It Has Begun

(Note: A piece by Cheddar Ben about the top 10 stories to keep your eye on in the months ahead follows this post by Sip.)

I picked up the post today and got my first whiff of that promises to be an exciting offseason of Yankee hating.

The Yankees are interested in... Jeff Suppan.

Coming off a monster postseason, Jeff Suppan is the 2006 equivalent of Derek Lowe. He is hot, hot, hot in what could be a very thin pitcher's market.

Translation: Insert Yankees here.

I pray Jeff Suppan ends up in the Bronx. If Derek Lowe's success in Los Angeles is any indication of Suppan's future, than there should be funny headlines coming out of the Bronx.

A few big differences between Suppan and Lowe.

Lowe was once a big time starter. He was a Cy Young candidate. He won 38 games between 2002-2003. He was going from a hitter's ballpark in Fenway to the pitcher friendly Dodger Stadium.

Lowe has strung together a couple of nice seasons in Los Angeles. But Derek Lowe has always been a "nice" pitcher.

Now we look at Suppan's situation.

No one is denying how great he looked this October. He carried the Cards on his back in some ways and deserves all the credit in the world for that.

But this guy isn't Derek Lowe. He isn't even Jeff Weaver, a guy who at one point was considered to have front-of-the-rotation stuff.

This guy is at best a #3 starter.

And now we bring him to the Yankees.

He goes from the NL Central, baseball's lightest hitting division, to the AL East, arguably baseball's toughest division.

He goes from the NL to the AL where ERA's are known to jump (read: Josh Beckett, Carl Pavano, etc.)

He goes from Busch, a somewhat spacious ballpark, to Yankee stadium where popup homeruns to right field make Jason Giambi look like Babe Ruth.

Suppan has looked like a decent pitcher in KC, Pittsburgh, and now St. Louis. These are three places where fans hug you when you lose and smile when you win.

His one run in Boston, where he was the prize piece of the deal that sent Freddy "NL batting Champ" Sanchez to the Pirates, was not so good:

3-4, 5.57 ERA in Boston's stretch run.

I love that baseball is a game where Jeff Suppan will get 10 million dollar a year.

I pray that baseball is the game where the Yankees are the team that gives it to him.

This guy could make Jaret Wright look like Nolan Ryan.

Vaya con dios,

Sip

If You Choose to Sleep, You Could Lose Your Teeth

Good god, did you see the papers yesterday? It was a wasteland. Murray Chass mumbling about the World Series, Rutgers-UConn football, front pages about newspaper circulation.

Without baseball, it's going to be a media wasteland for a while, folks. But not to worry – we here at Y2K have gone all Madame Sosostris and picked out the top 10 stories that you're going to want to follow over the upcoming months.

Dig.

Prospects still playing

The go-to source at this point for your Arizona Fall League (and Hawaiian Winter League) fix has to be the Daily News' Adam Rubin, out in the desert watching Mike Pelfrey and Co. play.

Rubin gave us audio of the big stud from Saturday following a scoreless outing, as well as updates on Brandon Nall, Kevin Mulvey and the rest of the gang. Humber has already been pulled with tendinitis in his shoulder, so we won't hear much about him for a while. This is something worth checking in on.

Out in the middle of the ocean, the Hawaiian league restarted after nine years off. It's an MLB-Asian leagues hybrid, on a 60/40 split favoring our guys. 20-year-old 1B Mike Carp, playing for the North Shore Honu, is the only guy worth bothering about. (Say what up to Frankie and Gabriel while you're out there, Carpie).

Konichiwa means hello

On a scale of 1 to 10, how much are the Japanese going to love Jose Reyes? 50? He, Wright, and the Maine Event will play with the MLB All-Stars against our SEATO allies starting Thursday, while Manny Acta and Julio Franco are going as coaches. That's humiliating, Julio.

In the abstract, I love this tour. It makes everyone a lot of money, it makes it more likely that top-drawer Japanese players will be exposed to MLB scouts and come over here to play, it gives Bronson Arroyo a whole new audience for his music. Win-win-win.

But as much as I adore the notion of Jose-Jose-Jose being famous in Japan, I'm scared stiff that one of these guys is going to get hurt. Reyes goes down on the Tokyo Dome turf, I will fucking flip my shit. And if you think it's above Hiroyuki Kobayashi to throw a beanball in the ninth inning of a blowout ... well you, my friend, don't know what I know. Be prepared.

From across the pond comes ...

The English Premiership. One of the best soccer leagues in the world. Top players. My favorite squad, the Arsenal.

But it's all in jeopardy, according to ESPN's Soccernet: "Internet porn a growing problem for players." See, this is the kind of story the damn liberal media over here never reports.

Konichiwa means hello

Back to Japan. Everything points to Daisuka Matsuzaka, the man without a gyroball but with every other pitch in the book and a rubber arm to boot, being a stud. Here's Bobby V. , who knows a thing or two about Japanese ball:

He is very special," Valentine said from Japan via e-mail. "He has a good fastball that he throws from 90 mph to 95. He has very good control and can throw any one of three other pitches over for a strike any time in the count.

The best comp is clearly Hideo Nomo's rookie year, Nomo's Age-26 season from 1995: ROY, 13-8, 2.54 ERA, 236K in 193 innings. For the record, that was the best strikeout rate in the league, and the second-lowest ERA behind Greg Maddux's 19-2/1.63 ERA year.

The guy's a game-changer. Look out below.

Iron Sheff America

This is notable because A) Sheffield is a selfish maniac, and that's good TV, and B) the Mets are among the best fits under an option-trade scenario.

I clearly don't think it's going to happen. But I don't know where he's going to go. The Cubs probably want to keep Aramis more than they want Sheff, and Jacque Jones had a flukishly good enough year. If the Phillies deal with the Yankees again, the fans might burn Pat Gillick alive.

The Dodgers have J.D. Drew, the Astros are skinflints ... maybe he goes to the Giants, but does Sheff want to go anywhere near the San Francisco Chronicle and the BALCO morass? Here's a headline for you -- “Slugger kills recently freed Chron reporters in tunnel.” I'm thinking if he goes, it's to the Mariners for one of their middle infield prospects.

All I know is it's worth keeping tabs on, in the unlikely and horrid case that we have to deal with this sociopath next spring.

Sabre time

Ladies and gentlemen, the coolest show on ice. The Buffalo Sabres just barely missed setting a new NHL record for consecutive victories to start a season Saturday, going down 5-4 to Atlanta in a shootout. They were down by a goal four times. They came back each time.

They play hockey like it's played in heaven – skating with the wind, looking for the ridiculous pass, constantly attacking the net, embarrassing grown men. Even if you're not a huge hockey fan, it's a compelling thing to watch domination in action.

Plus, their stud young wing's a bit of a Baldwin. Ladies, don't say Y2K never did nothing for you.

Dementia ... of some kind

It is apparently completely cool to shit all over people with Parkinson's Disease. I did not know that. Also, Matt Lauer will be dealt with. Developing.

Chicken Tika Barber

The only negative on this list, as in don't pay attention to any of this nonsense about Tiki Barber leaving. The “distraction” stuff is writers looking for something to write about. He's going to go be a star, he's the next Frank Gifford, and that's that. Let it go.

But far more importantly, anyone who doesn't want to see Big Brandon Jacobs hit the hole like 200 times next year is either a knave or a fool. Brandon Jacobs will outlast us all. He's like a A1M1 tank in grey tights.

Belichick son arrested for pot

Look, we all hate the New England Patriots here. We hate their success, we hate Tom Brady's inhumanly strong jawline, we hate Rodney Harrison for about a thousand reasons. But most of all, we hate the amoral, dehumanizing football fascist that is Bill Belichick. (Refusing to say anything nice about Adam Vinatieri after he departed remains one of the most stunningly mean-spirited things I've ever seen.)

Anyway, bonus points to the first reporter who asks Belichick if he's going to release his son from the roster after getting arrested. He's a liability, Bill! Use your head, not your heart!

