Panic! in the Blogosphere*

Pedro Martinez (RIP) is lost. But what about the postseason?

That's the question on the minds of Mets fans the morning after we learned that our beloved ace would miss the entirety of the postseason.

Naturally there are plenty of people counting the Mets out. They say the Mets needed their ace pitcher to guide them through October. They say that without Pedro the Mets just don't have the horses to win.

Fuck that.

Let's try this. Remember this guy?

For my money, he's the only person the Mets can't win with. If Jose Lima were in our rotation going into October, I'd say, OK, the Mets are fine and fucked right now.

But that's not who we're going with. We're going with El Duque, Tom Glavine, John Maine, and yes, Steve Trachsel.

Of those four, I'll admit that I genuinely have no confidence in Trachsel. It takes a best of all worlds scenario for him to have a good outing; this we know.

Doesn't mean it can't happen; he certainly looked great in a big spot against the Marlins a week and change ago. But none of us will go into his starts expecting to win.

But you know what? That's OK because I'm going to go into the games started by El Duque, Glavine and Maine thinking we will win.

In 116.2 innings as a Met, El Duque has allowed 53 earned runs. Not excellent by any means. But there's more to El Duque than the sabernazis would let you believe.

I'm not going to drudge up his playoff resume, impressive as it is, it's actually painful for me to recall given his previous employer.

I'm more concerned with the pitcher he's been for the Mets, and anybody who's followed this team knows he's been our best pitcher since virtually the day we got him. He's performed in the big games he's started, all but one of which came against playoff teams, but that one counts because it was against the team that had dumped him a couple weeks prior.

So El Duque, him I'm not worried about.

As for Glavine, look, he hasn't been the same pitcher in the second half that he was in the first half. Unlike Trachsel, however, you don't think it would take a miracle for him to have a good outing, nor do you go into the game worried that things will get completely out of hand.

With Glavine you're either going to have a really good effort or a middling one. Aside from that start in Atlanta and that first start back after the blood clots in Houston, Glavine's been pretty automatic where quality starts go.

Bottom line: it's not always pretty with Glavine, but he consistently keeps the Mets in games, and sometimes he dominates. I'll take my chances.

That leaves John Maine. If we'd gone back a week or two ago, we all would have said we wanted him pitching Game 4 ahead of Trachsel, and he's done nothing to give us a reason not to want him for Game 3/4 now.

He's green, yes, but he's also got a 3.64 ERA, a 1.14 WHIP and a 7.29 K/9. On merit he deserved to start all along, the fact that he is now being forced into a starter's role shouldn't discourage us.

But here's the point. We all would have loved to have seen Pedro out there. When he's healthy, when he's himself, he's the best thing we've got going.

Fact is though, Pedro hasn't been healthy or himself for months now. Didn't matter. The Mets kept winning.

In a playoff series his intensity and swagger would have been incredibly valuable. We're not better without him, but we're not markedly worse as the naysayers are already naysaying we are.

Truth is, without him we're really the team we've been over the last 4 months.

So pour some out for Pedro tonight, but don't shed any tears for the Mets. They've persevered without their ace for 4 months now.

The way I see it, what's another 4 weeks?

- A.F.O.M.G.

* Please accept my sincerest apologies for anyone who was offended by this title, and just so the record's clear on this one, know that I am not a fan of Panic! at the Disco. Truth is, I've never heard any of their songs, but I know that I'm supposed to dislike them on principle, so I do.

Everything's Not Lost Part IV

(What's up all. Our favorite fan and resident happy man Happy Will is going to speak the truth today. A quick note from the Sip: Everyone needs to calm the fuck down. The playoffs are a different breed of baseball. Everything that happened this season is null and void come next week. We have had a very special season, one unlike anything we have seen. What happened in the last 2 weeks doesn't mean anything come October. Neither do the first 6 months.)

Momentum looks shot, the pitching isn't going to hold up, the batters are out of synch. They've been rested too much. Name your complaint and in the last week, you've probably heard it.

Now, who knows who we're going to play. It could be the Dodgers and their back-to-back-to-back-to-back magic or the extremely scary and resurgent Houston Astros.

Suddenly, what seemed like smooth sailing to the ticker-tape parade seems in jeopardy and a dream season might get cut short in round 1.

There's going to be a lot of talk in the upcoming week about pitching matchups and lineups and momentum and choking, but before that happens, I just wanted to get one last call from the bullpen and remember what kind of special season we just experienced and sprinkle a little bit of context and hope back into the world wide web or the intranet as I like to call it.

From almost the first day, it has been as pure a joy as you can feel stepping out to Shea or watching the Mets play this year.

In the choreographed handshakes, Beltran's mole, the Pedro hysteria, Reyes delivering the most undercover MVP season since Rickey Henderson or Jeff Wilpon emerging as the sleeper candidate for best baseball owner of all-time, this season has been all the justification for why we spend so much time following, discussing and talking about the Mets.

Sure the Mets won a lot more than they lost -- but for the true Mets fans, while that feels great, this season was about something more subtly discernible.

Most importantly, something changed this year. Shea no longer became the place where drunken idiots took out their frustrations on the Armando Benitez, Mel Rojas, Roger Cedeno and Kaz Matsui's of the world.

It was a place where we set an attendance record smiling along with Reyes and Pedro. The future now looks bright. The Mets and their fans remembered that baseball should be fun and once and for all, made this season simply about the Mets and baseball.

Not competing with the Yankees, not living up to expectations, simply having fun playing a great game.

Granted, I want the Mets to win the World Series as much as the next guy, but since we're all either Sippy Momo groupies or huge Mets fans, if we're reading this site, we care.

And before the white knuckles of the playoffs get underway and we get lost in wondering how the Mets are going to hit lefty relievers or whether Pedro will hold up (and as the future father of the first Pedro who will ever have a bris, trust me, he will), let's take a moment to exhale and realize how fun this season was.

I also have a sneaking suspicion that this joy and faith is going to be the reason why this October is different too. We love this team and they love the game... and call me crazy, but there's some magic brewing in Flushing that no lineup analysis will ever reveal, so just enjoy it.

The Mets' slogan isn't ya gotta believe nor do they call me Happy Will for nothing.

Believe,
Happy Will

One-word posts, Pedro-style

Salt.

Gulp

No use sugar-coating it. The Mets are playing like shit. A lineup, A-minus lineup, doesn't matter. This team is hemorrhaging losses at a rate completely unseen throughout 2006. And we're doing it against teams with a combined .457 winning percentage.

So that's the bad news.

Unfortunately, there's really no good news to counterbalance it with, aside from the fact that the games we're playing right now are meaningless.

I don't think it's anything worth getting overly concerned about, but I agree with what Tom Glavine said before the game last night: it would sure as hell be better to end this 6-game, season-ending road trip 4-2 rather than 2-4.

Beyond that, what more can you say? The team's not hitting. We all thought that big 12-run game against Washington over the weekend was going to be the break-out. Since then, we've scored 3 runs in 18 innings.

It gets worse. In 12 games since an off-day on Sept. 14, we've been shut-out three times. We've scored more than 3 runs twice. We've scored an average of 2.5 runs per game, and that includes one game where we scored 12 times. Take that away and we've scored 1.64 runs per game.

So that's the misery index.

And to top it all off, two teams we desperately want to avoid in the playoffs are surging at just the right time.

The Astros are 1.5 games back of the NL Central leading Cardinals, who are an almost unbelievable 4 games over .500.

The 'Stros have two more games in Pittsburgh followed by 3 in Atlanta, while the Cardinals have 1 more against San Diego tonight before closing their season at home against Milwaukee.

Out west, the Dodgers have 2 more games in Colorado before they close out their season with 3 games in San Francisco, while the Padres move on to Arizona after tonight's game in St. Louis.

Closer to home, the Phillies are a game out of the Wild Card sweepstakes. They've got 2 more games against the Nationals before closing out the season on the road in Miami.

So how's about some predictions? In spite of my general pessimism at the moment, I'm going to predict that things actually turn out the way we want them to here, with the Astros and Phillies just falling short of the playoffs.

I'm banking on the Braves and Marlins to show a little pride and come up with series wins against the Astros and Phils. Both teams were Wild Card contenders late in the year, and you know, if you can't make it to the big dance, ruining someone else's chance may be the next best thing.

Put it all together and the Mets are looking at the Dodgers for the NLDS while the Cards would square off with San Diego. I'd rather play the Padres in a short series, but I won't lose any sleep if it doesn't happen.

I may lose sleep, however, if the Mets don't snap out of this little funk they're in. Big game tonight. Pedro's on the hill.

I've already written a million times about how important his last few starts are -- hopefully we'll see progress again tonight. If Pedro gives us 6 innings with a little more life on his fastball I'll be happy.

And if the Mets score more than 2.5 runs tonight, hell, I'll be overjoyed.

- A.F.O.M.G.

Hip-Hip, Hypocrisy?

On Monday night, most of us gathered around our living rooms and we watched something greater than sports.

The New Orleans Saints were playing their first home game of the season in a dome that a little over a year ago served as a shelter to tens and thousands of Hurricane Katrina survivors.

The Saints were the one pro team in a city that fell victim to America's largest national disaster and now, a little more than a year later they were going to play their first home game under America's biggest sports stage: Monday Night Football.

U2 performed a rendition of "Beautiful Day" in the pre game show, replacing the song's original words for words describing New Orleans.

I had the chills. I'm talking the mondo chills.

From there, a movie unfolded. The Saints, a slight underdog in the game went on to dominate. Their new leader, Drew Brees, who came to New Orleans to be part of not only a team, but a city, led the way.

Their savior, Reggie Bush had a solid game as a player but an even better game as a leader. He was the one uniting the sideline, getting the fans involved. He was the first to pickup a teammate.

The game was sports at its purist form.

New Orleans as a city is the nation's biggest underdog. We all know how devastating Katrina was from the news. They experienced it.

This was Rudy, Rocky IV, Major League and every other underdog movie combined.

Which is why it was so special.

I was behind the Saints. The broadcasters were behind the Saints. America was behind the Saints.

America must be a pretty big-hearted place then, right?

Not so fast.

America is full of shit.

One day America is rooting for the New Orleans Saints, the next day America is rooting for the New York Yankees.

The Yankees are the British to baseball's Colonies.

They have all the money and power in the world to just dominate. There is no fear and famine, there is power and prosperity.

There is no opportunity on this team. You make the Yankees if you perform well enough elsewhere so that you are eventually acquired for more money later in your career. (Don't make Wang or Cano arguments. They got turns at a time of intense desperation last summer when the Yankees were in third place and decimated by injuries.)

There is no heart whatsoever to the Yankees. There is no feel good story or character that overcame adversity to finally make it.

No, the Yankees are the Anti-Saints.

Shouldn't we hate them then?

Is it possible to love two extremes?

Can you go into Rocky vs. Drago and honestly say that you are just rooting for a good fight, because you can relate to or feel for both boxers?

It just makes no sense.

Unfortunately, this paradox is indicative of American sports culture.

Fans' interests are fleeting. Like heroin, sports serve as a quick fix to cleanse our egos, our hearts, or our consciences.

