Requiem

I attended my first game at Shea Stadium on Sunday, August 23rd, 1987, a 9-2 Mets victory over the Padres. I was 8 years old, and sat in the Upper Box, Section 39, Box 853B, Seat 7. My final game was Sunday, although I didn't think I'd be there until I secured tickets earlier in the week, Mezzanine Reserved, Section 26, Row J, Seat 16. In between, 22 seasons passed, with my attendance at 262 games and another 5 in the Postseason. In that time, I've witnessed a lot, more good than bad, and forged memories that will last a lifetime. Shea Stadium may be gone, but it will certainly never be forgotten.

I wasn't quite sure about how to adequately document my final day at Shea on Sunday. I knew, for sure, that I would be bringing my camera with me, and I knew I was going to take a lot of photos and video of the game and the ceremony, no matter how things turned out. But I wasn't quite sure how to go about things. I didn't want to take a lot of photos of the innards of Shea, after all, I'd already done that earlier this year. I knew it might get a little repetitive if I just took a lot of photos from my seat, but this is how I had to do it. Shea Stadium, one final time, from my own eyes.

It seems like every time I take my camera to a game, I take a picture of the Starting lineup outside Shea. Looks like things haven't been updated since Friday. In typical Shea Stadium fashion, the park itself is charming, but the operations staff only seemed moderately prepared for the 55,000+ people that were going to show up.

One final Batting Practice. Usually, when I'm early, I'll slip into the Field Level. Today, they were checking tickets. I arrived at around 11:30, and the stadium was already packed and buzzing in a way I'd never really seen before. If I'd wanted to take some photos inside Shea, that wouldn't have been possible because the halls and ramps just seemed jam packed.

Looking down towards the LF corner. The clock appears ready for the end.



I started up to the Mezzanine, and noticed that there was a bit of a buzz and a crowd forming around the ramps, way out in Left Field. I walked around to get a closer look.

People were crowded around the SNY stage outside Gate A. But there were also a lot of people gathered around the ramps, looking down towards the entrance inside Gate A.

I looked outside some more. The ticket booth by Gate A was silent. This booth was always a mystery to me; I don't think I ever bought a ticket there. In fact, I only ever seemed to pass it if I left Shea from Gate A and walked around behind the stadium to the Subway. This became impossible once the construction for Citi Field began. But here it was, one last look.

And then, I saw why the crowds were gathered around the ramps. Here, inside Gate A, was the red carpet for the returning players to come in to Shea. Everyone was crowded around, snapping pictures and cheering as players came in. I found a good vantage point and did my best to get some good pictures. Here's Al Leiter and John Franco...

...John Stearns, who prompted me to scream "THE MONSTER IS OUT OF THE CAGE!" one final time...

...Blurry, but here's Doc, who got a huge ovation, standing next to Craig Swan...

...Doc started leading Let's Go Mets chants. George Foster quietly entered behind him...

...Then, Robin Ventura, along with Jesse Orosco...

...Doc, once again, coming back in with Tom Seaver.

And, with that, off to my seat...

...Only to discover that I would have one last Rain Delay at Shea. So, I ventured back inside to have one final Shea Lunch...

...Yeah. One Final, Grand, Delicious Shea Lunch. A Hot Dog in a Box.

The tarp did, eventually, come off the field.

Close up of the Apple, apparently in too much disrepair to make the trip to Citi Field. The plan involves having something they're calling an "Apple Garage" at the new stadium. That doesn't sound so good. El Guapo had the right idea: Why not just make a new Apple in a Hat? How hard could that be?

I've always had an odd obsession with taking pictures of the scoreboard. This is the first of the day. Won't be the last.

The tarp was pretty wet, and most of the water got dumped into the Outfield. Here, they're wet-vac-ing the grass.

We always do, don't we?

Wide angle shot.

Bonus video! Here's one last introduction of the Starting Lineups.

They could have done more with this. I tried to start a chant of "OLLIE! BOMAYE!" It didn't quite catch on.

More video. Here's Tom Seaver, removing #2 from the countdown, playing to the crowd as he always does.

One last time, away we go!


Ollie departs, and things begin to go downhill.

And with hope all but gone, and flashbulbs popping all over the Stadium, it's one last pitch from Matt Lindstrom to Ryan Church...

Squeezed on the warning track by Cameron Maybin, and that, my friends, would be that.

And so, we sat, mostly silent, thinking about how things had come apart, and waited for the ceremonies to begin, to create that one final memory for everyone at Shea Stadium.

It seemed to take unnecessarily long for them to get everything ready. Maybe they wanted everyone to simmer down a little bit. Some people left. Some people threw their caps away. Most people stayed, remaining mostly silent.

The ceremonies finally began, after about 25 minutes of setting things up, with Mr. Met removing #1 from the outfield wall and revealing a Citi Field logo, which the fans booed. We were still stinging a little bit.

But everyone seemed to have their spirits lifted when the players began to walk out. Dave Kingman, for one, got a nice ovation.

Al Leiter took a few boos, but not from me. I'll always remember him for games like this one.

Edgardo Alfonzo, another one of my favorites, whose departure never sat well with anyone, was warmly and heartily welcomed back.

But the largest and loudest ovation was, not surprisingly, reserved for Mike Piazza, returning to the scene of many of his greatest moments as a player and as a person, for the first time since his retirement.

This was just cool to watch. Even the players on the field were taking pictures. Here, Keith and Lenny photograph Doc, Koosman, Leiter, Franco, Darling and (I believe) Al Jackson.

