In the event of an emergency
You are 26 years old. You are the son of an NFL hero, and an NFL quarterback yourself. You have just had your spleen knocked out by the Carolina Panthers. What do you do?
Now, to the Mets. Oh, those Mets. Peter Botte put it nicely in the Daily News this morning: "The games have grown so mundane that each passing day at Shea now is spent trying to read between the lines rather than dissecting what's actually happening between them."
Yup. In that vein, it should be noted that Steve Trachsel laid an egg in his first post-clinch start last night; 11 baserunners allowed in 5 innings, 1 piddling strikeout and an ERA scooting toward 5.00. For those individuals such as myself who think you have to put John Maine in the No. 3 starters' slot for the playoffs, this is the reason why.
Walking Bernie Castro twice is the sort of thing that makes a manager lose a lot of confidence in you. And rightly so.
There are plenty of other worries simmering as well, including Beltran's balky quad (out for six straight games, don't you know) and the mess of who makes the post-season roster. I think Willie's usage patters over this last week will go a long way toward telling us who he thinks should be on the squad. My preferred team will be put in the Playoff Preview package coming up later this week (flashy stuff).
For ailing, full-of-heart Pedro, all I can say is that everyone needs to make some time to watch the game Wednesday night, if at all possible. Barring something strange, it will be his last start before Game 1 against whoever, and nobody needs to be reminded that there's quite a bit on the line. If his velocity doesn't start to come back up, it's not necessarily a disaster, but it's also going to make my blood pressure rise quite a bit. Hey, at least I still have a spleen.
Anyway, that's getting ahead of the game. I'll take tonight and Tuesday to pretend that all is right with the world, and then stick my hard-edged cap of cynicism back on Wednesday. After an NFL weekend of crushing loss (damn those Jets), a trip to a hospital bed doesn't sound oh-so-bad.
- Don't panic.
- Well, feel free to panic a little bit. I mean, you've just had your spleen knocked out, asshole. How about showing some emotion?
- Stagger over to the sideline. Gaze pitifully into the eyes of your coach, who looks completely and utterly disgusted with you.
- Find a roll of paper towels, preferably Bounty. Remove no fewer than four sheets, nervously crumple them together, and press against the left side of your body.
- Observe the blood flowing around and through the paper towels. Consider passing out.
- Coughing through blood, phlegm and parts of Julius Peppers, stagger over to a computer terminal behind the bench. Gross out wide receivers coach. Bring up WebMD, and search for "spleen knocked out."
- "We're sorry, your search for "spleen knocked out" did not match any documents." Oh, you bastards. What good are you, exactly? This does not help.
- Knock over a rack of Gatorade coolers. Start pissing uncontrollably all over Mike Alstott, who socks you in the face with a meaty forearm. Go down hard. Catch Keyshawn Johnson cackling on the opposite sideline.
- Lean back into the trainers' arms. Take cart to ambulance, have emegency surgery, wake up in hospital bed.
- Sift through get-well cards from University of Oklahoma football boosters, Lloyd Christmas and Kris Jenkins. Get disowned by father on national television.
Now, to the Mets. Oh, those Mets. Peter Botte put it nicely in the Daily News this morning: "The games have grown so mundane that each passing day at Shea now is spent trying to read between the lines rather than dissecting what's actually happening between them."
Yup. In that vein, it should be noted that Steve Trachsel laid an egg in his first post-clinch start last night; 11 baserunners allowed in 5 innings, 1 piddling strikeout and an ERA scooting toward 5.00. For those individuals such as myself who think you have to put John Maine in the No. 3 starters' slot for the playoffs, this is the reason why.
Walking Bernie Castro twice is the sort of thing that makes a manager lose a lot of confidence in you. And rightly so.
There are plenty of other worries simmering as well, including Beltran's balky quad (out for six straight games, don't you know) and the mess of who makes the post-season roster. I think Willie's usage patters over this last week will go a long way toward telling us who he thinks should be on the squad. My preferred team will be put in the Playoff Preview package coming up later this week (flashy stuff).
For ailing, full-of-heart Pedro, all I can say is that everyone needs to make some time to watch the game Wednesday night, if at all possible. Barring something strange, it will be his last start before Game 1 against whoever, and nobody needs to be reminded that there's quite a bit on the line. If his velocity doesn't start to come back up, it's not necessarily a disaster, but it's also going to make my blood pressure rise quite a bit. Hey, at least I still have a spleen.
Anyway, that's getting ahead of the game. I'll take tonight and Tuesday to pretend that all is right with the world, and then stick my hard-edged cap of cynicism back on Wednesday. After an NFL weekend of crushing loss (damn those Jets), a trip to a hospital bed doesn't sound oh-so-bad.
posted by Cheddar Ben at 1:54 PM
3 Comments:
I'm pretty sure that nobody is concerned about Beltran. The same quad-strain that he's had all year has been aggravated slightly yet again, and due to the clinching he gets to rest it. This is the same nagging strain he has had all year. He'll be fine.
Reyes looks to me like he's getting very hot again: he's laying off balls in the dirt and his outs have been sharply hit balls. Let's hope he's scalding in about 8-10 days. To paraphrase what AFOMG said to me in early June, if Reyes is in one of those .500 with an extra-base hit or two a game hot streaks come the postseason, then I suppose we will tear holes in opposing teams.
Here's to Pedro getting stronger with every inning he throws...
I figured some anti-Yankee venom could be directed at the fact that somebody set the all-time saves record yesterday, and it merited a mention on SportsCenter somewhere below "Packers beat Lions!" and just above "Konerko hits two homers!"
This is only notable here because if his royal highness, the blessed Mariano had done this, it would have led every sportscast and been front page ESPN.com news with a breathless article by Bob Klapisch wondering if Mo was the greatest player of all time.
I also note, for the record, that at a meeting with a few Yanks fans I respect the other day, they actually referred to Rivera as--and I swear I'm not making this up--"The Guy Who May Not Be Blamed". Probably because they're too busy blaming the guy with the 40 homers and 110 ribbies.
i was at the game last night...Your taske on Reyes is on target. He and Cliff Floyd looked really good at the plate last night. Cliff hit one to the warning track in his first at bat and he ripped that double into the opposite field gap.
Reyes got two hits and 2 SBs and crushed an out to dead denter that went about 405 feet.
ALSO The gambler LO absolutely gunned down 2 of the first 3 potential base stealers by 5 feet.
Mr Wright did not look that great; his double play killed a potential rally and he cut off a ball #7 was ready to handle.
Shawn Green definitely could show abit more hustle on those balls hit in his direction. I understand we are basically in the Jewish holiday season but damn PimpN run!
all in all, no need to panic yet, but I did not feel too great about the effort level and/or production(alot of pop ups last night) of players who are not proven in this town.
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