An Endless Cycle

Yesterday morning I returned from my two week Honeymoon in Peru, where my wife and I made a conscious decision to stay as disconnected from the world as possible. No cell phone use. No internet browsing. No checking of voice messages or emails. And absolutely no following of the Mets; after all, nothing can interfere with a relaxing time away that affords the opportunity to regain some perspective than thinking about the Metropolitans. So as I have spent the last day catching up with my world, an unhealthy dose of which revolves around The Amazins', it feels as if I never left.

Apparently, you can spend significant periods of time cutting the Mets out of your life and would not miss a thing because it is always the same story: the team is under achieving and inspire no hope for their fan base; the usual parties continue to suffer from recurring injuries; the manager gives brutal press conferences where he drawls on an on for twenty-minutes leaving the fans to wonder if he is talking about the same group they have been forced to watch; and of course all this is topped off by theater of the absurd moment involving key personnel, in which every fan, sportswriter, blogger, reporter, analyst, etc. AROUND THE NATION provides the obligatory, "Only the Mets" statement.

The Mets have managed to become so predictable in not only their ineptitude but in their drama that in following them you feel as you are immersed in a "Groundhog Day" world, where you are living the same day over and over again. Unfortunately, unlike Bill Murray's Phil, our role as Met fans are not characters in a movie where we can look forward to an end to the monotony of it all.

Angry Met Fan would like to thank the guest writers for their postings during my absence. Hopefully they will continue to post whenever they so desire as their insight only adds to the bright future of this blog.

The Feeling is Mutual

(Posted by Livid Met Fan)

Carlos Beltran revealed that he is 'open to a trade' in an interview with Newsday's David Lennon. I just felt like posting his comments, as they pretty much some up everything I've come to expect from this guy. The legacy you leave behind will be one of excuses and disappointment... oh, and a hanging curveball from Adam Wainwright.

"It's been a learning experience in every aspect. Coming from a small-market team, the whole situation about playing in a big city, all the responsibilities that come with it. It's been a great, great experience for me. I think right now, after playing here six years, I can play anywhere. Once you play in NY, and do well, another city will be a piece of cake for me."




Let me help you pack your graphic t-shirts.

Fever Pitch

(With Angry Met Fan out of the country, this is the second post in series of guest posts, posted by Salty Met Fan)

K-Rod. I really do not want to get into it right now. It deserves it’s own discussion. But it just adds credence to that topic I want to discuss. I have thought about this for years and it is now more clear than it has ever been. Here it is, The Mets Do Not Get It. There is something missing in the baseball DNA of the Mets that makes them dysfunctional. The worst part is, I STILL cannot narrow it down to one cause. Is it Fred, Jeff, Omar, Saul Katz?!?! I have no idea. What I do know, something is genetically wrong.

Here is the thing, like my colleague Angry Met Fan, I love the Mets. I really do. People that know me cannot understand how I can I claim to love something that makes me so salty and bitter. The reason, I care. I care about the Mets. I care about baseball. I get upset when pitchers do not throw inside. I despise when players do not run out groundballs. I get irate when an opposing player gets to 3rd base and David Wright is smiling and chatting him up. I played the game for 15 years, been going to Shea/Citi for 30 years and it is the greatest game in the world. And it’s not just what happens on the field that gets me salty, it’s what happens at the game. Which brings me to my story.

Back in 2007, I was at some non-descript Met game in the early part of the season. I was coming off attending Game 6 and Game 7 from the 2006 NLCS but I believed the Met nonsense that they ‘were not ready yet’ and NOW it was there time. 8th inning rolls around, Diamond Vision begins to flux and then to my absolutely horror the PA announcer comes on and says:

“Ok Met fans, it’s now time for the 8th inning sing-a-long to Sweet Caroline”

YOU HAVE TO BE EFFING KIDDING ME? This is not real. Booing ensues immediately. Anyone who remotely follows baseball knows this is a Red Sox tradition. Now not everyone has been to Fenway and witnessed it like I have but they just released a god awful movie with no talent Jimmy Fallon where there is an ENTIRE montage with this song. IT IS IN THE MOVIE!! Fat Drew Barrymore and all. Why cant we have our own ‘thing’? Why are we ripping off the Red Sox now? It’s bad enough there is another closer with ‘Enter Sandman’ and now we have this. The bigger question is, HOW DO THE METS NOT KNOW THIS!?!! I do not work for the Mets. I do not even work in sports. How can something that is so evidently clear to me not even cross the mind of ANYONE that WORKS for the METS!?!

