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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 libreSpeaking 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 ResultsAs 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.
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 too much. He read everything that the Post and Daily News had to say and listened to every word from Mike and the Mad Dog. Everyone said the same thing. They questioned every move that went wrong and had a better theory as to what Willie should have done. Well I have a new theory. Managing in the postseason is the most overrated aspect of the playoffs. Call me crazy, say what you will. The only difference between postsesaon play and the regular season is that every decision is under a much greater microscope. There is 10 times more press and the fans care 10 times more and everyone's opinions are 10 times stronger. Players win in the post season. Pitchers make pitches and players make plays. Every single managerial move is about knowing your team. In my opinion, a manager learns everything about his team over the 162-game season. Over that time he develops bonds and learns his players' tendancies. This isn't football or basketball. Jim Johnson's decision to send 9 against Eli is what allowed single coverage for Plaxico and the game winning touchdown pass against the Eagles a few weeks back. The coach called the play and the play didn't work. In baseball, outside of calling a steal or a pitch out, there are no plays. You just pick the guys you want to put on the field. Paul LoDuca blocked Maine's pitch in the dirt to Rolen. There was no coaching there, it was just a player making a run saving play. This does not change between October and June. There is one main difference. We don't question a manager's move in the regular season like we do in October because the games are not as important. If Mota gives up a knock to Duncan in June, it's just another loss. If he did it today, our season could be done. It doesn't make the move any different. With every move Willie makes he becomes a greater goat or a bigger hero. All we can do now is trust him.  As for trust, a trust issue is certainly developing with our closer, Billy Wagner. My pops thinks that he should probably spend less time worrying about his column in the Post and more about his time on the mound. Because right now, Billy has us all shaking in our timbo's. It has gotten to the point where Joel called me after the game tonight wondering if we can even throw him in a Game 7. The answer? It has to be yes. So much can happen tomorrow. It looks for now like Oliver Perez is going to get the start. Johnny Maine did us a major service today by giving us 5+ strong. We have Oliver almost fresh for tomorrow. Glavine can give us 2. Heilman can give us 2. Mota and Hernandez can each throw. And then we have our mirror of specialists, Bradford and Feliciano, good to pitch a strong inning and change as well. Unless he starts, Trachsel probably won't see the game. He takes too long to get ready, he claims he needs 20 minutes to get comfortable. I don't hate Trachsel, I just think he is doing himself a real disservice after a very solid season. I do like seeing Jeff Suppan on the mound tomorrow. Pitching a Game 7 at Shea is a lot different than pitching a Game 3 at Busch. We can only tip our cap to the guy if he throws a good game, but I will truly believe that when I see it. This game tonight is the reason why we watch baseball. The reason why we invest so much time into this team, and the reason why I love writing about them. Happy Will has his superstitions. So do Y2K legends the Frenchman and Worndownboyboy and the Met Fan Since '75. Everyone needs to get themselves in the place where if something goes wrong, they know it wasn't because of something that they did. Game 7. All I can say... Holy Shit. Vaya con dios, Sip
Lets Go!
One Time Fellas!!! This is where we want to be. We'll have material up all day tomorrow. Get a good night rest and let's bring this fucker home. Vaya con dios, Sip
Under Control, Part II
(Note: Sip's reaction to St. Louis appears immediately below the following post from A.F.O.M.G.)So last night I just about bottomed out. I was numb, pretty much unable to speak after the 6th inning or so. The loss hit me hard. I really thought we were going to win last night. We hit the ball well against Jeff Weaver in the top of the first, but we didn't make good on that early promise, and Weaver had himself another fine performance. And now all that's left is hope, really. Well, hope and a little something else.  Hardwired into the Mets fanbase's collective thought process is that oft-repeated phrase, "Ya gotta believe."
It's one of the first things you learn as a Mets fan, it's that or you learn about Game 6. The two go hand-in-hand, after all.
If there's one thing 1986 taught any Mets fan, whether you have memory of it or not, it's that nothing is over until it's over.
I wrote about this the other day, the morning before Game 4 when the Mets were trailing 2-1 after getting shutout in Game 3:
"But one thing I believe in very strongly is that no series is over until it's over. The Red Sox didn't win a championship because of a 5-3 lead with two outs in 1986. The Yankees didn't make the World Series in 2004 because of a 3-0 lead."
Nothing's over until it's over. The Cardinals don't have this series wrapped up, not with a one game lead heading back to our house. That's not blind optimism, that's the way it is.
And that's what I've been telling myself all day, and I've been feeling a little better. Nervous, sure; tense, yeah. You probably are too. There's probably no avoiding it.
 Tonight the series returns to Shea Stadium. I'll be there with the Hound and B.O.A.F.O.M.G. I have this deep suspicion that the entire stadium is going to be ready for a funeral. In some respects, you have to be. It could happen.
But to everyone reading this, whether you'll be watching this game from home or from somewhere in Shea, I urge you to put that thought out of your mind.
Instead, imagine what it would be like to come back and win this series. Imagine the celebration on the field. Imagine the elation of the crowd. Imagine the high fives and hugs you'd dole out, to family, friends or complete strangers. Imagine that all happens. Hope it all happens. Believe it will happen.
After all, that's all you can do right now. Imagine, hope and believe.
If you're the type who prefers to lean on logic, you've got two things going for you right now.
One, we hit Chris Carpenter hard the last time we saw him, ages ago, in Game 2.
Two, the last time we had a must-win game, Game 4, we played our best game of the series. That was must-win in a different sense -- a loss wouldn't have ended our season after all -- but for my money it was still a must-win game. And we rose to the occasion.  But if you're anything like me that logic stuff just doesn't console you that much right now. You know we've got our work cut out for us, and there's no statistic out there that can change that. The only statistics that matter right now are wins.
And because of that you're through with logic, you're stuck with imagining, hoping and believing. You're not hoping for a miracle, you're just hoping for two wins.
And the good news is that this team has given you reason to believe in it from the first day of the year. After all, Game 4 wasn't the first time this team rose to the occasion, it was only the most recent. It's happened all year. So I believe. I'm a Mets fan, it's what we do. It hasn't kept me or my friends from doing all the little superstitious things we can. I didn't shave this morning or wear my coat to work; that's bad luck, didn't you know? Sip refused a ticket to the game tonight because the Mets are 0-2 in games he's attended this series. But in spite of it all I know we both believe. After all, a win tonight is all it takes to bring this series back. Win tonight and we're all even going in to Game 7. Win tonight and we've got all the momentum, for whatever that's worth. Win tonight and everything's under control. Win tonight. Ya gotta believe. - A.F.O.M.G.
St. Louis: What Hell Would Be Like If It Was Really, Really Nice
(Note: A.F.O.M.G. will be in with a post later this afternoon.)St. Louis was a lot like synagogue. Everyone was dressed the same. Some people wanted to be there; everyone else felt like they should be. And, whenever they were told, the fans sang along loudly following the cry of their rabbi, the score board. In short, Busch was kind of a joke. Not because the people were bad sports fans. They are simply too nice.  Fans wouldn't call me an asshole. They might call me a "not nice person." The Mets stunk. They sure as hell didn't suck. It was unreal. It was like I walked into baseball's Pleasantville. Everything could have been really pleasant. Until the Mets decided to up and lose their biggest game of the season. But you would have never known the magnitude of the game from being at Busch Stadium. Cardinal fans were more concerned with us enjoying their city than they were with beating the Mets. It was all just really bizarre. After the game, I walked up the stairs to exit the stadium. Instead of rubbing it into me that the Mets had lost, Cardinal fans patted me on the shoulder to console me. "It'll be tough to win back in New York," they would say. Sure, I've been Californiaized a little but this just wasn't right. These people had no interest in talking shit or rubbing in their victory. I was kind of lost for thoughts after all this so I did what most 24 year olds would do when they have 5 hours to kill before their flight, no job, and a thirst for the action. I decided to venture to the hotel bar. I walk up to the bar. We were staying right across the street from the stadium so I was smothered in Cardinal red. I approach the bartender for an evening Ale when the weirdness continues. Next thing I know, half of St. Louis is buying me drinks, giving me their business cards and trying to set me up with their sisters/daughters. I spent much of the night with John and Brigid, a couple of married fortysomethings who sold real estate in the area. We talked about baseball for a while but ventured into a bevy of social issues. Another guy there approaches me and asks me if I ever saw "Two for the Money" the Matthew McConaughey flick about the guy who only lifts weights and picks winners. I told him I had and next thing I know this guy responds: "I am the real life version of that." Thirty minutes, a couple shots and beers later, and this guy has himself convinced that he has convinced me to use him as a gambling resource. Meanwhile, Brigid, my surrogate St. Louis mom for the evening did not approve. While I was uninterested, she gave me a very disapproving look when Two for the Money and a couple of his buddies wanted to take me to the "East Side" where all the strip clubs are. It's 12 hours later and I already miss John and Brigid. They were just good old Americans. That's all I have to say about that. My 21 hours in St. Louis were just really bizarre. Just as I was after game 3, I feel OK. For me, this isn't a 2-game series. Right now, the Mets have to view tonight as a 1-game series. They have to employ a kamakazi pitching staff like any team would do in a game 7. They gotta do whatever it takes to win this game. If that means throwing Maine, Perez and Oliver tonight, then so be it. If that means throwing Heilman 2 and Wagner 2, then so be it. If they win tonight, then as my father always says, they'll figure it out in Game 7. I think we have a shot. I really do. Having been on the road in a big playoff game, I can see the pressure that the visiting team must feel. It will take a lot for the Cardinals to come into Shea and close it out. They still have all the pressure in the world on them to win tonight. They know that they don't want to go to a Game 7 on the road. But we should and for good reason. Joel and I bumped into ESPN's Tim Kurkjian on the plane ride home. Kurkjian told us that he talked to Rick Peterson after game 5 and asked him who the Mets would throw in Game 7. Peterson's response: "I have no idea." Gotta like where this team is at right now. Vaya con dios, Sip
God Bless You Joel
They say big players make big plays in big situations. Maybe the biggest play of my postseason was made at 7 p.m., right after Cousin confirmed that game 5 would be played on Tuesday. My phone rang again. It was my second older brother, my family's oldest friend Joel. "Sip," he said. "Whats the plan for the game tomorrow?" "Probably just head over to AFOMG's house," I replied. "Change of plans," Joel shouted. "All you need to do is be at my office by 1:30 and I will take care of the rest." 3 p.m. flight to St. Louis to catch our boys in the biggest game of the season. Joel, I love you. Not a lot has changed in a day. The big talk is about Glavine now being able to pitch on full rest and Albert Pujols' tweaked hammy.  With Glavine, I gotta say, I don't know if this is as big of a plus as it may seem. Of course Tommy is better on full rest. Steve Phillips threw out his first meaningful contribution to baseball in years, Monday night, when he relayed the following stat. Glavine in the postseason: 3 days rest: 2-5,6.75 ERA Full rest: 12-10, sub 3 ERA. This gives us reason to be excited. But the thought of facing Jeff Weaver on short rest the night after sticking a perverbial fork in the chest of the Cardinals bullpen also had the Sip excited too. As always, this is why they play the games. We will know Tuesday night if Mother Nature was rooting for or against us. As for Pujols. Well, this could be something. It seems like every at bat this series he has either walked or hit a ground ball through the right side of the infield for a single. If this guy is banged up, hallelujah. My concern is that this is just a ploy by La Russa and the Cardinals to hint at the idea that we actually go after this guy. Truth is, until he is out of any game, I don't think this injury really means much.  Game 5 is going to be huge. We don't want to give Carpenter a second chance with the possibility of ending the series. So as I venture to the land of red, really nice people and fans who dance in the 8th inning when down 7 runs, I am at peace with myself. My biggest concern right now is my flight. I hate flying. But after that, I am feeling good. As I said on Monday, there is now way too much pressure on Tommy G. I don't think the outlook can change. If he gives us 6 innings and 3 runs he has done his job. Our bats, as they have all season, are going to need to carry the weight. I really hope the next time I address our little Met family here, I will be back in New York and getting ready for a clincher. If not, this team is meant to win 2 in a row at home. Vaya con dios. Sip
Here We Go
I sat there at AFOMG's house on Sunday night. It was me, The Big Guy, Cheddar Ben and the white Phil Ivey. I vowed to do 50 pushups for every run the Mets scored. After 7 runs, I relented to crunches. The Mets played Mets baseball for the first time in the NLCS. Simply put, we outslugged the fuck out of those red assholes. Carlos Delgado has been a monster all postseason. Carlos Beltran has picked his spots. And especially this series, D Wright is a Jeff Weaver kick save and a great 9th inning play by Rolen from getting going. On Sunday night, it finally all clicked. All three went dong and all of a sudden we remembered how the Mets became the best team in the National League. Yeah, they could pitch enough to stay in games, but these guys can just crush the baseball. So here we are now. Our series has been reduced to a best-of-three. Mets nation is perfectly confident in Tom Glavine. While of late I have been a pretty optimistic Sip, I don't like Glavine tonight. Glavine relies on perfection. He needs to hit all his spots. He can't just reach back and fire. This doesn't mean I don't like the Mets on Monday. I love the Mets because for the first time all week we are playing like we played all year. The Mets don't win by pitching. They never have and they never will. At least, that is, until the 7th inning. But Monday, I like the chances of our hitters doing more against Weaver than the Cardinals will do against Glavine.  If Tommy throws a gem then we really need to tip our cap. He came to the Mets because he legitimately thought that he could lead them to October. So far, he has been our co-MVP along with Delgado. But on Monday, we need to pick Tom up. In his first two starts he has been perfect when we needed nothing short of perfection. On Monday we can't expect that. We need to be up 5-3 after 6 innings. If Tommy gets us there, he has absolutely done his job. We have three to play and we need to win two. The Mets are definitely the better team. They just need to play that way. The scary thing about the playoffs is that one wrong bounce and our series can be done. It is too early to write off Game 5. It is too early to write off Eckstein-Wilson Pujols in the first. But we as fans should be confident. Hopefully we all got good night's sleep and our head is in the right place. To all of you that have wished me the best in this series, it really goes a long way. With all my heart, I wish the best back on all of us. Let's get a win. Vaya con dios. Sip
More Trash
[Below, A.F.O.M.G. exhorts Mets fans to sack the fuck up. Enjoy.]Things that, to our knowledge, Steve Trachsel did not do last night: - Kill an immigrant baby. That was nice of him.