Cuban libre

Speaking of facism, David Stern is going after Mark Cuban hard again. I happen to like Cuban's style. I like people who say what they think. The guy's got a blog ... how bad can he be?

Bad enough that the NBA is apparently going to prevent him from sitting on the bench with his team during games. It was half-cute, half-pathetic -- Cuban in his Mavs baseball or rugby jersey, screaming about calls, telling bad jokes to Jerry Stackhouse, pretending he was one of the guys.

Whatever. He's the billionaire. If that's the way he wants to spend his money, so be it.

Well, the other owners are going to spitefully cut him at the knees. Cuban's already fired back once. It's not inconceivable that he could bring a gun to the next league meeting.

That's it for now. Look for a special Y2K interview coming up later in the week.

Monday Musings

A funny thing happened over the last couple of weeks.

All of a sudden the Giants got really good.

It's like god is looking after Sip. While he knows that nothing in sports will make me forget the Mets, at least he is trying to bandage the wound as best as he can.

For that god, thank you.

But in all seriousness, what is brewing out of the Meadowlands really could be pretty special. The Giants have won their last 4 games with almost too much ease.

A 19-3 doozy against the Redskins.

Two very impressive road victories against the Cowboys and Falcons. (Oh by the way, did you see what the Cowboys did last night?)

And finally, Sunday's sleeper against the Bucs, fresh off of consecutive wins against the Eagles and Bengals.

Maybe it is my old age or maybe it was the California air, but for some reason, like with the New Mets, my outlook on the Giants is all of a sudden insanely positive.

I never root for good teams. Even when they are good they suck. Or at least that is how I viewed sports in years 1-23.

But have you guys seen the Giants of late?

This team has what may be the most balanced offense in football. They've been running all over the place against some very solid defenses to the point that whenever Tiki Barber touches the ball it looks like we are getting 5 yards.

Then, send in the big boy and there are no more fumbles. Just angry yards from a big angry dude.

An improving secondary and a pass rush that looks like it is playing up to form and who knows.

Hopefully next week vs Houston gets us ready for Sunday night when the New Bears come to town.

Sip vs. Jawn

KFC vs. Zimmy

#1 vs. #2 in the NFC.

That game should be pretty fierce.

Then there is the other game I got burned on yesterday. Those pesky J-E-T-S, JETS, JETS, JETS!

I don't hate the Jets and I know so many Mets fans that love them. I guess you can say I "root" for them.

From there, you can say one thing. Those dudes got hosed.

Mike Carey -- far and away my favorite official in the game, with his ultra deliberate penalty calls and clear explanations -- really shanked on this one.

No reason why that last play isn't a TD. And if the rule says you can't review it otherwise, then call it a TD knowing that it can then be overturned.

To all you guys, I am sorry.

But when there is nothing to talk about with the Mets, as many of you may know, my favorite thing to do is laugh about the Knicks.

On Monday, the Knicks continued their financial circus. They remain a bigger fraud to their fans than Ken Lay was to this country.

On Monday, the Knicks took their knife and stabbed it into my chest. On Monday they denied my dream.

I dreamt of a starting lineup featuring Stephon Marbury, Steve Francis and Jalen Rose.

One shot per possesion being fought over by three worthy stars.

Three guys shooting in the high 30's low 40's.

Maybe the three worst guys to have on your team for what they are paid and what they are looking to get. And they could have all been on the court at the same time.

This is a possibility no more.

ESPN is reporting that the Knicks and Arn Tellem, Rose's rep, are working out the terms for a buyout.

Yet another one of Isiah Thomas' brilliant moves comes up just short.

And it saddens me. I really was looking forward to two hours of comedy. The first sports team to ever really offer that.

Now the laughs may be reduced to heavy chuckle.

Jalen, RIP.

Later in the week, my celebrity friend and E News correspondent, we'll call him B Rhymes, will be joining Y2K as our weekly Knicks columnist.

B Rhymes, a little too good of a guy, still thinks the Knicks have a shot. So at least his words will be nice and positive.

As for the Sip, I got an NBA preview coming out throughout the course of the week, AFOMG will bring you something smart, orange and blue, and Cheddar, between freestyle battles will take some time to wax you with that ill mathematical.

As for the rest of you, if any of you are interested in writing at Y2K, we might be able to do something about that.

If you see some cool stuff to post or anything else, send it our way.

Right now, shoot it sippymomo@gmail.com. No promises what you send will run, but it could happen.

But coming soon, things are only going to improve. Yankees2000.com will be coming sometime before the new year and from there, well hopefully some more good things.

Vaya con dios.

Sip

Thank God It's Over

So the Cardinals won the World Series. When I saw it happen I kind of chuckled. What a joke, I thought. It should have been us.

But thank the fucking lord this is done. The only person I know that may be happy about all of this is my mother, who when she hears that the MVP was a nice boy with a big nose named Eckstein, she might go screaming to her little gang of Jewish ladies about how great Jews are.

Her enthusiasm oughta last until I tell her that there is like a 40% chance that Mr. Eckstein is a direct descendent of the Third Reich.

Anyway, baseball is done. Your noodle is Kakadoodle. However you want to look at it, it is now OK to move on.

For me I smell my second favorite time of the year.

While I enjoy the NBA and couldn't be more fired up for Nellie inserting his own version of Steve Spurrier's Fun and Gun out in Golden State, that is still not enough for me.

When I see the Knicks jump off to a red hot 2-14 start, yes I will chuckle. This false sense of optimism where people assume that this team can win 30-35 games makes me more sad than anything else.

But the two things that have me fired up are this.

One, college basketball is on its way. I am back in NYC. For some reason I have always had a hard on for watching college ball at the Garden. With the NBA being the circus that it is, it is one of my favorite sights seeing kids step on the Garden floor for the first time.

Sure, 30% may be getting paid under the table. But so what? I think they should be.

But there is college ball, and now, for the first time I can shift gears and relaly turn to football.

With football comes the three bigs for me.

There's the Giants, who right now look like they can play with just about anyone.

There's fantasy football, which makes Sundays perfect in my opinion. My league has my same 12 friends from college and we we are working on Year 6 of hopefully 60 with this crew in tact.

Then there is football gambling.

I don't claim to be a saint. While I don't take drugs and I try to be respectful of women, that doesn't stop me from chasing this piece of the action.

Like my boy John Anthony, all I do is lift weights and pick winners.

Or so I like to think. When it comes to gambling on anything I try my best not to bet with my cock. I don't put action on games just for the hell of it. I don't even really like to watch the games that I bet on.

For me, I like to think of it as an investment of my knowledge. Me against Vegas, but more so, me against the public. Vegas sets the lines, but the public is what shifts them.

There are days when I think everyone in America is a genius and there are days when I don't. I am not one of those guys that fades out the public.

I am not one of those guys who researches ATS on the road against teams in your division who have at least three vowels in their city's name.

For me, it is all about feel. I know all the teams. I watch all the games. I like to think that when I am on, I am on.

So below are some of my picks. To pick every game in the NFL, in my opinion is to flip a coin.

I like Green Bay -3.5 vs. Arizona. Ill take Favre over Leinart in Lambeau.

I like Carolina laying 5 against the Cowboys in Carolina. This line is 5 if Bledsoe is starting. But I think a lot of people are giving Tony Romo a little too much credit and also forgetting that Carolina is still very much the team that half of America picked to come out of the NFC.

I like the Jets +2 in Cleveland. Say what you want about the Jets' D, fact is the Browns are bad. They just fired their offensive coordinator, RIP Mo Carthon. Don't see why the Jets don't win this game on the road.

Finally, I like the Chiefs laying 4 to Seattle, with a big if. That is, if Damon Huard is playing this game. For my friends that know me, god knows how much I like Brody Croyle.

Last year I dreamed of the day when on MNF, now Sunday nights, young Brody could introduce himself, "Brody Croyle, Alabama," with his sick southern drawl. Unfortunately I am not ready to my father's pair of brown socks that I took last night that he can win his first NFL game.