Everyone lined up and watched as a video salute to Shea and its conquering heroes played.

And then, lined up for one final trip across Home Plate.

From Willie Mays...

...to Piazza and Seaver.

And finally, poignantly, one last pitch, from the Greatest Met to play in Shea, to the Greatest Met I ever saw play in Shea. They then hugged, waved to the fans, walked out to Center Field, waved one final Goodbye, and closed the doors.

El Guapo and I tipped our caps towards the diamond as we took one last look at the field, and then exited, to one last trip down the ramps...

...And one final look at our Palace in Queens.

Never Right

With one out in the bottom of the 9th yesterday, I turned to El Guapo and said something I'd been thinking for a while, at least on that particular day:

"You know, I don't think you can point out where it all went wrong, because I don't think it was ever right."

And that's a good summation for the 2008 Mets. They were never right.

It was always something with this team, and yesterday, for one final, miserable time, they showed us just who they were: A team that can throw a starting pitcher that will keep you in the game (except for that one instance every 5 days where they throw that starting pitcher who will dominate you, shove the bat up your asses, beat you up and take your lunch money), but will constantly be submarined by a bullpen that can't close the deal and an offense that feels too much pressure because of it and can't extend a lead, or sometimes even get you a lead in the first place.

That was yesterday, and that was the season. It had an even greater sense of urgency than last year. This year, there was not only that palpable sense of fear, there was that sense of history, with so many former players in the building, ready to give Shea that grand sendoff that wasn't going to be Goodbye just yet. Last year, things blew up before they could even get started. This year, it was like Waiting for Godot. Something had to happen with the Mets offense sooner or later, right? Not until they fell behind in the 6th, and then when they fell behind in the 8th, there was no response. Delgado's drive fell tantalizingly short in the 8th, and Church's drive died, along with the season, on the Warning Track in the 9th inning, amid an eerie display of flashbulbs popping and people sighing.

And...That was that.

Milwaukee had already completed their game, and so with Church's drive settling in Cameron Maybin's glove, the finality of it all just socked everyone in the face, collectively. There was still a ceremony to be held, and I'm sure the circumstances were probably the worst nightmare of Fabulous Freddie and the Boy-King. After spitting it up and watching as Milwaukee won and erased the Mets chances of a playoff run for the 2nd year in a row, now, we're going to make you even more depressed by trotting out all these old greats in a ceremony to close down Shea Stadium. And it seemed like they couldn't even get that right, as we sat around for 30 minutes in muted agony, while they piddled around in the outfield setting up some placards, and pulled a special cover over the mound. And the Ceremony was lovely, and poignant, and I'm certainly glad I was there to see it. While it might have taken away a bit of the sting of the game itself, there was a pall over it. There's plenty to be said about the ceremony, and plenty to be said about Shea itself, which I'll save for another day. But when things ended, when Tom Seaver and Mike Piazza walked through the Center Field fence with the spotlight on them, slowly shut that door and the fireworks went off, everyone just sort of got up and left, very quietly and very quickly. There wasn't much chatter going on, there wasn't any cheering, there was just sort of a low mumble as everyone exited Shea, clearing out the old ballpark for one final time.

The discussion after the game between El Guapo and I could have very well been about what a great ceremony it was, and perhaps under different circumstances, it would have been. But the ceremony was just a slight diversion from the abject misery of a season gone awry. All we could talk about was the current version of the Mets, and where things stand right now. There's a core, we know that, and as much as people would like to bash them and call for their heads, none of those guys are going to get traded. Whether you like it or not, David Wright, Jose Reyes, Carlos Beltran, Johan Santana and Carlos Delgado are not going anywhere. It becomes a matter of the pieces that are put around them that will make the difference. I had said, and this may or may not be true, that perhaps this group isn't really as good as we or others make them out to be. They're a good team, yes, and a contender. But maybe, after looking back on what they've done over the last 4 seasons, maybe 2006 was the fluke, and near-misses are the norm. It wasn't a collapse when the team displayed nothing more than abject suckitude for 4 months in 2007, and it wasn't a failure in 2008 when the team played inconsistent ball with a brief hot streak here and there for the better part of 2008. You can tell it wears on the players; David Wright looks like he just spent 6 months on Iwo Jima. But he's also one of those guys who has to realize that he can't do it all himself. He can only do what he does, and he did it well until he started trying to carry the entire team on his shoulders, and you could see him slowly making himself nuts over the last month of the season. Which tells you everything you need to know about this team. The players don't seem to have a lot of confidence in each other's ability to get the job done. So, then, why should we? There needs to be some wholesale changes with a good portion of this team before I can feel comfortable calling them a Championship-level team. Until then, they're just going to continue to be a good team that will constantly come up just a little bit short.

One More Time for Oliver's Army

It was an intense, restless night for me last night, waiting for today to come around. I'm getting ready to head out to Shea now, but to witness what?

The setting is frighteningly similar to the one I set out to for Game 162 one year ago. That didn't exactly end well. The opponent is the same. The playoff scenario is the same. The sense of urgency is the same. The sellout crowd will be the same. Many of the names are the same, but one difference is today's starting pitcher for the Mets, where the only similarity is that he's another lefty pitcher.

Following Johan Santana's start on three-days' rest, Oliver Perez heads to the mound on short rest to close out the season, with a shot to send the Mets on, be it to a one-game playoff or to the NLDS.

