I've been thinking a lot about Tom Glavine lately. It began on Sunday as I drove home from Boston. I was listening to my iPod through one of those jacks that goes through the cigarette lighter when all of a sudden the music cut out and a frowny face appeared on my iPod's display.
The face couldn't be talked to or reasoned with; instead, it's pixelated look of infirmaty taunted me, and I was forced to the indignity of terrestrial radio. Finding nothing worth listening to on I-90, I quickly made the jump to WFAN, where none other than Tommy the Spy was being interviewed.
Glavine was at some awards function or another along with Carlos Delgado and Ryan Howard, among others.
Like virtually every other interview he's given in a Met uniform, Glavine's interview ultimately touched upon his quest for 300 wins. There was nothing new here; Glavine mentioned that yes, he was excited; no he wouldn't let it overshadow the team; more of the same.
All of it got me thinking though as to how I expect the fans to react when Glavine records win No. 300, whenever that is. Tommy will get a standing ovation one way or another, that's obvious. But when he finally reaches the plateau, will we, as Mets fans, feel any ownership over that record?
It's an issue that comes up rather frequently in the era of free agency. Here are some highlights from last season:
1. Mike Piazza hits career home run No. 400... as a Padre.
2. Billy Wagner records save No. 300... as a Met.
3. Randy Johnson records strikeout No. 4500... as a Yankee.
All three of these guys have somewhat complex lineages. Ask a random group of fans what team they identify Piazza, Wagner or Johnson with, and chances are you'll get different answers. (I'd guess mostly Mets with Piazza, 50-50 split for Wagner Philly/Houston, mostly D-Backs for Johnson, some Mariners).
In any case, not one of those players would be identified as members of the teams they set their personal milestones with. None of that stopped the fans in San Diego from giving Piazza a rousing ovation when he hit his 400th career HR, but was their heart in it? Could it possibly have been?
(Note: I just gave a quick search on YouTube for the video of Piazza hitting that homerun off of Trevor Hoffman way back in the day. My search came up empty, but when you search for "Mike Piazza", on the second page of videos is one titled "Holy Homosexuals Part 3 of 3" -- that guy just can't win.)
It's not those fans' fault that they weren't there for any of the first 397 homeruns, but it leaves them at a loss when the big 4-0-0 comes around. When the big moment comes they stand and applaud, but they don't own the moment the way the fans at Shea would have owned Piazza's 400th.
Will it be the same for Glavine? By the time Glavine becomes a member of the 300-club, a grand total of 58 of his career victories will have come as a member of the New York Mets, slightly less than 1 in 5.
Glavine's career was clearly defined by his tenure with the Braves. I think a lot of Mets fans think of Glavine as one of their own by this point, but I doubt many of them kid themselves into thinking that Glavine will wear a Mets cap on his Hall of Fame plaque someday.
Nevertheless, I find I feel a sense of ownership over Glavine's pursuit of 300. A not insignificant part of that ownership is likely thanks to the fact, mentioned earlier, that talk of 300 wins has surrounded Glavine since he signed with the Mets.
At the start of 2003 we wondered if he had enough good years left to reach the milestone. Before 2004 it looked like it would take a miracle. Before 2005 we reminded ourselves of Glavine's strong first half a year earlier, and decided he might have a chance if he pitched like that again. Before 2006 we reminded ourselves about his strong second half a year earlier and decided it'd take his first half of '04 and his second half of '05 to put him back in serious contention. And that's what he did.
The point is that we've been talking about this whole chase for as long as Glavine's been a Met. So when the day comes this June (hopefully) or July (perhaps more realistically) when Glavine notches career win No. 300, I expect the Shea faithful to give Glavine a rousing, heartfelt cheer.
It shouldn't be the same as it might have been had Piazza hit No. 400 as a Met -- many of Glavine's wins came at our expense after all, and that doesn't even touch on any playoff victories he earned against us (Game 3, 1999 NLCS, anyone?).
But in suffering along with us in 2003/2004 and being the ace of the staff during the best season we'd seen in 18 years, Glavine deserves his respect. And when the big moment arrives and Glavine puts win No. 300 in the record books, we as Mets fans deserve to feel like we've earned it, too.
(Note: A piece from A.F.O.M.G. will follow later this afternoon.)
What a wild and wacky week with the orange and blue. Just when you think they have finally succumbed to their own doo doo wackness, they shock the world... just like Babel at the Globes. I feel like the Knicks never have guys go for 50+, and they rarely beat the Lake Show at home, even without KB24 it's a big win.
So I'm watching the game last night for the second time on tivo with the one and only Chef Anthony Mason. Here are some of the comments made...
"He is a big man. Wow. That's impressive..." In reference to Jared Jeffries being listed at 6'11
"This is a team, Rhymes..."
"Eddy Curry needs to get a jump shot."
"He could challenge for NBA rebounding title. Look at him! He's a beast. David Lee is an absolute rebounding machine."
"I was watching footage of Malik Rose from 1999 yesterday, and even back then he looked old. It's 2007, that's wack."
His insight and intuitive feel for the game is invaluable. A true fan, hand down the pants, knows the team and its history inside out; it has been a true honor to watch this game on tivo with an old Knick fan and friend.
Good celeb sightings tonight. Spike, Jon Stewart, Nick Lachey with Vanessa Minillo but they didnt mention her or her flyness.
Ronni Turiaf is a circus clown. So glad he is not a Knick. His shit is cool and funny for about 5 games. What a douche. He will be out of the league in 2 years.
Am I spoiled by Big EC's 19pts and 7bds? Or do I deserve a 22 and 12 guy? No way he should be an All-Star. I am cool with that, and still very happy with dude's progress this season. I believe he is the truth, but the truth has yet to be told.
Dwight Howard, Ben Wallace, and the Big Diesel will get the spots in Vegas. Something tells me though that even if the call from the commish doesn't come for our Hood Boy in the Paint, the big guy will still be out in Vegas with a couple stacks and some dimes at a Diddy party... I love Diddy.
While the second Heat and Laker wins were solid and good building spots for the squad, the loses to the Nets, Suns, Heat the first time, and those pesky Bobcats. Even the Bucks were too mighty a task to accomplish.
But they need to start taking pride in defending their home court, which they did tonight. They are a better team with Q Rich, who was nowhere to be found tonight. So many turn overs. Jared Jeffries losing his contact lens was his highlight so far as a Knick.
In one of the worst decisions of my young life I agreed to go with Section 423 writer Chris Childs to a screening of "Because I Said So" - the new Mandy Moore/Diane Keaton flick - in exchange for a free dinner. He had to go for work and I have been trying to conserve the funds since the expensive road trip.
The trip to the movies, about 90 minutes of just pure badness (not even good chick flick shit) really had me thinking negative. How could this movie be made and while I'm still unemployed, I thought? Something's gotta give!
So I thought of other things that stink: Stomach aches, crappy Taco Bell, blisters and then it rang in my head..
It's been a while since I bashed the Knicks. Maybe it was all this sense of false optimism floating through New York City. Or maybe it was that I was on the road and I just didn't really care.
But since I have moved out to LA I have noticed a few things about the NBA. My roommates, two old friends since 5th grade, are both big basketball fans and huge Knick fans. Accordingly, I have NBA league pass in my house, one of the most underrated purchases any sports fan can make.
Of course I am a baseball guy first and then I am a football guy, but I don't hate the NBA. In fact, these days I am really loving it.
On any given night at any given time you can put on the NBA and find a game that is watchable. It takes very little - sad to say - to make my watchability list. Below is a list of criteria.
1. A winning team 2. A graceful team 3. An exciting superstar 4. An exciting young player
There are 30 teams in the NBA and of those teams I counted 25 of them that easily meet at least one of the criteria on the list above.
The only five teams that did not make the list?
1. The Sixers: REBUILDING 2. The Bucks: Young and Rebuilding 3. The Kings: Bad 4. The Sonics: Young and bad
I can't watch these teams play. Put two of them against each other and I would rather watch the Cooking Channel - another fixture in my house may I add.
The 5th team on this list, and by far and away the worst case of all the teams, your New York Knicks.
Take a look at the criteria above.
1. A winning team
The Knicks are not close. They are the 10th seed in the Eastern Conference in what may be the worst conference in the history of sports. They are 12-17 in conference and can lose to any team on any night.