Those are 4 games I like.

I think the most fun game to watch this week may be the Texans vs. Tennessee. I have this creepy suspicion that Vince Young may be really legit and that with an underrated O-Line, the Titans could really start running on people with Young and my boy J-Murder's' "Angriest runner in the game," Travis Henry combining for 30+ carries.

That Colts vs. Broncos game will be really interesting for obvious reasons. I am curious to see just how good this Denver D is. Man those linebackers are fast, though. The one thing on my interests section on my facebook profile is "fast defenses." Not sure what it is. I just like dudes that can run sideline to sideline. Speed kills.

As for our beloved G-Men... I am worried that this game screams let down city. Laying more than a TD, I would never touch this game. Though, I don't ever bet the game in which my team is playing. It would make things too big of a sweat.

But Tampa Bay is coming off of wins against Philly and Cincy, my two Super Bowl teams at the start of the season. Their D has shown signs of vintage Tampa and with my 4th string fantasy QB Bruce Gradkowski at the helm, the O, at least, is not making a lot of mistakes.

Alright, that is it for now.

Enjoy the games.

Vaya con dios to baseball. We will talk about you a lot but not see you for about 5 months.

And to the rest of you.

Vaya con dios.

Sip

Poll Results and Pelfrey

(Note: Immediately following this post is an ode to Chad Johnson, Ocho-Cinco, by Sip. Be sure to check in over the weekend as we have content planned for Saturday, a football preview, and Sunday, a weekly recap.)

MSE: So what are you guys going to write about now that your beloved Mets...?

A.F.O.M.G.: I don't know. Things come up. You find something.

MSE: Do they have a game tonight?

A.F.O.M.G.: The Mets? No, not tonight. Off night tonight.

Sigh. So it goes.

To her credit, she was actually asking about the World Series, but you couldn't miss the humor in the way the words came out. Anyway.

Poll Results

As promised, today we'll devote a little time to discussing the results of our poll on Wednesday for the John Rocker Award.

Really interesting results, actually. When looking at them, what's important to appreciate is that the voting occured in two distinct waves.

Wave 1 consisted of our regular readers, and was an unprecedented strong showing.

A little backstory. We've run polls before here at Y2K with very limited voting from our audience. I believe the previous high was 30 votes in a given poll.

At the start of the day on Wednesday, two things were different at Y2K than they were when we ran our previous polls. One, we were getting, on average, about 300 more readers a day since our last poll. Two, in order to see the results this time, you had to vote.

Wednesday morning I told Sip I'd be happy if 50 people voted. Much to my delight, about 100 people voted in Wave 1.

I didn't write down the results at the time, but I remember thinking them over and feel like I can accurately reproduce them to some extent. Here's what I know:

1. After about 100 votes, Braden Looper was the clear leader, with 49% of the vote.

2. Yadier Molina was a distant, but nonetheless respectable, second. I want to say he had about 17% of the vote.

3. Locked in a battle for third place were Duaner Sanchez's Taxi and The Home Run Derby.

4. Nobody cared about Johnny Damon, Jose Guillen or "Our Team. Our Time."

The second wave came when the good people over at Deadspin (really a must-read by the way) decided to give a link to the article.

Participation in the poll exploded from there, and by last count 633 people had voted in the poll.

The 533 additional votes had an interesting effect on the poll:

1. Braden Looper received the majority of the Deadspin vote, and increased his lead by 10 whole percentage points.

2. Yadier Molina slipped slightly, but had a pretty consistent constituency in both Waves.

3. A lot of Deadspinners really detested "Our Team. Our Time." evidently. Absolutely nobody had voted for that one before Deadspin got involved. It's received 42 votes since and is close to the third place pack.

4. Speaking of the third place pack, the Taxi held strong, but the Derby was replaced by Johnny Damon. Almost no one in the Deadspin Wave voted for the Derby, but a ton voted for Damon. These people were probably the hardcore Yankee haters who don't particularly have an opinion about the Mets, but that's just speculation.

5. Nobody cared about Jose Guillen.

So what's it all mean? I have three conclusions:

1. Jose Guillen: All is forgiven.

2. Yadier Molina: Close. Maybe next year.

3. Braden Looper: Come on down, shithead, you're the winner of the 2006 John Rocker Award!

Pelfrey

I picked up an interesting article yesterday on the Mets Geek comment board that I wanted to pass along.

It's an article in Baseball America about Mike Pelfrey. You remember Pelfrey, don't you? Back before John Maine and Ollie Perez dazzled us in Games 6 and 7 of the NLCS, Pelfrey was the Great White Hope of the Mets' rotation.

Lean, tall and completely unable to keep his tongue in his mouth while pitching, Pelfrey burst on to our radars in January when he officially signed with the Mets. By midsummer he was in the Show, starting in place of Pedro Martinez.

Sip and I were at his first game, which he won, but after his first several starts the results were mixed.

On the one hand, you couldn't look at his mid-to-high 90s gas and not be impressed. But the book on Pelfrey had been all too correct when it came to his secondary pitches.

Pelfrey struggled with the command on his curveball and change-up, allowing Major League hitters to sit on his fastball. In short, Pelfrey was a work in progress.

That brings us to the Baseball America article. Turns out, Pelfrey has scrapped his curveball in favor of a slider, which one scount from an AL club said "has the makings of a plus pitch."

Pelfrey is an interesting guy to watch. I have to think he's a stretch to make the rotation out of Spring Training, but if he works hard through Winter Ball he could start the year in Triple A and remain a viable spot starter candidate should the need arise.

We said at the time that if Pelfrey could develop an out pitch that he could be the ace of this staff, in time. It seems likely that he's a dream that won't be realized until 2008 (the New York market being what it is), but if he can turn this slider into the plus-pitch that it has the potential to become, well, we could be looking at this guy's tongue for a long time to come.

Or maybe I'm just a Mets fan getting all worked up about another go-nowhere prospect, eh Mr. Long Island?

- A.F.O.M.G.

Respect #85

(Note: A.F.O.M.G. will be in with a post this afternoon so keep checking in for that.)

Not sure I know a baseball player who ever wore the # 85. That doesn't mean much to me. But I can comfortably say this.

As much as I hate Wilmer Valderrama, especially the show "Yo Momma," and as much as I plan on becoming famous just to start a celebrity beef with him just so I can get to the point where in front of millions of people I can announce that he became famous by being the most suitable latin herb, I feel like now is a time to sing a higher praise.

Now's the time to give a shout to the man who may be the most colorful man since Rickey announced that it was Rickey Time.

More colorful than the Rickey Henderson who stood in front of a mirror, swinging a bat over his head, while ass naked, shouting to the mirror: "Rickey's the best!"

Today, a quick tribute to # 85.

Chad Johnson, the star WR for Y2K Super bowl pick the Cincinatti Bengals, came out with about the best press conference I have heard in sometime.

While we here at Y2K like to focus on the Mets or hating the Yankees, or, failing those, New York or even the deli on my block, I felt like Chad deserved a serious shoutout.

Seriously, who is going to stop #85?

Leading up to this week's game against the Atlanta Falcons, and of much greater significance, his one-on-one matchup with pro bowl CB DeAngelo Hall, the Chad felt like it was his time to step up.

He referred to Deangelo Hall as Deangelo Fall.

He guaranteed not one but two touchdowns.

He guaranteed not deuce but dos td's for #85.

This is #85. Maybe the most marketable player since #4 for the '99 Mets, my hero and favorite player, Rockin' Robin Ventura.

There is nothing better in sports than good television. Yankee fans haven't seen that in years because their players are not allowed.

We as Mets fans haven't seen a good soundbite in sometime.

But Chad, or the Chad as he so neccesarily deserves, is the 2nd resaon why we watch sports.

After love for the game or a certain team, we watch sports to be entertained.

Chad, well, he entertains.

An early VCD,

Sip

The New CBA: How It Affects the Mets, Yanks and All the Rest

Before I get going, let me take a few seconds to propose to my future wife, Coop. Coop, it is nice to have an intelligent, classy female on board here. So if this proposal at all interests you, hit me up.