Are you as nervous as I am? Oliver Perez has been, well, Oliver Perez all season long. Slow start, hot middle, up and down at the end. Three days after a pretty bad start against the Cubs, where, after being handed a big lead, he couldn't hold it and the Mets eventually got themselves into a battle they couldn't win.

And, yet, I keep thinking about the last time Oliver Perez was asked to take the mound on three days' rest.

We remember this night well. October 19, 2006.

Oh, we didn't think much of Perez then. He was middling when he pitched on October 15th, but backed by an offensive explosion, he was able to minimize the damage against him and gave up most of his runs when the game was already out of reach. But, oh, how he pitched on that wet Thursday night. He navigated his way through the Cardinals lineup, kept them off the bases, kept his team in the game. He was aided by a magical, memorable play that overshadowed the effort he gave that night, but you can't forget the job Perez did in the spotlight.

Since that time, it's been...interesting.

Oliver Perez has been known to look like an ace one night and a journeyman the next. There's no consistency or rhythm to the way he pitches. When he's on, he can dominate, and there have been several instances where he's done just that this season. Then, he can turn right around and throw up a stinker the next time out.

I guess that's what makes us so nervous. Perez does have a solid record against today's opponent this season. He also has a strong track record in big games. That's all fine and good, but it's really no guarantee as to which Oliver Perez will show up today.

You also have to consider the magnitude of the situation, and how he's going to respond.

Today's game is no ordinary game. Today, if things don't go well, is Goodbye. Today, if it works out, could be a party of the highest order. Today is history coming together with the present one final time in Shea Stadium.

I'll be there. It'll be my 264th Regular Season game and my 269th overall. I knew this day was coming for some time, and I hoped that somehow it might be a day to sit back and reflect, but that's not going to happen. Last year, I wrote that I showed up at a rocking House Party and left a Morgue. Today, I'll be showing up to that same House Party. I'm afraid I might be leaving a morgue. The postgame ceremony might not be so much fun. But if Oliver Perez comes through, if the Mets bats can wake up and knock around sweaty, drunken Scott Olsen like they should, if they can erase the ghosts and the tension from last season, and if they can do what's required of them to win the damn ballgame, then, we'll party. Shea will rock, and it won't be for the last time.

The Man

"We need that game, and I need to pitch."

-Johan Santana

Are there any words?

In the long history of great Mets pitching performances, the effort turned in by Johan Santana this afternoon will live on in Mets lore, perhaps no matter what happens tomorrow. With his team's back against the wall, with no margin for error and with three-days' rest, Johan Santana once again proved to everyone watching why he's the premier pitcher in the game today, worthy of the riches and the accolades heaped upon him.
Not that it would be easy. Would he be able to respond to pitching on short rest? Clearly, he was more than up to the task. After virtually begging his manager to take the ball today, Johan proved to be in complete control of everything, scowling his way through an inning of near-misses and non-calls that would certainly have done in a lesser pitcher. He was promised 105 pitches by his manager, and zipped through 8 innings on 104. And yet, there was no question that he would pitch the 9th and finish his job. He found his rhythm early and nothing was going to break him from it. His offense didn't help him much, only scoring a pair of runs, but once he got that lead, it was clear that he was going to give the Marlins an inch. As the game wore on, he only got tougher, stepping on their throats and steaming towards a rousing finish to a masterful performance.
Lately, I've been writing a lot after Santana's starts about how he has stepped up and been the ace that this team has needed him to be. But a game like today's may have been more than that. It has been difficult for the Mets to build on these victories, rousing as some of them have been, as they fight to the finish. And as today's game ended, the Mets were guaranteed of nothing more than a meaningful game tomorrow for a shot to play on Monday. But, the Cubs helped us out, beating the Brewers and restoring a tie for the Wildcard, meaning that if things work out tomorrow, Monday could be academic and the Mets will win outright. But that's tomorrow.

Today, we can revel for a moment, and thank Johan Santana for his truly heroic effort. Thanks to him, tomorrow could be the celebration of celebrations.

Come Undone

Game 160 of 2008 felt an awful lot like Game 160 of 2007. Same teams, same lackluster performance from the Mets, same result.

At least I remained sober, if only from the standpoint of I wasn't drinking heavily.

Everything about this game seemed to be doomed from the start. Watching on TV, you could sense the apathetic feel from the team and the crowd, which baffles me. In Philly, where the weather was similarly bad, the stadium was probably packed to the gills with people waving towels and cheering and yelling, while in New York, Shea was half-empty. What a sad, sad way to play out one of the final games in our beloved ballpark.

Where was everyone? There were many reasons bandied about, between the guys on SNY and the guys on WFAN. Sure, the weather was a factor, but there were years that this team would play in conditions like last night and the stadium would still be full. It has to somehow impact the players, although I'm not sure anything could have saved the players last night.

From the start, everyone seemed tight. Gary Cohen noted that the Mets seemed like they weren't ready to play last night. It could very well be that they weren't quite ready for this season. It's felt that way an awful lot. Mike Pelfrey pitched admirably well, 3 runs in 6 innings, but what does it mean when your offense no-shows the game? It's been that way all too often. One thing or the other. Why cherry-pick specific instances? The offense didn't hit, Pelfrey did his best to keep the Mets in it, but the Bullpen let the Marlins pull away. And the Marlins loved every minute of it. And now, we're all on life support. Philly has won, Milwaukee has won, and the best we can hope for is that we win today and someone takes a loss, so that the final game tomorrow means something other than simply everyone convening one last time to witness another academic finish. I don't see Washington helping us much. Milwaukee seems fired up and determined. Why is it that the Mets seem so tired?