2. Graceful
This they are not. I can watch the Spurs play at any time just because, for me, it is beautiful to watch a veteran team perfectly execute. The Knicks don't really have a semblance of an offense, they don't pass well... etc.
3. The exciting superstar
The Knicks have plenty of players paid like superstars but I don't think you can argue that the Knicks have any of the top 40 players in basketball. I'll say it again, top 40.
4. Exciting young players
Call David Lee's 10-10 exciting and I will make much stronger arguments for Kevin Martin, Luke Ridnour and Andre Iguodola. Lee has been great, but you do not watch a game to watch him play.
Do players get more boring than Channing Frye? He is Tim Duncan with 1/10th the skill.
Nate Robinson? His shtick is so tired. We all get it. You are little and you try hard. But all you do is take bad shots. Aren't little people by nature passers. Balkman? I'll say it again, I am a better shooter than Renaldo Balkman.
The fact is, the Knicks are pretty much an unwatchable product. The world's most famous arena is equipped with perhaps the world's most boring team.
There are a few positives out of all of this.
1. Due to a lack of cap flexibility and the Eddy Curry deal, this Knicks roster will remian virtually the same for the next couple of years, so at least we will get used to the boredom.
2.
Kevin Durant and Greg Oden will hopefully end up in the Eastern Conference, so at least we might get a chance to see them play 3-4 times next year instead of the potential 82 games that might have happened had we held onto our draft pick in one of the greatest drafts ever.
3. Isiah will be gone after this year or I might kill myself. In a recent interview Isiah claimed that he left David Lee on the bench because Lee was playing well and that is obviously because of him not starting. Why would you mess with success? In short, Isiah is truly a moron.
When you guys get a chance, peep the Pacers. They may look boring on paper, but Rick Carlisle really knows how to coach basketball. It is actually really refreshing.
Trees Grow in California, and Rose Bowls Never Bloom. Thanks Again.
(A piece from Sip will follow later this afternoon.)
Dear Insufferable Tree-Hugging Dipshits:
Hello. If you read this blog, you know me as the Y2K-U college correspondent. (Of course, I know that you don’t read this blog, because we don’t care for insufferable tree-hugging dipshits around these parts).
But before I was making the world a marginally better place for Sip and the Glass here at Y2K, I penned a column in one of the local rags. So I kinda know what it’s like to have a good portion of the town being irritated by you. To paraphrase Randy Jackson, I feel ya, dawgs.
But then again, I most assuredly do not feel ya, dawgs. Because you, and your kind, are personally responsible for derailing a $125 million project that would have made it a better world for all Cal students, as well as those of us alumni who don’t think it’s a mortal sin to have a reputable football team as well as happy students representing the alma mater. And for what? California oak trees. Yes, three dozen fucking trees.
And never mind that the school had promised to plant 100 of your beloved trees if the project had gone forward. Nor that the school will lose $8 to $10 million in construction costs when you lose your frivolous suit at trial. Nor that they’ve used yet more money to drill on the land to assure that it is seismically fit to withstand your other bullshit excuse for the lawsuit, that of the “it’s near a fault line and we’re scared, wah!”).
And certainly don’t worry that all this money will come directly out of the students’ pockets, and that no matter how much you dislike the University of California, your piece-of-crap town would turn into North GD Oakland if UC were ever to take its flagship school elsewhere.
Oh, and screw you, Zachary RunningWolf, who is quoted as saying how emotional it is to get this huge victory, but that he won’t come down from his beloved tree just yet. I don’t know Mr. RunningWolf, but my hunch is that he is a bit of an attention whore. Perhaps he could put his ample spare time into corresponding with a beautiful woman after his own heart in her current insatiable desire for the spotlight. That way, he could perhaps attend the Super Bowl instead of LIVING IN A &(*#&^ TREE!
Because I’ve been asked to wrap this up, I don’t have time to give my full thoughts on Berkeley mayor Tom “Whaddya mean it isn’t 1964 anymore???” Bates or Judge Barbara “I really want to be re-elected by the tree wackos, so you’ll have to excuse my ignorance of the law” Miller.
But I would be remiss not to give my final 18-inch, spiked anal probe of a “Fuck you” to Stephen Volker, who is representing the crucial interests of the California Oak Foundation. After all, as Mr. Volker so eloquently put it, the loss of 36 oak trees would be “irreparable and forever.”
You know what would be better than those trees forever, Mr. Volker? If the long-suffering Bears fans – and yours truly, by no means long-suffering but a possible donor nonetheless – could go to freaking Rose Bowl in our lifetimes!
But instead, we have you and your irreparable loss of oak trees. So for not only giving Californians a bad name, but our noble profession a yet worse one, I wish you a lifetime of irreparable loss of clients and joie de vivre.
One last note to the dipshits – please, follow my advice and e-mail the Super Bowl date girl above. That way, for once in your pathetic existences, maybe you’ll have a chance to actually get laid instead of just fucking over the rest of us.
I just saw Willie Randolph online at the unemployment office. He was trying to convince the government why he should get that extra $400 per week after taking pennies on the dollar to defend his National Leage East title.
It's Monday, but I have no case of the Monday's. That is because it is 75 degrees in LA every day. In New York when you're bored and broke you are relegated to your couch for entertainment, stuck in your apartment due to fear of cold weather.
You say to yourself, "I cannot watch anymore coverag about Peyton Manning's thumb or the all-black coaching battle in the Super Bowl," only to then tune back into ESPN with the prayer that something else might come on. That thing you see is the death of a horse and you want to shoot yourself.
Out here, things are different. A walk to 7-11 to get your morning cup of coffee and you don't get angry, you feel like you are on vacation.
In fact it is imposssible to have a case of the Monday's. You could be the biggest horse racing fan in the world and still not be upset.
Because Monday's are television heaven. I am not talking about what was perhaps the most boring Monday Night Football Season ever.
I am talking back to back 24 and and the second year man out of the pen.
You all know how I feel about 24. It is the Wright, Reyes, Beltran of television. It is my core. It has the talent, power and speed to dominate now and dominate in 5 years. This season hasn't really disappointed. Jack's vampire escape in the first episode was a top-5 Bauer moment.
24 is my crack. I never took drugs and we here at Yankees 2000 are a drug-free blog. But if 24 feels anything like heroin, then shoot it up fellas. I live for that.
I knew 24 would be there for me. She always is and she always will be. But games are won by the bullpen and I needed something else to close the night out.
I signalled for the Righty, Lauren Conrad, and the cast of the MTV smash, The Hills, and all was good.
Just like its mother show, Laguna Beach, the Hills started off decently in Season 1 only to emerge as a sensation in its sophomore season. Dare I say Duaner Sanchez? With LC getting dumber, Heidi getting hotter, the dude who is playing Heidi and Audrina and the out of nowhere emergence of Brody Jenner -- incapable of speaking in anything but cliched pick-up lines -- the Hills really has turned into Must-See TV.
It's been a while since I was last sucked into MTV reality. The Dual didn't do it for me and this recent class at Laguna Beach high didn't draw me in. Dare we say Anderson Hernandez?
But These Hills. Maybe it is that I live in Hollywood. Or maybe it's cause I hit LA's "Cool Lunch" scene and saw Jason and Talan at the table next to me. That's right, in LA, they don't just do lunch. They do "Cool Lunch."
All the waiters are models, the brunch is served "extra chill" and the food takes a backseat to "the being seen" factor.
LA is so weird.
But yeah, with the biggest thing in baseball being a recent signing of Aaron Sele - this guy had huge upside in 1991 - and the biggest thing in sports, other than the new look Pacers, is the death of a horse, it is time to curb your TV appetites and give some things a shot.
I am happy to have the debate about whether to wait for 24 to come out on DVD. I am also happy to forget that Season 5 of the show ever happened.
But if you want entertainment and you just can't wait for a DVD, then 10 p.m. tonight on MTV.
(Note: A piece from Sip will follow later this afternoon.)
It’s not every week that one’s favorite team in all the land scores the last 15 points of a game to win by 1, so, uh, let’s get right to it.
1. And elsewhere, it appears a pig has just flown outside my window.
Just last week and the week before in this space, yours truly was whining about how it was February of 2005 since Virginia had won a road game outside the Commonwealth. To channel my inner Verne Lundquist, then, “oh my!”, as the Cavs have swept an ACC road trip for the first time in five years or so.
