Y2K7: The Year is Passed

Little something for the old school Y2K fiends today. Not a tradition necessarily, but a concept I've worked once before, back in those salad days at the end of 2005.

Writing that actually gives me pause. 2005. Wow -- I'll tell you, sometimes even I'm amazed that this little website has lasted this long. But sure enough, 2008 marks year No. 3 for good old Y2K, and there's no sign of stopping.

In many ways, 2007 was a tough year. Certainly the end of the year holds much less optimism than year-end 2005 or 2006 ever did. Me, Sip, and Cheddar have taken turns expressing this pessimism; Sip because he's a pessimist and because HE IS BLOGGER, Cheddar because he's objective, and me, well, I took the collapse pretty hard I guess.

Tonight's about turning the page. 2007 is lost and gone forever, 2008 flowers before us like New Amsterdam once did for Dutch sailors' eyes.

But before we move forward, let's take a moment to look back at our past, the good and the bad. As you revel tonight, as you old that bottle of bub in your hand, try bearing in mind the following:

Five Reasons to Pour Some Out

5. I guess this is growing up

Things changed for the Glass Man in mid-2007. The cushy lifestyle I had as a corporate paralegal was gone, replaced by a job with actual responsibility and a ton of hours.

I love the job, but it meant missing the majority of the second half of the season. Given how things turned out, that wasn't a bad thing in some respects, but it all reminds me of a little chat I had with Sip's dad out on the mean streets of the Upper West Side one morning.

I had just written a post bemoaning how I couldn't watch all the Mets' games any more. Chip had read it, and we talked about maybe it was just a sign that we were getting older.

I turned 25 the other day. It's some shit.

4. Paulie Thumbs

Say this about Paul Lo Duca, you never got a sense that he didn't care or that he wasn't trying. I remember Jeromy Burnitz -- J-Burn! The guy was lousy as hell in 2002, but Mets fans had an odd respect for him. The guy played. You never doubted that.

It was kind of the same with Paulie Thumbs this past year. He was hurt a lot, his production suffered, but on a team filled with entitled stiffs, you always knew Lo Duca wanted it.

I imagine he'll hear more cheers than boos when he arrives at Shea next year. I mean, if nothing else, the guy was white as hell.

3. The Dream of Humfrey

Mike Pelfrey and Phil Humber -- more awful than awe-inspiring in 2007 -- didn't exactly erase memories of Scott Kazmir like we'd hoped.

Oh well, maybe it was just a learning experience. Besides, now Kevin Mulvey's the shit all of a sudden, so maybe this doesn't really matter that much.

2. Young Lastings

Do I think Lastings will be a superstar? Honestly, no. Do I know that Ryan Church won't be a superstar? Yes.

Truth is, the more time I've had to think about this deal, the more comfortable I've become with it, mostly because of Brian Schneider, who I've officially drunk the Kool-Aid on (no disrespect to Lo Duca). It's all about defense up the middle, remember (RIP Jim Duquette / Mike Cameron / Kaz Matsui)!

But Young Lastings, you deserved better. Big ups.

1. The 2007 Mets

It's like Catullus once said: Odi et amo. I kind of hated this team for all the same reasons you kind of hated this team -- the sense of entitlement, the listlessness, the Guillermo Mota.

But come on, they were still the Mets. Two more wins and they'd have been heroes to me. If I'm a battered wife to the Mets, so be it.

Odi et amo -- that's real, son.

Five Reasons to Suck it Down

5. Friday Night Lights

The best show on television. I just completed a marathon through the first season DVD -- it's the most astonishingly consistent show I've ever seen.

Unfortunately, the ratings have never really been there. In the hope of this show not appearing on next year's list at No. 1 for "Top Five Reasons to Pour Some Out", I'm devoting myself to spreading the word.

Click here to buy the DVD and watch the first season. Just do it, I promise you you'll be glad you did -- besides, it costs $19. Get it done.

4. Petey

It was only a taste, only a month of service, but how great was it having Pedro back for those 5 starts or so?

I said it this past summer -- what ballplayer ever inspired as much glee (yes, glee) in a fan base as much as Pedro? Yankee fans love and respect Derek Jeter and Mariano Rivera, Mets fans love and respect Mike Piazza, but it's just different with Pedro.

Jeter's the "king of the city" -- fine. Pedro's a fuckin' rock star. I'd rather party with Julian Casablancas than Prince William any day.

3. David Wright

Remember how worried we were about this guy at the end of last season, and then again in April?

Not saying it was completely unwarranted -- the guy looked lost in April -- but wow did he allay our fears, putting up his best season yet in 2007.

People are fond of saying he became the leader of the Mets in 2007. Well, 2007 didn't exactly end well, but hey, if it's finally his team in 2008 right from the get-go, no matter how things ended last year, I think that's a good thing.

2. Brooklyn, what?!

Brooklyn Heights, really can't say enough good things about it. The 12-minute commute. The brownstones. The impossible coolness.

Yes, the move has treated me well. My wallet hurts, and I've got nothing but love for the Upper West, but on the whole this little move of mine has really worked out well.

Anyone working in the Financial District: you'd be crazy not to look at apartments here, the commute is unreal and you get a lot more space than lower Manhattan (save, perhaps, the Financial District -- I wouldn't know).

1. Readers like you / The green light

I go back and forth on the idea of whether we would continue writing this blog if no one bothered reading it. On the one hand, we love the Mets, and we're a little self-indulgent, so it's a definite possibility.

On the other though, having an audience as dedicated and consistent as ours makes this whole thing a lot more worth our while. On some level, we like being the best kept secret in the Mets blogosphere -- we're on our grind, cousin!

But on another level, being a Mets fan means being part of a community, and the little community we have here means a lot to us. Here's to you guys.

And here's to 2008. Tomorrow we wake and all the unfulfilled promise of 2007 is officially behind us. Ahead lies only the dream of a better 2008. I'm not quite sure we have the talent to get back to the playoffs, but hell, why do we bother if we don't have hope?

- A.F.O.M.G.

NL 2K7 Power Rankings

What a year, huh? Quite a bit has changed. At this time in 2006, Cheddar was nothing more than a humble journalism student, Benazir Bhutto was safely living somewhere other than Pakistan, and the Mets were the odds-on favorites in the National League.

As I said, a lot's changed. Salt.

2008 is sure to bring a whole new bushel of changes, including plenty more before baseball even enters the sporting picture. Still, at this point, it wouldn't hurt to take a look back at the year that was, and address what happened to each of the entrants in the Senior Circuit. Remember, we're talking calendar year here, including the season and what's happened since.

In reverse order:

16. Florida Marlins

With a bullet. After years of failing to land a new stadium, 2007 saw the Fish ... maybe land a new stadium? Well, we'll believe it when we see it, but far more importantly, it's a case of too little, way too late. Florida traded away its prime mover and biggest star -- Miguel Cabrera and the D-Train, respectively -- for a mess of prospect pottage earlier in the fall, this after a season where their young pitching prospects either didn't make it to the mound (say hello to Josh Johnson's 15.2 IP) or sucked when they got there (Scott Olsen's fine 5.81 ERA). The local populace seemingly c0uldn't care less. The good news? The guy who helped put these guys in this situation just took over the Yankees. Now we're talking.

15. Pittsburgh Pirates

At least there's some light at the ... nope. No light. The Bucs' best player, Jason Bay, suffered through a horrid 2007 season (.247/.327/.418), while their top pitchers (Ian Snell, Tom Gorzelanny) appear to have plateaued at "crappy." New GM Neal Huntington appears markedly reasonable by all accounts, but you can't make lemonade out of this nonsense. Not even lemon drink. As a result, the finest park in the game continues to be the haunt of only diehards and blind folk.

14. San Francisco Giants

$126 million dollars bought the Giants a 4.53 ERA and a dismal hairdo. Barry Bonds, still the team's best player, brought nothing but joy to the team in his pursuit of the all-time home run record. He landed both the long-awaited mark and a long-awaited indictment, which kind of balances out. Hidden indicator of suffering -- Matt Cain, the club's best pitcher, finished the season with a 7-16 record. Even successfully fobbing off parasite Matt Morris onto Team No. 15 couldn't change the fact this is an old, ill-conceived team with no clear way forward. But hey, maybe the missing element was "hustle."

