elected to the Hall, was Bowie Kuhn, former commissioner of Major League Baseball. Kuhn's famous mostly for having a relatively long tenure as commissioner, and because that term was from 1969 to 1984, he dealt with a lot of baseball labor issues, going head-to-head--and almost always losing--to Marvin Miller.

Sort of how the lack of Emmy Awards for HBO's The Wire says more about the irrelevancy of the Emmy Award than the quality of The Wire, the Hall of Fame embarrasses itself by keeping Marvin Miller out.

For a longer report on the Marvin Miller/Hall of Fame absurdity, read this lovely Nation article, from which I pull this kernel about one of my all-time favorite players:

When he was inducted into the Hall of Fame in 1999, legendary pitcher Nolan Ryan devoted part of his speech to paying tribute to Miller. Ryan reminded the audience that when he broke into the major leagues in 1966, he had to spend the winter months working at a gas station from 3 pm to 9 pm, while [his] wife worked at a local bookstore, to make ends meet.

Thanks to Marvin Miller, that's something that's stopped, which is an enormous relief, because what would we do if Alex Rodriguez had to pump gas instead of running off to hang out and do god-knows-what with Madonna.

Oh, wait...

Seriously, though... Go Marvin!

That Shit Was Fuggla

The All-Star Game was long and late, and I didn't stay up to watch the whole thing. But it was amazing to read this morning that Dan Uggla's performance managed to get worse after I went to bed. I saw two errors in the field that nearly cost the National League the game, and at the plate he struck out and hit into double plays at moments in which he could've been the hero.

Well, he struck out again later and made a third error, an All-Star record!

Way to go, Dan Uggla, you poor bastard.

The All-Star Break Can Blow Me

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

Dude, I Gotta Pay More for Yankee Stadium?

The New York baseball teams' new stadiums open in 2009.

Admittedly, I don't know a lot about the financial terms of either stadium. But considering that team owners and Major League Baseball generally bully cities into publicly financing the bulk of these private enterprises, I'm sure that the Mets and Yankees are getting some sweet deals from New York City, particularly in the development of the neighborhoods surrounding the stadiums (eminent domain!).

Earlier this week, the Yankees asked for another $350-400 million in tax-exempt public bonds:

About $941 million in tax-exempt public bonds have already been issued for the $1.3 billion stadium that the Yankees are building across the street from their current ballpark in the Bronx.

You gotta love that a big business like the Yankees are exempt from paying so many taxes.

The official request goes to the IRS. The new Yankee Stadium has already maxed out its public bond options, and they need IRS approval to go after more. If the Yankees get their way, the Mets would also be eligible to benefit from the new IRS rules.

Everyone knows I love baseball, and Shea Stadium has long been an industrial wasteland of a ballpark. Of course, that's also part of its charm. But as I've watched the new Mets stadium go up, I feel the excitement, even if the new Citi Field goes so far as to use that Citibank red umbrella logo shape in the stadium lights.

But public financing for private profit is fucking bullshit. The Yankees and the Mets are two of the most valuable franchises in sports. And the Yankees, especially when considering their partnership with English football club Manchester United, must be the most valuable sports franchise in the world. Both teams can pay for their own fucking stadiums. But of course, they won't.

A couple of months ago David Zirin, who writes about where sports and politics overlap and about whom I've raved in the past, wrote a stellar piece about the new Washington Nationals stadium (pictured above for your reference), from which I pull this gem:

This isn't just taxation without representation. It's a monument of avarice that will clear the working poor out of the Southeast corner of the city as surely as if they just dispensed with the baseball and used a bulldozer. This is sports as ethnic and economic cleansing, as Hurricane Katrina, as Shock Doctrine, as Green Zone. Fittingly... President George W. Bush came out to throw the first pitch.

Boy, I tell you, this request for more public bonds to build the new Yankee Stadium smells about as good as the entire city during a heatwave.

A New Streak?

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

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

My Mets Streak - R.I.P.

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe He'll Join the AARP

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is It a Perfect Day? It Might Be.

Yesterday, I went to Shea with some colleagues and watched the Mets win yet again. I tell you, it's uncanny. I can no longer remember the Mets losing when I've been at the game. That's how long it's been. My streak has to be something like 16 games dating back three seasons or so.

A few years ago, during the Art Howe Black Hole Years, I had a Sunday ticket plan. All Sunday home games. That August, the Mets didn't win at home. So certainly I saw them lose. But it's been a long time now.

Carlos Delgado smacked two dingers and the Mets won 6-3 over the Braves.

Afterwards, we all went to Sripraphai, "the best Thai food outside of Thailand."* It's conveniently located right along the 7 train, and just a little ways from home. If you're a New York resident, go to this restaurant immediately. It'll knock your socks off. Anything on the menu. Just go and get food.