- Fill his cap with bubbling canola oil and fling it at home plate umpire Jerry Layne.
- Wear shoes with velco closures.
- Poke Jose Reyes until he cried.
- Dump several beers over Stephen Teitelbaum's head and toss his Jordy into the mezzanine level
- Play Missy Elliot's "One Minute Man" on the clubhouse stereo before the game. Although it would have been appropriate, in retrospect.
- Fellate Scott Spezio in a back hallway in between the clubhouses while David Eckstein filmed the whole thing.
- Shiv the Irish Tenor. Another mark against him.
- Give his personal tickets to Anna Benson + 1
- Dump PCBs into the Hudson.
- Lean back.
- Throw a fucking strike.
Now, some of these failures were more damaging to the Mets' cause than others, it is true. Jeff Suppan's Quantum Leap-style transfer into Bob Gibson's body for the evening was also unforseen.  But I think it's safe to say we've seen Stevie's last start in a New York uniform. Good riddance. Take your goddamn corkscrew with you on the way out. There's no way Willie can bring him back in the event of a Game 7. No way in cold hell. Assuming the team gets out of tonight's Oliver Perez start alive, it's going to have to go something like this. Game 5: Glavine Game 6: The Maine Event Game 7: Darren Oliver Hel-lo! That ought to perk everyone up. Oliver was a starter for 10 years, through 2003's crap showing in Denver, so it's not like they would be throwing out a neophyte. The real fun is discussing what happens in a potential World Series. You're looking at a situation where you say to Phil Humber, "Hey, how'd you like to make your first career start when it really counts?" Anyway, fuck it. Tonight's a new night, and I feel a touching up of Anthony Reyes coming on. For now, let's clench our jaws, and through our teeth, bid farewell to the misunderstood genius that is Steve Trashel. Career record: 134-143. Don't ever let us catch you around here again.
P.S. Interview with Game 4 starter Oliver Perez here.
Time to Sack the Fuck Up
Hey Steve? In case you ever wonder, last night is why Willie Randolpoh (and legions of Mets fans as well) give you no respect. "It always hurts more when you miss." Those were the words of my ever encouraging 7th grade basketball coach when a teammate came limping off the court after missing an open lay up. They were wrong back then but they were perfect last night. It was pathetic to watch Steve Trachsel pulled due to "injury" last night. Steve's "injured ankle" was the most bogus injury since Al Czervik's (Rodney Dangerfield's) "broken arm" in Caddyshack. Just like Czervik's injury gave Chevy Chase's Ty Webb another chance to win the match against Judge Smails, Trachsel's injury gave the Mets a chance to get back in the game, thanks to an impeccable outing in relief by Darren Oliver.  Unfortunately, Jeff Suppan got all For Love of the Game on us last night, and Oliver's performance amounted to little more than a hill of beans. But if Game 7 rolls around, the Mets have to seriously consider whether they shouldn't pitch Oliver in place of Trachsel. Trachsel was a rag doll out there last night. It was perhaps one of the worst pitching performances you will ever see. He allowed a home run to the opposing pitcher on an 0-2 count for chrissakes. Meanwhile, David Eckstein is such a little bitch, but that's neither here nor there. What's important is that I want everyone to know something about me. Believe me, I get as discouraged as anyone when the Mets fall behind in a game, or behind in a series. I'm not an eternal optimist when it comes to this team. How could I be? But one thing I believe in very strongly is that no series is over until it's over. The Red Sox didn't win a championship because of a 5-3 lead with two outs in 1986. The Yankees didn't make the World Series in 2004 because of a 3-0 lead. So you can bet your ass that no 2-1 deficit is going to make me forfeit the series. The last two games have been demoralizing, yes. The Mets must play better in order to win this thing, that's for sure. But win tonight and you're looking at a best-of-three with two games played on our turf. Win tonight and it's all tied up. Win tonight and it's Tom Glavine vs. Jeff Weaver for the series lead. Win tonight. All-or-Nothing Ollie, it's your moment. - A.F.O.M.G.
Everything's Not Lost: Part VI
The sweet sounds of Coldplay echoed throughout the stadium. A fine tradition especially pleasing to the Zen Meathead, Sip, unlike Shea's newest 8th inning tradition: a stadium sing along to "Sweet Caroline." Sweet Caroline is Fenway's song. It has been for a long time. To try and rip that off is just wrong. End of story. Last night's game stunk.  Amazingly, we were up 6-4 heading into the top of the 7th. We had not only survived the dreaded Maine vs. Caprenter matchup, but we ended up victorious in the game inside of the game. We were all set to take a 2-0 lead back to St. Louis. But then it all unraveled. Albert Pujol's 194 pitch AB in the 7th inning was the difference maker. After retiring Eckstein and Duncan to start the inning, Mota went to work with Pujols. Pujols showed us why he is the game's best hitter. 15 mintues later and I don't even know how many balls fouled off, Pujols lined a single to center. Then Edmonds walked on 4 pitches. My buddy Robbie X pointed out, this is where Willie lost the game. Mota was fried. Pujols took the juice out of him. After going ahead 0-2 on Scott Spiezio, Mota grooved a 96 mph fastball leading to Spiezio's 2-run double. I wrote last week about how it is wrong to second guess, but this was the logical time to bring in Heilman. He is our big setup guy and is especially effective against lefties. Either way, the decision was made. From there, we need to tip the hats to the Cardinals. David Eckstein's 15 pitch AB in the 8th inning. So Taguchi's 10 pitch AB leading up his leadoff home run in the 9th. The Cardinals hitters just played great baseball. They wore out our pitchers and capitalized from this advantage. Was bringing Wagner in in the 9th the right move? That is debatable. If you are trying to win on Friday night, the answer is yes. You bring in your closer at home to pitch the top of the 9th. At the same time, we play 5 in a row this weekend, and the thought of Wagner pitching tonight now has me terrified. If he is an average on the second night of a back to back then he is a below average closer on the third night. Yes, yesterday's loss was dejecting. But this is playoff baseball and these things are going to happen. The Mets were not going to go out there and win 11 straight and take the World Series. This isn't Pleasantville. Which is why it is important that we look at the bigger picture. Going into Game 1, a split at home seemed realistic. A split is what we got.  Now we have our lousy 3,4 (Trachsel and Perez) going against their lousy 3,4 (Suppan and Reyes). For the first time though, the Mets find themselves playing slightly on their heels. I think this is a good thing. Momentum hasn't shifted to St. Louis. That team, for good reason, is scared shitless of us. Even if we lose tonight, it is not yet time to throw away the season. This team has proven time and time again that it can bounce back. They have proven time and time again that they can get hot when they need to. And most importantly, they are a better team than the Cardinals. In the same way that they should have won a best of 7 series against them, they should now win a best of 5. I enjoy the sweat. I live for the nervuos energy. We have Y2K Cy Young favorite Shitty Trax on the mound tonight, and I gotta say, I'm ok with that. To the next step. VCD, SM
La Russa's 'Gamble' Is the Mets' Big Chance
As Wednesday progressed and grey skies turned from simply ominous to actually disruptive, I immediately began to think about two things. One, how would this effect the Mets' bullpen? No day off between games 2 and 3 could lead to a lot of tired arms come Game 4, which, oh by the way, is scheduled to be started by All-or-Nothing Ollie.  And two, what would this mean for the Cardinals vis-a-vis Chris Carpenter? The reigning Cy Young award winner in the National League (and serious contender for the award once again) loomed as one of the significant advantages St. Louis would have in the NLCS. Now the answer to question one is still very much in the air, although our bullpen's cause benefited mightily from Tommy Ballgame's excellent outing last night. Seven innings and 89 pitches from your Glavine meant only two relievers were needed. I'm buying. (Incidentally, I have no idea why Guillermo Mota pitched the eighth instead of Aaron Heilman. Perhaps Willie has more confidence in Heilman over two innings than Mota, which makes enough sense. Anybody have different theories?) But no matter what happened last night, the amount of innings thrown by our bullpen will be a lingering concern over the next three days, so the bullpen issue is open. Carpenter is a different story. In an anticipated move, Tony La Russa announced yesterday that Carpenter would start Game 2 at Shea instead of his previously announced Game 3 start in St. Louis. Starting Game 2 would allow Carpenter to start a potential Game 6 in New York, rather than the potential Game 7 he was originally in line to start. But will the series get that far? The result tonight will go a long way towards determining that, not only because a Mets win would give them an auspicious 2-0 advantage, but also because one of the Cardinals' biggest assets would be unavailable until the series returned to New York.  It may seem strange on some level to question La Russa's decision to start Carpenter tonight. After all, he will be pitching on his standard days' rest, he is, again, the reigning Cy Young award winner in the National League, and it frees him up, again, to start a potential Game 6, which is always more likely than a Game 7. But if I'm a Cardinals fan, I'm not sure I love the move, and as a Mets fan, it's got me pretty excited. Tonight is a big opportunity for the Mets. The series won't be over if we win tonight, but if we take a 2-0 lead into St. Louis against the pitchers they'll have to throw at us, Game 2 could prove decisive. To that end, the good news is that Carpenter is a decidedly better pitcher at home than on the road. Check out his home/road splits. ERA: 1.81 (Home)/4.70 (Road) Batting Average Against: .214/.260 OPS Against: .552/.754 And let's not forget his splits against right-handed batters vs. left-handed batters. Batting Average Against: .210 (right-handed batters)/.266 (left-handed batters) OPS Against: .575/.730 The point is that Carpenter is clearly more vulnerable to lefthanded hitters than righties, which favors the left-heavy lineup Willie will run out there tonight. And not only that, but Carpenter will have to overcome a season's worth of mediocrity on the road. Does any of that make it the wrong move by La Russa to start Carpenter in Game 2? Not necessarily. But for the Cards to win this series they're going to need to win the games Carpenter starts, and the fact is that he's far less of a sure thing when he starts on the road. If this series plays out the way La Russa has it scripted, Carpenter will be starting two games at Shea. What's more, should St. Louis lose tonight, La Russa will be forced to turn to Jeff Suppan in a must-win situation for Game 3. In case you haven't been paying attention, Suppan doesn't exactly match up well against the Mets.  Suppan's numbers should give heart: .302 batting average against (or two points better than Jose Reyes on the season); .369 OBP against (or 15 points higher than Reyes); .464 Slugging against (.023 less than Reyes); .834 OPS against (or .007 less than Reyes). The point is that lefties basically had the same kind of season against Suppan that Reyes did in 2006 (discounting stolen bases). You take that every time with the kind of lineup we've got, and the kind of season Reyes had. What it all means is that Game 2 has become an absolute must-win for the Cardinals, and in some respects, the stakes for the Mets tonight are simultaneously lower and higher, if that makes any sense. On the one hand, a win tonight would be a devastating blow for the Cardinals. They'd be in a 2-0 deficit with two decidedly uninspiring pitchers going in Games 3 and 4. On the other hand, losing tonight against Carpenter won't be nearly as devastating for the Mets as it would have been to lose against Suppan in Game 2 with Carpenter following in Game 3. Moving Carpenter to start Game 2 is still probably the right move on paper, but the result is that tonight is basically a must-win game for the Cardinals, and the fact is that their ace isn't nearly the pitcher on the road that he is at home. None of it means we won't have our work cut out for us though. Our bats will need to wake up a bit in order for us to triumph over Carpenter, particularly with John Maine starting rather than Tom Glavine. Not trying to say I don't have a lot of confidence in Maine, but let's face it, you feel differently going into a game started by Maine than you do a game started by Glavine. And none of it means the Mets should approach this game with any lack of intensity, or think of it as anything but a must-win game. There's no room for complacency. Win tonight and the series isn't over, but the Cards are on the ropes. Not out, but definitely, definitely down. Shea should be rocking once again. The place went nuts last night when Beltran hit that home run, and the players feed off of that intensity. Y2K will most definitely be in the building. Let's GO!!! - A.F.O.M.G.