The game yesterday, in which Virginia rallied from 63-49 to end the game on a 15-0 run at a top-20 ranked Clemson team was the crowning moment on the best stretch for the program in a long, long time. To pull out the old “this is why we watch” chestnut, it was pure goosebumps to hear the random announcer say during a different game, “the Cavaliers have put themselves in the middle of the ACC race.”
2. The best sports news I’ve heard this year.
It was obvious that one Virginia item would not do in this column, so let’s turn to Sean Singletary, the best player the Cavs have had in quite some time. It was the 6-foot Singletary, who jumped over two Clemson forwards to pull down a rebound in the final 20 seconds, land directly on his back, and still have the presence of mind to keep the play alive without traveling, leading to the game-winning tip-in. (You’ll excuse the run-on sentence, but I’m still excited hours later).
Singletary also announced earlier this week that he would return to Virginia next season for his senior campaign. If true, this is a Mark Mangino-big factoid for the Cavs.
3. In other superlatives, the least likely sentence to ever appear in this blog.
Yes, I’ll admit it, Gregg Doyel said it best. It may not be that your team gets the benefit of every close call in the history of ever, it’s more that you feel entitled to it. And sure, once or twice a year, the conference has to apologize for handing you a game, and maybe suspend the referees involved, but no matter because Mr. Leader-Not-A-Coach says how his players deserved to win.
And that celebration you saw, that pig-pile after eking past the basketball factory that is Clemson, yes, that celebration – pay close attention, Virginia Tech, because that’s what a “classy” celebration is all about. Indeed, Mr. Doyel said it right – “this is why people hate Duke.”
4. My apologies that all the interesting stories came out of the ACC this week.
Finally, the most impressive performance by any team out there over the past 7 days was put forth by North Carolina, who ran Arizona off its own floor in a 92-64 shellacking. It was the worst loss of Lute Olson’s home career in Tucson, and it came without UNC’s second-leading scorer and rebounder, Brandan Wright, who missed the game with an illness.
Since all the non-ACC fans have stopped reading, I’ll just say this—if not for Oden and Durant, then you’d sure hear a lot more about how absurdly talented Wright is. So Carolina is probably pretty good.
5. Take hands. Place on head in Manning-like fashion.
Not much happening in Jayhawk-land with a couple 20+-point victories against overmatched foes. But there was this. Yes, it’s another absurdly talented college player named Wright, probably wishing he was ill like Brandan.
6. Meanwhile, in the best conference in the land.
For the Pac-10 item of the week, let’s toss a bone to one of our more, uh, insistent commenters here at Y2K. After all, the Stanford Cardinal (named after the color, not the bird, and therefore obviously in the singular) deserve some more exposure in this here space.
So, here goes: Way to blow your big chance against UCLA, Trent! National TV, and that’s all you’ve got? Getting absolutely housed on your home floor? Pretty pathetic, if you ask me! What? They beat UCLA? From 17 points down? Brook Lopez is such a beast, and that’s a helluva comeback, if you ask me! Also, if you ask me if I’m an immature and envious owner of a Cal degree, then the answer is yes.
7. This guy here is dead! Cross him off, then.
Quickly, who is the second best team in the SEC? I could have saved this for final question, but it deserves a little more publicity. Namely, after Florida, the SEC really is nothing to see. Is it possible that the penultimate squad is Vanderbilt, who lost to Furman and Appalachian State? Is it Kentucky, who just lost at home to the Commodores?
No, at this point, it appears the answer is Georgia. Yes, Georgia, who dropped their second game of the year to Western Kentucky. Honestly, when looking at the Bulldogs’ roster, I felt like the GM in “Major League”. (“I've never heard of half of these guys and the ones I do know are way past their prime…” “… Most of these guys never had a prime….”)
8. Sorry you didn’t win the million dollars. Here’s a year’s supply of Tide.
Seemed like a lot of headline writers had some fun with Troy Smith outdueling Chris Leak to win the Senior Bowl. Well, to them I say this…okay, I got nothing. Kinda amusing, actually.
9. Club Fed.
Perhaps the most interesting debate of the weekend is Roger Federer against Tiger Woods for SportsPerson of the New Millennium. I think I come down with Federer on this one, for the simple fact that he may never lose again.
Aside from not dropping a set in the entire Australian Open, Federer’s greatness is now defined by the fact that there are no remaining humans who think they have a chance against him. For evidence, witness Andy Roddick, playing the best tennis of his life, just laughing at the postmatch press conference after being dismantled.
I just don’t think Tiger holding off Andrew Buckle and Charles Howell III is as impressive.
10. Final Question.
If this entry was too Virginia- and ACC-centric, how bad will it be if the Hoos take down the Evil Empire on Thursday in front of Dookie V? Stay tuned…
SENT: 01/25/07, 14:43 GMT FROM: Agent Cashman <"brian.cashman@newyork.yankees.mlb.com"> TO: President Hu <"hu.jintao@english.gov.cn"> CC: Agent Steinbrenner <"george.steinbrenner@newyork.yankees.mlb.com">, Agent Johnson <"randy.johnson@arizona.diamondbacks.mlb.com">, Special Agent Emanski <"te@tom-emanski-baseball-videos.com">
SUBJECT: Our new venture
Well, it looks like they bought it? Can you believe it? Neither can I. A baseball factory in China indeed. I actually pitched a reporter on a lead comparing our new venture to the other famous academies throughout history - West Point, Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, Hogwarts. He almost went for it, the idiot.
Agent Johnson, I'm especially glad to see that your negativity remained unjustified. To be sure, we all agreed that China's lackluster performance in the World Baseball Classic would present something of an informational hurdle. The 40-6 aggregate scoreline was not what we had hoped for. And more outlets than we would have preferred led with the fact that China has never produced a minor-league player, never mind a major-leaguer.
But that's the news media for you. Dangle shiny concepts like "potential" and "growth" in front of their faces, and they'll walk right off a cliff. Like lemmings, but with slower reaction time. Comes from being fat and out of shape.
Agent Steinbrenner, I have you on tape at our previous meeting saying the following: "Who'll believe we would open an academy in a country where there's not a single damn prospect amongst a billion people?" Everyone, that's who. Your speaking privileges have been revoked.
Still, we must be ever vigilant. Information is out there that cannot be reclaimed, but continuing to manage details such as the following will go a long way toward keeping our true purposes concealed.
The Yankees have been working with the Chinese Baseball Association for more than six months to forge a relationship that would allow the Yankees to send coaches, scouts and trainers to China.
The media will not slumber forever. We know the project will not be completed without some information leaking out, and those digging for more will use nuggets such as the preceding paragraph to start their search. Proper preparation will allow all our representatives to deflect these inquiries with ease.
What kind of relationship is ours? "Completely apolitical. We just want to play beisbol."
What have these negotiations been concerning? "Nothing at all to do with this, and why are you asking?"
What kind of skills do your coaches and trainers have? "Why, we don't even know what a satellite is! This interview is over." In fact, the moment you hear anything like "kinetic kill vehicle" come out of the mouths of one of these reporter punks, consider Protocol Alcantara to be authorized. Let's see how curious they are after that.
Our visit to Beijing next week will take place as planned. Agent Levine and the rest of the delegation have received their orders, and have been briefed as to the pick-up and drop-off points for the items in question. They will also have the black and white cookies you requested. One of your men can pick those up at the hotel desk.
The front posture must be refreshed with the passage of time. I don't need to tell you that our cover will be immeasurably improved should our "academy" actually manage to produce a player of any worth.
Hahahaha. Sorry, I know. I can't help myself sometimes.
No, seriously, Special Agent Emanski, we appreciate your volunteering for such a thankless and inevitably fruitless task. The compensation alone, while ample, could not have been enough to persuade you to leave your back-to-back-to-back national champions in a country where the citizenry have actually heard of the game. Your patriotism is remarkable, and has not gone unrecognized in certain quarters.
I have nothing further at this point, aside from a reminder that while the new Secretary General and his co-conspirators in Tokyo can plant their people as close to our operation as they please, they can do nothing to affect our own security. Stay alert, be strong, and all will go smoothly.
And in nine months, we will have Agent Yi at our disposal, and the revolution can begin in earnest.
