Tag Archives: Baseball

The Curse of Willie Mays

The sun rose again this morning, and set this evening. In other news, Johan Santana will miss his next start with elbow discomfort. New Met Jeff Francoeur has quickly taken to his new team, also succumbing to injury, his a torn thumb ligament.

The Curse of Willie Mays strikes again!

In all seriousness, though, higher powers are at work here – dark powers. It’s been a strange few years for the Mets: the ’06 NLCS loss was heartwrenching, but ultimately decided by the players themselves – Molina hitting a home run, and Beltran not swinging. ’07 was double agent Glavine bleeding Brave dark blue, pounding the nail in the coffin with a tomahawk and ensuring a Met burial versus the Marlins. ’08 was eerily similar.

But ’09 has been a cat of a different color from the very beginning. Frankly, after three years of defeat at their own hands, I’m actually relieved, as a Met fan, that their non-season is not due to a lack of talent, just to a lack of healthy talent. With so many games missed to injury by the starters, I can only and safely assume that this source is not within themselves but something paranormal, man. I’ve never seen anything like it – well, nothing in real life, anyway:

Let’s take a closer look at these misfortunes (found here):

# Player, Position, Fate
——————–
1 Steve Sax, 2B – six life sentences
2 Wade Boggs, 3B – punched out by Barney
3 Darryl Strawberry, RF – pulled for pinch hitter
4 Jose Canseco, LF – saving burning house
5 Don Mattingly, 1B – kicked off team
6 Ken Griffey, Jr., CF – overdose of nerve tonic
7 Mike Scioscia, C – radiation overdose
8 Ozzie Smith, SS – lost in Mystery Spot
9 Roger Clemens, P – thinks he’s a chicken

“But that will never happen. Three misfortunes, that’s possible. Seven misfortunes, there’s an outside chance. But nine misfortunes? I’d like to see that!”

# Player, Position, Fate
——————–
1 Jose Reyes, SS – 36 GP, last played May 20th, hamstring
2 Daniel Murphy, LF – ***
3 David Wright, 3B – Hit in the head Aug 15th, concussion
4 Carlos Delgado, 1B – 26 GP, last played May 10th, hip surgery
5 Carlos Beltran, CF – 62 GP, last played Jun 21st, bone bruise (knee)
6 Ryan Church, RF – Missed 13 G in May/June, hamstring; traded
7 Brian Schneider, C – Missed 39 G, back
8 Luis Castillo, 2B – Missed 3 G in August tripping on the dugout steps (!, …)
9 Johan Santana, P – Elbow discomfort, late August

*** Daniel Murphy has actually played in all but 5 of the Mets’ games this year — good for him, but he’s only hitting .260 with only occasional power, so, just okay for the Mets. Or should I say, “MEHts”?

And — this is was just the opening day lineup! The Meht bench and bullpen were similarly decimated along the way.

Dark forces, right? John Swartzwelder’s not responsible for this.

Whom I will blame? The Wilpons. In the face.

This is what happens when your ownership sacrifices what little history your own team has in favor of celebrating the distant memory of another team entirely – from a different borough, from a different generation – and to the exclusion of another, more successful, more celebrated, more historic franchise that used to play just to your northwest.

There is no good goddamn reason for Citi Field to look like Ebbets Field — for the Dodgers, or for Jackie Robinson, to be so honored in a place the New York Mets call home. If the Wilpons and others want an exhibit honoring the man, and the team, somewhere on public display, tuck it away in centerfield. Fine. All the better — they’re a part of New York baseball history. But just as Yankee Stadium would look silly honoring Jackie Robinson at its front gate, so would, and do, and seemingly forever will, the Mets.

And if Jackie Robinson is such a symbol of equality in baseball, how dare the Wilpons not also celebrate on a similar scale the Giants, the “other” National League team? Isn’t that inequality all the same? Isn’t that unjust? Isn’t that hypocritical?

Where’s Willie Mays in all this?

I fear somewhat to type it, but not so much because I probably wouldn’t be right anyway. But if the dark forces present this year are the first evidence of yet another of baseball’s curses, let’s just speculate that the Mets will continue to lose until at the very least there’s an orange 24 perched proudly in the Jackie Robinson/Willie Mays Rotunda.

Your 2009 AAAA Flushing Mets

I find myself more or less an optimist on this first full day of summer.