Happy Birthday Y2K
The death of Cory Lidle has the baseball world shaken up. It is always a terrible thing for someone to die so young with a family behind. We here at Y2K send our best to the Lidle family. Today, however, is a huge day for myself, AFOMG and recent September call up Cheddar Ben. Today, October 12th, marks the 1-year anniversary of our beloved site. To think it all started with a bored paralegal, hardpressed to find anything else in the world to do. With every possible page of the internet read (note: I read about 4 sites) I decided to write. The funny thing is, I was then and remain now a pretty lousy writer. I felt I owed it to the world, or at least my community of Mets fans/Yankee haters, to express how I felt.  How fucked up it was that the Yankees will always be in the postseason and when they lose, they feel like a World Series is owed to them. How the cure to their problems isn't a move here or a coaching replacement, but to go out and sign the 7 best players on the market each offseason for three times more than anyone else is willing to offer. I was angry. Angry like the Chicago Bears Defense. Angry like Todd Zeile when his son Garrett won't go to bed on time. Angry like a Mets fan. For years I would argue and then crush my Yankee fan friends (the few that were there). And for years I found them too dumb or too quick to admit their wrongs or simply deny them, that even that became frustruating. Instead, I decided it was time to form a community. And so Y2K was born. A lot has changed since last October. Whereas last year at this time we struggled to get a hundred readers in a week, now we are getting in the thousands. To that, we owe a lot of you a lot of thanks. As long as you guys keep reading, we will keep writing. Well, truth is, we would probably write anyway. Just too many hours in the day to fill. But a couple other things have happened. First and most obvious. Look at where we are now. As we sit in our offices or at our cubicles, or for Sip, at his desk with no shirt on and a pair of flannel pajamas, we mentally prepare for Game 1 of a League Championship Series.  Only, this time we are not in the process of channeling our mind, body and soul into hatred for Yankees, but rather love of the New Mets. Whether it is coincidence or not, I and especially the Big Guy AFOMG are some superstitious motherfuckers. As for the Sip, two jobs, two cities and a couple new pairs of pants purchased and I am right back where it all started, NYC. I gear up for Game 1 tonight with my daily pregame ritual: 1. Watch Point Break 2. Punch myself in the chest as hard as I can over and over again (David from Fear) 3. lift 4. shower 5. Coldplay 6. Dirk Diggler karate chops in front of my mirror 7. dress 8. head over to AFOMG's for pregame ritual 9. 2/3 train 10. 7 train 11. Gametime I like to refer to it as Zen Meathead. But tonight is a big one. I have never been a big fan of birthdays. But I am actually pretty proud of this one. All I want for lucky #1 is a W. And if not a W, well, let's not have another player get hurt. Thanks again for all your support. Keep reading Y2K, eat a lot of chocolates, tell your friends, visit maketradefair.com, and let the positive karma and Shakras live on. For those of you lost in the chocolates and free trade websites, you don't spend enough time around the Sip. Vaya Con Dios, SM
Something Special
From the beginning of Spring Training the message has been the same. Different from their crosstown rivals, whose mandate every season is World Series or bust, the Mets' mantra this year was established in March when Willie Randolph told his team, and reporters, that he would make no predictions about the season ahead, but that with the group of guys assembled, the Mets had the chance to do something special in 2006. Zoom forward 6 months and here we are today, sitting on special's doorstep. The fact is, we've already had a great and memorable season. We won the NL East for the first time in 18 years, we topped the Braves in the NL East for the first time since they've been in the NL East, and blah blah blah.
So theoretically, for everything we've accomplished, the rallying cry, the dream of doing something special hasn't changed that much.
Only for me I feel like it has.
You hate to find yourself thinking this way, but the fact is that when I look at the teams remaining in the playoffs, they really don't scare me.
OK, I guess the Tigers are playing with a certain pizzazz right now that I find a little intimidating, but on paper I don't consider any of the teams left better than the Mets.
 Our starting pitching is weaker than any of the other teams out there, that I concede. But when I look at the lineups that are left I don't get particularly worried; they don't appear to be the kinds of lineups that you could count on to eat our starters alive.
This is certainly true of the A's, and in spite of the big numbers the last three games, I'm not particularly sold on the Tigers' lineup.
So they'd have to counteract that with their pitching. It's good, great at points, but it doesn't scare me either, so long as it's right handed.
The point is that I legitimately think the Mets are the best team left, and that's a really, really strange feeling.
In 2000 I could formulate arguments for why I thought we were better than the Yankees, but in truth I don't think we were. Ditto the Mets vs. the Braves in 1999.
And sure enough, I could formulate arguments for why the Tigers or A's are better than us (I'm sorry, I just don't think the Cardinals are), but in truth I don't think they are.
Now none of that really means anything on a practical level. I think we're better than the Cardinals but that sure as hell doesn't mean they can't beat us. We all know anything can happen in a 7-game series.
 There's just something about this team though, isn't there? Something about the way they rally together, about how they responded when Pedro and El Duque went down? Do you really expect this group of guys to fail? Do you look at their mix of speed and power and expect them to get shut down? Do you look at the bullpen we've got and expect any game to truly get out of reach, against these teams? It's just different for me than the playoff teams in 1999 and 2000. This team I expect to find a way, with those teams I was left to hope they would.
Nothing is for certain. As good and varied as our offense is, it could get shut out. As talented as our bullpen is, it could leak. I could hedge all day.
But when I got done I'd be left where I am right now. We've always known we could do something special this year. I think the difference now is, I really expect us to. It's not the Yankee bullshit of tolerating nothing less than a championship, it's just a feeling I've got.
You've still gotta play the games though, and weather permitting, that's what we'll be doing tonight. I've got my ticket. Shea will be rocking.
Let's GO!!!
- A.F.O.M.G.
NLCS, Fool
Well, slap my ass and call me Nancy, the Cardinals have made Jeff Weaver their Game 1 starter for Wednesday night. No, not that Weaver. You're thinking of the good one. He plays for the Angels. This is his older, less talented brother, knocked out of the hellhole that is Anaheim by his own flesh and blood. That hurt. Of course, when you slap up a 6.29 ERA and 1.52 WHIP in 16 starts, you're lucky to get a gig tossing bullpen sessions in Indianapolis. But here he is in a prime spot in the NLCS, thrust into a matchup between our Mets and the Cardinals just calling for a position-by-position breakdown, Y2K-style. Let's dance. Catcher
Yadier Molina (.216/.274/.321) vs. Paul LoDuca (.318/.355/.428) First of all, I can't imagine Yady stacks up to Paulie in the trim department. Let's not be silly, here. His advantages include a rocket arm (his throw to nail Dave Roberts Sunday night might as well have come out of a howitzer; inches off the ground, front corner of the bag ... unreal) and a bevy of catching brothers who can, I don't know, offer him advice in between innings, like on “Home Improvement.” 
Unfortunately for him, he hits like a traditional catcher, which is to say like Mike DiFelice. On the other hand, Brooklyn's own Paul LoDuca finished sixth in the league in batting, and completely side-stepped his anticipated second-half swoon. Keeping away from the track and local malt shoppes can do that for you. He avoids strikeouts, takes pitches for Reyes, and is decent behind the plate. And he looked like a million bucks during the NLDS. Advantage: Mets First base
Albert Pujols (.331/.431/.697) vs. Carlos Delgado (.265/.361/.548) Mr. Delgado offered his take on the relative value of “playoff experience” in Game 1 against L.A., going 4 for 5 and sending Derek Lowe to the corner barstool early. Yeah, he looked intimidated. His bat disappeared for long stretches of the year, his fielding at first resembles Mike Piazza's, and he's not exactly fleet of foot on the basepaths. He's also been the leader and big bopper the Mets needed in the middle of the lineup, and a million percent improvement from what the team had in recent years. 