Farewell for now,
Agent Cashman
(Note: Images courtesy of mlb.com, telegraph.co.uk, and sportsmed.starwave.com)
(Note: The latest in our Section 423 column on the Knicks appears immediately below.)
My move to LA has been an interesting one. On Wednesday I played basketball with Nellie and Freddie Mitchell, even getting into a verbal battle with the man from the Lou only to then reunite at the bench press to talk some Big 12 basketball.
LA has been very LA. A lot of good, but one very big bad.
This city does not have any fucking key chains. Call me crazy. How hard can it be to find a key chain? Well that's what I thought. I figured you go to a 7-11, a CVS gas station and one of them would have a key chain. Apparently not. So I am very upset and now turning to you, my readers. If any of you have a good key chain for me let me know, this is really starting to irk me.
Irk indeed until I figured out where all the key chains went. They went to our manager, the king of the fresh toasted sub, and our favorite Yankee turncoat, Willie Randolph.
On Wednesday Willie signed a three year extension. When I saw this on the ESPN bottom line I assumed that the contract would be for somewhere between $9-12 million dollars. After all, this was the manager of the division champion Mets who share a city with Joe Torre, who makes around $7 million per.
So I was completely shocked when I found out that Willie was only getting $5.7 mil for the deal. Isn't that what Victor Zambrano is worth on the open market? The deal didn't make sense to me. Why was Willie getting paid so little to manage such a high profile team fresh off its best season in years?
That's when I returned to my key chain dilemma.
Using one of the many connections that the blogosphere has provided me with over the years, I called a friend who works for the Mets to dig up some dirt. He told me that Willie's stance in the negotiation was clear from the beginning.
He wanted good money, but more importantly his own subway sandwich commercial and a lifetime supply of keychains.
I get the subway thing. It was always Willie vs. Joe and this needs to be Willie's town. Right?
But keychains? Apparently Willie has a long list of "keys" to the Mets upcoming season. From Jose Reyes' comntinued improvement to the musical growth of Cowbell-Man, many "key" things would lead to a succesful 2007 campaign.
And so is solved my keychain dilemma. Willie has them all.
I am not bitter. They could not have gone to a better man and leader. I am happy to have Willie back on board. Willie does things Willie's way and that's cool with me.
What is not cool is that I have lost the key to my apartment like 10 times in four days and in fact, I have no idea where it is now. I dream of one of those lacrosse laniards where I can swing my key around all day long.
So again, to you my readers, someone break into Willie's office and make something happen. A happy Sip is a blogging Sip. Otherwise, more rants about keychains to come.
Stay low.
Vaya con dios,
Sip
(Pics courtesy of myspace, post-gazette.com, 2000magazine.com, billiardpro.com)
(Note: Sip will be in with a post later this afternoon.)
As me and the star of Woody Allen's 'Celebrity' do it big in Park City Utah for the Sundance Film Festival, it has become evident that the Knicks have turned the corner. The orange and blue are no longer the laughing stock of the league, or professional sports.
Sitting at a bankhead in Tao, the Utah edition, with Danny Masterson, we have a nice laugh about the Philadelphia 76ers. 'That 70's" dude actually knows his Knicks, knows that things won't really change until big E.C. starts dominating the glass. 7 boards a game is just unacceptable.
Josh Hartnett, a fellow douchebag turned cool dude, loved watching the boys in Indy struggle in a nail biter. Yankee hater Mike Dunleavy is crushed by the move to the midwest, but even more crushed by how Steph and co. handled business on the road earlier this week.
The Knicks are hanging tough, it's almost the All Star Game, and they are still in the playoff hunt, despite being under .500.
Would it be bittersweet if they made the playoffs, and got swept in the first round? Yes and no. It's obvious watching them play against the Heat that they are really a JV team, but still, bringing playoff basketball back to the Garden is worth it for me, no matter what happens.
Meanwhile, former ESPN dude, and recently turned Entertainment Tonight douche Kevin Frazier is the lone loser in Utah who thinks it would be a bad thing for the squad to make the playoffs. Go interview Tara Reid and suck my ass, son!!
It seems young Ryan had made a habit out of forging media passes so as to gain entry to parties and proximity to celebrities, meeting Sean "Diddy" Combs and Tom "Jesus" Cruise and posting the pictures on his MySpace page (OMG!).
Last August a different opportunity arose. Mike Piazza returned to Shea as a member of the San Diego Padres, so Leli forged himself a fake press pass and made his way into the visiting clubhouse where he proceeded to ask an annoying line of questions, the likes of which Kilgannon does not divulge.
It all got me to thinking; in the 24 years I've been a fan of this team, there really have been some great personalities. Divided into the 7 eras of Mets baseball over the past 24 years as I remember them, here are some of the players I would make a bogus press pass just to interview, and some questions I would ask. These aren't the only ones I'd want to speak with, mind you, just the first who come to mind:
1982-1986 - Building a Winner: Keith Hernandez
It was either Keith Hernandez or Raf Santana for me. I love Keith as a Mets broadcaster, as a Just for Men pitchman, and as a Seinfeld guest star. The truth is though, I don't know the man as a player, or as the emotional leader of a championship club.
Keith was with the Mets through 95 games of a dreadful 1983 season that saw our boys win 68 games. The next year it 90. Might have had something to do with Doc, sure, but Mex was a catalyst as well, batting .311 with a .409 OBP and 94 RBI.
If I could ask him one question: Did you ever, at any point in your career, consider the possibility that you wouldn't make the Hall of Fame?
1987-1990: Dynasty? What Dynasty?: Dwight Gooden
Dr. K. I can only imagine the excitement in this town when Gooden first came up, when he was winning Cy Young Awards, striking 260-plus batters out per year, winning ERA titles. I can't imagine how exciting that would have been.
In the years after the championship and before the team completely fell apart, Doc still had good years, but he wasn't what people had expected him to be. The sheer dominance was gone, as drugs began to wreak havoc on the good doctor.
1990 was his last hurrah as a Met. Seven years of at times stellar, always good production out of a guy should be enough. With Doc it never would be.
If I could ask him one question: What would you give to go back in time and refuse that first hit?
1991-1996: Holy shit this team is bad: Carl Everett
There's an old SportsChannel ad that used to run back in the day. The set-up was the Mets had just arrived at their hotel, and Everett was mobbed by fans asking for autographs. One fan hands him a ball, the next a glove, the next a card. Then someone hands him a kitchen sink, and as casually as the ball, glove or card, Everett lends his signature. It was bizarre but perfect; I don't know that I've seen a more humorous Mets ad since.
God knows Jurassic Carl wasn't my favorite Met from this era, nor was he the most notorious. But I have no doubt that he'd be a hell of an interview, whether discussing the Pentecost or the Pleistocene.
If I could ask him one question: Explain it to me one more time, what makes you think the dinosaurs never existed?
1997-1998: Resurgence: Rey-Rey
Remember when Rey Ordonez first came up? There was once a Continental Airlines featuring Bobby Valentine and Joe Torre. They were on a plane, unexpectedly sitting right next to one another. A series of statements flashed on the screen, a series of things the skippers didn't agree on before stating that they agreed on Continental Airlines.
In any event, one of those things was "They don't agree on who's got the best shortstop in town." Think about that. Any Met fan who was at Opening Day 1996, when Rey Ordonez threw out some Cardinal or other from his knees, loves Rey-Rey to this day. But honestly, there was never any debate here. Ordonez was a one-dimensional, basically shitty player with an entitlement complex. He was a Met.
If I could ask him one question: Rey, in 1999 you dyed your hair orange and proceeded to raise your average to .300. You hit .246 for your career. Did it ever occur to you to keep your hair orange, if only for the sake of superstition?
1999-2001: Legit again: Robin Ventura
This is a tough one as I find Bobby Valentine one of the most fascinating figures in recent Met history. Robin though, what a personality. There's the time at Yankee Stadium when he put on a fake mustache and did his Mike Piazza impression. There's the O.O.T.G.C.O.A.T., when Robin made two outs in one inning and said he did it so that the fans could see some fireworks. There's "L.A. Woman."
I think there's a generation of Mets fans out there who would love to sit down with Robin have a cold beer, talk some Mets, talk some Nolan Ryan.