If this makes people happy, then good for them.

But that is not the reason we play sports.

For anyone who has ever competed a day in their life, we know that sports is about working hard and growing with your teammates so that you can get better and then finally one day win.

Sports are a marathon not a race.

But now it all kind of makes sense to me.

Last night, I sat there and rooted for the Saints. That was all fine and good. And today, yeah I am happy they won, but it really isn't that important to me. Not even as important as the lack of toilet paper in my bathroom.

But every single moment that we share with the Mets lasts with me.

Every waking experience remains in my head.

Over 20 years of vivid memories remain a thought away in this otherwise average size brain of mine.

For most of us here, those dedicated enough to read this obscure little Jawn on the internet, just cause you want a little bit more about the team that you have loved for so long, you understand what sport is all about.

And that is why we enjoy them more.

Sports and our teams are not about one day or one season.

Sports are a lifetime connection. A connection between us and teams, stadiums, fans and each other.

Yeah.

VCD,

SM

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?

1. Don't panic.
2. Well, feel free to panic a little bit. I mean, you've just had your spleen knocked out, asshole. How about showing some emotion?
3. Stagger over to the sideline. Gaze pitifully into the eyes of your coach, who looks completely and utterly disgusted with you.
   
4. 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.
5. Observe the blood flowing around and through the paper towels. Consider passing out.
6. 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."
7. "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.
8. 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.
9. Lean back into the trainers' arms. Take cart to ambulance, have emegency surgery, wake up in hospital bed.
   
10. Sift through get-well cards from University of Oklahoma football boosters, Lloyd Christmas and Kris Jenkins. Get disowned by father on national television.

I think if we can all agree to follow these simple rules, we'll be better off.


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.

Petey Preps and the Boss Breaks His Silence

(Note: Sorry this is late, was trying to close the deal on some postseason tickets.)

As you may have heard, Pedro Martinez pitched last night. Went 5 innings, allowed 4 earned runs on 4 hits and 1 walk, fanned 7 batters along the way.

Like everyone else, I'm pretty much in the cautiously optimistic camp.

On the one hand, it's hard to watch somebody no-hit a team for four innings and be completely discouraged. Ditto somebody who musters a 1.00 WHIP and Ks 7 along the way to 15 outs.

But there are mitigating factors here. One, of course, is the curious case of Pedro's disappearing fastball.

In his first start as a Met, Pedro managed to dial his heater up to 95 MPH. You'd be forgiven if you'd forgotten that though. In the 52 starts since Opening Day 2005, Pedro's velocity has slipped to 91-92, then 89-91, until now, alarmingly, 83-85.

We all expect his velocity to rise with time. He hasn't sustained an arm injury in his Met tenure, so there's no reason he shouldn't be able to get back there, again, with time.

But as we all know, time is the one commodity we're not trading in right now. Pedro's got one last tuneup left. He wants to go 6 or 7 innings. I want that too, but I also want to see a little more life on his fastball.

Because you can fool a bunch of overeager kids with a strict diet of offspead stuff, but that alone won't cut it against the batter batting orders we can expect to face in the playoffs. The Phillies, Dodgers and Cardinals are all excellent to good to decent hitting teams... the Padres, not so much.

Going into his last tune-up before the playoffs begin, I want to see Pedro go 6 innings and have just slightly more zip on his fastball. I'm talking like 85-87, not 83-85.

What I want to see is steady improvement. This last start qualifies as that. His control was on, his pitch count was up. If we see similar progress in his next start, I see no reason why he can't keep improving and return to being the pitcher he was in April.

Remember, back then he had only had a 7-inning Spring Training tune up. This time around he's had 8 innings. His control is there, his speed and stamina aren't.

He's got one more start until the show really begins. If you go back to April, you'll see that what he needed then was his 7 Spring Training innings and another start to get back to regular. Let's hope that's all he needs this time, too.

The Boss.

You know, I know that George Steinbrenner is supposed to be this big tough guy, but the truth is I don't really know where that reputation comes from.

Well, that's only half true. I know about him firing and hiring Billy Martin a bunch of times. I know about him hiring a private dick to dig up dirt on Dave Winfield. I know about him getting suspended from baseball for a little while.

But I don't really have any personal experience with that George Steinbrenner. Those are just stories to me.

These days, Georgie plays his cards closer to his vest. He's handed more day-to-day responsibility over to Brian Cashman, and while he may still demand excellence on the field, he doesn't come out with absurd quotes or anything like that.

And he hasn't broken with that newer, softer Steinbrenner image today, but he has made a certain prediction that will be of interest to Mets fans.

"We're going to win (the World Series)," Steinbrenner told The Associated Press in a recent phone interview. "We're going all the way."

You heard it here first, Mets fans. As if you needed added incentive to want to beat the Yankees in a repeat Subway Series, there's Old Man Steinbrenner stirring the pot.

What else is he going to say, you ask?

Well, he might have said nothing at all. It's what he's done the entire rest of the season after all.

But this is the challenge set before us. We know the Yankees are the most talented team in the American League. We know the same is true of the Mets in the Senior Circuit.

There's a long way to go between here and there, for both clubs, but the challenge has been issued right from the top. There's blood in the water now.

Man. There's really nothing like October baseball. Le's go!

- A.F.O.M.G.

Salt

(Note: A piece by Cheddar Ben follows this one from Sippy Momo. Enjoy.)

I caught word this morning that my old company, Facebook.com might be looking to sell. Had I not quit last week, I would be loooking at nearly 6 figures in the bank account.

Oh well, there is more money in blogging.

My life is officially hitting rock bottom. Yesterday, me and my good pal Ben, who you can catch on E! Monday-Friday starting in about a week saw all the demons in the world when we hit the Hustler casino at 5 pm.

I was truly embarassed to be Senior's son.

With their weird rules, sad people and non English-speaking dealers, I sat there the entire time with both hands on my head like Eli or Peyton after they had made a mistake.

I managed to go about 2.5 units which was nice. Money is pretty sweet when you are no longer earning any of it.

Either way, I was on my track back. After thoroughly offending my good pal KFC (K Man, I love you dog. As they say in the old country -- We cool, Mox), I met with my old NYC pal Adrian for what turned out to be some utter insanity.

See, I am not an LA guy. I am a cold weather quarterback who for the most part doesn't like dickbags.

But LA is starting to grow on me. There is just a ton of weird but cool shit going down here. So we ended up at one of LA's hotter night clubs for some Scarsdale Jew's birthday party.

At first I would have rather gotten chicken wings at the candle light in Edgemont, but once we rolled in it was all good. I was a few sheets to the wind, somewhat out of character but playing to the Hollywood bullshit.

Adrian, an NYC party dude with essentially nothing to lose, put me over the top with a couple more disgusting cocktails. I truly hit rock bottom.

Until... I looked over and saw my buddy from theU at a table with Lohan and the Hilton Sisters.

See Lohan, pre-intense cocaine abuse (Y2K is a drug free blog) was at the top of my list before she became a little too cool for school.

If AFOMG was there, I'm sure he would have gone for a quote for this site. His dedication, journalism skills, and all around goodness is way better than a young but fiery Sip.

I made endless passes at Young Lindsay. But somehow, she wasn't buying. That skank. Does she know that my dad was once ranked #4 on the Lakeridge Men's Tennis ladder?

After LL didn't pan out I tried but was held back by an LA pal to beat the shit out of that dude Brandon Davis, the billionare heir/cheese dick. Would have made Page 6 and finally won my father's love. Oh well. That didn't really happen either.

I write about my LA sightings cause I am hungover as all hell and have no idea what happened in baseball last night. What I do know is what I read yesterday morning. And it's official. It is on paper. The Yankees are the biggest bunch of bitches alive.

Whatever the reason, finally those losers from the Bronx put in all paper. The one stud on that team, Jason "Couldnt be more back on the juice" Giambi called out his protection, Alex Rodriguez. Step up, he said. Make a big play. Sure. I'll buy.

But for really the first time since the Yankees became a dynasty, the intense egos and salaries are making a public spectacle out of their insane contracts and inconsistent play.

A-Rod has cemented himself as the biggest herb in sports and all of this is just making the Mets supposed "over celebration" seem saintly. All of a sudden, we have a bunch of 'dudes' who were just happy and a little over excited about winning.

But those dicks had a bunch of cry babies making 20 million dollars a year that were hugging each other just because they were on camera.

Finally, I have a point. The Yankees belong in LA. They belong in a town void of true sports fans, who just want a winner and cool uniforms. They belong in a town where their celebrity off the field means more than their celebrity on it.

If they were the LA Yankees it would all make sense. Insecure suits with underpaying jobs, who spend their day sucking off bigshots and trying to make a buck, could come home at 7 pm, hear that the Yankees once again won and then go out to a fashinable LA eatery and talk about "The Biz."

The Yankees could be fleeting. They could be a quick story, just like Gyllenhaal taking Aquaman II. As corny as Kobe Bryant and the Lakers are, LA is the Yankees' town. It kills me that they are one of the landmarks of my city and it kills me that my father has to work in an office with more Yankee tickets than Mets tickets.

At the end of the day, we all have each other and we all have the Upper West Side. Completely insane this morning. I feel like Julio Franco putting on a 3rd base glove for the first time since Sip was born. Weird.

Big ups to K Reeves,

Sip

Oh yeah?

I could not be less interested in anyone's complaints about the team at the moment. Animal, vegetable, mineral, some alien species like sports talk radio host ... you're all pissing me off.

Oh, what's that, Dontrelle? Two home runs for you last night, I know. Three on the year. You've won more games against the Mets since you came into the league than any other pitcher. Well, that's great. You are just the cat's pajamas. Your guys are so plucky it hurts.

By the way, enjoy the playoffs from your living room couch, buster. Try not to remember what an awful year you've had.


Oh, what's that, Yankees? Did you clinch the AL East last night? I think you did. Congratulations. That champagne is wonderful, I agree. So bubbly and refreshing. And an excellent vintage, yes.

The only thing is, we've been waiting here for a couple of days LAUGHING at you from our posh vantage point as the first team to clinch. Which is, I think you'll agree, the only way to go about it in the media capital of the world. You're dead weight, Bombers.

And backing in like little bitches on a loss, letting the Twins do your dirty work for you? Are you even men? (Don't answer that, Alex.) When the Mets lose potential clinching games, we make sure that someone sent a case of Luna bars to the Phillies' locker room beforehand to cover our asses.


The Phillies ... love the Luna bars. Can't put my finger on it, but there it is.

Oh, what's that, Tiger Woods? False reports about wife pornography, yeah, that can be tough. An Irish tabloid doing the trick, too. That's got to sting. They finally master the ins and outs of the printing press ("ink" and such), and this is what they come up with. Horrid.

Of course, it's a little less worrisome when you realize this whole thing was over and done four entire years ago (NSFW). This was addressed and masturbated then. What, precisely, is the point of re-hashing it during the best winning streak of your career?