As it turns out, I will be there on Sunday. StubHub came through earlier this week, and I'll be there. But what will I be witnessing? Is there one last miracle left in Shea Stadium? Does this team even have the heart to pull something like this off? Or is it just going to be one final trip to Shea Stadium, one final game in the place I've called my 3rd Home, and one more time, to close Shea Stadium down.

I don't know. I mentioned yesterday (and many others have echoed these sentiments) that even if the Mets make the playoffs, I have the feeling that the reaction will be something like, "OK...Now What?!"

Johan Santana today, on 3-days rest. He demanded the ball. But is anyone going to be there to back him up (I mean on either side of the ball)?

The Unusual Suspects

I spent most of late last night and into this morning thinking of some way to adequately sum up the game I witnessed last night at Shea, and I just can't come up with one good enough. I don't know that there's any good way to describe it.

Falling behind early and again late, the Mets never quit, never rolled over and somehow managed to shake off the failures from Wednesday night and post a harrowing, rousing victory that could prove to be the turning point for the season if the Mets can rally from the momentum.

It wasn't an easy game to watch. I arrived around 6:45 and El Guapo shortly thereafter for the final game on our Power Pack, the final Regular Season night game we'll attend at Shea, and immediately questioned why we were here. Already, things seemed grim. It started while I was riding out on the 7 train. The train pulled into Junction Blvd, on the middle track. Standing on the Manhattan-bound platform was a rather skinny, dorky, rather spastic-looking nebbish wearing a Cubs hat and Cubs shirt. He looked at me, through the train window. He caught my eye. Immediately, he started screeching at me and doing some horrendous, maniacal dance, making throat-slashing gestures at me and screaming "LET'S GO CUBS!"

This is the picture of Cubs fans?

A Braves fan, A Yankees fan or especially a Phillies fan, I might have responded with something vulgar, perhaps a bird or some choice words. You expect that sort of behavior out of those folks. But for some reason, I felt sorry for this poor schmuck. Why pick on me? The Cubs have already wrapped up what they need to wrap up. I was so taken aback that I responded simply by laughing and tipping my cap as the train pulled away.

Wednesday's game had already taken a lot out of me, and early on, it seemed like it had taken its toll on the Mets as well. Pedro, who's clearly just pitching on fumes and trying to will his way through games on pure heart, didn't have it early. After being victimized by a string of ringing, 2-out hits from the B-lineup that the Cubs had thrown out there, the Mets were down, the crowd, which was small due to an ominous forecast, but hearty considering the impact of the game, had a noticibly tense mood. It was enough to give one the feeling that things were already over for the Mets, or that there wasn't much of a chance to try to will the Mets to a victory. The Mets lineup seemed to have a festering black hole at the bottom, consisting of Ryan Church, Ramon Martinez and Robinson Cancel. It wasn't inspiring any confidence, and as Rich Harden motored through the early innings, it didn't make anyone feel any better.

El Guapo and I seemed to be discussing a wide variety of things that pertained little to the Mets, or Baseball in general. The game had become more or less scenery to a conversation that could have easily been had someplace else. This is why Ryan Church's tying 2-run double in the 4th inning seemed so monumentally jarring. Church has been playing in a fog for the past several weeks. It's difficult to be too hard on him, considering that he was so good early in the season, but has had to overcome two concussions in three months, sitting out the better part of three months of the season, and now is thrust into a frenetic Pennant Race. But he's in the Keith Hernandez Dark Forest, and he's killing the team, and nowhere was that more evident than in the 9th inning Wednesday. I certainly didn't expect Church to come through in that particular spot, but he did, and it was certainly welcome, as the rain began to fall and the game became official.

Pedro also settled himself down after his early struggles. I don't think it was an especially sparkling outing for Pedro, but let's face it. If someone told you that Pedro would pitch into the 7th inning, give up 3 runs and strike out 9, leaving a 3-3 tie, any Mets fan would have signed for it. Without question. And knowing that this was most likely the last start he would make with the Mets, the fans acknowledged his exit, and he acknowledged the fans, responding with some rather classy quotes following the game.

Things seemed to be OK for the moment, which is why it was again rather jarring when Micah Hoffpauir (you know, the great Micah Hoffpauir) launched a 3-run HR on Rincon's first pitch.

And we're right back where we started.

Now, it's getting desperate. In the 7th, Robinson Cancel, looking every bit like Rich "El Guapo" Garces' long-lost twin brother, hit a double to kick off the 7th. Somehow, he scooted to 3rd on a Marlon Anderson groundout (prompting a minor argument between The Guap and myself as to whether Anderson should be lauded for a "productive out (his side)" or bashed for not getting a productive hit (my side)). Somehow, he scooted home on a Jose Reyes groundout. 6-4 as we moved to the 8th.

And the desperation and tension and rain continued to build. How fortunate that our seats in MR4 were well covered. It would have made things worse if we were tense and soaked. David Wright singled, and we were standing. But the wind was immediately taken out of our sails when Delgado grounded into that rarely seen 5-6-3 double play. With hope about to die, Carlos Beltran singled deep in the hole at short.

And that would be when the Unusual Suspects would emerge.