13. Houston Astros

Their favorite son and perennial Cy Young contender turned out to be a miserable, performance-enhancing cheat. No, the other one. At least it was all in the past ... until Houston went out an acquired Miggy Tejada two days before his name highlighted the Mitchell Report. This is media management straight out of the Katherine Harris School of Communications. Meanwhile, they've got an aging/awful team, and no pitching past Roy Oswalt. They're also slow as shit -- rookie outfielder Hunter Pence, one of the few bright spots in this neck of the woods, let the team with 11 stolen bases in his 3/4 of a season. GM Ed Wade seems determined to "scrappy" his way out of it. Best of luck, chump.

12. St. Louis Cardinals

Their first losing season since 1999, and it went bad early, as the defending champs' manager was busted for DUI in Match. A month later, the merely hypocritical turned tragic as the team lost Josh Hancock to a nasty late-night car crash. Pitcher-turned-position player Rick Ankiel looked to have restore the feel-good vibes to the season, until it came out he was on HGH before it was cool. In the meantime, LaRussa openly feuded with star 3B Scott Rolen, who looks just as done as CF Jim Edmonds, since gone to San Diego. Even Albert Pujols had a down year. This is likely to get uglier before it improves.

11. Los Angeles Dodgers

Led the league in attendance and nasty looks in the clubhouse. A roster bifurcated between the young and talented (Matt Kemp, Andre Ethier, James Loney, Andy LaRoche) and the old and dickish (Jeff Kent, Nomar, Gonzo) bickered their way to the least satisfying 82-80 record in recent memory. Juan Pierre led the league in outs. Nice. Everyone's back for another go in '08, only with a Japanese addition (Kuroda) and another veteran outfielder (Andruw Jones) to muck things up. Just a bad scene.

10. Washington Nationals

Former Mets coach Manny Acta whipped these clowns into a frenzy, and a team expected to lose 100 games somehow improved its record despite missing its best hitter (Nick Johnson) for the whole year and ... well, not having any good pitchers. Dmitri Young channeled his inner Mo Vaughn and earned an All-Star bid, and journeymen like Tim Redding and Shawn Hill looked respectable enough. For next year, they've got a non-decrepit park to play in and some shiny new players to toss in there. Blastings ...

9. Cincinnati Reds

They're doing better, but in the "Up and at them" sense of the phrase. Brandon Phillips had the season we've waited a decade for, dope fiend Josh Hamilton seemed to turn his life around, and Griffey almost stayed healthy for the whole year. But still ... where is any of this going, you know?

8. Atlanta Braves

They'll fill Andruw's shoes with one of the other free agent CFs, and if Tommy the Spy isn't a difference-maker any more, he's still better the slop the Braves ran out there in'07. The trade for Tex was, as discussed in this space, a great pickup, and the team also dealt Renteria to the free-spending Tigers for a perfectly acceptable package of prospects. So, while they've got too many holes to be favorites or anything approaching it, they're doing what they need to do.

7. New York Mets

A little low, eh? Well, that's what happen when you have the worst collapse in the history of regular-season collapses, and follow it up by dealing away the future for a puffy-faced catcher and his bridge partner. The latest rumors have the Mets in the chase for Kyle Lohse, which might just kill me. This could change quickly, but I can't put them any higher at the moment.

6. Milwaukee Brewers

The breakout season that almost was, as Prince Fielder bashed the ball (50 HR) and his estranged dad, Ryan Braun won the Rookie of the Year award, and the team almost held off the hard-charging Cubs. The team can reasonably expect improvement from all of its starting pitchers, and most of its hitters as well. Potential to be scary-good, or at least good enough that everyone forgets the mild disappointment of the past season.

5. San Diego Padres

The mini-collapse of the century. Also, the best pitcher in the league. And now, the corpse of Mark Prior to play with. Just saying.

4. Philadelphia Phillies

The team to beat.

3. Chicago Cubs

So, it worked out just fine for Sweet Lou and Co., even if a World Series berth wasn't in the cards. Free agent signings Ted Lilly and Jason Marquis exceeded expectations, Carlos Zambrano eventually settled down into a manageable state of rage, and Alfonso Soriano looked worth the money. Piniella will have a new star (Kosuke Fukudome) to add to the mix in '08, and even it the system isn't going to produce any stars, the lineup is still going to be sick. All in all, a good time for the Cubbies' fans.

2. Arizona Diamondbacks

The team moved mathematic on rappers, then went out and added Dan Haren from the A's in a blockbuster trade for a bunch of surplus prospects. Their best player, who I find more overrated than the Mile High Club, is nevertheless a highly decent dude. Trouble for the foreseeable future.

1. Colorado Rockies

New Rocks. Until proven otherwise, it's still their universe.

Sip's Year In Review

I think back to July, sitting in the bleachers of Wrigley Field. We got there about an hour early, drank modestly priced beers and soaked in the Chicago sun.

The Cubs were playing the Brewers that day. As the Brewers took batting practice the Chicago fans berated Mliwaukee players with F-bombs and other forms of abuse. Any of them would have been happy if one of the Brewers had turned around and thrown a batting practice ball into the bleachers.

And then it happened.

A tall righty turned around and starting pointing at the crowd. The fans, many much drunker than Sip, went nuts. They loved this guy, he was their chance at a precious baseball.

He pointed in different directions and each section grew louder that the next. It was his rock concert and he became Bono. The pitcher than held up his million dollar arm and the crowd went silent in anticipation. He reached back and fired that beautiful little baseball. For a few seconds it was glorious.

Until we all noticed.

The pitcher had intentionally thrown the ball as far as he could, about a hundred feet over the bleachers. He laughed with some of his teammates and then ran into the dugout. The Chicago fans booed and threw beer at him. Sip laughed. What a prick, yes, but a clever one at that.

I share this story for two reasons.

The first is that I felt this story was a pretty decent metaphor for the Mets '07 season. This season opened on a cloudless day with a rock show atmosphere. Everything seemed perfect. We all had thoughts of championships, babies and memories.

Only it wasn't meant to be. September happened. We were victims of the ultimate tease. Our hopes were so high only to have them painfully crushed, which sucked, much like not getting the chance to catch a ball.

The second reason I share this story is that it gets me really excited for the Mets' 2008 season. The Brewers pitcher that committed this "asshole" act of the year:

New Met, Matt Wise.

2007 was a great year for Sip. I lived in three cities in four homes, wrote two screenplays that could make me the next Matt Damon (but more likely the same Sippy Momo), played in the World Series of Poker, worked for a major league baseball team and recently got into business school. Oh, and I finally learned how to drive.

But here I am in December finally back where it all started. For at least the next two years I'll be a New Yorker again. That is, of course, after I spend the next bunch of months in Sydney where I will learn to surf, care for kangaroos and pen the sequel to the immortal Point Break, Point Break II: Bodhi's Return.

But before that next stop on Sip's World Tour, I need to reflect on 2007. I'm not going to talk much about sports. 2007 was pretty bad from that standpoint. The Mets blew it, The Knicks became the biggest joke in sports and the Giants are two weeks away from a mid 20's draft selection. But otherwise, things were okay.

Here are some thoughts on 2007:

Mets Moment of the Year

The Mitchell Report and our star Kirk Radomski

In a year where baseball was a bit of a disappointment for fans of the orange & blue it was at least nice to have a former clubhouse attendant at the heart of the report that will forever change the game.

The way I see it, if we can't win a World Series, we might as well tarnish an entire period of history.

Television Show of the Year

Friday Night Lights

If you don't watch this one you're missing out. This is the best show on television since Season 1 of 24. And it's not even about the football, if that's what you're worried about.

It's just a great story in a great setting with really good looking girls for the fellas and strapping lads for ladies. A beautiful marriage and family, a great town and what seems like 15 great characters who some how get perfectly mixed into an hour of perfect TV a week.

Song of the Year

The Homecoming, Kanye West (featuring Chris Martin of Coldplay)

Pretty much combines my two favorite types of music: hip hop and music that makes you want to cry. (Music that makes you want to lift/fight is a close third).