It festers for a couple of months. I go to more games, song plays, people BOO, I get more salty. I hit my breaking point. I call the Mets. After several calls I finally get through to their PR department. I ask the gentleman on the phone, “What is the deal with Sweet Caroline in the 8th?”. The guy on the phone immediately goes into Met mode. Denies that it is Red Sox thing and tries to explain to me it’s more of a ‘fraternity thing”. I ask him if he’s seen awful Jimmy Fallon movie and he says no. I ask him if he’s ever been to Fenway or even watched a Red Sox game on TV and he says no. We finally just hit an impasse where we agree to disagree. It does not matter. I am right. Sweet Caroline is a terrible, terrible idea.

Fast forward a couple of months, the Mets drop Sweet Caroline in the 8th. They run some promotional thing where fans can vote on what should be played in the 8th and the fans actually write in some awful Rick Ashley song which is actually hilarious but the Mets decide to go with something else. A part of me feels I had a part in getting this thing killed. But I cannot understand how the idea got the greenlight in the first place. Something is missing. They are flawed but I cannot stop rooting for them.

Broken, Beat & Scarred: Fall of 2008

(With Angry Met Fan out of the country, this is the first in a series of guest posts, posted by Livid Met Fan)

September 12, 2008 – Metallica is scheduled to release Death Magnetic, the band’s first studio effort since 2003’s vastly disappointing “St. Anger,” and two marginally-received preceding albums, “Load” and “Re-Load.” Rumors are abound that under super producer Rick Rubin’s influence, Metallica has recorded their best music since 1991’s “Black Album,” and that it is even more reminiscent of the bands late-80’s hey day. As it turns out, all speculation about Death Magnetic’s success is true. But what nobody could have predicted is that Metallica had crafted a pitch-perfect soundtrack for the dark weeks that lie ahead.

September 12, 2008 – The Mets are 82-63, with a thin lead over division rival Phillies (80-67), and in a dead heat with the Brewers (83-64) for the NL Wild Card. The team is in the midst of dropping a 3 game series to the Phils, while clinging to the mantra that “this will not be another 2007.” Never Stop the Bleeding Now.

Meanwhile… with a career in finance, the creeping financial crisis was growing darker every day with increasing uncertainty. Bear Stearns and the GSEs had already fallen, and Lehman Brothers was only weeks away from shutting its doors for good. The Dow dropped 800 points in the three days following Death Magnetic’s release, and nearly 3000 points in the 4 weeks that followed. Rumors swirled about the collapse of the entire banking system, and each day in September brought nothing but fear and darkness… I blind my eyes and try to force it all into place.

In the depths of my struggles, I clung to Metallica and the Mets. On the subway to work, wondering if there would still be job for me when I got there, James Hetfield growled in my headphones as my mind wandered to the Mets. Chase the ghost from latest high to all-time low. The mainstream sports media was already riding the “Collapse Part 2” story, fans were in complete panic. And still I convinced myself that it could NOT happen. Not even the Mets could pull that off. Two consecutive collapses following one of the most devastating playoff losses in memory? Could not be done, not even by this team. But no matter how much I tried to talk myself out of the inevitable, deep down I knew what was coming. Crawl from the wreckage one more time, horrific memories twist the mind. My father secured tickets to the final “Shea Goodbye” game months in advance. By September, the thought of what that day might bring loomed over me like a dark cloud. Amidst the carnage, I jokingly emailed this missive to my friends:

“Which track off the new Metallica album most appropriately reflects your feelings on the Mets and the impending collapse?
1. "That Was Just Your Life"
2. "The End of the Line"
3. "Broken, Beat & Scarred"
4. "The Day That Never Comes"
5. "All Nightmare Long"
6. "Cyanide"
7. "The Unforgiven III"
8. "The Judas Kiss"
9. "Suicide & Redemption"
10. "My Apocalypse"

Any one of them felt appropriate. But I decided to adopt “Broken, Beat & Scarred” as my own personal theme song, convinced that the Mets’ outcome would differ from 2007. You Rise, You Fall, You’re Down, Then You Rise Again… Made sense. 2006 was the rise, the NLCS was the fall. The ’07 season was the rise, the Collapse was the fall. It was time to rise once and for all. Or so I thought…

After Death Magnetic’s debut, the Mets would drop 4 of their next 5 and eventually 7 of their next 11, and crawl to an 89-73 record when the final out was recorded at Shea. The Phillies meanwhile would take 12 of their next 15 and a consecutive division championship with a 92-70 record. The Brewers lost 7 of their next 8, only to rebound with 6 out of 7 wins to steal the NL wild card at 90-72. In retrospect, “Unforgiven III” was probably the most apropos. Was he the one causing pain with his careless dreaming?