Now we get to business.

Baseball is at peace. With ticket sales at an all time high and popularity soaring despite all the steroid scandals and hoopla on Capitol Hill, and more importantly, owners with very heavy pockets, an extension of baseball's collective bargaining agreement seemed like a slam dunk.

The agreement features three key aspects for the common fan:

1. Continued Revenue Sharing
2. A mandate on teams to use funds from revenue sharing for on-field talent as opposed to other aspects of the team (i.e. stadium improvements and owners' houses).
3. A weaker (higher) luxury tax

It is the opinion of this author that unless the Mets are willing to drastically increase payroll, this new agreement could severly hurt the club.

The increased revenue sharing means that the poorer teams are now richer. Every year, teams at the bottom receive a larger chunk of baseball's collective pie.

The big difference? Now these teams at the bottom are forced to spend this money. No longer can the Marlins play with a $14 million payroll. While the exact stipulations are not clear, the Marlins will be forced to spend.

Like the floor in the NBA salary cap that requires all teams to spend a certain % of the salary cap, this new agreement now requires all teams to spend a certain amount of money.

What this means is simple.

Not only will the poorer teams have more money to resign their own young players, but they will also be more involved in competing for free agents, especially second tier free agents.

For example, while the Marlins will not be signing the Carlos Beltran's of the world, that is, unless they have a major change in philosophy, they could be potential suitors in the Gary Sheffield trade sweepstakes, something they never would have been a year ago.

With all the poorer teams involved, there's more money to spend, and player salaries stand to rise.

Buster Olney writes a somewhat exaggerated version of this on espn.com, but what he is saying is that pitchers like Jeff Suppan who previously command Matt Clement money (3 yrs, 25-27 mil) now they could be getting Ben Sheets Money (4 yrs, 40 mil).

It's simple economics.

The supply stays the same while the demand is going way up.

3. Then there is the issue with the luxury tax.

The luxury tax is now easier on the Yankees in two ways.

First, the Yankees will only be taxed for salaries over $148 million in year 1 and $178 million in year 2.

These numbers are both way up from the previous deal.

Second, the amount of money that they will be taxed decreases.

Simply put, the Yankees can increase payroll and not be effected by the luxury tax.

Well good for them.

In my opinion, the teams that are hurt the most from this CBA are the Mets and the Red Sox. That's not a good thing for readers of Y2K.

With the poorer teams having more money to spend, free agent prices will rise and the free agent pool will decrease.

While the Yankees and their outraegous spending will not be affected, in order for the Mets and Red Sox to adjust to the new CBA they will have to increase spending.

For example, whereas before there may have been 3-5 teams interested in giving Barry Zito a lot of money, there is now the chance that he may be able to resign in Oakland. If that is not the case, then there may now be 10-15 teams willing to pay him $13+.

All of a sudden the balances of power are becoming greater and greater.

Or so Bud Selig likes to argue.

This is not going to be the case, however. Without a salary cap there will never be partiy. There may be more winners in baseball than any other sport, but that is a result of a lot of things.

The one thing this CBA does is it evens a lot of teams with the 2nd tier wealth (Mets, Red Sox, Dodgers) but it still allows the Yankees to play Bankee baseball.

The Yankees' drought of championships is the best thing that the owners have going for them.

They all love the Yankees for stuffing their pockets with money generated from road ticket sales, merchandising etc.

Because the Yankees have found a way to lose every year, owners can justify allowing them to outspend the rest of baseball.

Here's my major concern. If the Mets decide to step up their game by paying players their newfound relative worth, then what is going to happen to ticket prices and the price of a beer?

Money don't grow on trees my friends.

With a new stadium with fewer seats and what could be a skyrocketing payroll, baseball will slowly drown out the common fan from attending ball games.

Great for owners who love their money. Not so great for the people that make baseball American.

We shall see.

Vaya con dios.

Sip

The John Rocker Award

It's that time of the year again. With baseball over (World Series? What World Series?) and the offseason officially underway, it's time to dole out some hardware.

Award season kicked off yesterday with the news that Carlos Delgado had been named the recipient of the 2006 Roberto Clemente Award. The honor is presented annually to the player who demonstrates exemplary play on the field and community-mindedness off it.

As heads is to tails, yin is to yang, and good is to evil, so too is there a flip side to the Roberto Clemente Award. This award is presented annually to the player (or place, or inanimate object) that proves most despicable, most detestable, most anathema to everything that is good and pure about the Mets.

The John Rocker Award.

The award is named in honor of perhaps the most hated opponent the Mets have ever known, John Rocker, who embodied everything there was to despise in a rival. He was brash on the field, and brazen off it. He broke our hearts by striking our best hitters out, and boiled our blood by shitting on our city.

No one has ever come close to touching Rocker's odious legacy, but every year there are those who etch a place in our hearts for all the wrong reasons.

In no particular order, presented here are the candidates for the 2006 John Rocker Award.

Yadier Molina

In an MLB career spanning 937 at-bats, Yadier Assholina has hit all of 16 home runs in the regular season. That's one home run every 59 ABs. His slugging percentage in 2006 was .321, or worse than what Rey Ordonez could muster in two of his seven legendary seasons as a Met.

So what does he do? Well, you know what he do. Molina collected the single biggest hit by an opponent against the Mets in 2006, instantly qualifying him for the John Rocker Award.

Besides, he just looks like an asshole.

Jose Guillen

Remember this guy? I know the tension between him and the Mets peaked a long time ago now, but for a week there in April things between the Mets and Nats looked like they were gonna get nasty.

In his first start of the season, a rusty Pedro Martinez beaned Guillen twice, nearly inciting a brawl between the two teams. Before Pedro's next start against the Nationals, this time in Washington, Guillen said "it's going to get real ugly" if Pedro beaned him again.

Well, things never actually got ugly between the two teams (although Y2K had scientifically determined that the Mets would prevail in a round of fisticuffs). Pedro shut the Nationals down, with Guillen himself grounding into a critical double play with the bases loaded.

Nevertheless, for a solid week there, for hating on our beloved Pedro, Guillen was the most hated man in Metsville, and for that he earns his nomination.

Duaner Sanchez's Taxi

As the Mets' bullpen dazzled in October it became almost difficult to remember that the relief corps had lost their most reliable member two months earlier in a freak taxi accident.

The morning of the trade deadline, on an off day for the club, the Mets were in sunny south Florida, and Duaner Sanchez, setup man extraordinaire, had a hankering for some food. Along with some friends from the area, Duaner entered a taxicab in the earliest hours of the day headed for some Dominican food, but destined for heartbreak.

The accident Duaner's taxi was involved in cost the Mets not only their primary setup man, but also the promising young career (and powerful righthanded bat) of Met pin-up Xavier Nady.

The Mets bullpen solidified down the stretch with Aaron Heilman and Guillermo Mota stepping up, but the Mets' offense never quite recovered from the loss of Nady, and struggled against southpaws down the stretch.

Johnny Damon

In the one-year history of Y2K, no player has gotten as much grief as Johnny Damon. His defection from the Red Sox to the Yankees was a betrayal of epic proportions, and even if he never harmed the Mets directly, his willingness to walk away from a team and city that loved him for that team and city's greatest rival affected us all.

It seemed to confirm our worst fears about our baseball heroes. It seemed to confirm that these guys were nothing more than mercenaries.

Luckily for us, Omar signed Jose Reyes and David Wright to long-term extensions, but still, a part of the fun of baseball died the day Damon signed with the Yankees, and for that, he earns his nomination.

The Home Run Derby

It all seemed so harmless at the time. Just good old fun and games, right? Oh we were so naive.

As shot after shot sailed through the night and into the stands at PNC Park, we were thrilled. Here was our golden boy doing his thing before a National Audience.

Wright led all comers through the first round of the Derby, socking 16 home runs, the highest single-round tally of the event. Even though he fell to Ryan Howard in the final round, it seemed that Wright had had his coming out party, from there on out, the sky was the limit.