The sweet mix of Kanye West verse w/ Chris Martin pianos really leads to one plain confused Sip. Such a mixture of emotions leads to really weird thoughts which actually helped inspire my second screenplay -- in theaters, June '09.

Yankee of the Year

Hank Steinbrenner

The Yankees have in many ways turned into a joke over the last couple of years. Every year they have the biggest payroll. Every year they find a way to falter. And every year they find a way to make an excuse. But it was never quite right. That was until Hank came around.

Hank Steinbrenner is James Dolan with a hard-on for publicity. Another moron whose father handed him the world, the only difference being that thanks to baseball's lack of a salary cap, Steinbrenner can buy his way out of any and all mistakes.

Still, this guy is great. He is living every man's dream and yet has managed to turn himself into a joke in less than three months. Well done, Hank.

Movie of the Year

Was there one? I can't really remember seeing a great movie all year. I saw a couple of good ones, I Am Legend, Bourne Ultimatum, Knocked Up and Super Bad-probably my favorite of the bunch. But nothing was good enough to be titled Sip's flick of the year, I don't think. So I'll give the 2007 movie of the year to Major League. Why not, right?


YouTube clip of the Year

Three way tie:

1. Jon Gruden and Raiders
2. My New Haircut
3. Darius Miles slamball

When you get a chance check all these out.

Gruden will teach you that it's ok to only speak in Sports Cliches, and his speech at the 4:04 mark really is a life changer if you actually take it for what it is.

"My New Haircut" just does a phenomenal job of making fun of guidos.

And if anyone can translate what Darius Miles says in his supposed interview, I will turnover the Yankees2000 fortune to you and retire.

* * * * *

And on that note, I bid 2007 and our millions of fans farewell. It was another awesome year and we really do appreciate you reading what we have to write. One of these days we're going to become famous, and you can say you new us when.

Vaya,
Sip

(Pics courtesy of mlb.com, usatoday.net, ign.com, orange.com, newsday.com)

A Hardy Y2K Merry Christmas

Y2k Is taking an early break for the Holidays. We'll be back next Wednesday. So until that time comes, keep your ear to the grinestone (sp?). Hope all you sons of Jesus like your Christmas gifts. Young Sip will be deciding between the beef w/ broccoli and the General Tsao's this year.

Vaya,
Cheddar, AFOMG, Sip

I AM BLOGGER

My name is Sippy Momo, and I am the last blogger alive in New York City.

That was just a shameless plug for I Am Legend. Hands down the best flick I saw this year and just a heck of a movie-going experience.

Now I'm just going to rip Roger Clemens. OBVI!



Let me provide you with a hypothetical.

I am Sippy Momo, the most famous and respected person in the blogosphere. I have dominated since back in the days when people called blogspot home and to this day, remain at the top of my game. I AM BLOGGER.

Then one day, some fellow geek on the internet creates a report that says some nerd from a Dungeons & Dungeons blog (Our biggest Rival) claims that he witnessed me MURDERING the real Sippy Momo and I that am really an imposter.

What do i Do?

I know that this could not be further from the truth, a complete lie even. I AM SIPPY MOMO.

So what do I do?

A. Take a week to make a statement through my lawyer.

B. Let someone speak on my behalf that would make me appear even more culpable

C. Stand up immediately and say, "What the fuck are you talking about, that is bullshit, I didn't kill no Sippy Momo, but I will kill whoever is trying to tarnish my legacy."


Roger Clemens is either lying or just really, really dumb. He knew the Mitchell Report was coming out and he knew his name would be on it.

If he in fact did not use Steroids or HGH, why wouldn't he immediately call bullshit, knowing that people would clearly react the way they did to the report. It is a no-brainer. If you are innocent, tell people right away. Don't give the public time to let the report soak in or to have your face plastered on every tv screen and newspaper in the country.



This is the main reason why I firmly believe that Clemens is guilty.

And here is what I think went down.

1. Clemens meets with his lawyers and says " I pay you lots of money, how do we fix this?"

2. Lawyer says, "Roger, did you do it?"

3. Roger says, "Yes, but so did OJ. Now do your job."

4. Lawyer says, "OK, tell me everything. Who knew about your steroid use? Of the people who knew, what can we do to ruin their credibility to make you appear to be the victim."

5. Roger says, " Brian McNamee is the only man who ever saw me taking steroids. We always did it privately. Yeah there was some talk among the fellas, but that was like talking about tale on the road or drinking beers, it was nothing."

6. Lawyer says, " Ok, we are going to take the next year to ruin McNamee's credibility. From there, no one will have any proof that you cheated...

"You may have to lie to a grand jury, the public and your family, making you a terrible, terrible person, but at least we might be able to salvage your baseball career."

7. Clemens says, "Done and done. I can live with that."

8. Lawyer says, "Ok, give me a year. The south will rise again!"

That's my take on the situation. I've been wrong before and will be many more times in the future.

One thing is certain though:

I AM BLOGGER

Vaya,
Sip

(Pics courtesy of USAtoday.com, chinaexpat.com)

Named in the Mitchell Report? Repeat After Me...

Andy Pettitte did it. Fernando Vina's doing it. Ballplayers named in the Mitchell Report, it's time for you to tell your side of the story. There's 86 of you guys to go. Since I'm a nice guy I thought I'd do you a favor and hand you your scripts.

Roger Clemens, Barry Bonds, Chuck Knoblauch... I'll make this easy for you. Just repeat after me:

"I'm here today to respond to allegations raised against me in the Mitchell Report. The Report alleges that I purchased steroids and human growth hormone on [state number] occassions beginning in [state year].

I regretfully admit that I purchased HGH twice, but I categorically deny ever using steroids. The reports linking me to steroid use are founded on uncorroborated evidence, supplied by people with questionable reputations.

As to my limited use of HGH, it was a stupid decision, and I take full responsibility for my actions. I was recovering from an injury to my [state body part] and I felt an obligation to my teammates, my fans, and my organization to do everything in my power to get back on the field quickly.

In retrospect, I regret this decision greatly. It was one of the most foolish decisions of my life. At the time, I felt that getting back on the field was the most important thing.

Let me be crystal clear on this one point: I used HGH to recover from injury, not for my own benefit. I used HGH to get back out on the field for all the people who were counting on me, not for any competitive advantage.

Nothing I say can pardon my actions. I just want to put this unfortunate lapse of judgment behind me, and I hope that all the fans out there can do the same."

It's as simple as copy and paste, people.

I don't mean to toot my own horn, but it's scary how authentic that sounds. Hell, maybe I could be a spokesperson.

- A.F.O.M.G.

Mitchell and Me

First things first on the Mitchell Report. George Mitchell had basically three sources of information, including two individuals, and that alone was good for 88 names. If we ever get the rest of these people to come clean this will quickly appear to be just the tip of the iceberg.

But the other names will have to wait. I basically blame the Players Union in this. They've decided to take an approach that's as uncooperative as possible.

Was talking about it with the Hound last night. He's a big tennis fan. Apparently in tennis if you get caught for using a performance enhancing drug, you're kicked off the tour for 2 years.

In baseball you get 50 games. That's nearly a third of a season. It sounds like a lot but it's really just a slap on the wrist. Hell, Guillermo Mota could still sink our season in his 112 games.

If the Players Union were serious about getting steroids out of the game, they'd make strike 1 for a positive test something like a two-season ban. That might actually have a deterrent effect. But for whatever reason, they don't want to clean up the game. It's stunningly tone deaf, really.

Looking at the names on the Mitchell Report, some of these guys I don't really care about (hello, Larry Bigbie), but others provoke more of a personal response. In alphabetical order...

Rick Ankiel

More than anything else, I just feel bad for Ankiel. He's a guy who had all the talent in the world who all of a sudden, one day, he became completely incapable of doing something he'd always been able to do before. It'd be like if I woke up tomorrow completely incapable of blogging, and this all came crashing down. Scary stuff.

Mets fans had a front-row seat to Ankiel's undoing. I remember it started out as comical, then after a while it just got kind of sad. Somehow you knew the kid was done.