I guess this is mostly about baseball, so here's a pander to one specific reader who thinks that rubber ducks are really tasty.



*Quote comes via Virgil, who picked up the gem talking to a local Thai immigrant.

Request for Hotties!

Although I rarely reply to the comments people post here on B&E, I do read them. And apparently, my diverse readership has equally diverse taste in hotties. "Eye Candy," "Butch Babes," "Asians," "Six Toes," "Cream Puffs," "Beef/Cheese Cake," and the like are all fine descriptors, but it will be very difficult for me to please everyone without names. Put names below, anonymously if you must, and I will attempt to find hot photos of those hotties to include with my baseball posts.

Thank you for your readership.

Early Season Highlights

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mets Scouting Report 2008! Position Players!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fernando Tatis?!

LET'S GO METS!

Mets Scouting Report 2008! Pitching!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Number five! El Duque or Mike Pelfrey! Oy!

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

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

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

LET'S GO METS!

Here It Comes!

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

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

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

Oh, the Love. Yes, the Love

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

On February 14th...

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

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

The Good News of Yesterday

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

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

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

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

Dickhead(s) of the Week - Sportswriters

Don't know if you heard, but there was a small news item this week about steroids in baseball. If you blinked you may have missed it.

Right.

So baseball is full of cheaters, including one of the greatest of all time, Roger Clemens. Who the hell is surprised? I say it a lot, and I've written it a lot: ballplayers are assholes.

The Mitchell Report was careful to state that the performance enhancing drug issue was a "collective failure":

Everybody in baseball — commissioners, club officials, the players’ association, players — shares responsibility.

I know that technically owners fall into the category of "club officials," but as the people who benefited most from the home run derby years of Major League Baseball, I would've liked to see them get a special call-out.

And as usual, brilliant sportswriter David Zirin has addressed the free pass given to the owners with more knowledge and eloquence than I can provide with my complete lack of journalistic experience and time for investigating. I implore you, as usual, to read his fine work.

David touches on the topic I'm really gearing up to here: the media's role, and more specifically, sportswriters. Seriously, what a bunch of Dickheads (not you, of course, David Zirin).

I caught wind of this self-righteous piece of shit article yesterday, in which US sportswriters express their dismay at the widespread use of performance enhancers and the baseball player "freak show."

Fuck you, Dickheads. Are you not journalists? Who better to discover and expose a widespread problem in baseball than the people trained in investigation that have access to dugouts and clubhouses? Why didn't you ask why ballplayers were suddenly looking larger? Why didn't you find out why so many men went up four hat sizes? Where did those thirty-six-inch biceps come from? It's your job to find shit out and report on it. Where have you been?

Seriously, any Dickhead reporter full of self-righteous indignation, dismay, or shock should be fired for incompetence.

Yes, I Love the Off-Season, Too

Hello, baseball fans!

The sports pages haven't stopped talking about baseball, but I have. Until now!

At some point in the next month, it appears we're going to get ourselves some official names of Known Banned Substance Users, or KnaBSUs, as I like to call them. Many of these KnaBSUs are current players. So that's always a good time. Which of your favorite mediocre players were/are KnaBSUs?

But once again, I feel the need to point you all in the direction of another fine Nation article, this one by the ever-faithful David Zirin. The Department of Justice has spent a fortune working up to an indictment of Barry Bonds, everyone's favorite ballplayer. And yet, as David so pointedly writes...

In the case of Baseball Fans vs. the Anabolic Era, everyone is guilty: not just players but all who were part of the assembly line that put the drugs in their veins. That means coaches, managers, trainers, the compliant media, and even the owners. It also means that a certain former Texas Rangers baseball executive now in the White House who did nothing while his players like José Canseco passed around the juice would get asked questions under the hot lights.

Oh, David, your voice rings out as beautifully as Naomi Klein's.

I haven't made much noise about my man-crush on Russ "Oh, So" Feingold in the past year or so. The heart is a fickle little muscle, dear B&E readers. (For those of you who'd like to revisit my days of loving sweet Russell, browse the entries in the spring of 2006. There are simply too many potential links.)

But if David Zirin keeps up such fine work (for fun about Imus, read the little ditty that turned up in the LA Times), I might find myself with a man-crush to replace Russell "Thou Art So Mighty" Feingold.

Hey, you non-baseball fans, even though this posting has little to do with baseball, I'm going to throw you two bones. The first of course is Russ "Damn, You" Feingold:


The second, as you may have predicted, is progressive sportswriter, David Zirin, whose name is a lot harder to make nicknames out of. David "Beer 'n" Zirin?


Do these fellas do it for you? If they don't there's something seriously wrong with you.