And then there's Mr. Poo Holes, whose reflection Brad Lidge sees everytime he looks in the mirror. He was going to shatter the home run mark before getting banged up in early June and missing 20 days. He still jacked 49 balls out of the park during the regular season, and then introduced Jake Peavy to the postseason with a two-run shot in the fourth inning of his Game 1. To the extent the Mets pitchers can avoid him, they should. In a 7-game series, he may see Chad Bradford seven times. Advantage: Cardinals Second base
Ronnie Belliard (.237/.295/.371) vs. Jose Valentin (271/.330/.490) Belliard is fat, has crap hair, and has really not worked out that well since coming over from Cleveland as a replacement for Aaron Miles. That Miles is equally bad doesn't speak well for the Cards' scouting department.  Valentin, on the other hand, has short hair, a nicely-cropped mustache, and plenty of pop in his bat. His circus routine from Game 1 aside, his defense at second has been extremely decent for a guy who never played there before this year.
Going hitless for the Dodgers series wasn't great, but he scored two runs in Game 2 and given his severe platoon splits, should bounce back against the Cards' heavily right-handed staff. Jeff Suppan, you're warned. Advantage: Mets Third base
Scott Rolen (.296/.369/.518) vs. David Wright (311/.381/.531) Wright has been compared to Rolen more times than I care to recount, but the connections are too obvious to pass up. Both have the same athletic approach, both are line drive-type hitters (not pure home run strokes), both have strong jaw lines and All-American appeal. Somebody hose Erin Andrews down. Of course, Wright has put up basically identical back-to-back seasons, whereas Rolen had to come back from an injury-plagued 2005 to put up his lowest OPS in a St. Louis uniform, in a still extremely productive season. 
Most recently, he lied about the severity of his nagging shoulder injury and had to yank himself out of Game 4, which led to LaRussa bitching about him to the press. Nice. He took an anti-inflammatory shot, but discomfort could persist. Plus, it should be noted that Rolen has had a rough time in the playoffs, including a .190 average in 63 career at-bats and an 0-fer in the 2004 World Series that had Redbirds fans doing some of that genteel, polite Midwestern griping they do every leap year. All things being equal, this could conceivably be a push, but D-Wright is too healthy and too charismatic for that. Advantage: Mets Shortstop
David Eckstein (.292/.350/.344) vs. Jose Reyes (.300/.354/.487) Jose, Jose, Jose, Jose ... Jose, Jose. And repeat. Do they have a cheer for Eckstein, who stole seven bases and was caught six times? They do not. These are the perks of leading MLB in swipes. 
Reyes and Eckstein had the same OBPs this year, and that's where the comparison stops. The lil' fella is scrappy, to be sure, but Reyes is freakishly fast and whacked 66 extra-base hits. He is picking up the finer points of the game at a geometric rate, and lopes around the dugout with an addled smile across his face, courtesy of a joy transfusion from an unknown trans-dimensional source. But rest assured, it's one happy fucking dimension. Eckstein is defensively limited; Reyes' 6-3 double play on Sunday night was a thing of beauty, and he stood in there like a pro to take a couple of tough hits. OK, we're done. Advantage: Mets Left field
Chris Duncan (.293/.363/.589) vs. Endy Chavez (.306/.348/.431) A clear power advantage for the rook, who slowed down toward the end of the year but flashed a fantastic left-handed stroke and raked 22 homers in just over half a season. He completely disappears against lefties, so the Mets have plenty of weapons to use against him in big spots, but he could cause plenty of trouble for Maine and Trashel. 
That said, he recalls the scene from Moneyball where Jeremy Giambi is, against most types of common sense, stuck out in left field with no idea what to do. That's Duncan, who butchered two line drives on Saturday, including a memorable scene where he knocked a screamer from Rob Bowen onto his thigh with his glove. Fly balls to tough spots give him fits; he runs around like Reggie White trying to catch a chicken. Endy, on the other hand, is arguably the smoothest defensive outfielder at the game, and his plus glove in left field will matter against a heavily right-handed lineup. His baserunning is top drawer, and while I'm never going to really trust his bat, he went 3 for 8 against the Dodgers. Losing him as a weapon off the bench hurts. Advantage: Push Center field
Jim Edmonds (.257/.350/.471) vs. Carlos “MVP” Beltran (.275/.388/.594) Post-concussion syndrome is a scary, shitty thing, but you play the hand you're dealt. Right now, Edmonds is trying to bat with the bitch of spades pounding on his frontal cortex and the two of hearts nipping at his heels. He had a nice NLDS, but it ain't the HOF-caliber stuff we're used to seeing from him, and to be honest, it wasn't for most of the year before that. He's 36, and center fielders start really slowing down at that age. He's the one protecting Pujols, and that's a problem. Whereas Beltran, assuming he can get back to 100 percent (Upper abdomen? Lower chest? What the hell?), is just a problem for the other team, period. Another guy who tends to look great against righties, if he can hold his own at Shea (where he hits like Rob Deer), we should be all good. Honestly, the injuries have me a little worried. Advantage: Mets Right field
Juan Encarnacion (.278/.317/.443) vs. Shawn Green (.257/.325/.442) Nobody was really that impressed with what Cantor Green did in 113 at-bats with NY, but hey, it was no worse than the slop Encarnacion was putting up. Both are really overpriced, and both are drags on a playoff offense. Green's never really been a big lefty-righty split guy, so that won't help. Encarnacion is on the books for two more years, whereas Green only has one year to go on his contract. Hooray for small favors. Advantage: Push Starting pitching
Jeff Weaver (5-4, 5.18 ERA, 1.50 WHIP) vs. Tom Glavine (15-7, 3.82 ERA, 1.33 WHIP)
Jeff Suppan (12-7, 4.12 ERA, 1.45 WHIP) vs. John Maine (6-5, 3.80 ERA, 1.13 WHIP)
Chris Carpenter (15-8, 3.09 ERA, 1.07 WHIP) vs. Steve Traschel (15-8, 4.97 ERA, 1.60 WHIP)
Marquis/Reyes vs. Perez/Williams 
Game 3 looks like a problem, huh? Otherwise, you give the edge to the Mets in the first two matchups, and who the fuck knows what could happen in the fourth. With El Duque and Pedro unavailable, did you expect the Mets were going to have an edge like this? Me neither. Weaver is your basic awful pitcher, rescued from the vicissitudes of the AL West by Walt Jocketty to poor effect. Middling control, poor fastball, and his strikeout rate actually went down in the NL, a strange thing. He sucks. Suppan also can't strike anyone out to save his life; like most of the Cards, he had a solid 2004 NLDS before tanking in the World Series. In his case, that included what Dan Shaughnessy called “a historic baserunning blunder” in Game 3, getting doubled off third base on an RBI groundout situation with the Cards trailing 1-0 and the Sox playing back to concede the run. Ernie Lombardi would have been embarrassed. Carpenter looks like an asshole, always with a jockish smirk on his face. Good player, though. Marquis is a nice pitcher for a backup second baseman. Slight advantage: Mets Relief pitching
Josh Hancock (4.09 ERA, 1.21 WHIP), Adam Wainwright (3.12 ERA, 1.15 WHIP), Braden Looper (3.56 ERA, 1.31 WHIP), Brad Thompson (3.34 ERA, 1.38 WHIP), Randy Flores (5.62 ERA, 1.70 WHIP), Tyler Johnson (4.95 ERA, 1.45 WHIP) vs. Aaron Heilman (3.62 ERA, 1.16 WHIP), Darren Oliver (3.44 ERA, 1.12 WHIP), Billy Wagner (2.24 ERA, 1.11 WHIP), Chad Bradford (2.90 ERA, 1.16 WHIP), Pedro Feliciano (2.09 ERA, 1.26 WHIP), Guillermo Mota (1.00 ERA, 0.83 WHIP) I omitted Roberto Hernandez, who would be the Cardinals' second or third-best reliever. He had his Mets gig stolen by Mota, whose crazy is matched by no man of woman born. Beware. The Cardinals' numbers bely their play during the season's final two weeks, when they imploded in a fashion not seen since the Kingdome needed to be removed from downtown Seattle. Generation K alum Jason Isringhausen has since departed for the land of the Out for the Season, leaving young Wainwright as the closer. He's their best weapon, and it remains to be seen how LaRussa uses him. 
Flores is a strictly mediocre LOOGY, Hancock is halfway decent. A really faceless bunch, truth be told. The Mets are, as you surely know, sick with it. They won't be able to get through four innings of scoreless work every night for the rest of the playoffs, but with the Cards' middling offense, it's not out of the realm of possibility. Advantage: Mets Bench
Aaron Miles (.263/.324/.347), Scott Spiezio (.272/.366/.496), That's So Taguchi (.266/.335/.351), Preston Wilson (.243/.300/.486), Gary Bennett (.223/.274/.331), John Rodriguez (301/.374/.432) vs. Chris Woodward (.216/.289/.311), Julio Franco (.273/.330/.370), Ramon Castro (.238/.322/.389), Michael Tucker (.198/.378/.321), Blastings Thrilledge (.241/.310/.380) This is assuming Floyd is, in fact, done. If not, then young Blastings probably doesn't get added; hell, he may get passed over in favor of Ricky Ledee (who knows his role) in either case. Weird. The Mets' bench is nice and thin without Endy there, with Franco really disappointing this season and Tucker good for walks but little else. Hernandez won't see any action as long as Woodward is available, which he should be. Not confidence inspiring. LaRussa, as you'd expect, has more options to fiddle with. Miles is a decent infield part, and Taguchi can still play anywhere in the outfield, even in a down year. I could have sworn Spiezio retired after shitting the bed with Seattle last year, but here he is delivering a big hit in Game 4 of the NLDS. Preston Wilson? Yawn. But Rodriguez, while not really predictable, had some nice moments this year. A decent collection of players with some decent hedges against Edmonds/Rolen ailments. Advantage: Cardinals Overview Going to Carpenter against the Padres really hurt the Cards' chances here, as a two-start series for the ace changes the whole complexion of the pitching matchups. It could still happen in a 7-game affair, but as long as the Mets are likely to see Weaver twice, the series ain't going no 7 games. St. Louis could stay involved if Eckstein and Duncan get hot. A couple of three-run Pujols shots aren't exactly out of the question, and the Cardinals' pitching has the potential to be better than it has been at times. A Game 4 start from Anthony Reyes has a lot of potential, and a Perez/Williams disaster might be a nice counterpart. I just don't see it happening. The Mets are better at every facet of the game, and have home field. The Padres went 2 for 36 with RISP, and that's not happening again. Sorry. Prediction
Mets in five
Yankees 2000: The Curse Lives
[First, Young Sip revels in the Yankees' misery. Below, Cheddar Ben posts a lineup card of thoughts about the Mets' triumph. Enjoy.]The Saturday after was a big relief. After all, I didn't want to be the guy who started a website documenting a Yankees curse only to see the Yankees break the curse. Fortunately for all of us in Y2K land, the curse lives on. In one of my favorite playoff losses in recent Yankee history, the Yanks went into Detroit and were absolutely served by Kenny Rogers and Jeremy Bonderman. I think these guys combined for 5 good starts in the second half of the season.  But this is not a time to reflect on those games. This is not a time to rub it in. Right? Wrong!!! [Editor's note: Possibly the least surprising paragraph in the history of the site. Moving forward ... ]The only thing I enjoy more in all of sports is a Mets win, but fortunately for me, one of the better men affiliated with this site, Cheddar Ben, will take care of our boys. For the Sip, lets talk Yankee baseball. When I started Y2K, I talked about how the Yankees were cursed for ruining the purity of baseball. Baseball was no longer a series of competitive teams. There were 29 teams and then the Yankees.  The Yankees spent more than the bottom 6 teams in baseball. They spent almost twice as much as baseball's #2 team, the Red Sox. There was no greater evidence of the Yankees' financial disparity than with the Bobby Abreu situation. That move was VINTAGE Yankees. The Yankees took on all of the remaing $23 million of Abreu's salary when no other team could afford to pay off. They were paying this for a guy who hit 8 home runs in half a season in Philadelphia, a place where Pat "The Bat" Burrell consistently hits 30. The Yankees gave up nothing because the Phillies were that happy to get rid of Abreu's contract.  He was being paid way more than he was worth and to every team in baseball in Yankees, that wouldn't work. But not the Yankees. The Yankees of the late 90's are a far cry from the Yankees of 2006. The Yankees of 2006 simply had too much. When you have as much talent as they have, players' mindsets change. They have 7 guys in their lineup who could carry a team on their shoulders in the postseason. But in their lineup, no one feels obligated due to so. No one needs to step up, because someone else will. And that is not baseball. That is not even competition. They had the best player of our generation hitting 8th in their lineup on Saturday. Could you imagine the Monster hitting 8th on the Mets in 2000? The Yankees were simply too talented. They were not a baseball team; they were an All-Star team. With so many egos and so many guys that are used to being the star, it is extremely difficult when the games really matter. In October, when every big-time player wants to differentiate themselves and be the best.  This leads to a complete void in chemistry. Even the manager wanted to prove that he was smarter. Benching Sheffield and Giambi in games 2 and 4 respectively made ZERO sense. But if they worked, like so many of his decisions in the past, it is because Torre is a genius, a man who knows how to manage his stars. So here we are now, Monday, gearing up for the Championship series without the Yankees. I gotta say this is enjoyable. I don't read much or watch most news coverage but it is a true pleasure to read about the failing Yankees. Call me a prick, but I really just enjoy this. Hearing moron Yankee fans call for Torre and A-Rod's head. Steinbrenner shockingly calling this season a "disappointment." Little do these people know that this is all out of their hands. God is punishing the Yankees for depurifying the one thing in the world that should be pure: baseball. The only green that should be effecting the game is the beautiful outfield grass. Money shouldn't be the difference between one team's success and every one else's. But that is what the Yankees have become. They became a company and not a baseball team. To the fans that support them, I have zero sympathy. I find it really sad, even if your dad was a fan or if Mattingly was your favorite player, to support this team. If my father decided to go kill everyone he works with, I wouldn't find that O.K. just because he is my father. The only Yankee fans that I respect are the ones that tell me that they are sad about the team that they root for. That they realize that there is something wrong there, but that they are stuck with the team that they have rooted for for so many years. But to the rest of you? Shucks. Here is something that might make you feel better. There is a 100% chance that you will be in the playoffs next year. No other team in baseball is even a 50% lock to make it and you guys are a 100% lock. If that is good or bad I don't know. But at least your chance to win it again won't take long. We as Mets fans have waited 6 years. Other teams wait much longer. Vaya con dios, Sip
A Dream Weekend (Non-Korean Peninsula Edition)
Quite a weekend. Mets win. Yankees lose. North Korea conducts an underground nuke test at 4.2 on the Richter scale. I would say, "Hey, 2 out of 3 ain't bad," but I'm probably out of ICBM range. Talk about East Coast Bias.  There's plenty to be said about the demise of Los Yanquis, especially the seemingly-imminent demise of Joseph Paul Torre, but I'm going to let Sip stick to that. Especially when there's plenty to be said about the Mets' hour of triumph on this bright and beautiful Monday morning, enough to fill a lineup card. - Jeff Wilpon rocks a Treo. That's a little weak, if you ask me.