I've only mentioned the Unusual Suspects in passing. But it's always those guys you least expect who come through with big plays at key moments that seem to be the trademark of a winning team, a team with Championship Aspirations. We weren't confident in Ryan Church's ability to come through, certainly not after he'd already done so earlier. But here he was, taking a pitch the other way for his 3rd hit of the game. We weren't even sure who Ramon Martinez was, except that we knew he wasn't the Ramon Martinez who was also Pedro's brother. Some fans behind me assumed he was a rookie. El Guapo thought he was still on the Dodgers. All of us leapt to our feet when he pulled a single through the hole to left to score Beltran. Robinson Cancel followed by putting forth the kind of at-bat that some of his teammates ought to emulate (hear that, David Wright?). After falling behind 1-2, Cancel pretty much stuck his bat out and poked a liner that just barely snuck into right field.

I have no adequate explanation for the ensuing play.
As I saw Fukudome throwing home and Church racing for the plate, I could see it would be close, and probably not in a good way. The throw was clearly going to beat Church. I had this brief moment of sheer panic as I realized what was unfolding. Ball, Koyie Hill and Church seemed to converge slightly to the 3rd base side of home, and before I knew what was happening, Church had somehow sidestepped Hill. Hill slipped on the dirt. Church, in an attempt to change his course to touch home, slipped on the dirt. Both men lay on the ground for a split second that could have been 10 minutes long. Church dove for the plate. Hill dove for Church. Church smacked his hand on the plate, just barely safe.

The Dive. How else could you describe it? If this is going to launch the Mets on to bigger and better things, this is where we have to look back to. The Dive. One final addition to the endless library of Shea Stadium Lore.

But the game was still only tied, and when Damion Easley looked rather foolish in striking out (after almost belting a 3-run HR), we moved to the 9th, and the continuation of the Bullpen Parade that bears no more discussion. Feliciano came in to face the lefty Mike Fontenot (and a big Bad Job to the Cubs clubbies for giving mediocre Mike Fontenot jersey #17. I'm sorry, Mark Grace may not be a Hall of Famer, but he was an exemplary player for a long time, and a grizzled, chain-smoking SOB who was always a joy to watch.). Feliciano gave up a hit to Fontenot. This prompted El Guapo to say the following: "Remember last year, when Feliciano was the best guy we had in the bullpen?"

I had no response. A brief pause. Then, he said, "Then again, he might still be the best guy we have in the bullpen."

Joe Smith came in, made things complicated and then got out of the jam. With 2 on and 2 out, Piniella sent up Daryle Ward to hit for the pitcher. I suppose it could have been worse, he could have been a dick and sent up Ramirez, Lee or Soriano. But then again, it was a lefty against Smith. But Smith got Ward to tap back to the box and end the threat. Phew. Now, can they do tonight what they couldn't do last night? Jose Reyes got things kicked off with a single. But in typical Mets fashion, they seemed to try their damndest to screw that up. Rather than just having Reyes run, which is probably what they should have done, Daniel Murphy tried to bunt. I didn't know if Murphy could bunt. El Guapo didn't know if Murphy could bunt. I don't even know if Murphy thinks he can bunt. He took 2 balls, then made a couple of stabs at a bunt and didn't look good doing so. Reyes didn't run. Finally, on 2-2, Reyes ran and had a great jump, which was especially helpful when Murphy mysteriously made another bunt attempt and fouled the ball straight back.

Here we go again. The Great Mets Offense is about to strike.

David Wright followed and looked like he was about to squeeze his bat into sawdust. He quickly fell behind 0-2, took two balls, and swung miserably through strike 3 as Reyes finally stole 2nd. Delgado was intentionally walked. Beltran followed, and I figured that the Cubs would walk him, too, and take their chances with Church, who looked stellar in a similar situation last night. Instead, they pitched to Beltran, who rewarded my faith, and rewarded everyone else's faith by hitting a shot that might well have gone through Hoffpauir's glove, down the right field line, sending Reyes home and sending the fans into a wet, happy frenzy! We're Still Alive!
All this to barely beat the Cubs B-team. Jesus. We jumped and screamed and high-fived and all of a sudden found ourselves immediately exhausted. We stood, briefly, with raised fists before quickly getting the hell out of there.

I don't really know what the hell to think, or what the hell will happen with this team anymore. These last two games have absolutely killed me. If they make the Playoffs, I might grind my teeth to dust or have a stroke or something similar. Milwaukee won shortly thereafter, just to keep things interesting. It's still eerily similar to last year. 3 games left, still in some semblance of control as far as our own destiny, with the Marlins coming in. Those Fucking Marlins who came in and kicked us in the nuts last year. And I'm sure they'd love to come in and kick us all in the nuts again. All this talk about last year being done, and being picked to run away with the division this year, and the problems with the bullpen, and the problems with the offense, and the problems with Willie or Jerry or Omar and everything else, and it's all just coming back to where we were exactly one year ago. Nothing's assured, not even the game tonight, with the weather looking ominous. Today's going to be a very tense day.

Four Lost Hours

You know, I went to a similarly long, wacky game just two weeks ago. I thought I'd had my fill of games like that, and yet last night, I was treated to yet another one, albeit from an obstructed view in the back of LR14. What I saw was brilliant, beautiful, painful, piercing drama of the highest order, starting out scary, turning fabulous, then gut-wrenching. And in the end, ultimately frustrating and disappointing, like so many before it.