When he came back as an outfielder it was a feel-good story. When he hit the lights out (this is just occurring to me now, that expression is a reference to "The Natural", isn't it?) after his call-up, I think even Cardinals-hating Mets fans felt good for Ankiel.

Now it's all thrown in to question, and once again Ankiel's story is just kind of sad.

Roger Clemens

Like people in Boston and other Mets fans, I've long hated this fuck. Frankly, to me, Clemens is one of the more obvious juicers around.

Here's the great thing about baseball: people have been playing it for more than a hundred years, and yet certain aspects of it never change. Even the fastest runners get thrown out at first on balls hit to short. Even great hitters only get a base hit a third of the time. Even the greatest pitchers allow two or three runs per 9 innings.

Another constant is that all players decline as they get older. Their bodies are slower to recover from trauma, their reflexes slow a decisive tick. Once this process begins, it only gets worse.

When you look at Clemens' career, you see a guy who was dominant in his 20s and then began to slow down in his mid 30s. It's the same story arc that ballplayers have followed for decades .

Only something happened with Clemens -- he suddenly reversed course and seemingly got better the closer he got to 40. Hell, some of his most dominating seasons came as a 40 year old man.

No one should be surprised that he was on the sauce. To my mind, he was every bit as obvious as Barry Bonds.

Lenny Dykstra

The first player I can remember who showed up one year looking like a cartoon character. Back when no one used to talk about steroids, you heard people talk about Dykstra using steroids.

Todd Hundley

RIP.

Paul Lo Duca

Paulie Thumbs, drug lord.

Todd Pratt

I loved Tank. I think all Mets fans loved Tank. On the one hand I'm a little disappointed, but on the other there's a little part of me that would have been upset if he hadn't used the juice.

Oh well. Maybe next time when a former pizza delivery man becomes a viable major leaguer we'll ask more questions.

* * * * *

The truth of the matter is, we can't really blame any of these guys for using this stuff. Once they were in the game, there was nothing to gain by not using them, especially in the late 1990s when no one was asking any questions.

These guys are paid to compete and succeed. Steroids made them compete better and succeed more often.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not telling you not to boo these guys, nor am I telling you not to call them cheaters. All I'm saying is, don't let any name you see in the Mitchell Report or any name you see subsequently surprise you.

- A.F.O.M.G.

The Y2K Interview: Jeff Pearlman

[Below, Sip breaks down the Mitchell Report. Holler.]

Bit of a treat today. Just in time for your holiday gift-giving pleasure (well, the goyim), we've got an interview with the author of the finest stocking-stuffer in all Metsdom. The stuffer is "The Bad Guys Won! A Season of Brawling, Boozing, Bimbo Chasing, and Championship Baseball With Straw, Doc, Mookie, Nails, the Kid, and the Rest of the 1986 Mets, the Rowdiest Team to Ever Put on a New York Uniform - and Maybe the Best," and the author is Jeff Pearlman, currently of ESPN.com. Young Sip keeps a copy of this book by his bedstand, and A.F.O.M.G. recommends it to strangers on the street. It's that good. For his part, Pearlman was good enough to answer our questions, and we thank him again.

Y2K: You're from Mahopac, N.Y., nestled in the scenic Catskills. A kid growing up there would be a fan of ... who? The Yankees? Mets? The Danbury Westerners? Vassar varsity baseball?

Pearlman: Well, when I was growing up Mahopac was a Met town. It was the mid-80s, the Mets were hot, etc ... etc. But I was actually torn, because a kid up the street named Dave Fleming was drafted by the Seattle Mariners. So I guess I was a Met/Mariners fan. An odd combo, admittedly.
You went right from the preps beat at the Tennessean in Nashville to covering baseball for Sports Illustrated -- quite a jump. Do you remember what your first piece for SI was? What was like to see your byline in the magazine?

My first SI story actually came while I was at The Tennessean. I had pitched some freelance ideas to the magazine, and they liked one particular idea. When I was in college at the University of Delaware, I'd applied to the NBA to take part in the draft after my junior year. Granted, I never played college basketball. So I did the whole process just on a lark, and the result was this really funny exchange of phone calls and letters between me and the NBA. SI thought it was cool [and] asked me to write it up.

And to see that first byline ... ecstacy. Truly. One of the great thrills of my life.

Unlike writers who were already established in their field when they came to SI (a guy like Peter King, say), you presumably had to build a base of sources and contacts from scratch? Baseball's basically a small, insular club. How difficult was it to develop that toehold, and how did it prepare you for what you do now?

It's a long process. You think saying, "Jeff Pearlman from SI" leads to automatic credibility, and it really doesn't. It gets you in the door, but it doesn't mean people consider you anything ... unique. But over time, and by showing up and showing up and showing up, people start to remember you and notice your work. I did one thing that, in hindsight, is sorta laughable. Because I was doing national stories, bopping from team to team, I wanted players and coaches to remember me. So I started wearing a backward Kangol, so to stand out. I often got ripped for that by other writers, like I was trying to be hip-hop. Truth is, I just wanted a marker so people remember who I was. Silly, but true.

You were with SI from 1996 to 2002 -- a rather formative time period for many readers of this site. What, to you, was the big story in baseball during the period you were covering it?

At the time I would say the return of the Yankees to dominance, maybe along with the Braves' inability to win multiple World Series. But, in hindsight, it's steroids and how many of us dropped the ball/missed the story/etc. I include myself in that, because I should have noticed the size differences. But I was blind.

I sent out an e-mail to the other authors of this site after this interview was set up, and got one back almost immediately. It said, "Author of the greatest book of all time." From what I gather, that's not an unusual reaction to "The Bad Guys Won!" Is that so, and why do you think that is?

Well, I don't get "greatest book of all time" very much—ever, actually. But I appreciate it. I just think that book touched something for a lot of Met fans. I'm not saying this to be modest, but
the truth is the subject matter carried that book, not the writing. I worked my ass off, interviewed as many people as possible, loaded up on stories. But it was really a matter of unfolding one insanely funny/odd tale after another. Also, Met fans don't equal Yankee fans
in quantity, but the intensity is far greater. Met fans know suffering; know pain; know their stadium's peeling paint and cruddy outfield apple. So a book that celebrates an amazing year in team history ... well, I guess it was sorta treasured. Which I really, really appreciate.

Is there a story behind how you came up for the idea for the book?

Not a good one. My friend Jon Wertheim at SI was working on a book. I got jealous, hired an agent. I said, "I'd love to write a biography of Kiss drummer Peter Criss." She said, "How about the '86 Mets?" I said, "That sounds better."

The task of tracking down all the various characters on the '86 team for the necessary interviews seems incredibly daunting, even in retrospect. How difficult did the research prove to be?

Very, very, very hard. Early on Doug Sisk gave me a list of phone numbers, but many of them didn't work. So I did a ton of digging at spring training, jumping from camp to camp, hoping to find this guy coaching here, that guy coaching there. Really, the key to a book like that is finding the little guys--backup catchers, clubhouse kids, ballboys. You need stories that have never been told by guys willing to tell them.

Chapter 1 begins with an epigraph from Randy Niemann. As a result, the first line of the book wound up being, "It wasn't just guys destroying a plane." Which kind of says it all. You might have led off the book in a million different ways, but now, the post-NLCS debauchery on the flight back from Houston seems like the most fitting place to jump in. What kind of deliberation led to the decision to start the story there?

Actually, very little. That plane trip just perfectly sums up that team. The World Series would have been a little cliche, Gooden and Straw's downfall sorta drap. The flight—perfect. It was good and bad, happy and sad, triumphant and pathetic.

In a similar vein, the '86 Mets were chock full of stars, and we hear plenty about them, but we're also introduced in the book to less famous personalities like the Scum Bunch, whose antics are unthinkable by modern baseball standards. How surprised, or maybe even scandalized, were you by the stories you turned up?

I wasn't surprised, because I knew they existed. If anything, I was elated. It was just one story after another after another after another, and almost everyone was willing to talk freely. I ended up holding some stories, because there was just soooooooooo much. And I wasn't scandalized at all. I knew what I was getting into ...

Were there any conflicts with editors or the publisher about including those types of tawdry details? Failing that, were there any great stories that you just didn't have space for in the book?