- It says a lot about this team that they were able to overcome a crap start from Trashel so nicely. This was your basic disaster scenario waiting to happen, but a couple of things saved it from getting to that point, including Willie's wise use of the quick hook. The fact that Oliver then got touched up by Kent is regrettable, but also not the point -- Willie wasn't going to let his hack fourth starter drag the team down in a clinching situation. Absolutely.
- You're Jonathan Broxton. You're listed at 6-foot-3, 288 pounds, which means there's really little doubt you're on the sunny side of three bills. You're throwing some extremely decent cheese, fastball floating between 93 and 97, but you've given up a bullshit double to Cantor Green. You jam Valentin, making sure he doesn't advance the runner, and hand pinch-hitting Michael Tucker a free pass to set up the force. Nothing crazy here. Mr. Glass goes up the middle for an RBI single, tying the game at 5-5. Fine. What really has to drive you crazy are the ensuing RBI singles from LoDuca and Beltran, each of which are, depending on your perspective, "good pieces of hitting" or "lucky-ass flares just over the heads of infielders." 7-5 Mets, and every last shred of momentum. Sometimes, the bar bites you.
- Good bounceback showing from Mota, who earned the Game 1 win despite giving up three runs in two innings. He was doing fine in that first outing, you'll recall, until Valentin decided to commence reading from The Todd Walker Guide to Butchering Second Base (with a new forward by Robbie Cano), and tossed away a key out with a misguided force attempt, almost injuring Mr. Glass in the process. Tom Emanski would not be pleased. Anyway, Guillermo came back strong Saturday, with two scoreless innings in the middle of a couple of rally attempts. He gave up three hits, but he's going to be a big guy in the next series, considering all the right-handed power the Cards have.
- Thirty total hits, 13 pitchers, a ridiculous 3:51 running time. Look, I know playoff baseball can take a while. But when you've committed to pounding beers for the duration of a sporting event, extending that sporting event to the 4-hour mark can have serious consequences, especially for the surrounding wildlife. Now, as it happens, Cheddar Ben's watching pad was equipped with Tivo, so we had a timed delay working so as to avoid commercials during the broadcast. And we how did we set up that slack at the beginning of the evening, you might as? By watching a little "Do the Right Thing." Surprisingly effective at getting you pumped up.
- Marlon Anderson in the three-slot, huh? I guess hot is as hot does, and the guy did hit .375 with seven homers in 64 at-bats down the stretch in L.A. Two hits Saturday ... can't ask for tons more. But for the love of Duke Snider, the guy's career rate stats are .267/.316/.394. Is J.D. Drew that much of a turkey, that he can't hit there? That's a joke.
- Great exchange between Trashel and the Daily News' Adam Rubin in a pre-game interview.
Rubin: Can you talk about how the long layoff might affect you and for those of us that don't cover the team regularly, can you provide any details about what took you away from the team last weekend? Trashel: No. - Uncle Cliffy, according to a report in the Daily News, the ride is over. Now, it's possible this report was a prank filed by the departing Lloyd Grove (that cock), but we haven't been able to confirm that. In either case, it was a beautiful ride, amply filled with gruff witticisms and painful hobbling. Your bat never really came around, and we learned to love Endy Magic in your stead. Such is the way of the game; it waits for few men. But you were a leader in the clubhouse, and clubbed a fine-looking home run earlier in the series. You played through pain in a manner foreign to Yankees fans, a totemic exemplar for your younger counterparts. You deserved this Division Title as much as any Met, and you will continue to be in the hearts of Y2K as the postseason advances. Godspeed. Unless, of course, you're not out for the year, in which case we need you to get your ass over to the training table and make ready for pinch-hitting duty. NOW.
- More on this in the upcoming days, but St. Louis' having to put Chris Carpenter into the NLDS rotation twice was a great thing from the Mets' perspective. He won't be able to go until Game 2 or 3, really, which means we get to hammer on Jeff Weaver or whoever the fuck Tony sends to the hill. Excellent.
Finally, there should be a feeling coursing through the veins of all Mets' supporters on this Columbus Day morning. It's a good one. Life is still moving at a brisk fall pace, and you'll all be at your respective places of business before long, going about your routines.  And it will dawn on you every so often, this fine feeling. It will hit you like a moonbeam to the temple, a fluttering notion, and serenity will descend upon your cubicle (or what have you), or your Italian Pride picnic, or your stridently pathetic Native American protest rally, or your couch. You may hear the voices of angels in the background, but only very faintly, as the human ear is ill-equipped to transmit seraphic chant in its natural form. You are far more likely to perceive a tingling vibration, ghostly windchimes of a sort; a melody forged from once-broken dreams and drams of fine crystal. And it will sound, I should say, a little bit like this. Omar, take it away. “The only thing you’re going to talk about in New York is National League baseball,” he said. “The only baseball being played in New York is National League baseball. The last time that happened was 1988.” Yes. An outstanding morning to all.
SEE YA
As our good friend Michael Kay says: "SEE YA!!!" -Sip
That Stinking Bum
Unreal!!! My buddy Matt calls me. He has been working for the Mets since we graduated school and the kid is doing pretty well. He is in LA with the club, living the good life etc. So anyway, Matty called me IRATE this morning. I've never seen him this pissed. He was like, "Sip, you're never going to believe this. They're starting Franco for Delgado tonight!!!" "Get the fuck outta here," I replied. Why in god's name would fresh toasted Willie do that. Matt replied, " He is trying to eliminate Maddux's changeup. He wants to go with an all right handed lineup. The guy has lost it." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. It made no sense. Franco for Delgado? Are you fucking kidding me? The answer. Yes. Yes I am. There are few things I know in this world. My favorite color is blue. I live in New York. And you don't bench your right handed cleanup hitter against a lefty for a guy 6 years past his prime. Joe Torre, the fastest manager to 1000 losses, benched his scariest bat, Gary Sheffield for Puerto Rico High Class of 1942's Valedictorian, Bernie Williams. Apparently Williams had better career numbers. Hey Joe, I have better post season numbers than A-Rod. Does that mean I get a $14 million dollar deal? The move is plain dumb. Apparently, Torre, asleep for much of his tenure with the Banks hasn't seen what Sheffield does. Or maybe he has. But the move did two things. 1. It made the Yankees godly lineup 6 strong instead of 7. 1-7 with Matsui in the 7 hole and the Yankees had 7 hitters better than any Tiger, any Oakland A, any Dodger, and any Padre. Pretty sad when you think about it. That lineup gives me nightmares and we aren't even playing the Yankees. Even if Bernie Williams is batting 1.000 against Rogers, the move makes the lineup that much less scary. 2. More importantly, the aftermath. Now the Yankees have an angry Sheffield and a reason to be upset. Their manager let them down. He made the wrong move. This team needs excuses for why it loses because on paper they never should. This all leads me to my point about Torre. During the regular season, The Yankees need no manager. With that much talent in the lineup, an above average pitching staff and baseball's best closer, the Yankees should win 95 games in their sleep. There are simply too many games against the Devil Rays, Orioles, Royals and Mariners for them not to win a ton of games. They are just too good. I honestly think it would be a great reality show: "Who Wants to Manage the Yankees?" I would take Mrs. Sippy Momo Sr. and the over at 94.5 games. Then there is Joe. For ten years he has been lauded for his managerial skills. What we have seen over the last 6 years is that he deserves no recognition. From 1996-2000 the Yankees won 4 titles. The reason. They were a better assembled team. Whereas this year the Yankees are the greatest fantasy team of all time, in the late 90's the Yankees were complete. Torre was "a genius" for going to the best righty/lefty duo in the game (Stanton/Nelson) to set up the game's best closer (Rivera). He pushed buttons that Mama Sip could easily push and they worked. Yankees win and Joe goes from one of the worst managers of all time to one of the best. Here we are now, in 2006 and something is a little different. While the Yankees should score 9 runs per game, their pitching isnt invicible. The starters don't go as deep as they used to and the bullpen isn't as strong. And it all shows in the postseason. No longer are the Yankees automatic. He does not have two inexhaustable arms in the pen who compliment each other perfectly, essentially making games 6 innings long. Like last year with Tom Gordon and Paul Quantrill, Torre once again spent his regular season EXHAUSTING his best middle relief pitcher, Scott Proctor. For those who don't follow the Yanks, Proctor is a guy that hits 97-98. In the post season, after leading baseball in appearances, Proctor is consistenly hitting 95. Torre had one job this year. It wasn't get the Yankees to October. Again, as I have said many a time, in a 162 game season, with the current salary structure in baseball, the Yankees will make the playoffs every single time. Torre's one job is to get his team ready for the big stage and to have them in the right. An overworked bullpen and a chaotic lineup is not exactly what I mean. Unhappy superstars and no one to pitch innings 5-8 spell disaster. The fact that this is where the Yankees are every postseason is a true testament to how poor of a manager Torre is. Tonight has the potential to be something special. We could be looking at a Mets clinch and a Yankees elimination. If this somehow happens, which it won't cause it is too obvious and my life isn't that good, I will get down on one knee and propose to my waitress at Blondie's, my home away from home. Either way, if the Yanks do come back, which they should (This team should never lose) well fuck them. At least we have pride. Vaya con dios, Sip Oh, and by the way. When I left NYC last year I think I knew 12 Mets fans. Now, all of a sudden, I can't cross the street without seeing Mets gear or taking cabs with greek dudes who love the Mets. Am I missing something? Did the Mets get good? This city stinks. But not you guys. We cool baby.