Something happened to Wright in the second half of 2006, however, the same thing that had happened to the previous Derby winner, Bobby Abreu. After hitting vastly more home runs than anyone expected of them coming in to the festivities, both experienced a severe power outage.

Wright's numbers after the Derby were similar to those he put up in the first half of the season, with some notable exceptions. Wright's power numbers dropped off big time (6 HRs compared to 20) as did his run production (42 RBI vs. 74) and slugging percentage (.469 vs. .575).

For the role it played in sapping one of Shea's finest of his power, the Home Run Derby earns its nomination.

Braden Looper

He's the fuck who started the Cardinals' mock "Jo-se, Jose-Jose-Jose" chant following their victory in Game 7.

As worthless to the Cardinals as he was to the Mets, Looper somehow felt entitled to twist the dagger in Mets fans' backs in spite of the fact that he'd done basically nothing to help secure the Cards' series victory.

We hated this guy before, but really, this slight will never be forgotten.

"Our Team. Our Time."

Not the slogan, silly, that one actually grew on me. How could you not care for a marketing campaign that allowed so much room for improvisation? It was just so versatile:

"The Team. The Time. The N.L. East Division Champions."

"The Team. The Time. The New Ballpark."

"The Team. The Time. The debilitating playoff exit."

The possibilities were endless!

Unfortunately, that's where the trouble began. See, an enterprising young emcee named Steven "Boogie" Brown, famous for street anthems like "NYC PEECH BOYS" and "Smurf For What It's Worth," decided to record a track expressing his enthusiasm for the 2006 Mets.

Although Steamin' Mikey Lehman declared the song "butter," I've just got no love in my heart for this tune. Hopefully it will be forgotten by the time Spring 2007 rolls around, but for now it makes the list.

* * * * *

So there you have it, folks, the nominees for the 2006 John Rocker Award. Now it's your turn. Simply vote in our interactive poll for who you think is most deserving of this year's honor. The results will be announced on Friday.

Who is most deserving of the John Rocker Award for 2006?
	Yadier Molina
	Jose Guillen
	Duaner Sanchez's Taxi
	Johnny Damon
	The Home Run Derby
	Braden Looper
	"Our Team. Our Time."
Free polls from Pollhost.com

If you would like to write in a candidate, please refer to the comment board.

- A.F.O.M.G.

The Key to New York's 2007

I don't know what it is.

Call me a glutton for the dark.

But last night the Giants gave every reason for a Mets fan to smile. It was a heck of a win.

But when I sat in my shower this morning, the sweet sounds of Late 90's soothing depression blaring from my iPod, all I could think about was baseball.

I am not done with 2006 and I probably won't be until 2007.

So I did some soul searching. I went to my local deli to buy a cup of coffee that would in short time fuck up my stomach enough so that I would have to sit down in my office, a fresh roll of Charmin to my left and my iPod back on.

I was ready to think.

So here I sit, 12:53 on a Tuesday and the entire 2007 for New York baseball made sense to me.

2007 in NYC depends on one player. One guy who likes to play the banjo and meditates to shit that is even too weird for me.

Barry Zito.

For the Yankees, this offseason is the most significant that I can remember. Their greedy fans are extremely restless.

They are calling for better pitching and smarter baseball.

Zito is really option A, B, C and D when it comes to available pitching.

The other marquee names of the hot stove include Jeff Suppan and Jason Schmidt, two guys that would be welcomed to the AL as quickly as Carl Pavano and Jaret Wright.

Then there is Zito.

He is Tom Glavine, minus 12 years, with a better fastball, a much weaker changeup and a dominant breaking ball.

For the Yankees, he is their only hope.

Entering the season with Randy Johnson, Mike Mussina (assuming he resigns) and Chien Ming Wang as their only viable starting pitching options, the Yankees are close to running out a decidedly mediocre pitching staff.

Randy Johnson looks like he is done. It would be sad to me except that I hate him.

Mussina is a year older and while he seems to get smarter with age he is nothing more than a 2-3 starter.

And while Wang looks like he is a solid pitcher, if he wasn't a Yankee people would not be talking about this guy as much as they are.

Yankee fans and the media that covers them for the most part are morons. They tell their fans what they want to hear. Whatever it is that will make them understand how a team as talented as the Yankees can lose.

That is why we think Wang is so good.

That is also why the Yankees' supposed blueprint for improving, getting shittier role players is so exciting to me.

The Yankees saw the Tigers and decided they couldn't win with the greatest lineup of all time.

Instead, they need more effective role players.

Players who do jobs, bunt a guy over, steal a base, etc.

I got an idea. Make your better players do these things when the time calls. There is no one putting a gun to Torre's head telling him not to bunt Sheffield with 2 on and no out. He doesn't do so because he doesn't want to take the bat of a star's hand.

The Yankees are essentially saying that they are incapable of managing their talent, playing baseball the way they feel they should at the risk of offending players' egos.

As a result, the Yankees are actively seeking weaker position players. It's funny.

Which is why Zito is so vital. He is the one marquee name that can swing things in the Bronx. Without him, the Yankees are in trouble.

A scary thought follows, however. Without him, so might the Mets be in trouble.

Without Barry Zito and the Mets are potentially looking at an Opening Day rotation (if we bring everyone back which is by no means definite) of:

Glavine, El Duque, Maine, Pelfrey and Oliver Perez.

That's 4 guys who were essentially out of baseball in June and a 42 year old.

And there is a lot to worry about. After an outstanding first half, Tommy definitely struggled.

El Duque, contrary to popular belief, is not the same guy he was 6 years ago. Yes, he is crafty and capable of being dominant. But he is also capable of imploding.

With Pelfrey and Perez, flip a coin. Who knows at this point.

Then there is by far and away the most intriguing Met, John Maine.

John Maine has the potential in my opinion to be something special. He managed to be a very effective pitcher this year with essentially one pitch -- a low 90's rising fastball.

His changeup and breaking stuff really just haven't developed yet, which is an amazing sign.

Curt Schilling was once a young pitcher who got people out with a dominant fastball, but was essentially a middle of the rotation guy.

Then he developed an out pitch, his splitter, and the rest is history.

Give the Pete a shot with this kid and watch out. That he has overcome the tremendous hype he had in Baltimore, where back in '02 J Schubes was printing out his "Maine Express" t-shirts at a fledgling company named fratbucks.com. He has overcome the major disappointment that he was in Baltimore.

Now, a local hero under America's largest microscope, I am really excited to see what Johnny Maine could become.

Of all the Mets young guys, I think he is by far the most intriguing. His potential just hasn't been touched yet.

So then there is Zito.

Add Zito to the Mets rotation and it is a good one.

Don't and it is very mediocre.

No one can expect the Mets bullpen of '07 to be as good as '06. As Happy Will always points out, bullpens are a flip of the coin.

While Reyes will only get better and hopefully the same for D Wright, you can't expect a lot more out of the rest.

Zito's price will be very high. He will command somewhere between 13-15 mil per over 5-6 years and someone will pay it.

While he is not neccesarily worth it value wise, he could very well be the stability the Mets need in an otherwise very unstable rotation.

Which leads to my closing/favorite point.

Somewhere between my walk to the deli and my trip to the toilet I smiled. I smiled like a man who just canoodled with a female way out of his league.

I smiled like my dad does very rarely, but when he does, you can't help but do the same because it is such a nice thing to see.

In the battle of New York, the Mets are all of a sudden the place to be.

While this bothers me in regards to bandwagon fans and annoying females, when it comes to the free agent game, it is a nice thing to have.

While two years ago we had to beg and plead, now between the Mets and Yankees, players will want to be a Met.

With the Yankees you get overachieving losers with an owner who will publicly criticize you. You go to a place where the best player in baseball hits 8th and is maligned. You got to a place where you have to be a cleancut loser.