There were no conflicts; and a couple of mediocre stories that got cut. Being 100% honest–none I really remember well.

On the one hand, recent editions of the team have had big-time stars, strong personalities, issues of their own. Few would argue that these Mets don't have an identity of their own. Yet on the other hand, you've got two breathing reminders of the '86 team in the SNY announcers' booth every night, and only unwelcome memories of a Subway Series to distract from the last pennant. To what extent does the greatness of the '86 team still casta shadow over the club?

I don't think it does, to be honest. First, it's just a different era of baseball. Guys jump from team to team, salaries are insane, players don't hang out after games. Anyone waiting for the '86 Mets to return will be hugely disappointed. It makes me sad, as a baseball fan, because that team in '86 gave New York a ton. Not just pride and excellent baseball, but an interactive feel. They were New York. New York was the Mets. They were out at bars, at restaurants, sleeping in
your bed with your wife, etc ...

In an article for ESPN.com's Page 2 this week about the supposed reverse colonization of the Mets (or, 'Los Mets'), you wrote, "Yet, despite the on-field success, an increasing number of Mets fans are griping about their team's continued (and apparently all-encompassing) determination to bring in as many Latin-American ballplayers as possible." True enough. In
your opinion, if the exact same moves are made, but New York's GM is named Johnny Whiteside instead of Omar Minaya (and is, you know, white), does anyone say "Boo?"

Of course not. I've received so many angry e-mails over this, it's pathetic. People whine how, "Look how Omar paid Alou so much more than any other team was offering." Well, A. We don't know this for sure; B. Alou was fantastic last year; C. Shawn Green was playing right, and
last I checked he's celebrating Chanukah. So gimme a break.

You conclude by writing that it's human nature for fans to root for players they can relate to (i.e., players who look like them). I don't disagree, but if that's the case, is it such a stretch to believe the same thing about executives? Even if we agree that Omar Minaya's personnel moves are purely merit-based, how universal is that approach among his fellow decision-makers? Which is to say, isn't any argument that assumes complete professionalism among baseball's general managers inherently flawed?

No, because at the end of the day Omar has to feed his family, and the best way to do that is doing a good job. He'd be sabotaging himself by signing players because of their ethnicity and ignoring white and African-American ballplayers. Plus, I believe Minaya is a man of integrity. I really, truly do. It's one thing for me to root for someone who looks like me. But a job is a job.

This is pretty inside baseball (so to speak), but your ESPN.com colleague Jim Caple was recently tapped for inclusion into the Baseball Writers' Association of America, one of 16 Web-based writers so recommended. Two of your other coworkers, Keith Law and Rob Neyer, were turned down after failing to fulfill the requirement of maintaining "a regular presence at big-league parks." In the day and age of MLB.tv, player blogs and streaming charts of pitch-by-pitch location and velocity, how relevant is that standard?

I actually think it's very important. Being at the games, talking to the players, meeting face to face with executives is significantly more vital to the job than watching a game on TV. I can't understate this—because of blogging (and I dig blogs), people think they can dowhat journalists do from home. Well, you can't. You need to know what David Wright is thinking, what Jose Reyes is feeling, what the dirt feels like, what the grass smells like. That's true journalism.
Putting the reader in the place; adding feel and narrative to a game
story.

You're working now on a project about the Dallas Cowboys. I'm a big Bills fan, so I'd sooner tear the thing apart than look at it, but that's not very welcoming. What's the project about, and when will it be on bookshelves?

It's a biography of the 1990s Cowboys under Jimmy Johnson and Barry Switzer. Should hit shelves before the start of next season.

(Thanks again to Jeff.)

What a Day

Ah the Mitchell Report.

What a day in baseball it was. So many teams, so many Mets catchers, so many members of the "Yankee Dynasty***."

I am really curious to see how America reacts.

Here are my immediate thoughts.

1. I think back to Game 2 of the 2000 World Series. For whatever reason, that game has always stood out as one of the most dominant pitching performances of all time. I remember Roger Clemens pounding the strike zone with what seemed like 98mph 2 -seam fastball after 98mph 2 seam fastball. NO ONE can throw a two-seam fastball that hard. I knew after watching Clemens throw an inning that the Mets would return to Shea down 2-0. It sucked. But at the same time I was in awe of Clemens' dominance.



Today, I know the guy was cheating.

A game that stood out in my mind as the best game I have ever seen pitched in my lifetime, a game that really mystified me and induced many a thought, wasn't fair.

I don't know how to react. But it kind of sucks.

2. My second thought was just as many of the baseball analysts confirmed: this report did not even scratch the surface of steroids in baseball. This was New York and Balco. It's the equivalent of having a presedential election and only counting the Northeast and California.

I can't even imagine how bad it really was.

3. I was pretty happy about the Mets who made this list. I was reminiscing with a buddy as we watched the 10-run 8th inning game on SNY on Tuesday night about how much character that Mets team had. And I remembered why I always loved the Mets. The character, the charm. They were lovable losers, but you know what. They were my losers.

When I saw Todd Pratt and Todd Hundley on that list I just laughed. It didn't bother me a bit.



It always pissed me off when some of my friends did cocaine growing up. There were some people who were meant to be druggy's and there were those who just took drugs. For the kids posing as drug addicts I always thought, "just drink a bunch of beer and have some fun."

But Hundley and Pratt were meant to be juicers. They were Mother Fucking ball players. They belonged chewing dip and starting fights. And they belonged doing steroids.

So did Lenny Dykstra.

I thought the Mets on the list were pretty cool. So I was happy.

4. But the Yankees on the list were a bunch of panzi's.

Clemens? It's one thing to rub on the cream or the clear. But it looks like this guy was shoving needles in his ass for the better part of my teen years. He's always been a prick and I am honestly happy that his career will be tainted.

Andy Pettitte. I'm kind of shocked. I don't remember seeing HGH in the bible.

Chuck Knoblach.



Didn't that guy look like a rat. Maybe he thought steriods would make him look normal so that he wouldn't have to beg 18-year-old Sacred Heart seniors to have a shot of Kamakazee with him at Dorians.

5. Who knows?

Here is one thing that I truly believe. If it was legal in baseball at the time, I don't blame anyone for taking the substance. So in 2001 if HGH wasn't illegal in baseball, I have no problem with anyone who did it. I don't care if it was illegal according to federal law. Athletes don't go to jail anyways. If they were caught, it was 200 hours of community service. But these things made them better ball players.

I kind of feel the same way about all the BALCO stuff. If you rubbed cream on your arm to get stronger, there are a million reasons why you could think you weren't cheating. I really do believe that.

Unless you heard the word "steroid" or saw a needle, there a lot of reasons why a baseball player can think that the is not cheating baseball.

BUT

Any person that shoved a needle in their ass at any time. They are cheaters. They actively and without question knowingly cheated.

A lot of people will disagree with me here. They will say that athletes should know what they are putting into their body more that anyone else. But this is where I stand.

I'm really looking forward to the backlash of all of this. Will attendance and ratings drop. Will home runs go down? Will velocity go down?

Or will it have no effect at all.

Anyone that says that this was good for baseball is 100% nuts in my mind. My feelings for the game have changed today and it's a little sad. How do you explain to your 5-year-old son what the Mitchell Report was.

Vaya,
Sip

(Pics courtesy of Wordpress.com, mlblogs.com, rollingweb.com)

ASTERISK

(Courtesy of the Happy Will Photoshop)

Clemens? Pettitte?

Is the Yankee dynasty of the late 20th century now officially tainted?

Got Rings*

Did Jesus tell Andy Pettite that using steroids was the way into heaven?

Will we ever look at baseball the same again?

Vaya,
Sip

PS: Dykstra! How much cooler is it when the guy just admits it? I'm a ballplayer and you're not, so fuck you! Couldn't be happier that this guy is a Wall Street success.

No Country For Bloggers - The Day That Could Change Everything

Life is Perception.

As The Notorious B.I.G once said, "I like that."

It took one month for the Mets to go from "Kings of the NL" to "Team In Need of Makeover."