B&E 2007 Baseball Summary

Yes, it was a full season of baseball, and now it's over and the Red Sox won the World Series and I've already bored myself. What else happened in Major League Baseball's 2007 Season?

Barry Bonds
Yes, that's right: Barry Bonds broke the... Ooh! Looky! Steroids!

Colorado Rockies
The Rockies have been one of my favorite baseball subjects over the past couple years (second to the Mets, of course) because they're on a mission from God. Well, they toned down the God-talk a bit this year, using coded language instead, and ended the season on a tear. Prior to the World Series, they won 21 of 22 games. Yes, Jesus, that's pretty good. So what happened in the Fall Classic? Not sure. Perhaps God mistook the World Series for the Sabbath and rested. The Rockies sure seemed to take a load off.

New York Mets
What a fantastic demise! No one's ever done it so well. Jimmy Rollins really made the Mets eat it this season. Yes, the Mets were 10-0 in the games I attended. The problem is I only attended one of those games in September. I accept full responsibility for the Mets massive choking. Because it certainly couldn't have been the starting pitching, the exhausted bullpen, or the total disappearance of Jose Reyes' ability to hit. By the way, the storied career of Tom Glavine, winner of more than 300, may have just ended with the single worst outing of his entire life, conveniently during the final day of the season when the Mets needed him most. I think he'll come back next year just so he doesn't end on that sour note. It just probably won't be with the Mets.

New York Yankees
Remember Joe Torre? Yeah, he's a Dodger now. He told Yanks management to shove their offer, and he loaded up his truck and moved to Beverly. Hills, that is. Swimming pools, movie stars, and a washed-up Dodgers baseball club. Good luck, Joe. I was gifted a couple of tickets to Game 3 of the Yankees/Indians series. So I saw Joe Torre's last win as a Yankee and what will likely be Roger Clemens' last start. Pulled hammy my ass. Take some Vioxx and get the fuck back on the mound.

A-Rod
Apparently $27,000,000 isn't enough. So he opted out of his contract. It would be nice if general managers everywhere were to pay attention to the fact that he doesn't bring success with him. It would be fantastic if he made less money next year because he opted out of his contract. It won't happen, but a bald dude can dream, can't he?

Rudy Giuliani
The guy's an ass hole.

Bobby Cox
Major props to Bobby for breaking the all-time ejection record. Gosh, he sure gets mad.

Banned Substances
Steroids, speed, HGH, greenies, weed, coke, Marion Jones, dope, LSD, PCP, angel dust, gateway drugs... Anyone else tired of hearing about this crap. Let's play ball, for Christ's sake. And if you're the Rockies, I mean play ball for Christ's sake!

Aw, shit. Wait until next year? I miss baseball already.

UPDATE 11/3/07: As Missy so correctly pointed out in the comments section of B&E, I forgot my photo for non-baseball fans. Since I know Missy is a fan of Zach Braff, I give you...

American League Fan

The New York media has been quite atwitter about the revelation that Rudy Giuliani is rooting for the Boston Red Sox in the World Series of Baseball on Fox - (tm) and (r) and (c).

I buy the argument that he's an American League fan one hundred percent.

It is also his allegiance to the American League that illuminates one reason why he's unfit for the presidency:

The American League game is much simpler than the National League game. The American League uses the Designated Hitter, which takes the nuance out of the game. The focus is on offense. There's a lot less strategy. Manager moves are more black and white. It's a game of brute force over strategy.

I think we've seen enough of that type of presidency for the time being.

Vote for Not Rudy!

A Pervert on the 7

Apparently, over the weekend, some pervert exposed himself to a woman on the 7 train. This happens from time to time. There are millions of men living in NYC. A few are bound to be perverts. And ride the subway. And root for the Yankees.

That's right: the flasher was wearing a Yankees jersey, and the woman he flashed got a picture of him on her camera phone.

If it's 4:30am and the pervert's riding the 7 train, the pervert very likely lives in Queens on the subway line that goes to Shea Stadium, which, as we all know, is where the Mets play.

What the hell was that pervert doing in a Yankees' jersey? Fuck you, pervert.

Ah, to Have Roger Cedeno Out of my Life

It's always bothered me (a lot) that Roger Cedeno held the Mets record for most stolen bases in a season. This is a guy for whom sportswriters created a shortcut key in order to type more efficiently, "Cedeno misplayed a fly ball, resulting in a triple."

Well, Jose Reyes finally swiped enough bases to get Roger out of the Mets' record books. And I couldn't be more pleased about it. Even though the Mets can't seem to beat the Padres.

Ladies (and gay men), enjoy this hunky photo of Professoro Reyes, who first will steal the base and then will steal your heart.