It seems somehow a cruel twist of irony that, after weeks and weeks of everyone screaming and yelling about the bullpen, the bullpen, the bullpen, it's been the offense that has been the culprit in these frustrating Mets losses more often than you'd think. It's easier to scapegoat the bullpen; their failures seem to be much more spectacular than a bunch of guys making outs. But last night, the offense failed, and they did so in an equally spectacular fashion. I think the only way to adequately describe this horrendous display of futility is to describe the 7th, 8th and 9th innings as they appeared on my scorecard. This should give you some idea of things. I'll leave out the names, but I think you can figure out who did what.

Mets 7th: 2B, 1B, DP3, F-7.

Mets 8th: 2B, 1B, K (SB), 5-3, IBB, BB (x) , 4-3.

Mets 9th: 3B, K, IBB, IBB, FC 4-2, K.

And, for good measure, the almost completely predictable Cubs 10th:
3, 4-PF, 1B (SB), 2B (x), HR (xx), 4-3.

That's how you lose a game.

Try as they might, the bullpen really couldn't blow this one. I mean, sure, Duaner Sanchez butchered the 5th inning, but that was after he'd been inserted to clean up Oliver Perez's mess. Perez was just sterling last night, as the Cubs worked him for pitch after pitch, getting guys on base with frightening regularity and eventually battling back from a 5-1 deficit. Smith, Rincon, Stokes and Parnell all had some scary moments, but for the most part did an admirable job. So did Ayala in the 9th, before he got burned in the 10th. But, given that the Mets had a runner on 3rd and no outs in the 7th, 8th and 9th innings, I can't, in good conscience, put all the blame on Ayala. He shouldn't have had to be in that position in the first place. But when Derrek Lee dunked his 2-out double in the 10th, it seemed like mere formality that Aramis Ramirez would park one in the bleachers.

The prevailing thought seemed to be Good, up until the end. I don't necessarily think that's true. I don't know how I differ from most fans, although I think most fans who are as dyed-in-the-wool, insane like I am probably didn't enjoy last night's game so much, except for a few bright, shining moments, like Delgado's Grand Slam that I couldn't quite see (the seats in the back of the Loge are bad, not totally terrible, but if people in front of you are standing, and that happened a lot last night, it's really bad), this wasn't a fun game to watch as a Mets fan. This was stressful, agonizing, when the hell's the other shoe gonna drop. And I felt positive, I really did after the Mets tied the game in the 8th off Samardzija (why he decided to intentionally walk Endy Chavez I don't know), I really felt confident that they would come through. The 9th took the wind out of everyone's sails. And when the Cubs went ahead, I almost attacked my seat until I remembered that people get seriously hurt doing things like that. I don't know. There is some intrinsic fun I get from watching games in general, and I certainly have treated Shea as a sanctuary of sorts over the years. But mostly, it was tension and nerves controlling the night.

Pedro tonight, if the Mets can duck the raindrops. This is another in a series of bizarre scenarios. I don't even want to talk about it right now.

Mr. Clutch

Whatever happens over the final 5 games of this season, I don't ever, over the course of the next several seasons, want to hear anyone say that Johan Santana wasn't worth every cent that he is or is going to be paid.

Every time the Mets have gone into a game ready to fold their tents, it seems like Johan Santana has gone to the mound and delivered a performance equal to the moment. All second-half long, Santana has gone to the mound and done what has been asked of him: Throw strikes, get outs, pitch deep into the game and most importantly, give the Mets a chance to win. He did it against St. Louis. He did it against Milwaukee. He did it against Philadelphia. He did it against Washington. And last night, with the entire season on the line, with an entire fan base ready to have one giant, massive coronary, Santana did it against the Cubs, gutting it out for 8 innings and 125 pitches of the highest importance. He kept the game in his own hands, and out of the rather incapable hands of the bullpen as long as was necessary.

Santana was also in the thick of things on the offensive side. Even when he's at the plate, he's trying to get things done. His bizarre broken bat single in the 5th seemed to turn the tide of the game in the Mets favor. Howie Rose noted this on the radio. After Santana's hit, which broke his bat and then somehow hit the bat shard (perhaps some cosmic retribution on the 100th Anniversary of Merkle's boner), the Mets, who to that point had looked rather lifeless, extended the inning long enough for Wright to get the tying hit (even sandwiching a Walk by Luis Castillo in there!). Who scored the tying run? Johan Santana, of course. While this was going on, the Braves, who seem to have this annoying habit of killing the Mets, but bowing down to Philly, fought back in Philly against Cole Hamels and got themselves a lead, and eventually, a win. In the 6th, there was Santana again. Although he grounded into a fielder's choice with the bases loaded and no outs, his grounder forced Ramon Castro at home, erasing the logjam from the basepaths. Jose Reyes followed with a triple that cleared the bases, Santana included, who was able to score rather easily.

Perhaps you can say that David Wright's 2-run single in the 5th was clutch. Perhaps Jose Reyes' triple in the 6th was even more clutch. Nobody delivered as clutch a performance for the Mets on Tuesday night than Johan Santana. He understood the situation, he understood his responsibility and he delivered a career high in pitches in order to ensure his team would win when they absolutely couldn't afford to lose. That's called earning your salary.

Bad Rerun

I tried to watch some of last night's Mets game, but for some reason, SNY had decided to show a re-run of a game from last September, although for some reason, they had dubbed in the Chicago Cubs for the Washington Nationals. The Mets appeared to look and play the same.

So much for my thinking that the Cubs would take it easy.

If this post seems somewhat disjointed, don't worry, it's just that the Mets have made me a complete basket case, so my thoughts, although formed and fully valid, just don't seem to want to connect very well to each other.