It took one week for the Washington Nationals to go from a team that no one could care less about, to a team we all embraced, equipped with two of our favorite native sons.



It took 24 hours for the Atlanta Falcons to go from calling Bobby Petrino "coach" to calling him "punk."

Hell, it took 3 months for Democrats to go from being certain that Hillary Clinton would be our presidential nominee to realizing that she was nothing more than a Robotic (INSERT EXPLETIVE).

Sip talks politics? Only with this one.

OBAMA '08!!!


We are all so quick to change. Overnight we can go from believers to disbelievers or from lovers to haters. Our fickleness (word?) as a public is not looked down upon as being idiotic but embraced as being adaptive. Or so we think. One thing for certain is this:

We the fan, supporter, believer are always right.

Which is why I think tomorrow at 2PM, baseball will change forever.

According to the New York Daily News(Salt), George Mitchell's report on performance enhancing drugs will be released tomorrow afternoon and between 60-80 names of present and former players will be linked to some form of steroids.

For some strange reason, America is perceiving this event as no big deal.

Major league basebal is telling us that this report is "good for the game." That the report will add legitimacy to Bud Selig's reign as commisioner.

I'm sorry what?!?!?!!!!



The media is playing this off like its not that substantial, that because most of the report is based on less credible sources (lockeroom attendants, steroid dealers etc.) that we don't know how much we can believe.

Again, WHAT!



I think tomorrow is going to forever change baseball. Mr. Mitchell did not spend the last year digging around for backup 2B who were on the juice. He wanted to fry the big fish. He wanted to make a splash, shock the world, raise eyebrows.

Now lets look back.

In one day, Rafael Palmeiro went from sure fire hall of famer to public enemy.

In one minute, after refusing to testify to the grand jury, Mark McGwire went from game savior to game corruptor.

So what happens if Mitchell's list is flooded with 60-80 examples like these.

What happens when for every Jose Canseco- a guy we knew was dirty- on this list, there is a Craig Biggio- a guy we never would have guessed in a million years- on this list?

What happenes when guys like Roger Clemens, who we have heard all the rumors about only to shrug them off, appears on the list?

What happens when not 1 but say 10 future hall of famers are on this list? Does that mean that the last 20 years of baseball are completely tainted?

And what happens if Derek Jeter- The face of the game and beholder of all things right in the game- appears on this list? What will happen then?




How bout if Alex Rodriguez, Tony Gwynn or Greg Maddux show up?

We're talking about the guy with the purest power, the purest swing or the purest arm, respectively.

As fans we look for a reason to scrutinize. We want to feel like we are better or smarter than we really are, that we know more than the people running the teams that we love. But also, we want to feel like we are genuinelly connected to the players that we root for.

When our enemy cheats it gives us another reason to hate or scrutinize or do whatever it takes for us to feel better about being a fan and not a player, like most of us once dreamed we might become.

But what happens when we find out that it was also our brother who was cheating this entire time. He was lying right to our face and we just didn't know. How will we feel about the game that we love and cherish then? The game that we watched from our father's laps as kids and hope to one day share with our children too.

I think tomorrow has the potential to change everything.

Steroids saved baseball in the 90's. They gave us a homerun chase unlike anything we had ever seen.

What can save the game in the 2000's?

My only thought is to give Jose Reyes speed before every game and just watch that son of a bitch run. But in all seriousness, I wonder, could this be the end of baseball's golden era?

Scared.

Vaya,
Sip

(Pics courtesy of Newsday.com, Boston.com, About.com)

Mailing It In

Hey team, hate to do it but I've gotta shortchange you all a bit tonight. Today's been a bit of a whirlwind going from store to store getting gear for my apartment then going over to B.O.A.F.O.M.G.'s place for a tick before dinner with family.

Today's unique because I've never spent so much money in one day. Really, I blew the old record completely out of the water. I feel great about the purchases, some of which are already in the apartment, others of which will arrive in the weeks ahead.

So there's no buyer's remorse there, but you know, any time you drop that kind of coin there's a moment where you say 'holy shit, did that just happen?' -- that's kind of where I am right now.

As for the New Guys, I'm still tossing the idea of blowing the team up and starting over around in my head. See, here's the trouble with that line of thinking: this Mets team is close. I grant that. We're an ace pitcher away from being a juggernaut.

But where is that ace going to come from? From Minnesota? Put yourself in their shoes -- if you could have Melky Cabrera/Phil Hughes, Jon Lester/Jacoby Ellsbury, or Carlos Gomez/Mike Pelfrey, is there any chance in hell you choose the Mets' package? I wouldn't.

All of which is to say I don't think Johan Santana is going to be our Opening Day starter. Without an ace pitcher, what kind of team are we? That's what we need to determine. Are we a team that's there, or a team that's close? If we're there, that's one thing; but being close and winning 88 games isn't enough.

It's hard. I mean, look at Mike Piazza's career. The guy was the franchise, and a hero to Mets fans. A public outcry would have followed any trade involving Piazza. In spite of it all, in retrospect, should we have traded him after 2001 when he still had value? Yes.

The question we need to ask ourselves is how our players add the most value to the club. Some of them it's by producing on the field. Others though would provide more value by being traded.

I want to be clear on this point: I don't believe necessarily that this Mets team needs to be blown up. I just want to believe that management has thoroughly assessed our team's strengths, its weaknesses, and its potential.

Maybe you do that and you determine we're a team that should make the playoffs. But maybe not. And then what do you do?

Hard questions.

- A.F.O.M.G.

Reading los hojas de te

From la trapa liberal of record, today's off-season opus about A.F.O.M.G.'s namesake. What exactly is Mr. Glass, not to mention NYT beat writer Ben Shpigel -- on assignment in the D.R. -- trying to tell us?

PALMAR ARRIBA, Dominican Republic, Dec. 4 — Drive along the dusty, pothole-filled road, careful not to strike the roosters or stray dogs, until it dead-ends beside a stone staircase. Run up the steps, climb over the aqua-colored fence — or, for the less adventurous, slip through an open gate — and behold a field littered with avocado-size rocks and teeming with about 60 boys of all ages, many holding balls or gloves.

That's real, son.

The youngsters have gathered on this sizzling Tuesday morning to play baseball, naturally, but really they are here because of the young man standing over there, the one dressed in sunglasses-to-sneakers black and doubled over in laughter.

Say word. This is why people fell in love with Reyes the player -- not too strong an expression for what many Mets fans feel, in my opinion -- in the first place. The passion, the vibe, the whole package. The smile. Is this too gay for you yet?

There is nowhere else José Reyes, the Mets’ shortstop, would rather be than on this crude ball field nestled in the Cordillera Septentrional foothills, his passions for family and friends, baseball and his country, intersecting. This is where he learned to play. This is where he grew up dreaming of the major leagues. And this is where, as one of baseball’s most electrifying players, he still goes every weekday morning, arriving by 9 a.m. after a brief stop at his parents’ house, to begin his daily workouts.

Catching his breath, Reyes surveyed all that was in front of him, pointing out cousins and childhood friends and the man who hits him ground balls. “I told him that if I win a Gold Glove next year, I’m buying him a car,” Reyes said.

GOOD. I've mentioned this about a dozen times, but it bears repeating -- we want Jose working hard. We want him hungry. We want his energy funneled into productive avenues -- not stifled, not misdirected as it was toward the end of last season. A firecracker inside a tin can does nothing but make a lot of noise. You don't get to see any of the good stuff. The fire is snuffed out, or worse yet, never sparks.

Wow, that metaphor spiraled out of control pretty fast.

As for the chances of Reyes winning a Gold Glove next year? Probably better than he deserves. But no matter.

Maybe 40 feet beyond the right-center-field fence, a few women sat in front of a house painted sea green. Nodding in that direction, Reyes said: “Last year, I hit one guy on the head. Not good. Not good, papi.”

A nod to his developing power. Which begs the question -- does Reyes profile as a more of a home run hitter down the road? I personally think he's due for a big increase in home runs -- if not extra-base hits -- as his power develops. It won't be quite as pronounced as it might be for a player who hits fewer ground balls than Reyes, but I anticipate something in the vein of a 40 point bump in slugging percentage in '08.