Plus, are you aware of what the Mets were doing four years ago? Of course, not, you're more of a tennis fan. Well, the Metsies were en route to a last-place, 75-86 season. On Sept. 20, 2002, Bobby Valentine ran out a guy named Raul Gonzalez to play centerfield in between Roger Cedeno and J-Burn (R.I.P.). Endy Magic hit leadoff for the Montreal Expos, bopped two hits, and the Mets lost 6-1.


The point being, get the hell off our media stage, Tiger. You're standing directly in our light, and it's annoying as shit. Go beat up a leprechaun in a back alley or something.

Oh, what's that, Dodgers? Very nicely done. Four home runs in a row, only the fourth time that's ever happened. Against your in-state, Piazza-laden rival in a tough race, too. Bravo.

But, not so much with the doing it on the night the Mets clinched. Are you stupid? The stage, my Bum-like friends, has room for only one player at a time, and the Amazins waited 18 long, cold years for their night of glory. Your heroics, if we can call them that, were unseemly and ill-considered. You're frying the brains of your fans with such nonsense.

The punishment has already been meted out -- loss-loss to the Bucs at home, a nasty showing. You're a half-game behind San Diego, and should you pull it out, your likely fate will be a thrashing at the Mets' hands in the first round of the playoffs. Best of luck.

Oh, what's that, Isiah Thomas? I'm sorry, I can't hear you over the radio. Some guy is reading parts of a report by the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. Hold on, this sounds good.

" ... subjected to a hostile work environment including, but not limited to, severe and pervasive verbal sexual harassment." Wow. Okay, they've moved on to Marketplace now. Hah. That Kai Ryssdal is a smooth dude. I would not want my girl to be anywhere around him.


What were you saying? Oh, right, that report. Hmm. Well, isn't this a little bit awkward. Yep, old chum, you're right screwed, best I can tell it. See, this is the kind of news that goes perfectly with a Mets celebration party -- a witty, humorous counterpoint from a laughably inept New York sports institution. Dollars to donuts, Omar's never going to be hauled into court on something like this.

Look, I don't mean to gloat. Hey, take your hands off of me. Security! I don't care what kind of skirt I'm wearing, that's not kosher. Oh, you're going to pay for this, you brute. And now look, you've made Pedro cry.

Oh, what's that, Pedro? You'll feel better tonight? I couldn't be happier.

Celebrations Like They Oughta Be

Word of the "controversy" reached me yesterday afternoon via the MetsGeek message boards. It was there that I first learned that Mike & the Mad Dog were stirring up trouble. It was like "Enter Sandman" all over again.

From there the debate spread across town, onto the message boards of MetsGeek and through yesterday's broadcast of Daily News Live on SNY.

Was the Mets' post-clinch celebration Tuesday night too raucous? For Mike Francesa and Chris Russo, the answer was an emphatic yes.

Now I didn't hear Mike & the Mad Dog's broadcast yesterday, but based on what I've read and what I know of their style, I think I can divine the key points.

1. The Mets haven't accomplished anything of significance yet.
2. Partying that hard after winning a division title only underscores the team's lack of success in comparison with the Yankees.

Heaven forbid the Mets actually enjoy themselves after winning a division title!

I was saying it to a friend of mine last night. The fact that there was controversy over how hard the Mets celebrated last night, whether in terms of Champagne sprayed, cigars smoked or hands of fans slapped, underscores everything wrong with baseball, and everything wrong with the Yankees, thank you very much.

Winning a division title is a great accomplishment, particularly when you do so in the fashion of the Mets.

I mean, this isn't like the Padres winning the NL West last year. The Mets have the best record in baseball, and sorry, no apologies for the weak National League. We won a division title for the first time in 18 years, and for the first time since 1993, a team not named the Atlanta Braves has won the National League East.

Those are all feats worth celebrating, and when you're a team that has a good clubhouse, that has people who actually like one another, that has players and fans who don't take the postseason for granted, the good feelings are going to spill over into the celebrations.

For my money, that's what's right about baseball.

What's wrong about baseball are the pathetic post-clinch celebrations that we see from the Yankees every year. Hand shakes all around! Whoops! Try not to get any Champagne on Mr. Steinbrenner's carpet!

(Oh, and if we see something different from the Yankees tonight or tomorrow or whenever they clinch, I'm convinced it will only be because they saw the Mets throw a real celebration.)

It's been said many times before on this site. Winning every year isn't what baseball is all about.

Baseball is about nights like Tuesday. It's about seeing something you've never seen before, and feeling something you've never felt before. Or if you have seen/felt it before, it's a sensation you can hardly remember.

Me, I had never seen the Mets clinch a playoff spot before. I'd never had that feeling of happiness or accomplishment, which was decidedly different from when they won the Wild Card those two times.

Paul Lo Duca had never had that feeling either. Ditto Carlos Delgado. Ditto David Wright and Mr. Glass.

To them, for me, it was something you could only dream about. For 18 years it was a dream that went unfulfilled, and then Tuesday night, it was realized, and I'm sure it was all the sweeter for the delay.

It's a truth Yankee fans should be familiar with. To a man, I doubt there's a Yankee fan who's gonna tell you that winning in, say, 1999 was sweeter than winning in 1996. It had been a long time for the Yanks in 1996, 18 years. In 1999 it had been 365 days.

Dyanasties are fun. They're worth admiring on some level. As much as we all hate the Yankees and the Braves, I doubt anyone would mind if the Mets were World Series contenders every year.

But the fact is that a large part of why Tuesday was so sweet was that there was no dynasty, only a dynasty of failure from 2002-2004 that we have now officially shook off.

So Tuesday night the Mets felt like celebrating. Players like Reyes and Wright, who arrived during the darkest depths of the Art Howe era, felt like slapping hands with the fans. Paul Lo Duca, who's been in this game a long time and has never been to the postseason, felt like spraying fans with a hose.

I'll be the first to tell you that we have larger, more important goals left to accomplish this year, that this is a team that needs to make (win?) the World Series to be considered a success in every sense of the word.

But the 11 wins between then and now are bridges still to cross. In the meantime, Yankee fans, you can keep the muted celebrations to yourselves.

- A.F.O.M.G.

Word is Bond

(Note: Sip wrote the following piece while watching the Mets' postgame celebration last night.)

My first friend at college was a kid named Robbie. I played sports against him since we were 6 and the kid was a diehard Mets fan. Check and check. I had my first friend.

I haven't spoken to Robbie in almost 3 years. No real reason, we kind of just both went out separate ways. I hadn't spoken to him until last night.

New Mets!!!

That is what this team means to me. It is a passion, a hobby, it's family and it is friends. They are that huge a part of my life.

When that soft liner landed in Uncle's glove I didn't really know how to react. It was that awesome of a feeling. I smiled and I had chills. I looked at KFC who had the same shit eating grin.

We watched our boys celebrate. Paul Lo Duca put it best, when talking to Y2K legend Chris Cotter: "I fucking... freaking love it."

I'm not going to say that this is part one of many. I don't need to do that. I feel more like Rod Tidwell laying down in endzone. Please, just let me enjoy this one for a second.

Monday night was perfect. It wasn't too easy but it was never too hard. I could feel the excitement from my lounge chair in Los Angeles. I needed to be there but couldn't be. And that was ok. I am sitting here now watching the Mets storm back on the field, 45 minutes after the game, watching our boys come out on the field and celebrate with the fans.

D Wright has a cigar in his mouth, Glass is dancing, and of course smiling.

It is all just perfect. Watching Julie Donaldson get doused in Champagne, I'm pretty sure Duaner Sanchez purposely got her chest area.

This is all sort of stream-of-consciousness and for that I apologize. But that is how this all feels. I'm watching our kids, our little brothers, Wright and Reyes run around the field boxes and high five the remaining fans.

This is not a group of baseball players wearing a Mets uniform. These guys are Mets. They wear the blue and orange on their chest just like I do and just like all of you do.

AFOMG just called me. That kid was in a 6 year rut until just now. This is why we are fans. This is why we follow a team. For moments like these when all of our dedication, all those 100's and 1000's of games that we have watched with each other, make it all worth while.

Lastings Milledge had his first drink tonight. I can't say the same for young Sip. I fucking love all of you guys as much as I love this team. And I am proud to say, in a time where most athletes seem like rich spoiled assholes, these guys just seem like they are just a bunch of awesome guys.
Our leader is a 23-year-old baseball geek from Virginia. His mate on the left side has never stopped smiling. Our best players are two softspoken veterans from Latin America.

Our star pitchers are a quirky lightning rod who has now dominated basebal for a decade and the most respectable of veterans. That is why they are all on the field right now. They are enjoying it with us the fans, cause that is who they are.

I don't what lies ahead of us, but what I do know is that what we have had so far has been truly amazing.

And just as I was ready to wrap up it happened. For the first time of my life, I heard Jose Reyes speak. I didn't really understand him and neither did Chris Cotter. But I heard him speak. For those of you who have been with us all season, you know what that means to me.

Hope you all enjoy this celebration. I am definitely looking forward to the next one. I'll see you all back in NYC in October.

Vaya con dios,

Sippy Momo

The Team. The Time. The Celebration.

Honestly, I nearly wept.


- A.F.O.M.G.

Game Time

This weekend was perfect for Sip the sports fan. I wasn't ready for the Mets to clinch and didn't even know if it was the best thing for them.

This weekend was for football. A sweet day of college football and one of the better Giants games in recent memory made this an incredible sports weekend.

Made a killing pounding the pants of the big time favorites and fading the Broncos. If not for Chris Gamble, I would be looking at an unprecedented 7-0 Sunday.

Then, there is the Sports Guy's sleeper, the Rams. Those clowns went out and lost to the stinking 49ers. Eat that, nerd. Tell Hench he doesn't have shit on Happy Will.

But these G-Men. Wow, that was awesome.

As for the Mets, I really believe that losing was the best thing that could have happened to them for a number of reasons.

First, who the hell wants to win in Pittsburgh? We have three chances now to take this thing down on our home turf. I would pay a ton of money to be at Shea to watch this happen and I assume all of you would to. How great of an atmosphere will Shea Stadium be on Monday night?

Second, this team needed to be humbled. The '06 Mets got killed by a bad team in the Pirates. We got swept and never really looked sharp. For the first time all season, the Mets really looked bad. Which is important.

This whole season feels like it has been too easy. A division was handed to us on a silver platter. The Braves never gave us a scare, neither did the Phillies.

For the first time this season I'm a little bit scared about the Mets. They don't look invincible.

The best thing that happened to the White Sox last year was the last minute surge of the Indians. The White Sox looked invincible for 5 months last year, only to get a last minute scare from the Indians in September. The ChiSox then went into October ready to run angry and so they did, basically steam rolling through the post season.

We can only wish for the same.

Then there is the '86 Mets factor. The '06 Mets have so many parallels with the '86 team. Now we have our shitty 3-game sweep.

The 1986 Mets were swept on September 12-14 on the road in Pennsylvania (Philadelphia). They then lost another one in St. Louis only to then clinch on September 16th. Like the '06 version, the '86 Mets steamrolled through the season. Their main nemesis, the Cardinals were an afterthought by June and clinching the division wasn't a fear but an inevitability.

Sounds surprisingly familiar.