With the Mets, you go the most fun clubhouse in baseball. You have an owner that 99 people out of 100 couldn't pick out of a crowd. You go to a place where your superstar is soft spoken and your lineup is electrifed by the happiest person in the entire world, Jose Reyes.

And for the first time in god knows how long, you are going to the better team.

I truly believe that if Barry Zito ends up in NY, which is probably 50/50 at this point he will choose the Mets.

That my friends is a nice feeling.

For a second there I thought baseball, and I didn't get upset.

That second just ended when I looked to my left and realized I was out of toilet paper.

Vaya con dios,

Sip

The Week After

(Note: Cheddar Ben muses about who to root for in the World Series immediately following this post from Sip.)

Sorry Cheddar, can't say I've been watching.

Yesterday I decided to get really drunk at my favorite sports bar and watch football, so that I could intentionally fall asleep around 8 p.m. and not subject myself to the World Series.

That is what it has become. I'll be attending the theater with my grandma on Tuesday night, Synagogue on Wednesday night and perhaps a night of disco dancing in Chelsea on Thursday, before I watch this World Series.

It just doesn't feel right.

The glimpse of a World Series right now, sans our New Mets, is just killing me. It really is.

I am not mad at Carlos Beltran for not swinging or Aaron Heilman for hanging a changeup, or Willie for not bunting.

Everything that happened last Thursday night was just a product of baseball. The result of reactions and missed release points and snap judgments.

But the Mets didn't do anything wrong.

Carlos Beltran could not have tried harder. He got fooled on an 0-2 pitch like he has in the past and he will future.

Like with everything else, it just sucks more that it happened now.

I was just not ready for the Mets lose.

Every day for 7 months I alotted a strong portion of my time to the Mets. That is the major difference between baseball and any other sport.

There is simply no time off.

That is why I truly respect baseball fans. To truly commit to a team is to commit the majority of your time.

To be a diehard Giants fan takes 3 hours of your week.

To be a diehard Knicks fan takes maybe 8 hours.

But to watch games 7 days a week, 3 hours a day. That is a true commitment. A commitment that most other sports fans are unable or unready to commit.

That is what makes it so tough for me.

For 7 months nothing ever really went wrong. We were never told that we couldn't watch a winner and there was no team that really stood in our way from winning.

Before Game 6 I received numerous messages of good luck. We were scared then.

But not so much in Game 7. I think I got two messages.

Once we got over the hill that was Game 6, we kind of just saw it as inevitable.

When Endy made the catch, maybe the greatest catch in postseason history, it just had to be. This team could not lose.

They could not lose since April, they certainly could not lose now.

But they did. They lost in the most shocking way. A fat catcher with very little power driving the ball out of the park.

But even then, they couldn't lose. They were the Mets and they would find a way. And then they set us up that way.

They got the bases loaded with the guy you wanted up there.

They had to win.

But they didn't.

For an entire year they won Game 7. They had the nobody bat make the big hit. They had the reliever that got into jams and closed it out. They had the big hitter who got the walk-off hit.

Just not on Thursday night.

Up until about 11:30 on Thursday night, right before strike 3 to Beltran, there wasn't a Mets fan in the world that didn't think we'd be playing on Saturday night.

For almost 200 days we thought we could and in one split second it was all taken away from us.

Which is why it all hurts so much.

I love baseball. I really do. To not watch the World Series is really bothering me. I respect the game and the postseason and I want to see who wins.

But to put on FOX, and to see STL on the top of the screen, I just can't subject myself to that. At least not yet.

The bright spot is that the day the World Series ends and the 2007 season officially begins, and as Mets fans we should feel just like we felt most of the 2006 season.

We are headed in the right direction. We have most of the pieces in place.

I am not ready to start talking about free agents or possible trades. Let's wait a week till this season is done.

I hope the weekend did all of you some good, provided the necessary physical and spiritual cleansing that you needed.

We'll be back.

Vaya con dios.

Sip

PS While there wasn't the time to incorporate it in this piece, I wanted to express my gratitude to all of you who sent us those nice compliments the other day. It realy meant a lot for me, AFOMG and Cheddar, it really did.

We do this because we love the team and we love the community that shares our interest. It means a lot that you guys are on board with us.

We're going to keep rockin and rollin on in to '07.

More Stompings, Please

Still watching? Sure you are. The Series is all tied up, 1-1. Let's go Tigers.

With pine tar on his hands and hatred in his heart, the Gambler threw up his third consecutive brilliant performance last night, running his scoreless innings streak to a Lew Burdette-like 23. Go Tigers.

Advantage to the hosts for Game 3, probably, with Chris Carpenter pitching in his own place (where he's generally unbeatable) against Nate Robertson. Go Tigers.

Not a slam-dunk choice to root for Detroit, as it happens. We were going over this last night with F./M.O.A.F.O.M.G. and a few others. In this situation, as in all situations where your team gets bumped out of the race, you've got competing interests to balance.

Do you hate on the foe what knocked you out of the playoffs? Or do you feel vindicated if that team wins, thus confirming that you were in the way of a team of destiny?

In the case of the Tigers, do you get down with their youthful moxie and hopeful turned-it-around vibe? Or are you sick to your stomach of the "The American League is the most dominant League since the Justice League" storyline, and pushing for the NL rep to make a mockery out of that? Is that NL pride, or something a little more spiteful?

Do you make a stand against nonsense like the Commutative Property of Matchups (i.e., the Yankees swept the Sox, and the Sox beat up on the Mets, therefore the Yankees could whip the Mets, and I want to beat you senseless with a piano stool)? You should.

Lot of different things to think about, yes. And I'm sure if you stuck two dozen Mets fans in a room and did the whole "Who ya got?" and "Why?" routine (hat tip: PTI), you'd get 24 different takes. No problems there.

I can say with confidence, though, that I know which hoss I'm backing. It's the fierce, man-eating horse housed by the murder capital of the USA; it's the nag that eats little birdies for breakfast; the beaten-down mustang coming right at your ass from the far side of the paddock. He looks like he hasn't been fed in weeks, and you're wearing a cardigan made out of carrots.

Go Tigers.

And really, fuck the Cardinals. Y2K is really not pleased with them, any way you slice it. After getting to see all their faults and foibles on display in a seven-game series, there's just too much to piss us off there.

Eckschtein is a joke. Rolen's a whiny bitch. Preston Wilson, try as he might, is actively helping the other team. Pujols? This is a guy who's going to be inducted into the most prestigious club of all some day, and he can't find the number at Hair Club for Men. That's just sad.

LaRussa's irritating qualities are the stuff of legend. Jeff Weaver is determined to never find out that he's no good at baseball. And so forth. Very hateable in the abstract.

But then, the Cards went and tipped the scales over. Just mangled them up entirely, really. They did so after most of us had flipped off the television at the conclusion of Game 7. We didn't really need to stick around to watch their champagne celebration. If we had, though, we would have seen the St. Louis players and clubhouse types stick a dagger in the sides of the Mets organization and its fans.

Metsblog had the link on Friday, with audio, and Cerrone describes it thusly: "while celebrating their victory over the Mets in the visitor’s locker-room at Shea Stadium, the Cardinals sang “Jo-se, Jose, Jose, Jose," the chant given to Jose Reyes, by Mets fans, which they sang all season long..."

Metsblog sez: "ouch." I say: "Low blow, assholes. You're going to get yours."

Oh, man, this just sticks in my craw something awful. Ragging on a fun, participatory cheer that gets people excited and involved in the game is one thing. It's bad for baseball. It's unsporting. It's a dick move that only a team full of flameouts (not you, bald Albert), managed by a grubby, bitter old hack, could have come up with.

But to get on Reyes, a guy who literally doesn't know how to say a bad word about anyone? That's actually kind of offensive. Why not encourage enthusiastic kids to stay home from the ballpark while you're at it? Jeff Suppan says, "The NBA needs fans too!" Yay!

Anyway, rather than let this turn into even more of a rant than it already is, I'll cut myself off here, having passed on the knowledge that the Cardinals are a singularly unpleasant and dishonorable group of punks. I wish I had type to yell about Yadier Molina, but hey, that's life.