I guess this officially makes Jonathan Niese the Philip Humber for 2008. At least he wasn't sitting out in the bullpen for the past 3 weeks wondering if he'd get a chance at all. I did have higher hopes for him last night, and he certainly seemed to start out well enough before the roof caved in in the 4th and he gave up a grand slam to the opposing pitcher.

It's OK, Jonathon. You're not even the first Mets pitcher to do that this season. But your timing wasn't so good.

After the game, there was too much positive thinking going on, particularly from the hosts on WFAN, Steve Somers and Tony Paige. I know that that's sort of their job, to calm everyone down, but there are arguments that they make that are just asinine, and actually ended up making me feel worse.

1) "It's a different team."
Only in the sense that Johan Santana is going to take the ball every 5th day, as opposed to yet another question mark. Otherwise, it's mostly the same team. Oh, sure, there may be some new faces out there, but they pretty much amount to the same thing as last year, same thing as two years ago. The hitters don't seem to hit when it matters most, and the Bullpen...#!$^^#%&(^*U!#$*^!_#$^%* &* #$^%_*(%.

2) "They still have a one-game lead in the Wildcard with 6 games to go."
What the hell kind of thing is that to say? Last year, at the same time, the Mets had a 2 GAME LEAD ON PHILLY FOR THE DIVISION! AND WE ALL KNOW HOW THAT TURNED OUT!!!

3) "You know, if the game were only 7 innings long..."
Now, this argument just upsets me. It's also a complete and total asshole thing to say. Fine. If the game were 6 innings, the Mets would have a 11 1/2 game lead, and if the game were 7 innings, the Mets would have a 6 1/2 game lead. But, guess what!? THE GAME IS NOT, NOR HAS IT EVER BEEN 7 INNINGS LONG! WHAT'S THE POINT OF BRINGING THIS UP? TO MAKE US EVEN CRAZIER?

Philly continues to stampede, which is apparently their M.O. come September. They know how to finish things off. The Mets? I'm not particularly confident in their chances right now. I got my playoff tickets in the mail yesterday, and I have a sick, sad feeling that I'm not going to get to use them. Again.

Memo to the Offense

Since I'm quite sure that everyone on the Mets, especially the players, is reading this, and I want to try to will the club to victories as much as possible, while staying positive, I would like you all to imagine that the following image is actually a live person, cheering and making noise in an effort to wake up the Mets bats...
Let's all follow Jose's lead. Score many, many runs every night this week. 10-12 a game ought to do it. Lord knows, we're going to need every last one of them.

ENOUGH ALREADY!!!

That's it. I've had it.

I know this garbage with the Bullpen has been going on most of the 2nd half of the season, but I've finally reached my breaking point.

Ahem...

IS THERE ANYBODY IN THIS GODDAMN BULLPEN WHO CAN COME INTO A GAME, GET 3 OUTS WITHOUT ANY BULLSHIT OR ANY DRAMA AND HOLD A LEAD!? HUH?!

I'm sick of this shit! It takes them 6 pitchers to get through 4 innings and barely hold onto a game against Washington, who can't hit, and today, when the offense stagnates against Atlanta and gives over a 2-run lead in the 7th, they can't hold it at all, and turn a crucial victory into YET ANOTHER BLOWN GAME! AAAAAAAAAARGH!!

Seriously, can someone in that bullpen grow a pair, come into the game and get the damn batters out? This team was dead in the water, the fans had given up and everything was humming right along for Pelfrey after a tough start. But Pelfrey appears to be one of the few guys on this team who can stone up and overcome his adversity. It's unfortunate that he can't throw 160 pitches a game, but, hey, IT SHOULDN'T HAVE TO COME TO THAT! It wouldn't if these guys would just DO THEIR GODDAMN JOB AND GET PEOPLE OUT! JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! EVERY SINGLE TIME THEY DO THIS! I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!!!!

6 pitchers to get 5 outs!? Who does this? Who the hell continues to do this TIME AND TIME AGAIN IN IMPORTANT GAMES!? JUST GET THESE GUYS OUT! IS IT REALLY THIS DIFFICULT? I keep saying it, over and over again and I'm getting tired of repeating myself, but every time, teams keep playing because they know that they can get into our bullpen and then, all bets are off. Stokes couldn't do it, Rincon held the line, Schoeneweis jammed the knife in, Smith twisted it once, Feliciano twisted it again, and Heilman jabbed it all the way through. What a bunch of Assholes. Seriously. These guys are Assholes. All of them. I've never seen a more undependable bunch of jokers masquerading as Major League Baseball players. God almighty.

AN 0-2 COUNT AND YOU FUCKING NIBBLE AND GIVE UP A TRIPLE TO A .238 HITTER!?

WALK THE BASES LOADED AND GIVE UP A 2-RUN DOUBLE WITH 2 STRIKES AND 2 OUTS TO INCINERATE THE GAME!?

I think we should all just watch these last 7 games with blindfolds on. I can't watch anymore. 1-8 in that fucking House of Horrors in Atlanta, 5-11 for the season against a team that's on the precipice of 90 losses. All because of a fucking bullpen that's full of a bunch of assholes with no heart and no guts. I mean, I don't even think I can get excited with a 7-2 lead in the 8th inning anymore, because if the starter can't go any further, there's no way you can possibly enjoy the rest of the game. There's no laughers with this team. Every single game is this horrible, traumatic, mess of a game because these guys can't close the damn deal. Seriously. It's enough to make me want to give up right now. WHY WASTE MY TIME!?