With the momentum of the Giants behind us, we now have the clincher ahead. It does not nearly seem as easy as it seemed 4 days ago and that is awesome.

Now I feel like the Mets are ready to clinch.

They are ready to play a good game and they are ready to get this show on the road.

Tonight should be special.

Enjoy.

VCD,

Sip

Just one more note. Pedro's loss on Friday means the same to me as this whole last weekend. If this were a story book, our ace would come back and win the big game for us.

As my good pal Chris Martin says, "Nobody said it was easy."

Pedro's emotion after the game, after he had let his team down was awesome. The guy was devastated in a relatively meaningless game in September in Pittsburgh. To Pedro, our leader, this game mattered.

He lost and it killed him.

This whole team needs to develop this mindset.

In Pedro, we follow.

Pat Burrell, Met Savior

Well, either Burrell or Humberto Quintero (you kill my father, prepare to die), whose 6-4-3 double play with one man down and the bases juiced delivered a 4-3 victory to the upstart Phillies, and kept the Mets' magic number locked at 1.

After last night's debacle, which featured Pedro Martinez doing none of the lofty things I hoped he would, I retired to my room to follow the Phillies-Astros game on GameCast.

By that point we were already in the 7th inning or so, the Phillies were already up 4-3. Pat Burrell, the reknowned Met killer, had slain a 3-2 fastball from former Met nemesis Roger Clemens in the top of the first to give the Phils an inspiring 4-0 lead.

Side note here: I normally despise the Phillies. I don't really know why. The Mets have never really contended with them for a wild card or a division title, at least not that I can remember. Maybe it's their fans, a notoriously obnoxious bunch.

Or maybe it's Pat Burrell. For years this guy has tormented the Mets in a manner normally reserved for somebody in a Braves uniform with the word "Jones" on the back.

He was the cause of a near-fight in the stands at Shea between B.O.A.F.O.M.G., a couple Phillies fans and myself several years ago, after he slugged what proved to be a game-winning home run off of, who else, Armando Benitez.

But last night that was all forgiven, and all of it will be forgiven today if the Phillies can somehow piece together another win against the Astros.

Things started looking pretty dicey in the 9th, after two Philadelphia errors and an infield single loaded the bases against Flash Gordon. I charged down the hall defiantly, grabbed my bottle of Champagne out of the refrigerator, and resigned myself to accepting a division title without an on-field celebration.

By the time I returned to my room it was over. Quintero had done the work of so many Carlos Baergas, and the Mets were still a decision away from the NL East crown.

Reading the papers this morning, it seems that the Mets are ambivalent about when they clinch. They want to win it on the field, but they don't need it.

Me, I kind of need it.

So for that reason I'm putting my faith in Burrell's powerful bat and the trusty left arm of Cole Hamels.

After reading the Cole Hamels Facts web page, I'm feeling pretty confident. Tough not to be when you consider the following:

183. Cole Hamels knocked down the Berlin Wall. With a change-up.

279. There are only three types of liars: liars, damn liars, and anyone who claims to have gotten a hit off of Cole Hamels.

349. Ron Howard has signed on to direct "A Beautiful Arm, the Cole Hamels Story".

Ron Howard, really?

Opposing Hamels will be Astros hurler Jason Hirsh, owner of a shiny 6.10 ERA and 1.61 WHIP.

Will I be devastated if the Phillies lose this afternoon and the Mets are division champs before they take the field this evening? No.

But in my perfect world, the Phillies would win, El Duque would sparkle, the Mets would look half-way capable of hitting left-handed pitching, and after Wagner pumps strike three into the mitt of Paul Lo Duca the team would celebrate, and the Champagne would flow like so many tears from Pedro Martinez.

Here's hoping it happens.

- A.F.O.M.G.

Step Into the Realm

Last night I rooted for the Braves. Passionately. I cheered their pitchers, lauded their hitters and wished well upon their manager. And the Bravos came through for me. And today I feel great.

Not since the 1999 World Series had I pulled so strenuously for Bobby Cox and the gang, but hell, it's not since 1990 that I haven't had to worry about the Braves this late in the season, and it's not since 1988 that the Mets were one game away from winning the National League East.

And so it was that I watched with delight as Atlanta, America's team, took down Philadelphia by a final score of 4-1.

When it was over, not even the long standing certainty of the Mets' division title, established some time back in June, could ruin the excitement of the moment.

The Mets were on the brink. The Mets are on the brink. Win tonight and we book our spot in the NLDS.

And who better to turn the ball over to than Pedro Martinez? When we signed him, he talked about winning World Series games for the fans out at Shea.

That's getting a little ahead of ourselves, but tonight he can lift the team on his shoulders and deliver the first bit of euphoria to the fan base that he promised.

It's also a chance for him to put his stamp on the team's remarkable regular season. Make no mistake, Pedro deserves a lot of credit for helping the Mets establish their huge early-season lead.

He was perfect in April, 5-0 through his first five starts, then he was better in May, even if he didn't have the wins to prove it.

But since then there's been something a little odd about the composition of the Mets. Last year, this was Pedro's team, no question about it. He was the guy the fan base responded to most enthusiastically. He was the guy we identified with the team's success.

This year that's simply not the case. We still love Pedro, but he hasn't put his mark on the 2006 Mets.

On the disabled list for over two months this year, Pedro was never forgotten -- with his dugout antics he could never be forgotten -- but in a sense he was gone. His right arm wasn't translating into wins and losses after all.

But in every victory the Mets registered, his presence could still be felt. As we've said before on this site, Pedro deserves a ton of credit for sparking the Mets' renaissance. Without him, there's no Beltran. No Delgado. No Wagner.

He was the first guy who took a chance on the Mets. He was the guy who said, "Fine, this is a 71-win team? Let's see where we can take it next."

Now that 71-win team of two years ago has been replaced by a team that remains on pace for 100 wins.

In terms of player personnel, it all started with Pedro. And as the first phase of our hoped-for run to a World Series title comes to a close tonight, he's the man who deserves the ball.

He won't finish the game tonight, word is he'll be done after five. And hell, the Mets may not even win tonight.

But if we do, and if we end play on September 15, 2006 with a division title under our belts, the Mets will be one step closer to finishing what they started when they signed Pedro Martinez in the first place.

My only hope for tonight is that he lifts the team in the same way he lifted the franchise two years ago. I hope he stops being just a presence in the background, I hope he's there front and center.

I hope he does so because this team in 2006 hasn't felt like Pedro's Mets, but really, they're as much his Mets as they are Omar's Mets or Willie's Mets.

And I want him to make us remember that tonight.

- A.F.O.M.G.

Are We All Slipping?

When Valerie Malone (Tiffani Amber Thiessen) was introduced to Beverly Hills 90210 for the gang's sophomore year at California University, things got hot, hot, hot.

Sparks flew, the controversy grew strong and a fiery New Jawn sat on the edge of the couch. The show was peaking.

About mid way through the season though, the show slipped. Everything was there, the cast was finally happy with Shannen Doherty fully entrenched on Charmed and the fans were there to stay.

But the writers got complacent. They were too content with the parts, that they did not worry about the product.

From there on, the show never was the same.

Over the last 3-4 weeks, I feel the same way about our New Mets.

All of a sudden I don't find myself glued to the television. Watch a game or play basketball. Of late, I've been going the Jesus Shuttlesworth route.

This season has just been too easy for me.

Am I alone here? If I am, then maybe I shouldn't be writing this column. For the first four months of the season I think I missed 15 innings. I think I missed 15 innings of this last Mets vs. Marlins series.

I don't know why this is. Maybe I can't take the winning. Back in the mid 90's or between 2001-2005 I lived for September. It was time to watch the kids, take in all the Mets baseball humanly possible knowing that it wouldn't be there for 7 months.

But not this year.

And now my biggest concern. The New Mets feel the same way.

Yes, the Mets have kept on winning, but of late, our boys have been outplayed. Remember back in June when the Mets scored 4 runs in the first inning every game.

For most of the season, the Mets were flat out dominating baseball games.

Dominating a baseball game. Think about that. A pitcher can dominate a baseball game by shutting down its opponent. But that's not what was happening.

The Mets as a team were dominating baseball games. It was weird to watch. They broke out of the gates and took over games like the Bulls did when Jordan was in his prime. You just knew, everytime they took the field that they would win the game.

This confidence is no longer there. For almost two months now, the Mets knew that the East was theirs.

And, for the first time, this complacency is starting to show.

The Mets were dominated in this Marlins series. Sure, we took 2 out of 3, but the team was outplayed.

And even if we did lose, would it really matter?

The answer is yes.

There is no worse way to go into the postseason. This team is not sharp.

We haven't been to war on a baseball field in sometime. To the contrary, look at the rest of the National League.

Not a single team has clinched. Our likely first round opponent, the San Diego Padres, are playing the best baseball of their season.

Jake Peavy has been the best pitcher in the National League over the last month. Seeing him twice in a five game series scares the shit out of me.

Which is why tomorrow night's game is so important.

It is not important because it could be the clincher, though that will obviously be sweet.

It is important for two other reasons.

First, Pedro is back. We need Pedro.

More importantly, Pedro's return means its gametime. Our guys have known that Pedro would only be back when the stretch run was upon us. So here it is guys and gals.

There are now two weeks left in the regular season and it is time for us all to get sharp.

It is time for the Mets to burst out of the gates and remind everyone how they have won their 90 games.

And more importantly, it is time for the Sip and all of us, to sit their asses back on the couch and not miss an inning of Mets baseball.

Because, for the splittest of seconds I felt like a Yankee fan, a guy who liked his team but really liked them in October. From there, I did pushups until I couldn't feel my arms to punish myself.

There will be no worse feeling than a 1 and out in the postseason. The Mets as a team will be disappointed, but we as their fans, will take it even worse.

It's fucking game time. Let's get fired up.

Vaya Con Dios,

Sip

About Those Preseason Predictions, Right...

Hey everyone, A Friend of Mr. Glass' here. By now you've probably heard that in the wee hours of last night, the Mets finally realized a dream 15 years in the making.

With a late-inning rally against the Florida Marlins, the Mets assured that the Braves would not win a division title for the first time since 1991.

There's really not much more to say about it than that. The Mets are simply playing out the regular season right now. Over the next 18 games, excitement will come when any of the following happen:

1. The Mets clinch the division (looking like Friday).
2. Pedro Martinez pitches.
3. Carlos Beltran breaks the franchise record for home runs in a season.
4. The Mets close in on 100 wins.
5. Cowbell Man wanders over to your section of the bleachers.

All of which is to say, whatever the Mets accomplish in the next couple of weeks is just a formality, knocking off the Braves included.

Nonetheless, I was somewhat amused by Mark Bradley's dirge for the Braves' streak of division titles. The column is a list of signs that this wasn't the Braves' year, for example:

• The franchise linchpin’s dependable backup [Wilson Betemit] reports to his new team and helps it win 15 of its next 16 games.

• The Florida Marlins, with a team payroll roughly equal to what Mike Hampton is earning for not pitching, are ahead of you in the standings.

• You’re swept in a September doubleheader by two Mets’ starting pitchers who were in Class AAA in August.