Piss off, Cardinals. Go Tigers. If possible, calm down, Cheddar Ben.

A Note to Our Readers

Dear Readers,

Several times over the past few weeks we've been asked what will become of Yankees 2000 once the season is over. As some of you will recall, Y2K was born in the offseason, and Y2K will continue in the offseason.

We will continue posting every Monday through Friday (and Sundays every now and then, too), with columns posted by 2 p.m. Aside from articles on the Mets, the baseball hot stove season, and the requisite Yankee bashing, you can count on more than a few articles about the Giants, Knicks, and anything else relating to sports in the New York area, or elsewhere in the country if the mood so strikes us.

We appreciate your support throughout the season, and hope you'll continue checking in on Y2K in the months to come.

- Sip, A.F.O.M.G., and Cheddar Ben

At the End of the Night, We'd All Seen Better Days

(Note: Sip's post-game reactions appear immediately below this post by A.F.O.M.G.)

It's just hard.

Leaving the stadium last night was like leaving a funeral. Stunned silence coupled with the wailing of others a little less reserved. 56,000 people alone, together.

It didn't really hit me until I put my head on the pillow after the long commute home. The season was over.

No more 4th inning hot dog-pretzel combos.

No more jubilant cheers of "Jo-se! Jose-Jose-Jose!".

No more games to rush home to watch at night, or stories to read desperately in the newspapers the next morning.

It's just a fact of life. If you're a baseball fan, sooner or later this time comes for you. One team wins it all, but even for them, even for their fans, the season is over.

I wonder sometimes what an offseason would be like if the Mets won it all. I'd be overjoyed, of course, but I still think I'd be sad somehow.

I just really love baseball. I love the routine of it. I love being out at the games with other people who live for it the way I do. And no matter how a season ended, I don't think there's any stopping my remorse over the fact of it being over. Win or lose.

But I can't pretend that this year was just the same as any other, that this finish didn't hit me harder than any other I can remember.

Last year? Of course not.

2000? Not really. I hate the Yankees, sure, but it was different. We lost in 5 games, the drama wasn't quite there.

1999 is the only year that compares. I was at Game 5 -- which, incidentally, was in serious jeopardy of being dethroned as being the best game I'd ever been to last night -- and just somehow you felt that they were going to do it. That they were going to climb all the way back from a 3-0 deficit and beat the hated Braves.

And then Game 6 rolled around and there they were again, erasing an early 5-0 deficit before losing horribly, improbably, on a bases loaded walk. And we were left waiting on a miracle that never came.

That was bad. Maybe it's nothing more than the immediacy of the moment, but this just feels worse.

The Mets were the best team in the National League this year. I really believe that. I don't think anyone really questions it. That was such a beautiful thing to watch all summer, but now it's a sad footnote to a season whose most triumphant banner reads "2006 National League East Division Champions".

I try to remind myself that at the beginning of this year, if you'd have told me that we'd win more games than any team in the National League, unseat the Braves, and outlast the Yankees, I'd have been pretty damn happy.

What I couldn't have imagined back in April is what each of those would have done to my mindset come October. It's not that a sense of entitlement set in. It's that you couldn't help but feel that this team was capable of more.

And I try to remind myself that we've got a good young core, and that we should contend for years to come.

It's all true, but again, it doesn't really do me a lot of good right now. Somehow I just felt like this was the year, if not to win the World Series, then to appear at least.

But no. There we were at a soggy Shea Stadium, 56,000 of us clapping until our hands were red, screaming until our voices were hoarse, waving our rally flags until our arms lost circulation; cheering, basically, until our whole bodies hurt.

The crowd never gave up, not for a moment. We'd all been raised to believe that miracles can happen, and the crowd sniffed one last night. Once again, we were left waiting for a miracle that would never come.

And that's all there is to it, really. I'm not going to rag on Willie for not bunting the runners over. I'm not going to get worked up about Beltran leaving the bat on his shoulders. We lost, and that's all there is.

And now it's over. No more games. No more cheers. No more getting that awesome mid-week rush on some random Tuesday night when the Mets pull off a great win. No more goosebumps.

No more Mets. It's just hard.

- A.F.O.M.G.

...

I went to my favorite local shithole actively seeking further depression and other people's misery.

I didn't get enough of either so I retreated home.

It is 1:26 AM and with every minute that passes it hits me more.

With all my heart I didn't see this coming. That is what makes it so much worse.

To lose they way we did tonight is the ultimate slap to the balls. Aaron Heilman, maybe the stingiest reliever in the postseason, hung one pitch.

It kills me that he is the goat. He deserves so much more.

Then, we all said that it could still happen. Then we had 2 on and no out. It had to happen.

This was our magic. This is why we are Mets fans.

But the magic never came.

Baseball is a tricky game. An inch here or a step there and the result of this game could be much different.

I am going to rap it up there. We all saw what happened and there isn't much reason to talk about it.

2006 was an amazing run. Unfortunately it ended too soon.

The only thing that is keeping me going is a challenge I made to Steamin Mikey Lehman over the recent jacked up beers we had on Amsterdam Ave.

That is, I want to go as long as humanly possible without knowing who won the world series.

I won't watch sportscenter, read the post or even scratch my balls the wrong way.

I just don't want to know.

To AFOMG, Cousin, Cousin Dan, Happy Will, Goat, Robbie X, Joel and all the rest of you: I only hope that the ride home from Shea was as quick as possible. I can only think back to the ride home after Game 5 in 2000. The worst 40 minutes of my life.

You all know how I feel about the community that we all share.

For all of us, I am really sad.

We all put in so much to this team to come up so short. It really hurts. I don't know what else to say.

We all need to do what we gotta do.

Grab a bottle of liquor or whatever it is that makes you feel your worst and darkest.

For me, it will be coldplay and whiskey.

Do what you can.

This is tough.

Our time will come soon enough.

Vaya con dios,

Sip

Oxygen Tent to the Sixth Floor, Oxygen Tent to the Sixth Floor

(Note: Plenty of heart-quaking content today. Below, a Game 7 primer from Sip. Two pieces about the Mets' victory in Game 6, one by Sip and one by A.F.O.M.G., follow. Enjoy.)

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. They call it hyperventilating for a reason.

Read Sip and AFOMG below. They're doing fine. They've found a comfort zone.

I'm not nervous so much as terrified. I tried to talk shop with a guy wearing a Mets jersey today outside the newsstand, buying the Daily News, and the guy looked just like me: sunken eyes, dry mouth, sweaty palms.

In other words, not bad. Others appeared worse.

This is going to be a harrowing night, any way you cut it. During the first six innings of Game 5, AFOMG literally couldn't talk. I was bringing some middling-to-crappy patter to break the ice, and dude wasn't blinking.

Rob Neyer came strong today with his cryptically-titled article "Mets going with worst Game 7 starter ever." Subtle, Neyer, very subtle.

Don't matter. All-or-Nothing Ollie is here for the money, the glory, the women, the wine.

This wass me back on Sept. 7 - "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."

Like I said, don't matter nothin'.

Two hours. Let's go.

Four Hours Until Gametime

It is 4 hours till the first pitch and for the first time, I am really starting to feel it. The reason, a frantic IM session with Happy Will.

For a strange reason I have found myself at peace with the Mets all postseason. Maybe it's confidence, maybe it's that I have experienced so many lows that the downside doesn't really phase me.

But at 4:14 ET I officially got the first butterflies in my stomach.

It is hard to believe that this could be the end. The end of a season that opened with Brian Bannister and Victor Zambrano as our 4 and 5 starters.

With Anderson Hernandez starting at second base over the injured Kaz Matsui and the cagey vet Jose Valentin.

With our best hitter from a year ago going into a contract year, good old Uncle Cliffie.

With a setup man who looked so shaky in the WBC that memories of Mel Rojas reappeared in my head, Duaner Sanchez.