Reyes returned to this rural village about 20 minutes north of Santiago, the country’s second-largest city, in mid-November after spending the previous six weeks resting at his in-season home in Manhasset, N.Y. He was more than a little tired, physically and mentally, after a turbulent year that, on one hand, included a career-high 78 stolen bases, but that will most likely be defined by his being yanked from a game for not running out a ground ball and a miserable September that culminated in his being booed as the Mets completed their collapse.

Despite the turbulence, despite the recent suggestions from fans and columnists that the Mets consider dealing Reyes for Minnesota’s Johan Santana, the 24-year-old shortstop with the engaging smile and the overexuberant celebrations on the field is not going anywhere, except to spring training with the Mets.

Just last week, General Manager Omar Minaya reiterated that he would not trade Reyes. Minaya had personally assured Reyes of that. In an indication of the organization’s long-term commitment to him, Minaya and Manager Willie Randolph both intend to visit Reyes here before spring training.

“I’ll show them around real good,” Reyes said.

There's the money section. If you believe Shpigel -- who has to has sourced that assertion to more than just Minaya's publications, I would think -- if you belive Minaya is telling the truth -- not that I trust that two-faced prick farther than I can throw him after the Thrilledge debacle -- a.k.a the Blastings Blowup 2K7; a.k.a. The Day the Rap Music Died; a.k.a. Omar's Folly, a.k.a. Shea It Ain't So Part XVII, a.k.a......

Sorry. Wait, no I'm not. Fuck this, man. I am so not over that trade.

Anyway, if you believe the above-referenced combination, then we're out of the woods on a potential Reyes-Santana swap, which I never thought had any chance of going down.

That tour could begin at Reyes’s new house in Santiago, where he lives with his girlfriend, Katherine, and their daughters, Katerine and Ashley. It is a place, he says, where he goes only to sleep. The rest of the time he spends at the home of his parents, José Manuel and Rosa, where he grew up and where visitors see a different side of Reyes.

In this setting, he still flashes the perpetually upbeat and caffeinated aspects of his personality, but around his family, particularly his parents, Reyes is also unflinchingly polite and deferential. Even as he marched up an outdoor staircase to show off his trophies, bobblehead dolls and framed jerseys, Reyes talked proudly of how happy he could make his parents. He praised his mother’s cooking, particularly her chicken and rice, and, though hungry, would not eat lunch until a few visitors had departed.

“We’ve taught him to be professional and to always present your best side to everyone,” his father said through an interpreter.

As someone's grandfather might say, "He's got a good head on his shoulders." I don't know who the hell talks like that, but I've heard that people do. In one of the Dakotas, I believe.

On this particular day, Reyes’s weight room, in the rear of his parents’ house, doubled as a gathering spot. Waves of friends and family came through, shaking hands with everyone. Arismendy Toribio, a childhood friend, has known Reyes since they were 6, and he said at that age, Reyes was not even the fastest boy in town.

“No chance,” Reyes, his brows furrowed, said in Spanish. “Who were they?”

“They were older,” Toribio said, laughing. “They’re not faster than you now,” he added as Reyes laughed, too.

Okay, that's just wrong. Who was ever faster than Jose Reyes? Show me that man. I need to see video before I even come close to believing that? And even so, what are they growing in this town? Meth labs? Extra tendons? Speaking of which ...

José Manuel turned to his right where, sitting on deck chairs, no fewer than 10 boys watched Reyes put himself through a punishing series of leg exercises. Reyes adheres to the off-season workout regimen supplied by the Mets’ training staff, but to prevent the hamstring injuries that once hampered him, he has incorporated a few other drills.

In one, he set up a small wooden bench and boosted himself up with one leg, 10 times in all, before switching to the opposite leg. Taking a quick water break, Reyes then stretched out on the floor so he could catch an eight-pound medicine ball thrown by Toribio, his trainer, while completing a sit-up.

“Diablo,” said Reyes, calling Toribio the Spanish word for devil.

There's a reason why A.F.O.M.G.'s nickname only kind of makes sense anymore, and this is it. Hard work/teamwork, baby. It's transformed our boy from a training-table terror to, even after all this, one of the most valuable properties in baseball. There's a reason why none of us think trading Reyes for THE UNDISPUTED BEST PITCHER IN BASEBALL makes sense. When you read that sentence again, you realize what a quality talent we have here.

And there's a reason why Shpigel is in some Latin American jungle, tracking down relatives through translators, and firing this story out right now -- on the week of the Winter Meetings, while every other baseball writer in the country is cold chilling by a hotel pool. They have minibars there.

He's there because either or he or his editor doesn't want Reyes to go. Consciously, perhaps, but just as likely subconsciously. There's a reason why a long-form apologia like this goes out at this time, and while there's nothing insidious or horrifying about it, someone has an agenda here. This is a soft-landing propaganda piece, and I'm fine with it.

Anyway, Shpigel detours into the negative stuff for a while -- Reyes was tired last year, etc. -- before wrapping up with this.

Meanwhile, Reyes is trying to make life easier for everyone close to him. He has purchased land for his close friends and family around this village and in neighboring Villa González. His father owns four properties within a 15-minute drive, growing sweet potatoes, plantains and yucca to be sold at Colmado Reyes, the family bodega beside their home. Standing on the roof of the original house — the second floor was added a few years ago — Reyes gazed past the soaring palm trees, past the tin roofs and colored streamers marking the holiday season, and toward the ball field of his youth.

That field served its purpose, but Reyes this season will start donating money for a new diamond nearby. This one will have a smooth infield and a wall that will not crumble when heavy rains fall, so that his cousins and everyone else who dreams of becoming the second major leaguer to hail from here may improve his odds.

I mean, that's the dream. That's what you'd like to think you'd be big enough to do were you in his position. And it's not exactly a reason to hate a motherfucker -- people are allowed to have their own priorities -- but look at the contrast between what guys like Reyes and Pedro do, and the straight nada coming through from a dude like Manny Ramirez. Washington Heights doesn't get a dime out of him. Others give without the asking. My point being, some athletes (and people) are easier to root for than others. I think we all agree on that, and agree that all the nasty aspects of last season considered, we know why we root for who we root for.

As it so happened, the Mets were holding a tryout here Tuesday morning. With Reyes watching, a scout clocked players running to first base, and a lanky boy wearing blue pinstriped pants and a white Reyes No. 7 jersey grabbed his attention. It was his 15-year-old cousin, Reyes explained, and a pretty good player.

“I know he’s skinny,” Reyes added. “But I used to look like that once.”

SIGN THAT KID.

P.S. Happy Pearl Harbor Day to everyone. Especially Kei Igawa.

P.P.S. R.I.P. Chip Reese. A legend has fallen.

A Long Look in the Mirror

With all these rumors going around about possible trades for Johan Santana, I wanted to take a moment to list the players on the Mets who I would be truly pissed if they traded. It's not a long list.

1. David Wright.

Pretty sure no explanation is needed.

2. Jose Reyes.

Give me a fucking break.

If the Mets trade Jose Reyes I'll be crushed. Devastated. I have never _never_ enjoyed watching someone play as much as Jose Reyes.

How the fuck did everyone forget how great this kid is so quickly? Honestly, if the Mets trade Reyes I don't know that I'll be able to support them, I don't care who we get in exchange.

The celebrations, the stolen bases, the triples. Think about what we'd be giving up.

3. Oliver Perez.

How quickly things change. A year ago I was asking why we put so much faith in this guy, now he's an untouchable.

Young with the capacity to dominate games, Ollie is basically the best thing we have going in our rotation. Will he infuriate you sometimes? Yes.

But he's also a joy to watch. Whether it's his frustration when he fails to get a big hit or his jumping over the lines, I laugh once a game just watching Ollie perform.

Besides, Coop would be crushed if we traded him, and that ain't right.

4. Fernando Martinez.

I know nothing about him except that he'll basically be ready to go by the time Carlos Beltran's contract expires. Let's give him a chance.

* * * * * *

I've been thinking about this team a lot lately, and the more I think about it, the more I think it's time has past. As currently constructed, it can contend but it can't dominate.

I'm worried this team is dying a slow death, one that started last season. It may be time to blow it up and start again.