That all said, the fact of the Braves' elimination isn't news, no matter how long we've waited for it.

What is news is that the Mets are closing in on 90 wins for the first time since the 2000 season, and the fact that the Mets could well clinch the division tonight is pretty high up there on the big news-o-meter, but that's the subject for another post.

Just before Opening Day, Sip and I made some predictions about how the Mets would fare in 2006. Sip predicted the Mets would win 87 games, I said the Mets would win 91 plus or minus 2 (meaning at the most 93, at the least 89).

Why were we so off? In Sip's case, I'm pretty sure a lot of it had to do with general pessimism.

In my case, I think primarily I expected more out of the rest of the division. I remember thinking the Braves and Phillies would be slightly worse than they'd been in 2005, while I thought the Marlins and Nationals would fall off a cliff.

Of those predictions only one has come true: the Nationals have been every bit as bad as I expected. For their part, the Phillies are worse than I thought they'd be (I had them pegged as an 87-win team), the Braves are a lot worse (I figured them for 89-90 wins) and the Marlins are a shitload better (I was thinking 55-60 wins).

So that's part of the explanation. I also expected a little less out of certain players on the Mets. I expected progress out of Jose Reyes; I didn't expect him to vault into Willie McGee/Honus Wagner territory. I expected progress out of Carlos Beltran; I didn't expect a run at all our single-season franchise records.

When I consider the strides made by these two players in particular, I am contented by the thought that while, yes, their improvement has been dramatic, neither was completely out of left field.

We all expected Reyes to get better, we just thought it would be more incremental. We all expected Beltran to improve on his 2005, we just didn't think he would be the franchise player we had asked him to be.

It all bodes very well for the New Guys come playoff time. I know we're all Mets fans and that we're privately panicking that the Mets will be eliminated in the first round. Not me.

If I looked at the players on this team and said to myself, "hey, this is a group that's really overachieved this year," I'd be more concerned, but I can't say that.

Of the guys in the starting lineup, only Jose Valentin has really overacheived. Paulie Thumbs maybe a little bit, but certainly only as far as his average goes.

None of the numbers being put up by our biggest contributers are the kind that make you say "where did that come from?" You didn't expect them necessarily, but you're not surprised by them either.

And as I look back and repent on my Opening Day prediction of 91 wins plus/minus 2, I think that's what I've got to hang my hat on. I thought this team would be good, I just didn't think it would be this good.

But you know what? As I look back on it, I think I should have.

Can't say that about the Tigers.

- A.F.O.M.G.

NFL- Sip Style

I didn't write an NFL preview last week because I thought it would take too long. A lot changes in a week.

Sip has a little bit more free time (salt), there isn't a whole lot going on in New Mets land and after a solid opening weekend gambling, going 3-1, I now feel fully confident that I have the NFL completely pegged.

Here we go.

AFC East

Pats- 10-6
Dolphins- 9-7
Bills- 5-11
Jets 5-11

This is the worst division in football hands down. Much has been discussed of the Pats. They have lost Willie Mcginest, the heart of their team, to the Browns, and just yesterday Deion Branch. Fortunately for them, they have 6 games in-division of which they should win at least 5.

I have Culpepper and Ronnie Brown on my fantasy team. They should be ok. I just don't see a lot of gelling in Miami.

The Bills start JP Losman. My good pal from the U, big Harnsy, told me the kid was a D Wod back in high school. Thats enough for me.

The Jets suck. Don't get excited about one good game out of the Chad. They beat a team with Kerry Collins as their top offensive weapon. Barely.

AFC NORTH

Bengals- 13-3
Steelers- 11-5
Ravens- 10-6
Cleveland 6-10

To the contrary, this may be the best division in football. Without a compliment to Willie Parker, the Steelers running game scares me. That dude could die by week 5. The Bengals are ready. Everyone knows about the offense. Like the Colts last year, they are a young defense that is now a year older playing under a genius defensive mind.

The Ravens are hype city after the thrashing of the Bucs. I still don't know. But I can't talk shit cause J Schubes would kill me.

As for the Browns, this team is close. The weapons are in place. If this team was in the AFC east they'd be an 8 or 9 win team.

AFC SOUTH

Colts- 14-2
Jags- 10-6
Tenn- 4-12
Houston- 3-13

I think the Colts reminded us of two things on Sunday night. One, their D is pretty solid, a very nice complement to a dominant offense. Two, Peyton is Peyton. That team couldn't run the ball a lick and they still put up 26 points in Giants Stadium. This isn't the postseason, guys.

Plus, these dudes have Marc Boerigter -- good for at least 13 TD's this year. TRUTH.

As for the Jags. No, guys, they are not a sleeper. A solid D and great coaching will get you far, but not far enough when your skill players are Byron Leftwich, Ernest Willford and Fred Taylor.

Tennessee and Houston just stink.

AFC West

Chargers- 11-5
Chiefs- 10-6
Broncos- 9-7
Raiders- 0-16

The Chargers showed some last night. Rivers can make a throw if they need him to, but Schotty wants the ball in LT's hands. Smart. That D really gets after the QB and if Quentin Jammer can emerge from bust city they should be able to stop some dudes.

Before Trent Green went down I had the Chiefs as a 12 win team. Same thing as Bengals. Great O, young D getting better under smart coach. After that hit, though, who knows. Im just praying they make a move for one of Kelly Holcomb or Billy Volek.

As for the Raiders, it kills me I didn't give you guys this one before last night. Some of my close friends got it though. This team is the worst team ever. Their offense is terrible and their defense is terrible. Their one good player will quit on the team by week 3. This was my opinion from watching 1 quarter of preseason football. Last night did a lot to confirm.

NFC East

Eagles- 12-4
Giants- 10-6
Cowboys- 7-9
Redskins- 3-13

No reason why the Eagle's aren't back. If Donovan and westbrook are healthy, there's no reason why this team doesnt return to 2002-2003 form. The D is there. They have a 4th place schedule.

I love my G-Men. It seems like both their O and D are above average. But neither is dominant enough yet to make them anything more than a 10 win team. Tiki's years have to be winding down so we need young Eli to become Peyton, and fast.

The Cowboys already have enough shit going on, Bledsoe vs. Romo, TO, Parcells vs the World, that this team should implode by week 8.

Doesn't it feel like year 2 in Philly with TO? There never was a honeymoon. This whole situation spells disaster.

As for the Skins. Man do I love Skins fans as people, but hate them as fans. This team SUCKS. They are too many decent pieces that will be unable to gel. You can run on this team, read CHESTER TAYLOR, and their offense is just bad.

NFC NORTH

Bears: 11-5
Vikings: 10-6
Packers- 4-12
Lions 4-12

Another shitty shitty division. Rex Grossman's performance on Sunday should be no indication of the sesaon. He did it against the Packers. But if he isn't terrible, their ground game and D is good enough to win 11-12 games.

The Vikings could be ok. They won't be bad, I guess. But 10 wins for a Brad Johnson QB's team is all I can give them.

The Pack and the Lions Stink.

NFC SOUTH
Carolina Panthers- 11-5
Atlanta Falcons- 10-6
Tampa Bay Bucs- 8-8
New Orleans Saints- 6-10

For those of you who didn't get a chance to see Reggie Bush on Sunday, too bad. This kid is worth the price of the Sunday Ticket.

As for the Panthers and Falcons, A lot of freak things happen on week 1. The Panthers are still the class of this division. John Fox is too smart and the D is too good.

The Bucs aren't as bad as their loss to the Ravens. But they aren't as good as last year's playoff team.

NFC West

Seahawks- 11-5
Rams- 8-8
Cardinals- 8-8
49ers- 5-11

The single most impressive thing to me on Sunday was the development of Alex Smith. The kid almost looked like a real NFL QB. Of course he was doing it against the Cards. As cool of a fantasy team as the Cards are, that team isn't very good. The 8 wins is a reult of playing in a shit division where they could win 3 or 4 games.

Same thing for Seahawks. Shitty division gets them 11-12 wins. Just like last year. But even last year they weren't that good.

As for the Rams. I hate them cause Simmons likes them. Did I tell you guys that the Mets are my sleeper in '06.

The Playoffs:

AFC

Byes: Colts, Bengals

Pats V Steelers- Steelers 20-16
Chargers v Jags- Chargers 17-4

Colts v Steelers- Colts 28-17
Bengals v Chargers- Bengals 31-13

Colts v Bengals- Bengals 24-14

NFC

Byes: Eagles, Seahawks

Bears v Giants: Giants 16-3
Panthers v Falcons: Panthers 21-6

Giants v Eagles: Giants 49-0
Panthers v Seahwaks: Panthers 22-7

Giants v Panthers- Giants 17-6

Super Bowl: Giants 20-19

Why not right?

This wouldn't be Y2K if i didnt have the men in Blue winning it all.

Sorry to say but in reality I like a Bengals v Eagles Super Bowl, with my good pal and fantasy QB Carson Palmer taking the whole thing.

There is too much talent there, that has had a few years to mature along with a rising superstar of a coach in Marvin Lewis. They opened at 16:1 guys, could be some serious value there.

One thing is certain.

With football back, and baseball meaning something, life is very, very good.

VCD,

SM

On the Street

Yankee bloggers mark the fifth anniversary of 9/11 by baking madeleines and proposing to their girlfriends. Which ain't gangsta, but is still just about as cute as anything related to the Yankees gets. But Mets bloggers trek down to Lower Manhattan to report the stories that need reporting.

I spent much of the morning down at Pace University's campus, no more than a stone's throw from Ground Zero, where a series of new towers may someday rise. Pace's was easily the closest college campus to the action five years ago, so much so that the campus was closed for nine days afterwards. On Sept. 11, 2001, its Board of Trustees had three possible venues for their scheduled meeting, and one was on the 55th floor of WTC2. Like I said, real close.


I was there specifically to look at an exhibit on loan from the New York State Museum comprised of artifacts saved from the rubble and debris in the Fresh Kills landfill. A twisted BMW steering wheel, WTC panels, airliner fuselage, a United frequent flier miles card ... a lot of powerful stuff, and housed in a place where people were buffeted pretty badly.

The guys from Engine Co. 6, right across the street from Pace Plaza, were literally the first responders to show up on site five years ago. They lost six guys from a smallish company. They also showed up unannounced last week to help cart the exhibit off trucks and into Pace's viewing space.

Early, before 8:30, I somewhat accidentally sat in on a group discussion led by President David Caputo and a scad of Pace's senior officials, who sat in a cavernous auditorium alongside office workers, current and former students, support staff and museum associates and replayed the day out loud. They were all over the map with their emotions about the past and the future, alternately guilty and relieved, steadily furious and outwardly reflective.


Nobody knew who I was. I sat extremely quietly toward the back of a darkened room and let their stories melt in. It was just light enough to read the expressions on people's faces.

I didn't take notes. I couldn't add anything. It was an intensely private moment for a group of co-workers, all of whom had supped from at least part of a shared experiece meal that I hadn't been invited too. In truth, I don't think they minded I was there, even after it became clear that I was something of a reporter.