If I could ask one question: Robin, did you ever see anything out of Piazza in the clubhouse that made you wonder if, you know... ahh forget it.
2002-2004: Holy shit this team is bad, redux: Cliff Floyd
This one needs no explanation. From all accounts he was the most entertaining interview in the Mets clubhouse the last 4 years, or if nothing else, the most honest. Cliffy spoke his mind, more than once irking management, but never more so than when he delivered his famous "There is no light at the end of the tunnel" declaration.
I'm glad to hear that a deal with his hometown Cubbies is most likely in the offing. The Cubs have spent a ton this offseason, and figure to be an interesting team in 2007. A solid clubhouse presence like Cliff always helps. He'll be missed.
If I could ask one question: Do you still have visions of hitting a game-winning 3-run homer against Adam Wainwright in Game 7 of the 2006 NLCS? 'Cause I still do.
2005-2006: Next Year Is Now: Pedro Martinez
I was tempted to say Jose Reyes, but look, Mr. Glass and me are friends -- I don't need no phony press pass to talk to him.
But then there's Petey. Cute, loveable Petey, the man with the abnormally long fingers for mowing batters down and the implausibly green thumb for wrecking shit on the flora tip.
Only the arrival of Mike Piazza before him had remotely the kind of impact that Pedro's signing with the Mets did. Both moves transformed the franchise. The Mets were down and out at the end of 2004, but then Omar got Petey to sign, then Carlos Beltran, then Doug Mientki... well, you get the idea.
Overnight, the Mets were sexy again, dead sexy. And it all started with a jheri-curled trickster whose halcyon days were spent curled under a mango tree far, far away.
If I could ask one question: When you leave an organization and a town that loves you, what is that like?
* * * * *
And that's it for me. If you could speak to a Met from these or other eras, who would it be?
- A.F.O.M.G.
(Images courtesy of mlb.com, sportsresourcezone.net, and thefinkfile.blogspot.com)
The time was last August. The Mets and their fans smelled the postseason for the first time in six years, and the all around feeling surrounding the club was one of nothing but happiness and optimism.
In early August Omar Minaya secured a pair of what at the time looked like generous deals for his cornerstone infielders, David Wright and Jose Reyes (Wright - 6YR, $55 mil/Reyes - 4YR, $23.25 mil).
I remember receiving phone calls from the regulars talking about the extensions and whether or not the dollar figures made a lot of sense for players yet to hit arbitration.
At the time, both deals seemed solid. Today, they seem like highway robbery.
Earlier this week the Phillies signed 2B Chase Utley to a 7 YR, $85 million contract, avoiding arbitration with their superstar second baseman. Like Wright and Reyes, Utley has made a quick jump to superstardom with an even brighter future ahead.
Like Reyes and unlike Wright, Utley qualified for arbitration, but his contract was clearly the product of this crazy offseason, and the Mets are the better off for it; Utley's deal makes the Mets' deals seem like small potatoes.
The fact that the Mets are spending $78 million to have Wright and Reyes for a combined 10 years is just an utter steal, especially when you consider that the Phillies are paying more dollars for one less talented player. We are basically getting two better players for the price of one.
That's right, I said it. Our guys are both better than Utley. Take Utley or any Phillie out of Citizen's Park and then let's see where their numbers are. But that is not where I want to go with this.
Our left side steals lead to the question that we have asked so many times with Omar Minaya. Is he really smart or really lucky?
Did he know Duaner Sanchez would become a star relief pitcher?
Was John Maine more than just a throw-in in the Benson-Julio deal?
Did Omar know that he needed to sign his superstars before this offseason to avoid the backlash of a new CBA and crazy contracts or was he bored once the trade deadline had passed and needed something to do in the month of August?
These are all questions that have never really been addressed and could use some answering. It surely wasn't rocket science to overpay for Pedro Martinez and Carlos Beltran, but it may have been to know that overpaying for them would lead to veterans like Moises Alou taking pay cuts to play for the Mets.
Any way you hack it, the Mets are in a pretty decent situation. Despite a million question marks in the starting rotation, the Mets remain with what appears to be one shaky contract, Pedro's (if he ever pitches again), but otherwise a ton of reasonable deals for some exceptional players.
As for young Sip, I am still trying to adjust to my new California digs, find a job, a lamp, a couple of end tables and pictures for my room, an extra role in the upcoming Elisha Cutherbert slasher flick and then a little thing called dignity.
As for baseball, well, this is a slow time of year over here, it really is. Baseball is dead.
Agree with Cousin Dan -- big up to Sip and Cousin Tonks for completing their epic cross-country drive and finally reaching the coast. Like Lewis and Clark, these two, only better looking and with less chance of being hassled by unfriendly natives. Except, ironically, in L.A. That's life.
Speaking of better looking, while flipping through the Times' Arts and Leisure section yesterday (long story, please don't ask), I came across this write-up of a special night at the Opera:
"Kristen Chenoweth made a zany entrance onto the stage of the Metropolitan Opera House on Friday evening, outfitted in a New York Mets baseball shirt and cap, waving a banner and pretending to be a ditsy sports fan arriving late for a game ... After this clever feint Ms. Chenoweth, the tiny, explosively talented blond tornado from Oklahoma, whirled offstage for a few seconds before bouncing back looking like Daisy Mae, in a tight pink dress and grinning ear to ear."
Holy shit, that's hot. Really, really hot.
Wait a second ... yep. Still really hot. Jesus, it's warm in here.
I have no way of knowing how well-acquainted the Y2K readership is with Chenoweth, a wonderously intriguing 4-foot-11 sexpot out of Broken Arrow, Oklahoma. She's most celebrated for her work in musical theater, which isn't really the purview of this blog. I've seen about a million ads around for that show "Wicked," the one about the witches from the Wizard of Oz, and Chenoweth was nominated for a Tony for that. The point is, she's apparently good at what she does.
On top of that, a couple of truly awful movies ("Bewitched," "RV"). She also showed up on the last two seasons of "The West Wing," which was funny because she'd previously gone out with "West Wing" creator and noted drugged-out lunatic Aaron Sorkin, who was so broken up by the relationship that he wound up writing "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip" just to work through his emotional issues. Whoops.
If you've seen "Studio 60," Sorkin is basically writing himself as Matthew Perry's character and projecting a whole range of variously nauseating emotions onto the Chenoweth character. It's very nearly as creepy as the whole Kevin Williamson/"Dawson's Creek" exchange, and believe you me, friend, that's saying something.
So, talented and smoking superstar bursting out of a tiny little Mets t-shirt ... that should be enough, right? For a number of things, yes. But it goes beyond that. For Chenoweth, all her Broadway magic and curves considered, is at root a citizen of the heartland, and there's symbolism here worth elaborating upon.
I mentioned she was from Broken Arrow, a desolate little town outside of Tulsa which was NOT named after the Christian Slater joint. Chenoweth, in a nice twist, happens to be one-quarter Cherokee. She was also a pageant-winning sorority girl at Oklahoma City University (think Rutgers, but with fewer well-paid assistant football coaches).
Then, there's her religious side. She is apparently quite public about her faith, having released a CD of contemporary Christian music and appeared on "The 700 Club" to peform. (The avowedly athiest Sorkin made this the plot arc of "Studio 60"'s pilot episode). She doesn't drink or smoke, and she previously gave the Times this juicy quote: "I feel my purpose is to be a Christian actress, to show people that there are nonjudgmental, liberal Christians." This is hot.
But my fetishes aside, it's also meaningful. If the Mets are truly to become the best and most popular baseball club in these United States, they must be able to appeal to fans the country over. The brand must be grown; Mr. Met's family must be fruitful and multiply. Sip's been doing his part to create new supporters, going from city to city and bar to bar in his quest to spread the word about Y2K, and his outreach tour is undoubtedly paying dividends even as we speak.
But he's only one man, we are only one site, and you need to look at the demographics and ask yourself where these new Mets fans will come from. From the city and surrounding regions, yes, but many of these folks are already Mets fans, and the Yankees-Mets fan exchange process is largely a function of team success, and orthogonal to organic independent outreach.
Moreover, much of the team's current audience is well-saturated. The Mets already get the thinking man's vote, and have the urban hipster market on lock. I think it's safe to say that the Jewish contingent isn't going anywhere. The gays are pretty safely in the Amazins' camp. New immigrants to the city largely flow to Queens and Brooklyn, this making them in the current epoch Mets fans by default.