Tommy the Met
[Note: A post from Cheddar Ben about Rafael Furcal's key blunder in yesterday's game follows this post. Enjoy.]You really have to wonder what was going through Tom Glavine's mind the last few days as columnists around the country began writing the Mets off, for want of an ace pitcher. Here's a guy 10 victories shy of 300 for his career, a mark which, if you believe everything you read, he may be the last pitcher to reach. (I for one think that theory is nonsense, but it's out there so so be it.)  He's a guy who was a dominant pitcher in the second half of last season, the first half of this season, and then again in the final weeks of 2006.
Oh and, ya know, he won a couple Cy Youngs in his time, too.
But there every jerk on ESPN was saying the Mets just didn't have the pitching to contend in October, especially after the injury to Orlando Hernandez. Every team needs an ace, they reasoned, and the Mets just don't have that guy.
Nonsense. There he was out there on the hill last night in a pivotal Game 2. Lose and the Mets faced the very real possibility of hanging their season on the trusty left arm of Oliver Perez (I ask again, does anyone think it's possible that somebody with a 3-13 record has ever started a playoff game before?).
But thanks to Tommy, dubbed "the Old Goat" by Pedro Martinez prior to Opening Day, the Mets won the ballgame, and they may well have found the pitcher who can lead them through the playoffs.
October's a funny time of year, of course, and who knows what the rest of the playoffs will look like for old Tommy Ballgame. But say this for him, last night he limited the NL's fourth best offense to zero runs in 6 innings, allowing 6 baserunners in total to the team with the league's top offense where OBP goes.
Along the way there was one legitimate threat when, in the fourth inning, the Dodgers had runners on first and second with one man down. But Glavine snuffed that little uprising with a draconian strikeout of J.D. Drew and by inducing a lazy fly ball to Russell Martin.
As regular readers probably know, the title of this piece is a play on the regular "Tommy the Spy" moniker that we use around here.
It's no secret, Mets fans have somewhat conflicted feelings about the man who tormented us for so many years as a Brave. Much like it took the Mighty Ducks some time to warm up to former Hawk Adam Banks, Mets fans kept their distance with Glavine at first.
But there's been a thaw over the years, and Tommy might have done enough yesterday to make even the holdouts embrace him as one of our own.
 Me, I just feel good for Glavine in the same way I feel good for Cliff Floyd and, yes, Steve Trachsel. Guys who were here through the lost years between 2001 and 2004 when the Mets were laughingstocks.
He knows what this fan base has been through, and like the rest of us, he's survived. Hell, most of us didn't have to lose our two front teeth on the way from there to here -- which is to say that maybe he's had it worse than the rest of us.
One way or another, he's ours now. And for a team that many were anxious to write off three days ago because we lost Pedro and El Duque, he could well prove the most valuable player we've got going forward.
I hope so.
And I hope when this postseason is over we'll be able to look back and still have a laugh as we call him Tommy the Spy, but that in the back of our minds we'll say, you know what, Tom Glavine? That guy's a Met.
After last night I'd say he's on his way.
And so well are the Mets. Up 2-0 with Game 3 tomorrow night. What do you say we sweep these Dodgers out of dodge? Let's go!
- A.F.O.M.G.
Furcalamity
I can't often say I agree with anything a Fox announcer says. Joe Buck's face gets longer by the day, and his schtick was never any good. Tim McCarver is ... well, not liked. Last night's announcing team of Thom Brenneman and Steve Lyons is somewhat less loathsome, but that's like saying herpes is better than syphillis. Which it is.  But Brenneman was spot on in his criticism of one Rafael Furcal during last night's telecast. Furcal, the non-Bums' shortstop, had a fantastic chance to get his team off the hook during the sixth inning of Game 2.
Recap: Metsies up 2-nil, they've just loaded the bases with nobody out on a pair of base knocks and a misplay by the fabulous Brett Tomko. Endy Magic comes to the plate and literally throws his bat at a pitch low and outside (bad Endy rearing his head) , grounding back to Tomko and into a force at home. One down.
Fine. Up comes the Ancient One to pinch hit for Glavine, who's only thrown 93 pitches of clutch shutout ball to that point. He was absolutely in for another inning, so it's not an easy call to yank him there. But Willie has to do it, in my opinion.
Franco, though, with the bases still juiced and the crowd going nuts, uncorks a weak-ass grounder right to short. "Double-play ball!" screams Brenneman, with just a tad too much enthusiasm for my taste.
But Furcal doesn't charge it. He stands there aimlessly. Maybe he's thinking about the season premier of "Lost."
Maybe he's wondering if there are any good bars near Shea, or how much he's going to drink later (quick answer: a lot). Maybe he's thinking about Jabba Lasorda, and why the hell anyone lets him anywhere near a camera.
Whatever the reason, he waits for it for a beat too long, and while his throw to Lugo at second was just fine, Lugo is a shortstop/third base-type turned utility player for the stretch run, and not a very seasoned player at second. So, his relay is also a beat slow.
Which results in one of the most curious sights you can imagine, as the oldest player in the major leagues; a man who baby-sat for Mordecai "Three Finger" Brown; a man who predates the invention of movable type; a man who went to grade school with the bookkeeper in the Miller Lite "Man Law" spots; beats the throw to the bag.
It doesn't go down as a 6-4-3 inning-ender. It goes in the books as a fielder's choice, RBI, and the Mets have an extra run. I couldn't have been more certain at that point that Mr. Glass was going to deliver, and sure enough, there it were.
4-0. Game changed. And the Mets' bullpen can basically chill the fuck out for the rest of the night, at least relative to a 2-0 game.
This, my friends, is why playoff baseball is so fun. A tiny moment -- a split-second, really -- that changes the course of a season. It can't be taken back. It can't be made up for later, as so many gaffes and mishaps can be during the regular season. It simply is.
So, Brenneman jumps on his ass for the rest of the night, tossing around phrases like "troubling defense" and "missed opportunities" at every juncture. "Prison Break" promo? Man, has defense let the Dodgers down. That sort of thing.
And why not? Like the rest of the Y2K staff and the overwhelming majority of our readers, I revel in watching the failure of others. I love seeing dreams crushed and expectations dashed. It's part of what makes the game so nasty, and so fun to follow. Especially when it happens to an insufferable bunch of losers like the Dodgers.
 Now, all that stands between us and a sweep is the flabby arm of Greg Maddux, he of the career 11-14 postseason record. 6-4-2 blames Kenny Lofton, and I'm not going to argue with him. Dodger Thoughts says it ain't over. You be the judge of that.
Quick hits:
- So ... how 'bout that Joel Zumaya? Don't you just feel a little sorry for Deej, who has to try to catch up with that in a key spot? No? Not sorry? Hoping Zumaya will plunk him on the wrist with one of them 103 mph heaters? Me too.
- Sean Casey, you disgust me. Why, pray tell, are you hitting in the No. 3 slot for the Tigers instead of the vastly-superior Carlos Guillen? And it's not, as the increasingly senile Joe Morgan would have it, that you've "done a great job for the team since coming over." A .650 OPS is AA material, chump. Not getting Granderson home from third in the seventh inning could have hurt. Where, precisely, is the sainted Jim Leyland on this one?
- AFOMG hates him with the fire of a thousand suns, but Pudge becomes a key weapon in big spots. Ninth inning, Yanks down a run, Hideki leads off with a single, and Melky comes in to pinch-run. And ... that's it. No steal attempt. No nothing. This with Todd Jones, who's about as good at holding runners on as I am, on the hill. Honestly, how many guys in the league do you green-light to run on Pudge in that situation? Three? If you're the manager, it takes stones of steel to call for that. I don't think I could.
- Woo-hoo! Saturday night in L.A., and the combined age of the two starting pitchers is about four Thrilledges. Let's not forget the suitcase with the essentials, ok?
Am I Scared of the AL East Champion Yankees?
Not with the way they played today, I'm not. Sorry, couldn't resist. Meanwhile, A-Rod struck out 3 times today, including once with the bases loaded. That oughta endear him to the Yankee faithful.  Speaking of the Yankee faithful, remember how Sip listed the signs at Yankee Stadium as one of the lowlights from Tuesday's ALDS Game 1? How they were all terrible?
I gotta hand it to the Shea fans, one in particular. Whoever came up with the sign "Pitching Smitching" is a genius. They don't make them like that in the Bronx.
You know what though? This isn't about the Yankees for me. Not yet anyway.
There's much more important business at hand, Game 2 for starters. Let's none of us get too confident here; lose tonight and the Mets are in the same hole the Yankees are in, bigger, perhaps, given that our Game 3 starter ain't exactly Randy Johnson (although looking at Randy's stats just now, maybe that's exactly who Trachsel is).
I'm not going to say much about the game yesterday as Sip has already done that, but I will say this. The Dodgers messed up royally by carrying only one lefty in their bullpen. Simple as that. I'd throw the Hound, a crafty southpaw in his own right, out there against the Mets if I were an opposing manager.
Not trying to contradict what Sip wrote earlier, nor am I doing so. But if I'm a Dodgers fan, I'm second-guessing the shit out of Grady Little right now.
 That or I'm really, really pissed that Joe Beimel cut his hand on a broken glass in the middle of the night. Not that that doesn't happen all the time or anything.
The truth is, I don't even know if the Dodgers had any lefties eligible for the playoff roster, but one way or another, this is clearly a weakness of theirs facing the Mets.
But back to the import of the game at hand. Let me ask you, readers, to settle a little debate Sip and I were having.
See, he was gracious enough to offer me a ticket to tonight's game that one of his cousins had available. Sip and I have gone to many a game together. Never once have we taken the LIRR. I didn't even know that was possible, frankly (although lord knows I shouldn't be surprised).
In any event, yesterday was no different. We stopped by my house. Pounded a brewski. Took the 2 down Times Square and hopped on the 7 train.
 Like we'd done a thousand times prior.
And the Mets won. And it was perfect.
Now here we are facing a pivotal Game 2 after a glorious Game 1 and Sip wants to switch everything up and take the LIRR. Not on my watch, pal.
You're better than that.
But back to the Mets. It was a huge win yesterday. With all the negative mental baggage we carried into the game, a victory was just what the team (and, perhaps to a greater extent, the fanbase) needed.
