Home Cooking

Here's the thing – when it's actually surprising to see the Mets drop a single game at Shea, well, that's a a good feeling.

Friday night's 4-3 loss to the Phillies was about as mundane, ho-hum, “Two and a Half Men” as a loss can get. Average. Both teams bang out seven hits, draw four walks and leave seven aboard, only the league leader in home runs gets his lick in, and the comeback doesn't happen.

Fine, whatever. How many times does that type of thing happen during the course of a season? A couple dozen?

But not at Shea while the Mets are hot. That's the difference.



From Aug. 4 to Aug. 25, New York won 11 straight outings in Queens, outscoring a series of visitors 65-36. The Mets got a group shutout effort (led by El Duque) a week ago against snooze-worthy Colorado, but otherwise used a group of steady efforts from a banged-up pitching corps and some ridiculous production from Los Dos Carloses.

Which is notable, because there's a difference between a hot streak from a good, healthy, cruising team (i.e., the 2006 Detroit Tigers at the beginning of the year), and the display the Mets just put on.

Rather, this has been a topsy-tuvy month for the New Mets, filled with any number of items which could have derailed the good times. There was an emotional, home-run-filled return to Shea for Mike Piazza, amply chronicled here at Y2K. There was a freaky blood clot scare for future HOFer Tom Glavine, and new DL trips from Pedro and Uncle Cliffy. The team added both a mensch and a meshuggeneh.


All the while, the Education of Blastings Thrilledge (one of the best of the eight million stories in the Naked City, I'd argue) continued apace, with our hero temporarily sent back down to the minors. He'll be back soon enough, unlike the flameout once known affectionately (and, as it happens, wrongly) as Mini-Manny.

Victor Diaz, DFAed as a result of the Green deal. R.I.P., man.

Now, every club has their own crosses to bear, and their own misadventures and mishaps to account for. But they don't dominate the way these Mets do. Wait, what was my point again?

Oh, yes. The point is that, despite being about as cliche-ridden as a phrase can be, being able to “overcome adversity” is a useful quality for a ballclub to have, especially insofar as it is a reflection of the group's clubhouse chemistry and mental flexibility rather than the vagarities of chance.

Another way of putting it would be to say that the postseason will certainly be bringing a host of new challenges to the Mets, most of which we can't even anticipate at this point, and that by excelling as they have through this tumultuous period, Willie's boys have shown us just what we would have wanted to see.

Did the Mets just get lucky for a while at home? Was this a fluke, a trick of a small sample size? Probably not, but only time will tell.

I, for one, think there was some pretty strong baseball played in Queens over the past several weeks.

On with the linking:

• George Vescey writes today (behind the TimesSelect wall) that the Mets should forgo selling the naming writes to their new pad and name it after Jackie Robinson. I think the idea makes sense on a number of levels, including the fact that it's a fine tribute and a fitting gesture. I also tend to think that the popular and media acclaim that goes along with such a non-corporate titleing tends to make up for the lost income stream. But then again, I also think billionaires taking fat cash handouts from cities to run their private businesses should be pretty damn receptive to anything we suggest.
• I'm far from the biggest Lupica fan in the world, but it's hard to argue with his output from today. Yankees to move A-Rod? Outstanding. Willie for Manager of the Year? Tremendous, although this paragraph (" Randolph is Manager of the Year in his league, and in his city. The fact that others are discussed ahead of him just shows that it is still easier for him to win baseball games, in a career of winning games, than it is for him to get the proper respect.") is pure gibberish. That'll happen in a Lupica column, though. You've got to see it coming, and step around the hit.
• If you think the New York media mails it in from time to time, you're going to love the Philly guys. Sample three paragraphs from this beauty:
  

  The Phils have made the most of recent opportunities.

  It's time to do it again.

  One game into the big series in New York, they have done that.

I mean, pay that man his money! This is gold, Jerry, gold!

• Phillies games sure turn into Chris Coste lovefests before long, hey? I'm as much for the heartwarming anecdote about a 33-year-old rookie as anyone, but Gary Cohen needs to tone it down a notch. Sample, as this schlub bloops a rolling opposite-field double down the line: "And the legend of Chris Coste continues to grow!" Um, sort of. If you're that into growing his legend, check out his stellar web site, where you can watch highlights and read samples of his two books, 1997's "Hey, I'm Just the Catcher" and the brand-new "RollerCoster - A Ride Through the Minor Leagues." Paging Dennis Quaid.
• Even after a bad inning Saturday night (and an especially bad 0-2 pitch to Ryan Howard), I'm extremely bullish on Oliver Perez, the Mets' new fireballing lefty headcase. There's more to be said on the topic, but he was absolutely dominant for four innings until his mechanics started to fray just a little. Even then, he got a bad break to start the fifth (striking out Coste looking, but not getting the call), which led to a frustrating sequence (walking the pitcher Lieber around two fielder's choices, RBI single, plunking Utley, two fantastic sliders to Howard and a third that ended up somewhere around the Celestial Object Formerly Known As The Planet Pluto). Anyway, Alex Nelson looked at what we can expect from him earlier in the week. The verdict? Not sure.
• It's alright to feel good about this. It really is. You're not a bad person. You're still a loving, caring individual. You're sensitive to the plight of others. You're ... hold on a sec. Damn voodoo doll keeps falling off the desk.
• Steve Goldman, the best Yankee writer out there, points out A-Rod's road numbers are almost identical to those from his Texas days (scroll down). We here at Y2K are perfectly willing to ignore data points like that, and will continue to argue that A-Rod is choking on the stench of loathing (both self- and otherwise) rising from the streets of New York like the slime in "Ghostbusters 2." I think that's fair.
• The guy who runs the Marlins is an absolute moron.

Finally, if you don't think we'll be dealing with the horror of this eventually (click on the link and around the site only if you have an extremely strong constitution, or have not eaten eggs today) ... well, we will be.

Until next time...