In other words, any true growth is going to have to come from elsewhere. Now, for the reasons contained in the above paragraph, you wouldn't think that red-blooded Oklahomans would be so quick to add some "NYM" gear to their closet full of Sooners swag. And indeed, you can certainly understand why your average meathead from Spavinaw might not think he has a lot in common with all those effete city-dwelling latte-sipping punks wearing the orange and blue and generally carrying on as if they'll be on the first train to Kansas City in the morning. It's a perception problem, and a sizable one.
But comes now an ally in Chenoweth, a real Bible-toting gospel-singing half-injun from the plains who -- get this! -- is down with the Mets. These people love this chick, and if she can teach them to love our team too, well, God bless her. This is what Y2K is all about.
(I know what you're thinking. "Cheddar, did you even read the article? Is she really a Mets fan? Isn't it far more likely that the whole Mets t-shirt thing was nothing more than an introductory word joke, that Chenoweth was just slumming it up at the Opera for a pun and a laugh? What's wrong with you?")
First of all, get out of my head. That's not cool. Secondly, if you don't have any imagination to speak of, that's your problem.Certain things in this world are worth standing up for, and saying, "That's just so damn cute."
(Note: The latest in our Y2K-U series appears immediately below this piece from Sip.)
I have a million reasons to be happy about Peyton Manning and the Colts beating the Patriots.
I like Peyton. I think that he is everything that is right with professional athletes. He is a good guy who works hard, loves his game and is a positive ambassador of it. In a world of felons and brawls, its nice to have a Peyton Manning around.
I also don't like the Patriots. They've won enough. They were once a nice story but now they have been the topic of too many Bill Simmons rants for me to give the time of day.
For me, you couldn't have drawn it up any better. Pats kicker makes big kick and Peyton leads the winning drive. There was the Vinatieri departure plotline and the dramatic Peyton Manning comeback. So many years later, and the monkey has been lifted off his back.
Peyton Manning is no longer a loser.
This, my friends, is why we as a community of Mets fans and Yankee haters should all be truly happy. Now, there is only one true LOSER in all of sports...
Alex Rodriguez.
This group used to include Phil Mickelson and Peyton Manning and it may very well one day include LeBron James. We can call this group, "The Anti-Vinatieri's." (Is he the biggest winner of all time?)
But right now, the only true superstar who has never won anything... once again, our boy, Alex Rodriguez.
I gotta tip the cap to my good pal Kenny From Camp. He was the first to unfold this tiny piece of truth. But it really is so true. A-Rod is now the poster child of losing. He has no close friends in his circle as he remains the one big name to never win the big one.
Sure, Peyton hasn't won the Super Bowl yet. But I don't think that is really important. He beat Brady, Belichick and the Patriots in the big stage. On Sunday he became a winner.
After 10-odd seasons in baseball, A-Rod still hasn't made it there. He has smiled for a lot of cameras, spoken a ton of cliches and put up monstrous numbers, but he remains a giant loser.
In this, we can all revel. If you hate Peyton, which many do, think of this as the ultimate positive.
That's all I got.
Live from Los Angeles, the city of brotherly love. Gorgeous.
(Note: Sip will be in with a post later this afternoon.)
I want to use the top space to give a shout out to Sip and Cousin Tonks, who just arrived in beautiful Los Angeles on Saturday. Very proud of the kids who decided it was time to root for the Mets on the cable Extra Innings package for a little while. I mean, what could possibly go wrong with that plan?
1. I left my heart in Pullman:
Let’s start with one of my favorite stories of the young season, which is taking place in the colonial outpost that is Pullman, Washington. The Wazzu Cougars absolutely clobbered their instate rivals from U-Dub on Saturday to improve to 16-3.
However, even though they’re in the top 20, I defy you to name three Cougs. I’ll start you off with leading scorer Derrick Low, one of a reasonably long list of gunners (see, e.g., Ahearn, Blake, and Graves, A.J.) who may actually be better shooters than, say, J.J. Redick. (More on J.J. later). Who you may know is coach Tony Bennett, son of former Wiscy coach Dick Bennett and a name in demand when the openings come this offseason.
2. Heartbreak is being behind the Sports Guy curve:
I wish I had talked about this one before so I could never be accused of copying Bill Simmons for college basketball knowledge. No matter, though, because it should be a bigger story that Grandpa Greg Oden isn’t even the best freshman in America.
Texas forward Kevin Durant, who at 6-9 seems to have even longer arms than Oden, is incredible insofar he gets almost all of his points starting by facing up 18 feet from the basket. Texas at 40-1 or so to win it all is pretty darn interesting right now because this guy has Carmelo-takeover written all over him. Just don’t forget Cousin Dan if you do make some bucks on it.
3. One-game losing streaks are unacceptable:
If you know me, then you know that I do frequent the college hoops message boards, especially the lunatics that follow Kansas basketball. (And I do mean lunatic is the nicest way).
In any case, Kansas lost a game on the road to the winningest coach of all time that was tied in the final minute, and the Jayhawk fans were out in force on their forum calling for Bill Self’s head. Self is a fantastic recruiter and only a decent game coach, so I can understand their frustration with a top-10 team. I will note, however, that there are about 307 Division I teams who would happily trade places.
4. Besides, it was the assistant who was the key to whole thing:
One of the fun theories put forth by my friends in item #3 is that the game-planning disappeared when assistant Norm Roberts left to take over St. John’s. Well, maybe they had a point yesterday, when the Johnnies took out red-hot Syracuse. And one of the native New Yorkers can jump in on this one, but I believe that a good St. John’s makes college basketball in this city a whole bunch more fun.
5. Perhaps leaving Milwaukee makes everyone happy:
Earlier this season, Marquette beat Duke (Yay!), then lost to some directional Dakota school (Huh?), then started losing to everybody (Zzzzzzz).
But now the Golden Eagles are back, winning at UConn, Louisville, and then Pittsburgh yesterday despite making just one field goal over the last few minutes of the game and overtime. The take here is that the Big East has a lot of good teams and no great one, and Marquette could be the best on any given day.
6. Nine times? Nine times:
Since Duke is clearly back on its way to the Final Four after handling the three worst teams in the ACC, let’s examine a more interesting subject: last year’s Dukies. You may remember J.J. Redick as the Single Greatest Shooter In The History of College Basketball. (This is how we prefer to remember him.) In any case, the SGSITHOCB has avoided the dreaded DNP-CD only nine times for the Orlando Magic this season and has already drained seven long-range jumpers.
In other hype machine news, Shelden Williams, the fifth pick of the entire draft and obviously a better choice than Randy Foye or Brandon Roy, has lit up the NBA, averaging a double-double thus far. That is, assuming the second double actually means “6.2”.
7. Update from the charity stripe:
In noting Virginia’s losses last week, the 88 free throws shot by Carolina Blue and Boston College, uh, Reddish were at the top of my mind. I guess someone got the memo, because the Cavs, pretty much playing their same offense, shot a preposterous 49 freebies of their own in Tuesday’s win over Maryland. Virginia will again search for its first win outside the Commonwealth since ’05 in visits to NC State and Clemson this week.
8. Stop me if you’ve heard this one before:
When was the last time that the Big Ten had Ohio State, one other team, and nine pretenders? Oh yeah, football season. The Buckeyes and Badgers just keep winning – including Wisconsin’s impressive victory in Champaign this past Saturday.
The only game left in the conference that matters is February 25 in Columbus. Of course, that won’t stop the Worldwide Leader from inexplicably taking College Gameday to Michigan State for the big one with Indiana the night before.
9. Then he fell down:
Sure, Peyton marched ‘em, and Addai got in at the end. But I’ll go ahead and give the Y2K-U MVP to Marlin Jackson, for not “trying to score” after picking off the last pass, and striking a blow for the intelligence of defensive backs named Marlin everywhere. (Obviously, Marlons are still in doubt).
In other news, I have to admit that I haven’t been this happy about a sporting result in years. To see Peyton finally make the shot and Tom Brady-Bundchen finally miss one was just such a freakin’ treat.
10. Final Question (Non-College Division, But I’m Enjoying the NFL Right Now):
This one’s for Messrs. Irsay and Dungy after watching the postgame interviews – if the Bears somehow pull out the Super Bowl, will you then blame the Lord?