Jose Reyes saw first base 3 out of 10 times, Carlos Beltran was the biggest bust in free agent history and the only way we had a fighting chance was if Pedro Martinez put up a Cy Young year for us.

Needless to say, a lot of things have changed for the Mets.

At the same time, a lot has changed for Sip.

As my close friends and fellow Met fan brethren can attest, I was just about the most pessimistic Mets fan in the world.

AFOMG and I would joke for years about the Mets failures. We even called our favorite player, Jose Reyes, Mr. Glass because he got hurt so many times that we were reminded of the character played by Samuel L. Jackson in the M. Night Shyamalan movie Unbreakable, who had a genetic malfunction which caused his bones to break like glass.

For the first 23 years of my life, I didn't think the Mets had a chance.

Then a funny thing happened. This whole season.

Anyone who scripted 2006 like this, with John Maine and Oliver Perez pitching Game 6 and Game 7 of the NLCS, well, you should take your life now, cause it will never get any better.

But this entire year has been so fresh for Mets fans. Save a few anomalies and pretty much everything happened the way we wanted it to happen.

We crushed everyone.

We busted past the Braves like Cousin Dan mows through a plate of Blondies Buffalo Wings.

We outplayed the Yankees in our two subway series'.

We destroyed the National League.

Looking back, this team had so many excuses to fold. Pedro won 9 games, Cliff was a non-factor and our best middle man was lost to a freak car accident.

But the Mets never folded.

And we all started to believe.

Tonight we enter game 7 with a Pittsburgh Pirates castoff with a 3-13 record going up on the hill.

If this isn't an excuse to fold then there is none.

But these are the 2006 Mets, a new breed of baseball and more importantly, a new brand of winning.

Their winning all season hasn't made the most sense. They sure as hell didn't do it the conventional way, with dominant starting pitching.

All season, though, they found a way to win.

I don't want to use the word magic, I can only hope a little is sprinkled on Shea tonight.

But the fact is, the 2006 Mets find ways to win games.

They are playing home against a very mediocre starting pitcher in front of some of the greatest people I know.

If this was last year or 2000 or 1997 I would doubt us.

But like the 2006 Mets, I am a new man. I am a man who believes.

I don't want to say anything too jinxing. But man, I do like our chances tonight.

Vaya con dios,

Sip

Win Tonight

(Note: Immediately below this post from A.F.O.M.G. is a response to Game 6 written immediately after the game ended last night. Sip will be back with a post around 4 p.m. so be sure to check in for that.)

The anticipation was palpable as I entered the stadium. Everywhere the members of the crowd were cheering.

Ascending the walkways past the Loge and Mezzanine sections, chants of ""Let's Go Mets!" could be heard reverberating around the aged walls of Shea Stadium. Upon reaching the Upper Deck, I stepped out to the seats at the first moment I could, and reveled in the enthusiasm of the crowd, the green of the outfield, the chill in the air, everything.

Then came the stairs. High fives and chants of "Let's Go Mets!" encircled me as I made my way past rows A, B, and C... H, I, J... Q, R, S... T, U... all the way up to Row V, the very last row of the stadium. I had made it. I was on top of Shea Stadium. On top of the world. The date was April 3, 2006. It was Opening Day.

I made a similar trek last night. Past the corporate types in the levels below up a lonely walkway; at 7:30 I was the only person on this corridor, save a few scattered men and women out to catch a smoke. All of it the better to compound my fear about what might lay ahead.

When I reached the Upper Deck I had to walk all the way around the massive ring of the stadium, from the Gate A extreme of the right field seats to the left field equivalent over near Gate E.

Popping my head out in Section 46, I made the climb once again. Past high fives and chants of "Let's Go Mets!" (accompanied now with the occasional "Ya Gotta Believe!" cheer), I walked past rows A, B, and C... H, I, J... Q, R, S.. T, U... V. The very last row of the stadium. I was back.

I'm all for the brave face, but it was impossible to think about the game last night without acknowledging that it could be the end. And as I took my seat it was impossible for me to not at least be aware of the cruel symmetry that the season could end up assuming.

For all I knew the season would end, for me, exactly where it began, or if not the exact same seat, at least the same last row of the stadium.

But as I sat there and admired the crowd below me, a heavy breeze at my back making me and my fellow Row V-ers the only cold people in the stadium, one thought ran through my mind.

"Not tonight."

Not a phrase culled from Mets lore, but a thought brimming with as much hope and optimism as anything else we've got, although I'll grant that it's markedly less catchy.

It was a thought that raced through my head over and over as the night wore on. It was with me in the first when the Cards looked poised to do some early damage against John Maine.

Not tonight.

It was with me when they put two men on in the top of the 3rd for Jim Edmonds and Juan Encarnacion.

Not tonight.

And it was there, finally, horribly, with Billy Wagner pitching to David Eckstein representing the tying run at the plate in the top of the 9th.

Not tonight. Don't let it end tonight.

And as Eckstein's slow roller made its way from bat to Valentin to Delgado, I realized the Mets had accomplished everything they needed to yesterday.

They didn't hit the cover off the ball. They never put the game out of reach the way we probably all wished they would.

But they won last night. And they drew the series even.

And tonight they'll be at it again. As for me, I'll be there once again, though not in Row V -- some things you can't control.

But for a superstitious guy like me there are things you can control, and everything I've done today has been done with an eye toward tonight. No jacket. Didn't shave. I'll buy a Post on my way to the game. Everything I can do is under control.

Doesn't mean the fears won't be there again tonight, but this time there'll be something else in the back of my mind, too -- the hope of celebrating with my fellow fans at a raucous Shea Stadium.

Because after all, how could I not acknowledge that win tonight and we win the series.

Win tonight and we win the pennant.

Win tonight and we are in the World Series.

Win tonight.

Ya gotta believe.

- A.F.O.M.G.

Game 6: The Game That Was

All day, my good pal KFC talked to me about the Magic. How he wanted it, how we needed it, how we would get it.

When I got a text from KFC after the 6th inning that read "Maine's start= Magic," I was sure that the game was jinxed and we were done. As always, I was wrong.

Here we go.

First and foremost, while obvious as can be, we gotta tip our cap to Johnny Maine. He came out in the biggest game of his life and threw a gem. All this just days after he appeared in SI's "Questions for Athletes" section coming off cooler than the Sac man himself, Sac Lodge.

Maine's start showed us a lot about baseball. Baseball, my friends is truly a game of inches.

The entire game John Maine reached back and fired his 91-95 mph fastball. The entire game Cardinal hitters swung right under it, fouling it straight back.

They made great swings on the ball, but Maine's pitches were precisely where they needed to be. An inch or two lower and Maine doesn't make it out of the first inning.

We learned a lot more about baseball. That is, whatever the manager does, he is a genius if it works and a dope if it doesn't.

Willie's decision to throw Mota against Chris Duncan had every one scratching their heads. If it didn't you are a smarter man than I.

For my money, I thought there were two options: Feliciano or Heilman. But as he has done all season, Willie went with his instinct (or perhaps what Joe Torre texted him to do) and went with the former SS turned heart attack inducer.

Luis Gonzalez talked about his changeup against lefties. How if he could get ahead, that he might be able to role a double play. And for the first time in the Fox broadcast, a wise point was made.

Did Willie make the right move here? You know me. I hate second guessers. And this seemed to work. But still, it leaves me scratching my head.

In the same way, I hated Willie bringing out Maine for the 6th.

Maine was set to lead off the bottom of the 5th up 2-0 with Edmonds and then a sea of righties due up. We all knew that those righties would belong to Bradford. Apparently Willie did too, pulling Maine two batters in.

If Maine's leash is that short, if he can only allow one hitter before being pulled than why not pull him there for a pinch hitter? Who knows, maybe we could get a rally going and put this thing away.

Then, throw Feliciano against Edmonds and bring in Bradford.

I hated the move by Willie, but just like everything else tonight, it ended up working.

That's the amazing part about baseball. I spent an entire dinner with my father talking about my trip to St. Louis and the Mets. My dad is a wise man but like most people smarter than me, he reads