As for me, dear B&E readers, I'm heading out to Shea tomorrow night to see if I can keep my winning streak alive and improve to 9-0 this season. Let's go Mets!

They're Out!

I'm admittedly late on both of these items, but I couldn't just let them go either.

First is Karl Rove, of course. He resigned, sure, but until he's in prison (or is otherwise not able to resurface), I see no real reason to celebrate. The Daily Show has some good videos online on the subject, and I suggest you watch them.

The second item is Bobby Cox. In a season with Bonds breaking Aaron's home run record, Glavine winning his 300th, and A-Rod becoming the youngest to hit 500 home runs, Bobby Cox quietly (yet vociferously) broke the record for most ejections in Major League history. He went seven-and-a-half weeks without getting the heave-ho, but he finally did it Tuesday night. It was his 134th ejection, just 28 shy of a full season's worth of ejections.

I feel a little bad making Bobby share this posting with Boba Rove. I like Bobby a lot better. Even though he manages for the most hated Atlanta Braves. But an offensive tomahawk chop is really nothing next to the corruption and hatred fostered by "Bush's Brain."

UPDATE: I didn't know, when I wrote earlier this morning, that Cox was ejected from last night's game as well. The man's on a roll now. Look out!

Three Baseball Milestones

In the last week, Alex Rodriguez became the youngest player to hit 500 home runs, Tom Glavine won his 300th game, and Barry Bonds broke Hank Aaron's hallowed home run record.

Because A-Rod and Barry are both jerks, I won't say much more about those guys, except to point out that Barry's record-breaking home run ball was caught by a fella from Queens who was wearing a Jose Reyes jersey. Sweet.

But this 300 wins thing is happening less and less it seems. There's even some speculation that Tommy Gun, the 23rd to join the list of pitchers who accomplished the feat, might be the last to do so.

And I tell you what: when I think about what it takes to win 300 games, my mind gets just a tad blown. You have to win 15 games a year across a span 20 years, or 20 games across 15 years, or any number of other equally impressive math equations.

You've gotta stay healthy, you've gotta play for a team (or teams) that give you run support, and you have to be not only good but one of the best for two-plus decades. And when I think about it like that I don't see how anyone has ever done it. I mean, Cy Young won 511 games, but he was playing primarily against wood nymphs, I think.

Way to go, Tommy Gun. I know that at heart you're an Atlanta Braves man, but I'm happy you've been a Met during the waning years of your career. If you could help them win a World Series this year, you could really retire on a high note.

Another Epic Battle Between Good and Evil

So I finally did some research about this other New York baseball team I'd been hearing rumors about. Turns out they're called the Yankees. They're not doing so well this season, except during one stretch when they were super-hot. During their hot stretch, the New York Mets were particularly cold.

I also discovered a Mets/Yankees prediction made by Sybil Trelawney (stored in the Department of Mysteries), who said, "Neither can live while the other survives."

A Truly Impressive Record

Baseball is very excited and divided about this Barry Bonds fella that's about to break Hank Aaron's home run record. Barry's a cheater! Barry is great! Barry's a jerk.

For my money, though, there's no better record than the one Atlanta Braves manager Bobby Cox tied last night. Bobby Cox has pissed off a lot of umpires in his day. On 131 occasions, he's pissed off an umpire so much, they've tossed him from the game.

After (perhaps) Ty Cobb, the angriest man in the history of baseball was a player and manager named John McGraw. McGraw was affiliated with the New York Giants during the days of the great Christy Mathewson. Christy was a peaceful, calm man, the yin to McGraw's yang. McGraw was a fighting Irishman. As a player and a manager, he was thrown out of 131 games. Many thought it was an unbreakable record.

Until Bobby Cox started managing. He never got thrown out as a player, so his 131 games have only been while he's serving as the leader and example to his players.

Well done, Mr. Bobby Cox. I salute you.

And if you get thrown out of 31 more games, you will have been tossed out of an entire season of baseball. It might seem to be an unreachable goal, but if anyone can do it, you can.

I Gotta Go to More Games

Anyone who's been paying attention lately will know that the Mets have been absolutely terrible during June. Yes, they're in first place still, but that's only because the rest of their division has been doing just as terribly.

But I have the answer to the Mets' woes. You see, I've been to six ballgames this season so far, and the Mets have won all six. Their overall record at home as of this morning is 19-18. Without my six games, they'd be 13-18.

I've sat all over the stadium - above the foul pole (as pictured), level with third base in the corporate seats, in the mezzanine above home plate, ten rows back from the field a few yards beyond first base, and smack in the middle of the upper deck. The result has always been the same: Mets win.

If my budget and schedule allowed, I'd be out at Shea every day. I could single-handedly win the Mets a World Series ring.