- Cousin Dan
(Images appear courtesy of media.scout.com, nba.com and images.nfl.com)
(Note: A piece from Cheddar Ben follows this one from A.F.O.M.G.)
I had an interesting experience watching football last weekend. I was out at a friend's place in the impossibly cool Williamsburg watching the Eagles-Saints match.
You know me, I don't really care about football. I vaguely dislike the Eagles because I think Philly fans, as a general rule, suck, and because they eliminated the Giants, but at the end of the day I didn't really care who won.
But watching along with me were four absolute diehard Eagles fans, and I'll tell you, it was really interesting to see the range of emotions unfold. They watched the game in varying degrees of elation and depression, hope and hopelessness as the Eagles and the Saints squared off in what was really an excellent game, one the Saints would end up winning, 27-24.
They're emotions that I recognized instantly, but I'd never really seen them displayed on someone else's face in an atmosphere in which I was completely impartial.
I saw a lot of Yankees-Red Sox playoff games in college, but I was always rooting for the Red Sox. I haven't known any diehard fans of the teams that've won the NBA Finals the last several years, or of the teams that lost. Same goes for football.
Last Saturday's Eagles-Saints game was different though. And when it was over, and I saw the miserable look on some of their faces, and heard the what-ifs tossed around and the scrutiny of Andy Reid's decisions, it was immediately familiar.
There's never enough winning to go around in sports. One team out of 30 or so wins, and the rest fall short.
They say the highs are never as high as the lows are low. I believe it, but I'm going to have to trust the conventional wisdom on that one. I've cheered Mets teams through 162 games, through to the World Series one year even, but I've never seen a winner, not that I can remember at least.
Sometimes I get to thinking that it's a kind of suffering that only somebody uniquely situated as a Mets fan can understand. Looking around at those Eagles fans this past weekend though, hearing them say "this always happens to Philadelphia teams" (how many times have I said to myself "this always happens to the Mets"?), it made me appreciate that in many ways, being a diehard fan of a team that's never won is perhaps the most unifying constant of all.
None of it means that I'm going to start rooting for the Eagles or the Phillies or whoever else just so that their fans can feel good, but I don't know, maybe some of that fan maturation stuff Sip was talking about yesterday has rubbed off on me.
I know the suffering of those Eagles fans, even if I don't know a thing about the Eagles. It's enough to keep me from making fun of them at least.
Besides, I don't need to get my laughs doing that, not when there's old footage of Mike Tyson available on YouTube. Honestly, some of The Champ's interviews are too much. Here's a little montage to send you off into the weekend.
Can You Throw It Like a Quarterback, Third and a Lot?
Screw all of the haters, man, it's a random thoughts type of Friday. Knamean?
Mr. Met = Joe Francis
Starting with the absolute best thing of the day, this NYT article from Lee Jenkins. Unlike many Mets fans whose bond with AAA Norfolk was forged over years and years of observation, I've got no dog in the affiliate fight. You can say that the response to the organization's decision to pick up New Orleans has been quite muted; if anyone's real pissed about this, they're keeping quiet about it.
Which is fine. I've got great memories of the Buffalo Bisons housing the Zephyrs back in the day. The club started off in Denver, of course, moving when the Rockies (New Rocks! Guest post coming ...) were anointed into the Show, starting up in '93. That first team had Jose Valentin and Jeff Cirillo on it, and a knuckleballer (Steve Sparks) who caught my eye 'cause the Bisons had so recently had Tim Wakefield around.
Oh, and they had a guy named Joe Kmak who we laughed at more or less constantly during games. Kmak. Ha. That's a funny name, Kmak.
Like I said, nothing against New Orleans as a baseball town, and I think it's great the Zephyrs will have a rich organization backing them up during the lean post-Katrina times. My only concern is the effect that being exposed to the Bourbon Street atmosphere will have on our impressionable young players. I'm looking at you, Mr. Thrilledge.
It's really troubling. You've got the food, which is incredibly fattening. You've got Spike Lee running around town with his lousy Super 8, filling people's heads with nasty and dangerous notions about how "the government" has "failed" the "black community." That's about as unhealthy as it gets.
Then, on top of that, you've got the whole circus of Bourbon Street, where even the most grizzled and respected veterans have been known to give way to the temptation of the moment and confuse themselves with a "Girls Gone Wild" producer. How's that, Jenkins?
Eager to make the woman’s acquaintance, Mr. Met tossed her a string of beads from the balcony, keeping with local tradition. So began the improbable relationship between New Orleans and the Mets.
What a pimp. We've just got to watch our back, that's all I'm saying.
PECOTA and Pelfrey
Baseball Prospectus came out with its Pecota projections earlier in the week. For those of you unfamiliar with BP or their predictions, they've basically swiped one of those computers from the Flintstones with a pterodactyl inside, a real top-class rig, and have one of the top performance projectors around. The short version is that player career paths tend to be extremely similar to one another; the pterodactyl identifies which other baseballers a player is most like, and extrapolates his stats from that.
None of these systems is perfect, or even 100 percent reliable, but this one is the best thing going, and certainly worth paying attention to. So, how did the Mets come out in this thing? As a subscriber, I don't mind sharing some of my paid-for information with you good folks, so here we go.
First of all, and perhaps most reassuringly, the system is halfway bullish on Mike Pelfrey, setting his weighted mean ERA for the upcoming season at 4.30. I think most of us would take that from Pelfrey, certainly.
Unfortunately, this projection doesn't think much of his future prospects, keeping his performance basically level over the next five years. Then, the system really tries to tell you he's going to flop. His top seven comparables are all losers (Pete Munro, Ryan Madson), and No. 8 is Kris Benson himself. Freddy Garcia shows up at No. 11, but so does Grant Roberts at No. 19.
Phil Humber gets more or less the same treatment. His WHIP is projected around the same 1.41/1.42 level, but Pecota thinks his ERA will be more up near 4.75. For the long-term, his five-year projection is disgustingly similar to Pelfrey's, and the only interesting comp on his list is Jon Papelbon at No. 11. And the system thinks All-or-Nothing Ollie will not solve his control problems, and winds up with a WHIP around 1.5 and an ERA in the 5.00 range.
Now, it's worth noting that this system is a very conservative beast, in general, and that unexpected breakouts happen every season. (What up, Uggla). Also, it's fun to see that Barry Zito's projected ERA is 4.20.
But for people like me who are fairly confident in the younger fellas' ability to step up and play well next season and into the future (notwithstanding these predictions), it helps to look at stuff like this. It keeps expectations at a reasonable level, and shows what other observers are thinking. I may not buy into, but I like to see it.
Shut Up, Buster
The rapidly-decaying mind of Buster Olney, on display this very morning, in regard to the trade that sent Adam LaRoche to Pittsburgh for Mike Gonzalez:
The Atlanta bullpen does not appear to be as strong as that of the Mets, but the Braves' staff is balanced, with Gonzalez and Rafael Soriano lined up in front of Bob Wickman, and a rotation of Smoltz, Chuck James, Tim Hudson, Kyle Davies and the recovering Mike Hampton. The Braves could reclaim the NL East if Hudson, Hampton, Smoltz, et al, stay healthy.
Sure, sure. They could also reclaim the NL East if a series of killer tornados swept through the Northeast in succession and wiped out every other team in the division. But I don't think that's about to happen.
To be clear, I don't mean to say the Braves aren't a threat in the division. But if they are, it's not going to be because of Mike Freaking Gonzalez, nothing more than a real nice setup candidate to go along with Raffy Soriano. Is this guy going to give Huddy his arm back or make Smoltz 10 years younger? Draw Jeff Francoeur a mental picture of the strike zone? No?
And you can call it "a great trade" until you're blue in the face; without acknowledging the danger involved in trading for relievers (certified unpredictable) or addressing where Atlanta's going to make up their first-base production, you're wasting our time. LaRoche has platoon problems, but he also hit 32 homers and was 10th in the NL in OPS. The AJC says his replacement's going to be Scott Thorman, who hit all of .234 in 133 plate appearances last summer. Shouldn't you, um, mention that, Olney?
Root, Root Root for the Home Team
Finally, for the weekend, Y2K has to take a stand on the AFC Championship Game. Our stance, and advice, is simple. Root for the Colts like you've got nothing else to live for. Alternatively, try this on for size -- root against the Pats like your life depends on it.