Now we need another one just like it to keep home field advantage intact and put the NLCS one win away. Shea's gonna be rocking. Y2K will most definitely be in the building.
Life's a gas.
- A.F.O.M.G.
1 Down, 10 to Go
We are all experts. We are always right once we have seen what has happened. We can all second guess. What differentiates being a baseball manager from a football or baseball coach is that every move you make is under a much greater microscope. In football or basketball, coaches call a play for every single play of the game. As a result, players are often second guessed far more than coaches. But in baseball, this is not the case. In baseball a manager makes five and at most ten decisions a game. Every decision either works or it doesn’t with rarely any room in between. Last night we were all experts. Or at least everyone at Shea was. When Willie pulled John Maine with 1 out in the 5th and Kenny Lofton coming to the plate (who Maine had struck out twice before), I looked at AFOMG with a puzzled look. A little early, no, Willie? I joked that Willie had thrown on a mustache and a Yankee t-shirt the night before and went to Yankee Stadium. That once he saw Joe pull his starter a little too early, he felt he needed to do the same. But all kidding aside, there were a ton of good reasons for his decisions. If he wants Maine to go on 3 days rest in Game 4, then he has only thrown 80 pitches and is far more likely to be ready. Let’s keep the kid’s confidence level high. Let him leave the game with a lead and get a standing O at Shea. If Feliciano/Bradford get us through the 5th, then we have Mota, Hernandez and Heilman to get us to Wagner. Let’s role the dice with that. The people of subway promised to make a new fresh toasted sub named after Willie, called the Meatballsy Willie. The move turned out to be a great one. Feliciano and Bradford retired Lofton and Nomar to get us out of a jam. Willie is a GENIUS!!! Fast forward to the bottom of the 6th. Guillermo Mota threw about as perfect a top 6th as possible. I looked at AFOMG, the big guy, and said, why not have him throw another one? He agreed.  Paul LoDuca led off the bottom of the 6th inning. 8 spots till the pitcher would be up. No action in the pen. Then the Mets started rallying. After David Wright’s double extended the lead to 4-1 and Cliffy was intentionally walked, the Dodgers went to their pen. First and third and one out. In retrospect, this is when Willie could have got Hernandez up and throwing. Shawn Green struck out. Two outs and two on. The Mets have people starting to warm in the pen, so there is no way Grady Little is walking Valentin. Willie looks like he is in the clear. His failure to get Hernandez earlier will not be a problem. Valentin gets a hit and the Mets are up 5-1. Valentin gets out and it is time for Mota to pitch. Neither happened. Valentin was hit by the pitch and Willie was caught. From there Mota went on to blow the lead in the top of the 7th. There wasn’t a single person at Shea who didn’t want Willie’s head. This, 2 innings after his smartest managerial move as a Met. Yes, Willie had the chance to put the game away, but if Mota pitches an easy 7th then no one cares. This is the beauty of being a baseball fan. I was telling my father the other day about the beauty of poker. Poker allows every fan to be a pro. All you need is a chip and a chair. In poker, when you beat your opponents it is because you were smarter. You made the right decisions and outplayed the people at your table. However, when we lose, we rationalize otherwise. We were not outplayed, we simply got fucked, or caught a bad beat. In retrospect, we were right and they were wrong or maybe the gods just weren't on our side. As baseball fans it is so easy to second guess. When a manager makes a decision that is right, we see it as him making the obvious decision. It made sense at the time and then it worked. Very simple. But when a manager makes what turns out to be the wrong decision, he was wrong and we were right along. We KNEW that the manager made the mistake, how could he not see it himself, right? Just imagine if Feliciano gives up a hit to Lofton after Maine struck him out badly in his previous two at bats? "WILLIE!!! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!?!"  Then imagine, Mota, a converted SS, slaps that ball 10 feet more to the right, clearing the bases. He then goes on to dominate the 7th! "WILLIE IS A FUCKING GENIUS." It is always so easy to second guess. But that is why we are in the stands and they are on the field. For 163 games this season Willie has led us to 98 victories. Like it or not, he is our guy and he is going to make the calls. So, in Willie we must trust, even if you think you are the next Phil Ivey. Whatever you think of Willie, the Mets went onto win the ballgame last night, even if it was in heart attack-inducing fashion. Willie’s decisions may be controversial but I am going to step up and not second guess but rather defend Willie. To me, Willie plays by the book. But I also think Willie really understands the book. Anyone who knows this team knows its strengths. All week we said get us into the 7th in a 4-4 game and the Mets are in good shape. Our bullpen would outpitch theirs. On Wednesday, Willie was at a luxury. After David Wright’s double, the Mets were up 4-1. We had our lead and now we had out bullpen.  Mota would pitch the 7th, Heilman the 8th, Wagner on 9th. From a pregame gameplan, you couldn’t draw it up any better. And I think that is why Willie hesitated to get another reliever up in the bottom half of the 6th. He had so much confidence in that 1-2-3, Mota-Heilman-Wagner, with a 3- run lead, that it didn’t matter what we did at the plate. In the end, it all worked out. It always seems to with this team. I’ll be in section 43 row R tonight in a Jose Reyes jersey and a slightly tilted orange mets hat. Come find me at the game. Next year is now this year. Vays con dios, Sip
Under Control
Yesterday I was 7 years old again. I was tucked away in a bed at my grandparents' house in Ohio, fidgeting. The next morning was December 25th and I was too excited to sleep. That's the only way to describe the feeling I had last night as I prepared for bed, or the way I feel right now as I prepare to leave work early and head for Shea Stadium. It's easy to feel consumed with negative vibes right now. The news is official: El Duque is off the roster for the NLDS, and is questionable (i.e. doubtful) for the NLCS.  Our starting pitchers for this series will look something like this:
Game 1: John Maine
Game 2: Tom Glavine
Game 3: Steve Trachsel
Game 4: Oliver Perez/Maine
Game 5: Maine/Glavine
Not quite how you would have drawn it up, huh?
It's truly amazing that this could have happened to the team that clinched the division first. Remember when we used to think that clinching first would let us set up our rotation? That was a cute thought.
But whatever, it is what it is. Nobody's going to feel sorry for us. This series still counts.
And in spite of all our doomsday fears, I still feel as excited as a kid the day before Christmas, and maybe even as optimistic as well.
If our offense comes out today and hits like it's capable of hitting, everybody's going to forget this whole Pedro/El Duque debacle real fast.
If our starting pitchers can keep the opposition to 4 runs or fewer, we've got a fighting chance. Our team has overcome average pitching since the second month of the season (when Pedro and Glavine went downhill).
How'd we do it? With two tools that haven't been impacted by the recent slate of calf injuries: our offense and our bullpen.
Starting pitchers: Give us 6 decent innings.
Hitters: Score runs like you're capable of doing, like you did all year before September, like you did in the last series you played.
Bullpen: Hold leads like you've done all season.
It's a simple recipe for success. It's worked all season. Replicate it over the next 3 weeks and everything is under control.
Am I drinking the Kool-Aid? Possibly. But fuck it, dreams of a championship still dance in my head like so many sugar-plum fairies.
Now let's go watch some playoff baseball.
- A.F.O.M.G.
F the Yanks Part I (Of Many)
( More on the Mets in a bit. But first, Sip's post game reaction to the Yanks) So a number of things pissed me off Tuesday night. I sat there at AFOMG’s house, the Sip and the Big Cat reunited for the post season. Even Steamin Mikey Lehman was there for the action. We all wanted the Yankees to lose. Come on! I couldn’t help but think of Friday Night Lights. The Mets are Permian. If we somehow make the World Series it is to only face the monsters that are Dallas Carter, the Yankees. Their lineup is just too good. But that didn’t mean Tuesday didn’t kill me. Here were the highlights. 1. The Signs.There were a bunch of good ones, and by good I mean terribly bad. "Giwhambi!" "Wang is Just Right!" And then there was the best one… “It’s October.” Well, no shit. Glad you could point that one out to us. 2. Spike Lee. This guy is a Yankee fan. He openly admitted to rooting for the Mets in ’86. What happened Spike? Aren’t your movies all about keeping it real?
3. A-Rod happy to hit 6th cause he likes having Matsui protecting him.
How about hitting 4th and having Giambi, Sheffield and Matsui protecting you, A-Rod? The Yankees lineup is like a Magnum Condom. There is protection everywhere. You are hitting 6th cause your manager knows that when you fail hitting 6th it won’t look as bad as if you fail hitting 4th. Just admit that you suck.
3A. A Rod’s facial expressions.
After any close call against him, A-Rod he makes this facial impression. I don’t know exactly what it is but I do know I want to slap it off him. It is like he is saying the ump made a bad call but it doesn’t matter cause he is A-Rod and he will make up for it. Sadly, you won’t.
4. Even the Yankee ball boys are monsters.
Did you see that one kid? I think that is Giambi’s steroid dealer.
5. Lee Mazilli falling asleep during Carlos Guillen’s At bat in the 6th inning. Fox even showed it. Nice Camera work.
6. Speaking of Camera work... Lights, Camera, Jeter!  AFOMG and I spotted The Captain taking a look at the camera after Gary Sheffield’s RBI in the 3rd. This of course was after Jeter ran up to the first step ahead of all his teammates to applaud the hit.
7. Tim Fucking McCarver.
What a bitch. Having to watch a grown man suck off 25 other grown men for over three hours should be considered too graphic for television. Seriously, Timmy. You have just become sad.
I couldn’t respect Deion Sanders more now.
That was great when you called Johnny Damon’s baserunning great when he took third on a sure thing Jeter double. What was he, going to do? Stay at 2nd?
8. Lights, Camera, Jeter Part II.
Much respect for Jimmy Leyland. How obvious was it that he didn’t want to do an interview? While Joe Torre arose from his slumber to talk to the boys in the booth for about 3 minutes, Leyland would only talk in between innings.
Then, after 1 question, Joe Buck pleaded that he only had one more question for Leyland.
 But then there was Jeter, who sneakily ducked in front of Joe during the interview. What a guy for not getting in the Skip’s way. Instead, Jeter just intentionally didn’t get in the way.
9. Strike 3.
Jeter should have been punched out in the 3rd. Then he got the rally going.
A-Rod then should have punched out in the 5th. Of course he struck out on the next pitch.
Same with Giambi in the 7th.
It must be tough for opposing pitchers when an entire lineup is getting “Star” calls.
10. Lights, Camera, Jeter Part III.
Right after Giambi’s homerun, which was right after Sheffield’s RBI, Jeter once again was caught taking a glance at the camera. At least he is consistent.
11,12,13,14,15. No one saying that there is something wrong.
Everyone talks about how great the Yankees lineup is. Yeah we know. No one mentions that 1-9, the Yankees make $142 million dollars. Of course they are going to be good. Their lineup alone is worth more than any team in baseball. I’m just waiting for the journalist who has the balls to admit this. And more so, the balls to admit that there is something wrong with baseball.
Instead, we see record attendance.
Grow a sack, FOX.
Anyway, tough to watch those fucks win. It was nice to watch Joe Torre’s one managerial move, taking out Wang with 2 outs in the 7th, for basically no reason, implode in his face.
That guy deserves all the credit in the world.
Remember when I wrote in April about how Torre is a moron, about his bullpen is always dead come the postseason?
 Well, Scott Proctor pitched in more games this season than he didn’t. He almost lost it tonight. All in due time.
We’ll get some Mets material up in a bit.
Vaya con dios,
The Sip
NYC, the Mets and Right Now
Finally, The Sip, has come back to New York City!!!  For those WWF fans of the late 90's, it was a heck of a run. For the rest of you, please read on.