Then came the interviewing. Roughly one in three of the people I talked to outside the exhibit broke down crying at some point (five people in total). Everyone was intensely interested in the objects, and everyone had no problem talking about their general significance.

But on occasion, when one of the specific items was mentioned, it proved to be a trigger. The human emotional response is one of the greatest mysteries in existence, tied into our senses and our memories and our higher-order concepts like hope and fear, and talking to these people was like taking a shower in all of feeling's breadth. It was amazing.

I walked over to Ground Zero just before noon. They were reading off the names of the deceased in alphabetical order, the surprisingly harsh sounds blaring from a speaker on the corner of Liberty and Church. A few people milled around that corner and listened, but most folks walked by, moving along the perimeter of the massive superblock, still encased in concrete and chained links. The Deutsche Bank building hovered over the walkways like a rickety grandfather clock from a Tim Burton movie.



There were people in Mets gear all over the place, but the one that caught my eye was a guy in a Mets hat who was holding up a sign right by that corner, right next to a group of cops who were directing traffic. It was a huge sign made out of what looked like white posterboard and glittery letters, reading "We Remember."

There was a very similar sign tacked to the fence behind him that people had written comments on, things like "God Bless" and names of FDNY and NYPD units. I thought about going up to him and asking him about the Mets, but I didn't.

If I see a guy on a corner today wearing a Mets hat, I will.

P.S. As Gary Cohen noted last night, Dave Williams offered his own impromptu tribute by handing the Marlins nine runs on 11 hits over three innings. That's sacrifice.

Memories

I laid in my bed with my eyes closed having had fallen asleep for the 10th straight night to Major League, still waiting for our cable to be installed. It was a Tuesday morning and the first full week of class when all of a sudden my meathead roommate knocked on my door and woke me up:

"Dude, the World Trade Centers are down."

"Leave me alone," I replied, half asleep and not yet ready for my buddy's 4th grade humor.

About 2 hours later I woke up, refreshed and ready to go. I looked up and saw that the cable box was finally installed in my room and I jumped for joy. Finally I could watch SportsCenter.

I turned on the TV all smiles until the picture became clear.

We all remember where we were on September 11, 2001. That moment remains one of the most vivid memories of my entire life.

Five years later, we reflect on a day that changed the landscape of our country forever. We went from a country driven by the principles of economics and prosperity to a country driven by fear and agression towards a threat with no solid base but thousands of individual parts each of which can bring us down.

We all remember September 11th. Many of us lost someone close to us or know someone who did.

But all of us know exactly where we were when it first went down and all of us remember our first reaction.

Mine, making sure that my brother, who worked down on Wall Street at the time, was safe. Fortunately, he was.

I don't want to go any further with this. Today means something different to everyone. The idea that I do want to develop is this idea of memories.

We all remember certain things. A first kiss, a first homerun, a great day with your best friends.

One of the many beauties of sports, and for me baseball, is the memories that they provide.

We all remember the games that we watched but more so, we remember where we were and who we were with.

See sports, for most of my friends and I, are our universal bond. We all love sports and for most of my closest friends we all love the Mets.

I remember laying on Senior's lap in our house in Lakeridge, Connecticut for Game 6 of the 1986 World Series. My father called a wild pitch right before Bob Stanley's game tying blunder. I thought the man was a god.

I remember lying on the same couch for Game 7 of the 1988 series against the Dodgers. My father and brother promised me that the Mets wouldn't lose, but they did. So my father took us out to ice cream to make me feel better.

I remember a random game in June when I was 8. It was my brother's 6th grade birthday party and my mom and dad packed two cars filled with my brother's friends (many of them Searching For Bobby Fisher kids -- bro came in 6th in that tourney) and young Sip for a Mets-Pirates game. Kevin McReynolds hith a grand slam in a 9-0 Mets victory and immediately became my favorite player.

Then there was game 5 of the 1999 NLCS. Me and T Kid standing under the overpass in the left field upper deck at Shea, blocked from the rain, but not from viewing the greatest game that I had ever seen, ending with the grand slam single by my favorite player, Rockin' Robin Ventura.

June 30th, 2000. Sitting in the RF upper deck with Senior and AFOMG for the 10 run 8th inning against the hated Braves that concluded with Monster's 3 run yoke off of Terry Mulholland.

And then I remember sitting with Nails in the upper deck in CF and watching Bernie Williams glide underneath Monster's shot, make the catch and seeing my arch rivals celebrate a World Series championship on our home turf.

That was my last amazing truly vivid Mets memory. These are the memories that I will not forget for the rest of my life.

I am sad to say that I did not see the first game after September 11th, Monster's triumphant homerun to beat the Braves. A game that meant so much more than baseball. It united a city and a country and it helped us at least for one little moment to forget the catastrophic events of a few days earlier.

I don't know why I missed the game, but I did. But for all of you who were fortunate enough to see it, I am sure you know where you were and who you were with.

This is why baseball is special, at least why it is extrememly special to me. It is the thing that provides me with a timeline of my life. It tells me who I was with and when for some of my favorite times of my life.

So, as we cruise into the postseason and get ready for October I sit here in San Francisco dying in anticipation.

I can't wait till I set my first step in New York City, see my dad, AFOMG, my cousin and all my other close friends and family.

And then I hope that I can add to my timeline.

God bless.

Sip

Things Change, Mox

Hey everyone, A Friend of Mr. Glass' here. Gonna have to make this a quick one as I am really busy at the offi... wait a minute, that's not true. No, today, friends, the Glass Man is reliving the glory days up at the WC.

Things have changed a bit since I was last at my Berkshires alma mater. Lot of construction ongoing, some construction completed; it's come a long way since spring 2005, but there's work left to be done.

As I amble about the place, I find myself thinking a lot about endings. College is over. I can't say I'm particularly fazed about that. I mean, great time, but you get to a point where you're ready to move on, particularly when you go to school in the middle of nowhere.

But it's over, and once it's over, the rest of your life kind of begins. It's not the last new beginning of course. There's grad school, if that's your thing. Marriage. Kids.

But being done with your "necessary" education is really the end of the first phase of your life. Think about it, the first 22 years of your life are pretty much defined by school, if not by the academic rigors then by the friends you make and the schedule it sets.

In much the same way, the past three months have been defined by baseball. Not just for me but for every sports fan out there, cuz fact is, unless you've got a New York Liberty t-shirt on right now, there's not a whole lot in the way of team sports after basketball ends.

That changed yesterday with the beginning of another season of NFL football. Didn't really occur to me until this morning, when I had to deal with that idiotic blowhard Chris Berman reel off a series of seriously unfunny nicknames and refer to himself as the Swami about 20 times in a 5-minute span.

It wasn't all Berman though. It was the fact of football highlights impeding on my accustomed 45 minutes of baseball coverage during SportsCenter (which, removed from SNY, I have to watch).

Some use Labor Day to mark the end of summer. Me, it's the start of the football season. Like college, summer, it seems, is over. Gone but not forgotten. Forever and ever, anon.

Oh well. The good news is that this is a summer's ending that can be celebrated. Much as there is life after college, for Mets fans in 2006, there is life after the summer. And after last night's display, there's still more room for optimism.

Tom Glavine looked great for the first time since June. And when I say looked, I mean it sure sounded like he was pitching well, at least from how Howie and Tom described it on the Fan.

It's the kind of performance which is important now and important later. We need Tommy to get going to give us a strong second starter going into October.

Better yet, the Dodgers are a likely playoff team, and his shutdown performance could be remembered fondly come the NLCS, should the Mets find themselves faced with a 1988 redux.

As if that weren't enough, these Dodgers aren't exactly slouches offensively. They've scored the fourth most runs in the National League, and they have the league's highest average and OBP. Their weakness is their inability to go deep; of 16 NL teams, the Dodgers' 122 long balls rank dead last.

But Tommy did a good job keeping the Dodgers off the bases, allowing 6 baserunners against 26 batters faced. It was the kind of performance we needed to see out of him, our confidence in Tommy having flagged considerably since early June, and he came through. Good to see.

Also good to see was the Mets beating up on the ace of the Dodgers' SI-vaunted pitching staff, Brad Penny. Seven earned in 5.2 innings against one of the NL's best. Again, something we can remember fondly should we face this team again in the playoffs.

So yes, friends, summer is over and the fall is upon us. The Mets are playing meaningless games in advance of their first meaningful October in 6 years.

Just like when college ended, I'm ready for summer to be over. This year, summer being over is a good thing, even if it does mean a little more Berman than I can stomach.

- A.F.O.M.G.

Sip Gone Crazy

(Note: A piece by Cheddar Ben about Endy Chavez follows this piece by Sippy Momo. Enjoy.)

Rewind to March, 2006. I tell you that we have a doubleheader with the Braves in September with Dave Williams and Oliver Perez on the hill.

Sip Sr. provides an emphatic “Who!”

AFOMG shouts a giant “What the fuck?”

Even Mama Sip is yelling (Though, she does like to yell about a lot of things).

These two guys are bigger castaways than Wilson. Dave Williams, simply put, has never been good. We got him for free from the Reds, a thank you for gracing the city of Cincinatti with the beauty of David Weathers.

But the situation with Oliver Perez is different. This guy is young and two years removed from a dominating season. Still, his team was willing to give up on him.

On Wednesday, these guys shocked the world, much like my recent employers, by going out and dominating our once nemesis the Atlanta Braves. The duo gave up one run in two games, with Perez pitching a shutout in Game 2.

We all have our theories.

Mets optimists still see Rick Petersen as the next coming of Jesus, thereby assuming that anyone this guy touches turns to gold, that the man with the sweetest mullet on the east coast was able to magically cure Perez’s woes and return him to his old, impressive self.

Not so fast, Happy Will.

Lets get a few more ten's of starts out of this guy before we believe in miracles.

Speaking of miracles, as Jews across the country get fired up for the high holiday season, Shawn Green is gearing up for a big postseason in New York.

Shawn’s always been a good Jew, even though he changed his name from Greenberg to mask his beliefs, and even though he was never actually bar mitzvahed.

Still, on a day where Shawn mashed 2 dongs like Cousin Leslie destroys bottles of Merlot at a high holiday supper, the Mets managed to get what can be viewed as a minor miracle out of two unknown arms.

Coincidence? In the same way that House Music could have prevented Apartheid and World War I, the infusion of Judaism could very well be responsible for yesterday’s performance at Shea.

It makes total sense, doesn’t it?

The lord of the Hebrews looked down on his favorite temple, Shea Stadium, and did the baseball version of the parting of the Red Sea.

He made a guy who was 0 for his stint with the Mets go 6-for-8 with 2 Dongheimers and then had two pitchers that have pitched a combined 3 good games in 2 years dominate our arch rivals in back-to-back games.

As always on Thursday’s, as you get to the latter bit of this column, you’re probably scratching your heads.

Has the Sip lost it, you say?

This time he very well may have. See, as of yesterday I decided to take my talents elsewhere, from the fine wines and cozy settings of Silicon Valley, to the professional gambling circuit.