See, that's the one I prefer. You can tell the Lord's on my side by the way he's stricken the New England locker room with plague and boils this week. "Lo, Rodney Harrison fell to the earth dead, and it was good." That sort of thing.
It's possible AFOMG or Sip will chime in with a thought on the NFC contest, but I can't commit myself to rooting for either of these squads. Rooting for Chicago in the interest of keeping Y2K reader and dastardly genius The Big Fella happy is certainly an appropriate course of action, but it's tough to root against the happy-go-lucky Saints.
What I'd really like is for one of the Colts' defenders (Cato June, perhaps, or that exciting young safety Bob Sanders) to lay a hit like this on the Golden Boy.
That, in concert with a more favorable game result, should do nicely.
We all root for certain teams for certain reasons. As a kid I rooted for the Mets, Rangers, Giants and Knicks because my brother liked those teams and I followed him around and did whatever he did. Very simple. I'll bet most of your stories are quite similar.
I have been a fan of those teams for my entire life. What can I say I'm a New Yorker.
Over the last couple of years you have all seen me turn on the Knicks. It has nothing to do with them being bad, I love depression. I hated the Knicks because I hated the way they were run. As I have grown older and as I look towards a career in operations I treat with much greater seriousness the people that run the teams that I love and hate.
Over the last year another thing changed. My roommate in San Francisco was best friends with a kid who played professional basketball for the Warriors. When I moved out there a year ago this player became a friend and I went to all of the games, learned all the inside stuff and was immediately hooked. I rooted for the Warriors like I rooted for my boy Jawn's high school basketball team in the day. I was simply rooting for a friend.
Yesterday, my friend was traded to the Indiana Pacers.
And now I find myself with a dilemma. Does this make me a Pacers fan now? I guess the answer to that is an obvious yes. But the more difficult question for me is whether or not I still root for the Warriors.
I started rooting for the Warriors because I was connected to the team. Now I no longer have that connection.
It's a little different but in a way similar with the Mets. I started rooting for the Mets because of my brother, but my brother gave up baseball for economics about 10 years ago.
So where do our loyalties come from?
The other day my buddy KFC questioned how someone with my personality, someone who is so easily swayed, stuck with the Mets through all these years. I didn't take it personally. Over the course of this road trip I said to myself that I would move to about 9 different cities that I visited. I just like a lot of different things for a lot of different reasons.
So why stick with the Mets? Why stick with any team? Why even be a sports fan for that matter?
I think the answer is personal for everyone. My cousin is the biggest Rutgers football fan I know. He's been to every game since he was a freshman in '98 and finally he is seeing some rewards. The other day he told me that if it weren't for his friends who joined him at the games, he may never have gone.
I think friendship and family are the perfect reasons to like sports or to like a certain team.
For me, it is something a little more selfish. For me it is as cliched as it gets. It's just an inner peace thing.
I think better and happier when I am watching a baseball game. That is just the way I am. I know what is right and what is wrong better when I am watching the Mets play because I am the happiest with myself.
Over the next couple of months I will figure out the basketball thing.
As I grow up my childhood attachments to sports are starting to disappear and I find myself watching sports as more of an adult. I don't get as happy and I don't get as upset about games. I spend less time arguing or stressing and more ti
Glavine was at some awards function or another along with Carlos Delgado and Ryan Howard, among others.
In any case, not one of those players would be identified as members of the teams they set their personal milestones with. None of that stopped the fans in San Diego from giving Piazza a rousing ovation when he hit his 400th career HR, but was their heart in it? Could it possibly have been?
Glavine's career was clearly defined by his tenure with the Braves. I think a lot of Mets fans think of Glavine as one of their own by this point, but I doubt many of them kid themselves into thinking that Glavine will wear a Mets cap on his Hall of Fame plaque someday.
"I was watching footage of Malik Rose from 1999 yesterday, and even back then he looked old. It's 2007, that's wack."
Am I spoiled by Big EC's 19pts and 7bds? Or do I deserve a 22 and 12 guy? No way he should be an All-Star. I am cool with that, and still very happy with dude's progress this season. I believe he is the truth, but the truth has yet to be told. 
Kevin Durant and Greg Oden will hopefully end up in the Eastern Conference, so at least we might get a chance to see them play 3-4 times next year instead of the potential 82 games that might have happened had we held onto our draft pick in one of the greatest drafts ever.
Singletary also announced earlier this week that he would return to Virginia next season for his senior campaign. If true, this is a Mark Mangino-big factoid for the Cavs.
Aside from not dropping a set in the entire Australian Open, Federer’s greatness is now defined by the fact that there are no remaining humans who think they have a chance against him. For evidence, witness Andy Roddick, playing the best tennis of his life, just laughing at the postmatch press conference after being dismantled. 
But that's the news media for you. Dangle shiny concepts like "potential" and "growth" in front of their faces, and they'll walk right off a cliff. Like lemmings, but with slower reaction time. Comes from being fat and out of shape.
What kind of skills do your coaches and trainers have? "Why, we don't even know what a 
No, seriously, Special Agent Emanski, we appreciate your volunteering for such a thankless and inevitably fruitless task. The compensation alone, while ample, could not have been enough to persuade you to leave your back-to-back-to-back national champions in a country where the citizenry have actually heard of the game. Your patriotism is remarkable, and has not gone unrecognized in 
Last August a different opportunity arose. 
Keith was with the Mets through 95 games of a dreadful 1983 season that saw our boys win 68 games. The next year it 90. Might have had something to do with Doc, sure, but Mex was a catalyst as well, batting .311 with a .409 OBP and 94 RBI.
1990 was his last hurrah as a Met. Seven years of at times stellar, always good production out of a guy should be enough. With Doc it never would be.
God knows Jurassic Carl wasn't my favorite Met from this era, nor was he the most notorious. But I have no doubt that he'd be a hell of an interview, whether discussing the Pentecost or the Pleistocene.
In any event, one of those things was "They don't agree on who's got the best shortstop in town." Think about that. Any Met fan who was at Opening Day 1996, when Rey Ordonez threw out some Cardinal or other from his knees, loves Rey-Rey to this day. But honestly, there was never any debate here. Ordonez was a one-dimensional, basically shitty player with an entitlement complex. He was a Met.
I think there's a generation of Mets fans out there who would love to sit down with Robin have a cold beer, talk some Mets, talk some Nolan Ryan.
I'm glad to hear that a deal with his hometown Cubbies is most likely in the offing. The Cubs have spent a ton this offseason, and figure to be an interesting team in 2007. A solid clubhouse presence like Cliff always helps. He'll be missed.
Only the arrival of Mike Piazza before him had remotely the kind of impact that Pedro's signing with the Mets did. Both moves transformed the franchise. The Mets were down and out at the end of 2004, but then Omar got Petey to sign, then Carlos Beltran, then Doug Mientki... well, you get the idea.
In other hype machine news, Shelden Williams, the fifth pick of the entire draft and obviously a better choice than Randy Foye or Brandon Roy, has lit up the NBA, averaging a double-double thus far. That is, assuming the second double actually means “6.2”.
In other news, I have to admit that I haven’t been this happy about a sporting result in years. To see Peyton finally make the shot and Tom Brady-Bundchen finally miss one was just such a freakin’ treat. 
But watching along with me were four absolute diehard Eagles fans, and I'll tell you, it was really interesting to see the range of emotions unfold. They watched the game in varying degrees of elation and depression, hope and hopelessness as the Eagles and the Saints squared off in what was really an excellent game, one the Saints would end up winning, 27-24.
Sometimes I get to thinking that it's a kind of suffering that only somebody uniquely situated as a Mets fan can understand. Looking around at those Eagles fans this past weekend though, hearing them say "this always happens to Philadelphia teams" (how many times have I said to myself "this always happens to the Mets"?), it made me appreciate that in many ways, being a diehard fan of a team that's never won is perhaps the most unifying constant of all.
Over the last couple of years you have all seen me turn on the Knicks. It has nothing to do with them being bad, I love depression. I hated the Knicks because I hated the way they were run. As I have grown older and as I look towards a career in operations I treat with much greater seriousness the people that run the teams that I love and hate.
So where do our loyalties come from?