September 28th, 2008: Luck. Runs. Out. Parked under the train platform adjacent to the subway lines at old Shea Stadium. It is a rain-soaked and gloomy afternoon. Death Magnetic blares from the speakers in my trunk, setting the tone for the darkness all around us. The daaaaayy that never comes. The fans that have come out early for the final game at Shea are apprehensive. The weather and the high stakes have taken all the joy out of what should be a celebratory occasion. We stand around drinking nervously. My brother remarks: “This feels like a funeral.” It is. You’re just the funeral I’ve been waiting for. You all know how it ends. The Mets put up a listless performance in a 4-2 loss to the Marlins and the Brewers take the NL Wild Card. The afternoon takes a turn for the bizarre when the PA informs the crowd it will be “another 20 minutes before the ceremony begins” and furious boos cascade down at the staff setting up for the “Shea Goodbye” ceremony. The crowd musters up an emotional response for the old players that showed up, cheers for Piazza and Seaver, and then walks out for the last time ever…

Broken, Beat & Scarred.

Why?

This is an official jersey. That means this clown purchased this jersey, which costs about $200. That means he spent actual money to purchase this jersey. I find his presence at Citi offensive on many levels.

Enough

As The RA Dickey magic was coming to a crashing halt during the bottom of the 3rd inning of Sunday's game against the Phils, the boys in the booth were talking about the Phillies ability to stay around despite being decimated by injuries. According to Kevin Burkhardt, Charlie Manuel attributed 3 things to his injury plagued team's success this season: starting pitching, luck, and character. Despite the Phillies having played without Rollins, Utley, Victorina and Howard for a good portion of the year, they continue to battle for a division crown. Meanwhile, just a few hundred miles north of Philadelphia the Red Sox, who have also been decimated with injuries all season long are playing their hearts out at 15 games over .500. Like the Phils and Red Sox, the 2009 Mets were decimated with injuries. Yet there was no gritty baseball being played in Queens that year. Instead it was a year that just could not end soon enough, which finally did at 72-90. And unlike the case with the Phillies and Red Sox-who could easily have chosen to rest on their recent laurels- all we heard from the Met organization was excuses. The same kind we have heard for the past five seasons. In 2006 they weren't ready. In 2007 they just got to cocky. In 2008 it was a run down bullpen. In 2009 it was injuries. And while we have not yet heard an official explanation from the dolts in charge regading this season, it is all but guaranteed that we will. It is a harsh reality to face but the Mets just do not possess what Manuel attributed as the 3rd ingredient to his teams sucess. They simply have no character. As we sit and watch teams like the Red Sox and Phillies battle through adversity it makes the failures of these Mets that much more pronounced. We have been forced to watch an under achieving group of failures long enough. It is time to put this era behind us.

Retire 17: The Mandt Letter

This is the fourth in a series of articles demanding that the Mets retire Keith Hernandez's number 17.


I guess you can say the unofficial origin of this blog was just a few days after the Mets disgraceful ceremony honoring one of the most important players in their history. My anger over the situation did in no way dissipate after leaving Shea on that Sunday sfternoon. In fact, as the days passed I became more infuriated. In an effort to temper my feelings I needed an outlet, a way to express my displeasure. What better way to do this than write to the vile culprtits responsible for the shameful act- or, more appropriately, non act?

Approximatley five days after the day officially branded as. "Modells Back To School Day", I sat down, took pen to paper and wrote as articulate of a letter as I have ever written, detailing not only a comprehensive list of grievances over the days events, but constructing a logical argument as to why Mex's #17 should have been retired. As anticipated, the writing of the letter served as a healthy outlet to express my anger and succesfully tempered by emotional state. Thinking that was the end of it, I was ready to move on, so you can imagine my surprise when just a week later I received a phone call from Bob Mandt, then Shea Stadium's Director of Stadium Operations

To this day I remain grateful to Mr. Mandt for not only the phone call, but his willingness to stay on the line for nearly a half hour and debate the issue. This was clearly more than a "thanks for the letter, we'll take it under advisement" fan public relations move. It was clear that Mandt respected my passion for the subject and appreciated the opportunity engage in an intellectual discussion. With that said, Mandt's- and presumably the Met Brass's- position was ridiculous. According to Mandt, a retired number is reserved only for those who are icons of the game. Absurd, I say. First, They have something in Cooperstown for that, (which Hernandez belongs in, but that is an article for another day); the more appropriate standard for a retired number is whether a player is an icon of your team. And second if the Mets want to use that as their standard, then, with all due respect, there is no way Gil Hodges should have his number on the left field wall. And if Casey Stengal's is for that reason, then why isn't Willie Mays's?

While seemingly reluctant to acknowledge it, The New York Metropolitan Baseball Club has a rich history- one that is concentrated within specific time periods. The lovable expansion Mets of the early 60's; The Miracle Mets of 1969, whose seemingly impossible achievement captured the zeitgeist of American culture; Ya Gotta Believe of '73; The Bobby V/Piazza madness of the late 90's. But there has been no time period comprable to the truly Amazin' Mets of the 1980's. And the heart and soul of that era deserves to be honored appropriately. Stop the nonsense. Retire 17.