With the opening night of football just hours away, I spent an entire night on red bull and coffee handicapping the fuck out of this season. More than the caffeine, it was the adrenaline from James Blake's post match celebration in which he threw on a Carlos Beltran jersey, firmly entrenching him as my favorite tennis player of all time.

Blake moved ahead of Michael Chang (who I played with in the park) and Todd Woodforde, doubles specialist, who I saw play in my first ever match at Flushing (alongside Johnny Mc).

Sleep deprevation can really fuck a guy up. It made Eddie Norton think he was Brad Pitt. Now it's making the Sip think he is Matthew Mcconaughey from the all time worst flick, 2 for the Money.

Call me crazy and apologies for the short little piece. It’s an interesting time in the life of SM.

VCD,

The Sip

PS: Sports Guy’s column on football officially put him over the top as the best writer to then get too confident in his writing and turn into the worst writer.

His analysis of the Browns where he talks about how they need to find a new center was the most transparent example of a dude who knows shit about sports but just reads one column and wants to pawn off a somewhat obscure piece of insight as his own.

Your readers know that LeCharles Bentley got hurt and we expect you to know that. But this injury will not make or break the Browns season. If you’re actually trying to educate us, then educate us. But please, do not try and impress us. It’s sad.

And one last thing. The Rams as a sleeper. That's really balls out.

As KFC put it, he has a list of 10 teams that were absolute shlock. The Rams do not belong there.

It is like me saying that My sleeper this year is the Eagles... I also think the Pats might be good too.

Endy Magic Redux

Mets backup catcher Mike DiFelice started the second half of Wednesday's doubleheader and went 0 for 2, eventually pinch hit for by Endy Chavez and replaced in the field by Kelly Stinnett. In case you hadn't noticed (and it's okay not to have, what with the Mets being the best team in baseball and all), this dude is hitting .053 since being called up from AAA.

I, of course, was hoping for a post-game press conference exchange something like this:

Randolph: "The kid's got heart. His play in the field is much better."
Reporter: "Does it matter that he bought the team?"
Randolph: "Next question."

But I did not come here today to bitch about the Mets' own temporary Baginsky or his running partner, Anderson Hernandez. Nor did I come to discuss the badass performances turned in
yesterday by a couple of Pittsburgh castoffs. I mean, Dave Williams, Oliver Perez ... geez, enjoy the view from the stands during the playoffs, right?

I'm as big a Perez fan as there is -- I thought the trade was the right move at the time, and I like it even more now that Oliver has shown more than a few sparks of his old self in a new organization. (Yep, Xavier Nady is hitting .342 for the Pirates. He's a class act.)

And we'll get into what the postseason roster should look like once the injury situation settles down and the moment draws nigh, but the point is that there's pretty much no scenario in which Perez or Williams are on board for that, 1 run across 18 innings or not. Bad luck.

I want to focus on a fella who absolutely will be on the postseason roster. A guy who will probably start in American League parks should the Mets be so fortunate as to advance to the World Series. A Venezuelan heartthrob of the highest order.

That's right. I'm talking Endy Magic. Can you feel it coursing through your capillaries?

Amazingly, I think we all can. The Talented Mr. Chavez had himself another fine day yesterday, tapping a two-RBI triple over the head of Matt Diaz and adding two more hits and a walk across three games. His average is up to .311, and in nearly 300 crucial at-bats.

Carlos and Spliff have been on the shelf at various times. Blastings is still feeling his way around the major-league batters' box. The X-Man is in the Steel City. Michael Tucker remains Michael Tucker. Gerald "Ice" Williams decomposed sometime last year. And Endy, who could have killed the team with all the playing time he was given, has in fact thrived.

There is literally nothing more you could ask for from this guy. His defense has been an awesome sight to behold. The guys in the SNY booth will often spend whole innings hooting and hollering about a jump he got in the field, and they're not blowing reefer smoke.

His bunting has been precise, consistent and maddening for the opposition. You can bet that if Scooter were still calling games for the crosstown team, he'd be annoying Michael Kay by talking up Chavez's skills. Which would inevitably make Kay respond by praising the bunting of some schlub like Cairo or Nick Green. I fucking despise Michael Kay.

To say this has been a turnaround for our hero would be a severe understatement. Endy's defensive chops have never been in doubt, but his stickwork has never been something to admire.

Example: Endy, in the majors since 2001 and then 27 years of age, spent most of last season playing for the New Orleans Zephyrs of the Pacific Coast League (AAA). He hit .253/.330/.333. He wasn't exactly begging for a callup.

He got it anyway, moved up to Philly near the end of the year. He hit .215/.243/.299. Those are Cheddar Ben numbers. And Cheddar Ben's a soccer player.

The difference, as has been noted about a milion different times during the season, has been our hero's different approach at the plate. Endy's bat speed has never been the problem per se, even though it clearly has not been adequate. But for years, he had a power stroke that simply did not match up with his pencil-shaving physique.

He's finally, at age 28, adjusted, shortening up his swing and looking to push the outside pitch into left field. That has resulted in more punches over short, and when he really gets one he can drive it to the opposite field, a double into the corner.

(MLB.com spray chart here. If you look at past seasons, you'll see how many crappy groundouts to second he recorded. Not pretty).

It's also a result of him being more aggressive in the count. Ordinarily, pitches per plate appearance (P/PA) is a decent barometer of selectivity and a proxy for walk rate.

But while Endy's walk rate is steady, his P/PA has fallen to 3.53 this year from a career high of 3.81 last year and 3.71 the year before. For the moment at least, he's jumping on the pitches he likes, and having success with them.

Will it last until next year, or even the postseason? You'd really like to hope so, but pitchers are inevitably going to make adjustments and start pounding the ball inside on him. Endy's going to either have to learn to foul those guys off and wait for his pitch, or do something new.

But, in all likelihood, that's a long term problem. For now, I'd advise Endy watchers to treat this season like any other magic show.

Watch this shit now, because you never know when he'll take the stage again.

Requiem for the Dynasty that Never Was

Yesterday I saw the Mets clinch an Eastern division title for the first time in my life. No, you didn't just emerge from a two-week bender; the Mets still haven't locked up this year's title yet.

Yesterday I was returned to September 22, 1988, a day I lived through, a game I almost certainly watched, but of which I have no recollection.

It's the gift and the curse of us early 80's babies -- born just in time to have no choice other than to become a Mets fan, but just late enough to have no memory of why we made that choice.

When you're young you root for a winner, and you root for the team your dad and older brother roots for. For me, for basically everyone I know, that team was the Mets.

Born at the end of 1982, I was but 3 years old when the Mets had that magical run in 1986. It's a team that exists for me only on the grainy footage of my tattered (but still kicking) 1986 Mets Tape, in the pages of The Bad Guys Won, on the airwaves of SNY, and in the desperate camaraderie of Mets fans, all of us so far removed from the last championship, all of us grasping at straws.

But 1988 is a different story. 1988 is a forgotten team. From what I gather, it's a team whose memory is defined by unfulfilled promise. A dominant team in the regular season which beat up on the Dodgers during the regular season only to lose in 7 games of the NLCS. Something to do with Orel Hershiser. That's all I know.

That, and that 1988 was the last gasp of the should-have-been Mets dynasty of the 1980's.

I was reminded of that sad history yesterday as I watched the the three final outs of the Mets' 3-1 win over the Philadelphia Phillies. Fran Healy had the call on the old SportsChannel network along with Lorn Brown.

As Ron Darling worked his way through a flawless ninth, the broadcasters marveled at what was to be the team's second division title in three years. Healy commented that it might well have been their third in a row, had injuries not wreaked havoc on the 1987 team.

Then it was Brown's turn. He confidently asserted that it was the second in three years, but it wouldn't be the last. "With that pitching?" Healy replied. "No way."

With as little as I know about that 1988 team, I feel fairly certain that no one out there would have disagreed with either commentator. Sure, the co-captains Keith Hernandez and Gary Carter were getting on in years, 34 years each, and showing signs of decline.

But the pitching staff still had it in spades. Ron Darling (27 years old), 17-9, 3.25 ERA. Doc (23) 18-9, 3.19 ERA. El Sid (25) 12-10, 3.03 ERA. Bobby Ojeda (the elder statesman at 30), 10-13 with a 2.88 ERA. And last but certainly not least, David Cone (25), 20-3 with a 2.22 ERA.

It's the kind of nucleus we can only dream about, but somehow it never won another division title, let alone another World Series. I don't really know how it's possible, but I know it's got something to do with drugs and Juan Samuel.

So I think there's a lesson to be learned from 1988, a lesson we would do well to heed in the week or two ahead, when the Mets finally capture their first division title since 1988.

No matter how good this current nucleus looks long-term, you can't take anything for granted. You can't take it for granted that any flags that fly out in centerfield next year will soon be accompanied by many more.

None of us need to be reminded that we should enjoy clinching the playoff spot when it happens. We're all acutely aware of how rare a division title is.

And none of us need to fear that this current core will flame out. I don't think Reyes, Wright and Beltran will be susceptible to the same failings that did in Doc and Darryl. I also think the Mets have a promising enough farm system (Pelfrey, Humber, Milledge) and the resources to plug holes where necessary. But one way or another, it's pointless to worry about such things.

All I'm saying is, in case you've recalibrated your expectations for this season, in case winning the NL East is no longer enough, in case you see clinching the division as just a formality, a stepping stone on the way to something more important, just remember that you're going to see something that hasn't happened to the Mets in 18 years.

Not every team wins 14 division titles in a row. Not every team that has tremendous promise or tremendous resources makes good on it.

So when it finally happens, feel free to dream like it's 1986, but let yourself party like it's 1988. Division titles deserve appreciation in their own right.

- A.F.O.M.G.

Rumblings

I think AFOMG said it best last week. The Mets play better when Steve Trachsel is on the hill.

1 hit. 1 god damn hit?

Hey, if you can’t throw a little knock at your friend every once in a while, what can you do.

I’m fresh off a weekend in sunny LA, filled with beautiful women, trendy brunches, celebrity sightings and college football gambling with my old pal Zimmy and a gritty J Schubes via satellite from his new home in Washington.

When I happened to perch down at one of LA’s more pleasant outdoor eatery’s next to the dude from Super Troopers who works at the fast food place where Farva orders a liter of cola, that’s when I knew I was someplace truly special.

To keep the focus on the topic of this site, some pretty special shit happened this week in the world of baseball.

Ryan Howard, the monster of a first basemen for the Fightin’s, owner of a fierce bat and the largest set of nostrils north of the Mississippi, jacked what seems like 5000 dongs this weekend.

His 53rd on Monday along with a GW knock from “Sick Name of the Year” nominee Chase Utley catapulted the Phillies to a huge win over their NL Wild Card Foe, the Houston Astros.

September will be an interesting month in the NL Wild Card Race. The Phillies, Marlins, Astros, Padres, Giants, even Tom’s River, New Jersey has a crack at it.

A lot has been discussed over the last week, and who we, the Ambassadors of New, might want to see in the 1st round.

Today, I want to focus on another race, the MVP race, a subject which SportsCenter has recently deemed a two player race -- which this Mets fan finds to be absolute bullshit.