I touched foot in New York City yesterday and I felt a lot like Brooks from Shawshank. I too, can't believe how fast things move in this city.
When I left New York girls were wearing the new uggs and assholes around the city were sporting Yankee hats.
10 months later and girls are trying to bring back leggings (Are they serious?) and half of New York is wearing orange and blue.
I guess that is what happens in the city of transplants and dreamers.
It is no coincidence that my return to New York coincides with the Mets' first playoff run in 6 years. You all know how I feel about this team and the people that support it.
After five months, Mets fans were already printing World Series t-shirts. Hell, I even got a few orders from Happy Will at my failed 2004 t-shirt company, Fratbucks.com.
Then a funny thing happened. The games became irrelevant, the Mets took a few slower steps and all of a sudden Mets fans are heading into the postseason scared as I was in my first night at Shawshank.
Three weeks ago I wrote that the Mets should play their starters, stay as fresh as sharp as possible for the postseason. In retrospect, I don't know if I was right. I don't know a lot about much.
But the Mets did what most Mets fans called for. They took it easy. Starters received plenty of rest, pitchers threw fewer pitches and all of the sudden the Mets, shockingly, lost a few games.
Which takes us to today, the start of the postseason and the eve of our first game.
One month of "getting ready" for the postseason and all of a sudden we have gone from shoe-in favorites to the underdogs.
In my opinion. The experts are morons.
Yes, we lost Pedro. But honestly, when was the last time we had him, May?
 This team has gotten this far with an amazing lineup, great defense and an amazing bullpen.
We are at our best when we are tied 4-4 going into the 7th inning. Those types of games are won with bullpen and speed.
As we enter the postseason, Mets fans and the media are frightened by the same Mets rotation that has taken us through all of 2006.
This would scare me too if we were playing the Astros.
But of the 3 NL playoff teams that we will face there are a combined 3 starters who resemble a #1 starter (Jake Peavy, Chris Carpenter and Brad Penny).
The fact that Brad Penny is on this list says something, as does the fact that he won't be starting until Game 4 at the earliest.
 The National League will not be won cause of starting pitching or at least, we cannot assume it will be.
This being the case, I love the Mets' chances.
In my opinion, the current mindset of the Mets and their fans is where it needs to be.
For much of 2006 the Mets resembled Cameron from this season of Laguna Beach.
An unexpected growth spurt shot us to the top, to the point where everything just came way too easy. Girls loved us, guys wanted to be us.
This cockiness could only lead to disappointment come the postseason.
We are where we need to be. Confident but not cocky.
The Mets are the class of the National League and should be in the World Series. In my opinion, anything short of that would be a major disappointment.
No speech in history pisses me off more than Gene Hackman's at the end of Hoosiers. You know the one where he talks about not caring what the scoreboard says, at the end of the day we'll be winners?
Yeah, that is a hunk of shit.
If Jimmy doesn't make that shot, Hoosiers is not a good movie.
Instead, there is another quote that I think reflects where the Mets need to be right now.
Quoting (sort of) the heroic Johnny Moxon, "19 games for the next 19 years of our lives."
Since 1986 (19 years +1) Mets fans have lived vicariously through that dream season. When people ask me what the bestyear of my life was, I say 1986, without really thinking anything but the Mets. At the time I was 4.
This season has been as magical as any we can remember. We overcame our bigget nemesis, the Braves, and absolutely plowed through everything in sight.
Now it is time to do it when it matters.
There is no place that I would rather be than New York City right now. This October could be the one that we remember for the rest of our lives.
And I truly believe that it will be. It's time for us to take a taste from the whipped cream bikini.
Vaya con dios,
Sip
Y2K AL Playoff Preview
Hard-fought throughout and contentious until the end, one round of playoffs come to an end. Damn you, Vancouver Whitecaps! Those Rhinos were my baby. You've left me with nothing! Wait, that's not correct. You've left me with the Major League Baseball playoffs, which, Don Cheadle aside, are what it's all about. Basically, anything where Billy Beane's shit doesn't work is what I'm all about. Hence, my excitement. For New York City baseball fans, it's shaping up as a postseason for the ages. Both local squads are favored to advance through their respective leagues for a highly-anticipated Subway Series, the better to completely alienate the rest of these United States. Which would be pretty sweet, provided that the Mets win. Otherwise, it would be an unmitigated disaster. We're playing with dynamite here, people. That's part of the attraction. Y2K's got all your playofff needs covered. I'll take care of the AL scene today, with Young Sip and AFOMG coming through as the week progresses with a look at the NL and some season grades for our Metsies. In the meantime, let's to it. Detroit Tigers
AL Wild Card
95-67 (.586)
Well, that was fucking pathetic. The Tigers needed one win over the final five days of the season to lock up the AL Central. They lost five straight instead, getting swept by the Royals in their season-ending series. That included a craptastic 10-8 loss yesterday with nominal ace Kenny Rogers coming in to start the 11th inning and eventually blowing the game on a rally started by Angel Berroa, a.k.a. The Worst Player in Baseball. Momentum, baby! Assuming that their collective psyches ever get out of the toilets, Detroit has a dangerous-looking team highlighted by a group of strong-to-very-strong starting pitchers (all four ERAs under 4.00). Rook Justin Verlander was rested this week to make sure he's ready to go, Jeremy Bonderman struck out 200 dudes and redheaded terror Nate Robinson decided to learn how to pitch. Even the Gambler could show up for a couple of games and give the team a break, his career 8.85 playoff ERA notwithstanding.  The problem is that Detroit's lineup is collectively about as patient as Mark Foley at a high school lacrosse tournament. It's filled with undisciplined hackers like Y2K nemesis Pudge Rodriguez and Craig Monroe (28 HR, 36 BB), guys who wouldn't take a strike if it were coated with uncut coke.
That works fine during the regular season, when you're facing No. 4 and 5 starters, but you're also prone to having your offense (team .328 OBP) black out at any time. Mike Mussina is going to eat these guys alive.
They're still plenty scary, especially if Mags keeps his head out of his ass (3 HR in July and August combined) and doesn't reslump. Wild Thing Zumaya's100 mph heaters look especially tough this time of year, and the expected bad karma associated with releasing bling-wearing slugger Dmitri Young during the middle of the season is mitigated by the fact that he, y'know, had some other problems going on as well. Not a team to be trifled with.
Minnesota Twins
AL Central Champions
96-66 (.593)
Yeah, the thing is that you have to trust that guys like ex-scrubs Michael Cuddyer, Nick Punto, Rondell White and Jason Bartlett are for real. Morneau has been a beast, and AL MVP Joe Mauer (Hi, my stats are better than Derek Jeter's in every way) is absolutely tops. His whole thing -- from St. Paul, drafted No. 1 overall, runs the town -- is great, and he's going to offer a whole lot of white-bread dominance over the next 10 years.
If you believe in Boof Bonser (and, really, I do), then their pitching looks amazing. The best pitcher in the game, plus a pen led by the insanely good Joe Nathan and two other guys with sub-1.00 WHIPs. Lord knows what we'd be saying if Liriano's arm wasn't all forklempt.  I like the matchup with Oakland, too -- a team that's not going to bang around anyone on the Twins' staff, a soft lefty to beat up on (hey, Barry), home-field advantage. Really, some good stuff.
But that lineup better get its production from Mauer, Morneau and Two-Is Torii, because I'm not sure the rest of these clowns are going to be able to get it done against a postseason staff.
The least power of all playoff teams, guys playing over their heads ... you have to think there's a couple 3-2 losses coming.
New York Yankees
AL East Champions
97-75 (.599)
Oh, holy hell.
CF Damon .286/.359/.484
SS Jeter .345/.418/.485
RF Abreu .330/.420/.510
3B Joke .290/.392/.523
DH Giambo .252/.411/.555
1B Iron Sheff .298/.355/.450
LF Matsui .306/.394/.500
C Posada .276/.373/.486
2B Cano .341/.364/.523
Do they serve fresh California spinach in the Yankee Stadium clubhouse? A little salad, maybe some sliced walnuts and grilled chicken, balsamic dressing? At this point, I'd take any type of bacterial infection, although something bloody would be a nice touch.
There's just nowhere to attack. Sheffield's probably better than those numbers, too, or will be after the first game of the series. Traitor Johnny's a player, and Cano is doing a Rogers Hornsby impression in the nine slot, having gone hitless a grand total of four times over the last two months of the season. And he's the only one who doesn't like 10-pitch at-bats, meaning that basically no opposing pitcher's getting out of the sixth inning without getting extremely lucky.  All is not lost. First of all, each of the Bombers' likely foes has a nasty bullpen, so their patience may not have the reward it does during the regular season.
Second, A-Rod is probably tanking. Getting thrown underneath the wheels of a moving bus has provoked that reaction in the past, I do believe. Third, Jeter sucks. Fourth, Matsui dishonored his ancestors by getting hurt earlier in the year, and they take that shit seriously. Not ritual suicide seriously, but "statue falling on him in the clubhouse" seriously. Stay away from museums, Hideki.
Most importantly, the Bombers' pitching staff is extremely vulnerable. Even conceding that Mo is fully back (and four scoreless outings do point toward that conclusion), there's going to be at least two eggs laid among the group of Wang, Moose, Wright and Old Man Randy, assuming he goes. Past that, you'll note that Scott Proctor threw 101.1 innings this year. And he's a lot better off than Ron Villone, a textbook sufferer of Joe Torre Syndrome (5.04 season ERA, thank you). Kyle Farnsworth is more likely to throw a fastball at Brandon Inge's face than over the plate when it matters.
Who is going to come through? If it's not like three of the players named above, the Yanks are going to have to slug their way out of a deep pit. And Murderers' Row or not, that doesn't always work.
Oakland Athletics
AL West Champions
93-69 (.574)
Bobby Crosby, Jay Payton, Mark Kotsay, Mark Ellis and Marco Scutaro all basically suck at hitting. You know, most of the A's' team. They say their defense is good enough to make up for this. And you know what? If you score only 760 runs and slug an AL-worst .410 as a team and still finish 24 games over .500, you're clearly doing something right.
With Chavez hurt and Nick Swisher completely unpredictable, Frank Thomas also turned in a Gipper season of epic proportions, limping (38 HR, 11 2B) across the plate 76 times and knocking in 110 runs more. I have no patience for the people who thought he wasn't a Hall of Fame lock before this year, and his season has ensured they can all shut their faces about that for all time. Nobody does this without being a master of the game.  But let's be fair -- the Hurt got a ring last year, and he ain't gettin' another this year. Not when Zito has a 1.40 WHIP and a "I can't wait to be paid" look on his face.
Not when Rich Harden, whose stuff is phenomenal, has been eating said spinach for much of the past two seasons, and threw a whopping 43 innings in 2006. He makes Carl Pavano look like Cal Ripken. (Well, that's not true. Note that the Yankees entry made no mention of Mr. Money Pit, whose playoff action will top out at spending some of that$10 mil. on Grey Goose and tonics and crashing into sanitation trucks on the Cross-Bronx.)
I'm as big an Esteban Loaiza fan as they come. Huston Street is the rare tolerable Longhorn, and it's always worth keeping tabs on Milton Bradley, given that he's likely to break out the crazy juice at any moment. Kiko Calero is a great name for a fashion designer, and Admiral Halsey threw some perfectly respectable innings after coming over from Arizona. The pen is solid. They're going to get stomped.
First Round
Tigers over Yankees (3-2)
Twins over A's (3-1)
Second Round
Tigers over Twins (4-2)
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