I don't know, maybe I'm being too hasty. The thing is, I look at this Mets team and we haven't gotten better in any respect this offseason. As a matter of fact, having lost Tom Glavine, we've probably gotten worse. Meanwhile, having added Brad Lidge, the Phillies have probably gotten better.

So what now? Do we give the current construct around Wright and Reyes one last go 'round? Perhaps that makes the most sense, given that Pedro and Delgado are inked for one more season.

The Mets need to get better. There are two ways to improve: sign players or develop prospects. The prospects we have are a bit suspect. Remember Game 3 of the ALCS? Remember when Phil Hughes came in? Have you ever watched Mike Pelfrey or Phil Humber and felt awed like you did then?

So how can we get more prospects? When I think about it, I always come back to one name: Carlos Beltran.

I've really come around on Beltran. I like watching him play. But when I look at it, I always find myself thinking he's the one guy who could really net us some valuable players.

My mind isn't made up on this topic, but I'd be curious to hear what other people think.

The question as I see it is this: if this Mets team's best chance was 2006, and if every year after that is a little worse than the one before it, at what point do you pull the plug? At what point do you grow tired of being an 88-win team with just a shot at the playoffs? At what point do you stop adding supplemental pieces and start reshaping around your core (Wright/Reyes)?

Hard questions, especially in New York.

If the Mets had made the playoffs would we be asking any of these questions? Probably not. But guess what? We didn't make the playoffs. We won 88 games. These are facts.

And now what's left? Are we building toward something new and great or are we closing our eyes and hoping to wake up in March 2006 again?

Offseason on Fire, Omar. I'm looking at you.

- A.F.O.M.G.

Poor Little Rich Kid

I think back to growing up.

I went to to a school full of smart kids from mostly succesful homes. Many students stood out for many reasons. But there was ONE student who was just the worst.

As a child, "H"- as I will refer to him as- was rude and abrasive. He wore really fancy clothes and lacked any real social skills. He had playdates when his mother forced them on the other parents but really the kid was just miserable.

We got to high school and it started to become a little bit more clear as to why H acted the way he did. H was WEALTHY. As Chris Rock puts it, "We a'int talking rich, we talking wealthy!"



H carried tons of cash around with him at the same time I was begging my parents for a slight raise in my already reasonable allowance. Even so, I was certainly beating H in the game of life. I was by no means the big man on campus but I got along with everyone and had a nice fit at school.

H, meanwhile was just too big of a prick. My friends and I would see he him at parties and random social functions an H would always be with someone new and random. He didn't appear to have real friends, only associates.

But as we got older things started to change.

H started to use his WEALTH.

Courtside seats at the Garden, Blowout parties at his mega-mansion in the hamptons. He may hot have been making real friends, but he was certainly buying a ton of company.

Then H went to college.

In college everyone can start over. He went from being the terrible kid with money to the intriguing kid from NEW YORK CITY who dressed nicely and was always doing really cool things. So in college, H had some appeal.

He hooked up with a crew of similar assholes. 18 year old kids who were defined by money. 99% of the student pop hated H and his crew, but it didn't matter. He had found his niche and his foundation for the future.

After college, it only got worse.

While the rest of us from my high school were struggling with our duties in the blogosphere(salt), our investment banking or law firm jobs (less salt) or doing things that were for the most part pretty exceptional for a recent college graduate (sans blogging), H lived on another planet.

He didn't reallly "work" per say. Sure he "worked" for Daddy's company, but he wasn't pulling 100 hour weeks or sweating out pay check to pay check.

Instead, he was dropping Daddy's Black Amex after he got out of his limo to cut the line and get two tables at Marquee.





He was surrounded by slightly less rich assholes who served as his cronies and a bevy of attractive women who spotted their future alimony payment.

He derserved nothing yet had the keys to everything. He had "the good life."

Everyone who knew H in high school knew what a loser this kid was. But it no longer mattered. His money and status trumped all. As much as we hated him, he was NOW beating us. And so is life.





NO, I didn't grow up with Hank Steinbrenner. I compare the H in my life to what I would imagine was Hank's rise through the baseball world.



Welcome to baseball's winter meetings, my friends.

28 people from one world working 100 hour weeks so as to make the perfect move.

1 man from another world, Theo Epstein, with a slight financial advantage, some luck, a ton of skill and what appears to be a ton of respect among his appears.

And then there is Hank Steinbrenner.

The recent heir to the throne, the boss's son, the little rich kid who was handed the keys to baseball's crown jewel, America's beloved Yankees.

While other teams grind it out(don't feel to bad for them), Hank has proven this offseason to do the exact opposite. Instead of managing his money, or seeking prime efficiency- I learned all about the meaning of Prime from my father last night- Hank has thrown his money at his players like I was throwing 48MPH curve balls in 7th grade- Very recklessly.

But what bothers us baseball fans is not why hank spends the way he spends but rather how.

The why is very easy and by now I think we have all come to grips with it. The Yankees are in a financial world of their own. Take A-Rod, Rivera and Posada's contracts off the Yankees and you have the Red Sox. Take Pettite and Abreu's away as well and you have the New Tigers.

Take away everyone on the team except Carl Pavano and you have the Marlins.(That baseball hasn't gotten rid of this team is just wrong)

The how is what makes me angry. 29 baseball executives handle their business quietly and surreptitiously. Then there is Hank Steinbrenner, the Kim Kardashian of baseball.



His statements are so outlandish and foolish that they almost appear intentional- a cry for the attention that his daddy stole from him for so many years(much like the attention that Paris Hilton stole from young Kimmy). But that's not the best part about Hank the leader.

It is his love for the ultimatum, "the line in the sand" that really brings out the brat. He's the rich kid that gets his house cleaner fired. And unfortunately, this isn't how baseball operates, Hank.

In both the cases of A-Rod and now Johan Santana, Hank Steinbrenner tried to bully his way into leverage. Think about how wrong this is. A-Rod was a free agent. He had all the leverage in the world- 29 teams that would want him if the price was right.
And then the Twins. They hold the rights to the best pitcher in the game. Why would they be in a rush to trade the guy when 10 teams in baseball would both want him and be able to afford him.

But Hank had to be a bully. He needed to show who was boss. He promised never to negotiate with A-Rod again, after all, A-Rod proveed that he did not understand what it meant to be a Yankee. (Going after money?!!!)

Hank already went back on his promise with that one. He eventually gave A-Rod $40 million dollars more than his original, "unbeatable" offer.

But the Twins situation is much more enjoyable. Hank drew his "line in the sand" for Monday at midnight. No deal by Hank's deadline and the Yankees were out of the picture. You can't push Hank around. And shocker. The deadline came and went without a deal for the game's best pitcher.



Which leaves Hanky with two options:

1. Go back on his word, AGAIN so as to prevent his division rival and enemy from getting the best pitcher in his game. This would take anyway any credibility that the man supposedly has to any person in baseball.

or

2. Be too stubborn to go back on his word in an attempt to save face. In this case the Yankees don't get Santana but at least young Hank has his pride/ego. Oh, and you apparently hand Santana to the Red Sox in the meantime.

What makes this situation so great is that if Hank wasn't a brat and instead a smart baseball man, he could have his pick. The Yankees could have presented a better offer than the Sox and Hank could have chosen whether to make the deal or not.

Instead, he was simply a bad businessman. He thought he could bully the Twins like he did all of his loser college cronies.

His father was smart enough to realize that having the Steinbrenner genes didn't lead to smart baseball decisions and so he turned over the ranks to Brian Cashman a few years back. In that time, the Yankees went from being the team with all the money, to the team with all the money, a great farm system and a perfect infrastructure.

But apparently this wasn't enough for Hank. He needed the power and control that came with running baseball's Evil Empire. And it's a good thing.

Hank Steinbrenner will be the saving grace of all Yankee-haters. The only thing in baseball that can trump money and smarts is ego and the opposite of smarts.

And young Hanky has a lot of those.

James Dolan, George Bush: Meet Hank Steinbrenner.

Vaya,
Sip



(Pics courtesy of msn.com, joonbug.com, cnn.com, llnwd.com, johansantana.net)