Over the weekend, a lot was made of both Howard and Albert Pujols mashing 3 dongs each in one game and their respective roles as the big bopper in the middle for two playoff-contending teams.

By no means will I deny that these two belong in the race. They are not Derek Jeter and they do not each have four more valuable players in their own lineups.

But the omission of Carlos Beltran from the MVP talks is, simply put, a giant crock of shit.

These last three days alone stand out.

On Saturday, playing the most difficult position in the game, Beltran made an incredible game saving catch, injuring himself while allowing the Mets to hold off the rallying Astros. Beltran has played a gold glove centerfield all season, as opposed to Pujols and Howard, who play the NL equivalent of the DH.

While the defense is an issue, we should then discuss value.

Has anyone seen what the Mets have done since Beltran went down? Four hits, I believe. I know I can’t say god damn on the air, but this is an internet and AFOMG is no pussy like Monty.

Beltran’s absence from the lineup, at least in the short term, has driven the Mets to new levels of terribleness. The last two games were perhaps the Mets' two worst of the season, which is no coincidence, having our MVP out of the lineup.

There is one point that hasn’t really been discussed enough in regards to MVP talk. Look how much better the Mets have been than everyone else in the National League.

In a season where fans of the AL have denounced the success as being a product of a terrible National League, the Mets have still emerged as an absolute juggernaut. We have marched through this league, dominated the NL, unlike any team in years. The Mets are the one great team in the NL, and they deserve recognition for that.

As long as the Mets have a legitimate candidate for the award, that man deserves to win the award. Every ounce of value in the National League has come out of Shea this year, and in this one-horse race, we should have the top jockey.

Of course I am biased. It’d be nice to have an MVP come from Shea for the first time in my life.

But as a journalist and member of BGA, The Blogger’s Guild of America -- that’s right, we have a union, too -- it is always important for me to shed light on what is 100% the truth.

The truth is, Beltran’s name needs to be there. He may not have the power numbers, but the guy is stealing bases, scoring runs, playing superb D, and anchoring the lineup of the one real team in the senior circuit.

Oh, and he is still on pace to hit 40-130.

Maybe he can use that MVP money to remove that silly mole by his right ear.

Then, we are talking Page 6 for the originator of the term “the New Mets.”

Welcome back to work my homies and hometes.

Vaya con dios,

Sip

Drive Slow

Happy Labor Day, all. Alternatively, Happy Not Being Perfectoed By The 'Stros Day. The one is obviously more important than the other, but I'd like to think the American worker is used to being dumped on for now, so we'll go with what's behind Door No. 2.

Roy Oswalt, the new $73 million man, nearly posterized the Mets Sunday afternoon at Minute Maid Park. He was perfect through six, plowing through the Mets' order and being ignored by the other Astros in the dugout.

Leading off the top of the seventh, Mr. Glass broke that nonsense up, beating out a chopper to short that Adam Everett tried to barehand. Nothing doing. Still, after Endy bunted him over, neither Delgado nor Green could do much with their cuts, and the Mets wouldn't score until Delgado's two-out blast in the ninth.

Oswalt, the baby-faced hick assassin, was too tough. Houston jiggled two runs off a single hit, thanks to El Duque's control problems, and the Mets couldn't finish off the sweep.

As a sidenote, I'm not exactly sure how embarassing it would have been to be the victim of a perfect game. I mean, Oswalt just became massively overpaid (and poisoned the market for starting pitching for the offseason, it should be noted), but he's a genuine ace, and sometimes, aces throw beautiful games.

The Mets had the B-team on the field (C-Woods, "D" Felice, Endy in center). That's a vulnerable team. But everyone knows that going in. Oswalt can and maybe even should dominate the lineup the Mets had out there.

Whatever. Nothing to complain about on this weekend, really, except the potential knee injury to Beltran. But even that looks like it's going to be fine, according to the Daily News reports of this morning.

Beltran busted his knee into the wall in Houston on what you certainly might call a game-saving catch, going up with a mini-Spider Man move to rob Berkman of what probably would have been a two-RBI, game-tying double in the bottom of the ninth.

Two-thirds of the Y2K staff was out of signal range on Saturday night, at a wack party in some Mid-Atlantic state of dubious origins and far from the goodness of SNY and broadcast Mets baseball. That is, we didn't see the catch in real time. Let's just say that if Baltimore is thinking about getting its act together any time in the new millenium, including some Mets on their TV dial wouldn't be a poor choice. Just throwing it out there.

But we damn sure heard about the catch after the fact, because each of these incidents is a potential season-ruiner.

They're all terrifying in their own way. Beltran on the wall. D-Wright fouling a pitch off his leg. Mr. Glass sliding into second base headfirst on a steal and jamming his finger. Chris Woodward juggling chainsaws. Actually, scratch that last one from the list. We can work with that.

But 27 games remain until meaningful baseball resumes for the Mets, and our starters are going to be on the field for most of them, exposing they selves to all manner of potential injury. There's no way around it. That's the game. You have to let these guys play.

And sometimes when they do, scary shit happens and seasons are ruined. Guys on top of the world start feeling a twinge in their elbow. Guys have heart problems. Guys get cancer.

All you can do if you're a Mets fans is hope. Championship-winning teams (and I'm thinking of the steady White Sox of a year ago here) tend to get a little bit of luck on the injury front, and that's just another little bit of randomness that keeps the game interesting.

As of now, Petey is scheduled to be back mid-way through the month. Glavine and Spliff are already back in spikes, looking great. You can't assume everything is going to be perfect, but the Mets also look like they're in position to have all the important pieces in place, and healthy. That could change at a moment's notice, but it's here for the moment, and we should be grateful.

If you're Willie Randolph, all you can do is force off-days on the guys who don't want to take them, and keep the risks minimized. If that means holding guys back on the basepaths a little bit, I'm all for it. I like guys stepping out onto the field for the NLDS in perfect condition, looking like they just left a “Men's Health” cover shoot and feeling as if they had done something slightly less A-Rod-like. But the point holds.

I don't have anything else to add about the Beltran catch, other than I'm not sure it's as good as everyone has been saying. It was extremely timely, but this year, we've seen Gary Matthews climb the fence at full speed to bring back a ball, and the Disappointment known as Coco Crisp go airborn to haul in a screamer into the gap. Aaron Rowand also put his face through a stadium wall, which we won't revisit at the moment. Too gruesome. All of these videos are easily found at MLB.com, of course, just by searching through that player's name and going to their multimedia section. (Moon pies. What a glorious time to be alive).

The highlight reel bar, in other words, is really high at the moment, and I don't think, as was suggested Sunday, Beltran's grab is of the caliber of those three. Which is good. Over the next 27 games, if the choice is between a Web Gem and an all-out dive into the wall, I'm calling for each and every Met to pull up.

Except Woodward. He can consider himself free to fire at will.


Enjoy the holiday folks.

Meaningful Games

(Note: Yankees 2000 will be updated by the normal time on Monday, Sept. 4.)

Thought you’d seen the last of them until October, did you? Wake me up when September ends, you say? What fun would that be?

True, there will be no thrilling playoff race for the Mets this year. Good news though that is, it would seem to leave us with a rather dull final month of basebal.

Sure, we're all interested in how many homers Beltran will end up with, or how many stolen bases and triples Mr. Glass can tally before regular season's end. And yes, the night the Mets clinch their first playoff berth since 2006 (please let it happen at home, and please let me be there) will be unreal. And there's always the health situation of Pedro and Tommy the Spy to monitor.

But other than that, it's easy to look at this September as rather meaningless. The 15.5 games separating the Mets from the Phillies in the National League East obcures the fact that the Mets still have plenty to play for in this final month of the season, however.

Most important is the role the Mets can play in deciding the NL Wild Card. The Mets will end the season with the best record in the National League, which entitles us to play the Wild Card team provided that team does not come from the NL East.

The Mets have 30 games left, 10 of which are essentially meaningless (7 games against the Nationals, 3 against the Pirates -- RIP X-Man).

Of the remaining 20, 3 are against the Astros (2.5 GB of the Wild Card) 6 are against the Bravos (4.5 GB), 7 are against the Marlins (3 GB), and 4 are against the Dodgers (currently leading the NL West by 3 games over San Diego, the current NL Wild Card leader).

Let's consider each of these sets individually:

1. Three days in Houston.

The three most important games remaining as far as I'm concerned, the series kicks off tonight as Tom Glavine takes the ball against Wandy Rodriguez.

The Astros are famous for their ability to lose games 1-0 or 2-1, but that propensity highlights the gift and the curse of the 2006 Houston Astros: they can pitch the lights but can't hit a lick.

That all said, nobody, not nobody wants to stare down Roger Clemens, Roy Oswalt and (to a lesser extent) Andy Pettitte in a 5-game playoff series.

It's been said several times here at Y2K in recent weeks -- the Mets win games with their bats. Houston has the one pitching staff that can neutralize our assault. Luckily, the Mets won't draw Clemens or Oswalt in this series.

Facing the soft underbelly of the Astros' dominant rotation in a hitter's park, the Mets are in position to set Houston back. The 'Stros have won 6 straight entering play tonight so we'll have our work cut out for us, but a series win here, or better yet, a sweep, could really do wonders for us come October.

2. Fuck the Fish.

Not gonna lie, there's something about the Florida Marlins I really resent. I know I should be happy that they beat the Yankees in 2003, and I am, but the idea that this franchise has won two championships in 13 years, all for the benefit of their 14 fans, really drives me up a wall.

Moreover, the Marlins kind of frieghten me. Maybe I've seen too many "Mighty Ducks" sequels. Whatever it is, I don't want to face Florida in the playoffs. Let's send them reeling (har har har).

3. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

Ah, Atlanta. Winners of 14 consecutive division titles. Proud employers of racists (John Rocker), homophobes (John Smoltz) and bastard sires (Chipper) alike (an equal opportunity employer, how nice!). Mets fans have been waiting for this for a long time.

I'm not sure if Andruw Jones still thinks this is the Braves' division to lose, but they still have a small chance at the Wild Card. We won't get the delight that narrowly edging the Braves for the division title would have provided, but for me, eliminating their playoff hopes would be a fine substitute.

4. LAD of LA: It's on.

The Dodgers are officially the "it-team" for NL pennant upset speculators -- they're the ones most people project as the only team currently qualifying for a playoff spot that could beat the Mets.

In fairness to that school of thought, the Dodgers could well be the second best team in the National League. I might have said "probably are" instead of "could well be" just then, but no team that loses 11 straight games qualifies as a sure thing in my book, Greg Maddux or no Greg Maddux.

The last time we faced LA we took two of three and we were spurred on to the 8-game winning streak that was the beginning of the end for the rest of the division. They're a different team now. They're a better team now.

We've got four games against them on our home turf. I'm not sure if even a sweep would put the kibosh on their playoff hopes, but I sure wouldn't mind showing them who this league belongs to.

* * * * *

Anyway, that's all I got. Long weekend here at Y2K means no Sunday post from Cheddar Ben, but we'll be back with you on Monday. Have a good weekend everybody, and Los Mets, get your game faces on.

- A.F.O.M.G.