Sure, the days will only get shorter from here on out, the nights creeping in closer and closer to dinnertime, eventually leapfrogging the meal altogether.  The afternoons will get warmer, then hotter, then miserable.  The trees are in their fullest form, but they aren’t gaining any new leaves, and we’ll all watch them shed their bounty slowly at first, then all the rest in a defeated shrug.

The baseball season will continue, culminating just before my early November birthday, a small ray of excitement at the end of another long year.

I find myself an optimist today because my daily evening slate has been wiped clean.  In this age when time finds new ways to waste itself, I get three hours back per day.

No, it’s not a version of daylight savings, a Da Vinci kind of sleeping regimen or a shorter commute.  It’s the Mets season, now a paradox – while it continues, it’s actually over.

Carlos Beltran is headed to the DL.

He’s the latest in a legion of Mets talent relegated to the sidelines.  Some of them, perhaps the veterans among them, may be lucky enough not to have to watch career minor leaguers not filling their shoes.

It’s an absolute farce, and it can only get worse from here.  I can already see the Mets trading away what few good young players they have to get stopgap players to man recently vacated positions, all in an attempt to convince the wonderful fans, about whom they care so much, that they haven’t given up on the season, despite what is clearly happening right in front of their faces.

The only way for Mets management not to fail epically would be not to do anything.  Now that there’s some room, let Daniel Murphy play every day at first.  Don’t just platoon him with Fernando Tatis, who’s done nothing for you lately.  Let him get his at-bats, even against lefties, and continue to give him the opportunity to make some mistakes.  If you coddle him now and never left him face lefties, he’ll never learn.  Let Sheffield (the next to go on the DL) play left, spelled by Tatis, and throw Reed in center.  Martinez needs more than two more weeks to learn anything at this level this year.  Send him to Buffalo so I can see him play vs. the Toledo Mud Hens on July 19th (There’ll be fireworks!).

Do not trade Bobby Parnell for Aubrey Huff.

Can we get Carlos Gomez back?  Unlike Reyes, he’d have 20 triples in his spacious home park.

I just sighed.  I know this speculation is just that, and makes me feel only marginally better about the Mets.  What sound does a towel make when you throw it in?  It’s a thud, but not a dull thud.  It’s a delicate thud, maybe not even a thud, more like a fft.  The thing about throwing in the towel is that even when you’re livid, and get some good speed behind it, the fft only gets so loud.  The world only acknowledges a small part of your sad energy.

Which is why I’m choosing to be optimistic.  At least for today.

There is time now.

Great Shift

Yesterday, August 3rd, was the day of the Great Shift in sports coverage from baseball to football.  Gone is the non-waiver trade deadline, more gone is the Hall of Fame induction, way gone is the lovefest that was the All-Star Game celebration.  In their place are the stories of NFL players reporting to camp, not reporting, maybe reporting, holding out for more money, pouting, posturing, posing, whimpering, punching people, punching each other, punching themselves (in the face); almost getting murdered, murdering others, getting arrested for some of it but punished for hardly any of it.  Baseball players aren’t all mature, harmless do-gooders (the steroid scandal, Ugueth Urbina, Josias Manzanillo, and others) but thank goodness those in charge let us get through one full month of summer – July – before “whetting our appetite for Fall” by posting what amounts to little more than a police blotter.

Quick Five #1

If Johnny Depp will actually be the Riddler in the next Batman movie, and Angelina Jolie will be the next Catwoman, and Philip Seymour Hoffman the next Penguin, then all five villains from the series of Batman movies that began in 1989 will be accounted for (those three plus the Joker and Two Face).

I’m movied out right now – I have no big releases on my calendar and that’s fine, because I’m finally understand just how good TV has gotten since I graduated from college with a degree in Film Studies.

I saw Brett Favre’s shit-eating grin on ESPN.com just now – that’s the last time I’ll write of him (until I do again) because it’s exactly what the egomaniac wants.  It’s like a blogger who doesn’t care about the blogging so long as one by one the reader statistics pile in.  It’s about the sport, the activity, and losing yourself in it instead of letting the adulation inflate your pride with abandon.

If I could decide to be two things, they’d be: patient and prolific.

To me, it ain’t summer without five things: Baseball, Orange Soda, Cheese Curls, Freak Thunderstorms, and Ice Cream.