The Revolving Door

As things get later and later, and these games become more and more important, it oddly seems that there becomes less and less to say about the games themselves. We already know what kind of games the Mets seem to play. Opening up this weekend in Atlanta, with now a pair of teams that need to be watched, the Mets have come out and played a hearty game and a lifeless game, with no clear in-between.

Friday night could have easily been an unmitigated disaster, after storming out to an early lead, Oliver Perez didn't hold it, the game drew late, the bullpen was heavily and frighteningly involved, and somehow, the Mets pulled it out, thanks to some late heroics by, who else, Daniel Murphy. With Philly's loss in Florida, the Mets stormed back into 1st place by half a game, and extended a tenuous Wild Card Lead

Saturday, the opposite. Pedro Martinez put the Mets in a hole and they really couldn't climb out of it, putting forth one of those performances that just makes me tear my hair out. Of course, Philly won a rather stupid game in Florida, so things just shifted right back.

The race for the NL East is little more than a revolving door at this point. Both teams go out, play, up down left right whatever. It's hard to know which Mets team will show up, but, like I said, you know what you'll get. They either hit and leave things up to chance with the bullpen, or they don't hit and lose a frustrating game to a pitcher they should be pounding. I don't know anymore and I'm beginning to lose my patience with these games, because they always seem to happen at the least opportune time, like, when the Mets have played well the previous game, or when they need to stop a winning streak, or when one of their better pitchers are throwing.

It's been going on all week. I'm becoming a complete basket case, and that really shouldn't happen until October. But, then again, there's no guarantee that there's even going to be an October. The prevailing thought, at least if you listen to WFAN, is that Milwaukee is cooked and the Wildcard race will be academic, both the Mets and Phillies will duke it out the last week, and the loser takes the Wildcard. There's a happy-talking shithead on WFAN who roots for the Cubs, and he seemed all too happy to take on the Mets in the NLDS. But a lot of weird things can happen, and usually do, when that calendar flips, so I wouldn't get too cocky just yet.

Besides, there's plenty of opportunity for the Mets to figure out a way to screw this one up. I know the Cubs have clinched and they'll likely rest up a lot of players this coming week, but that's no guarantee of anything. The Cubs also play the Brewers in Milwaukee over the final weekend, while the Mets get the Marlins. The Marlins don't like the Mets. We know this all too well. They'd love nothing more, I'm sure, than to come into New York, kick the Mets in the nuts and shut down Shea Stadium for good.

Basically, there's just no margin for error. Or at least not much. It's very easy to worry about the upcoming week, but I guess I should really just worry about today, at least as far as the way things stand right now are concerned.

The Ultimate Equalizer

Thank you, Johan.

No Relief

Only the Mets, at this point in the season, can make a victory into an excruciating task.

I can't even begin to tell you how glad I'll be when the Mets are finally done with the Nationals after tonight. I don't know if I can take any more of them, their pesky hitters, their dopey fielders and their no-name bullpen. I'm sick of them. They hang around and hang around and make me insane. They did it last week and they did it again this week.

Not that the Mets have done anything to exert their superiority over them. Last night was just another example of this. It seemed to be a carbon copy of both of the games they played last week at Shea. If there is any bit of solace to be taken from last night's win, it's that at least the offense showed up. I was beginning to get seriously worried there.

I suppose it was somewhat fortunate that I had to work late last night and didn't see any of the first 8 1/2 innings of the game, because the 9th inning damn near killed me. I was afforded liberal updates throughout on my phone, however, and as I was heading home, I began to check it with more and more of a panicked frequency, as I saw a game that went from 7-1 to 8-2 to 9-5 with runners on 1st and 3rd, no outs in the 8th and Scott Schoeneweis replacing Aaron Heilman.

Just the kind of scenario that warms the hearts of every Mets fan, no doubt.

I was unaware of the fact that the offense had exploded for 4 HRs, and that the bullpen parade was now locked in a desperate struggle to hold the lead. I didn't know that Schoeneweis was the 4th of what would be 7 relievers Jerry Manuel would trot out in order to hold down those mighty Nationals. All I knew was that disaster was imminent. I kept hitting the refresh button. It remained 9-5, bottom 8th. All of a sudden, it read 9-5, Top 9th. I exhaled. It proved to be too soon, but I exhaled. I tried to enjoy my dinner in the bottom of the 9th, but the Mets just wouldn't let me do it. Joe Smith allowed two men to reach. Pedro Feliciano got two outs and was one strike away before Wil Nieves got the typical Nationals hit, a poke job off the end of the bat that just managed to flare out to a place in the field where nobody could catch it, scoring two runs and bringing the tying run to the plate. Luis Ayala was summoned. I knew what happened last time he was out there. I wasn't comfortable. I wasn't enjoying this. My food was getting cold. Mercifully, he struck out Roger Bernadina. Finally, I could breathe and eat again.

At least for the moment.

8 pitchers to hold down the Nationals and ensure the Mets win a game that was an absolute must-win. But I think they're all must win at this point. Between Philly and Milwaukee and Houston and Atlanta as a spoiler, there's not much new to say about the state of things. There's not much time to enjoy a 6-run lead, especially when hanging on to that lead for the remainder of the game is a questionable proposition. Jerry Manuel was, at least, able to joke about Johan Santana throwing a 170-pitch complete game tonight, but the scary thing is that the way things look right now, he just might have to. Manuel also agreed with my assessment of things: This isn't fun, and I'm not enjoying this. He's not enjoying it either.

"No, I'm not enjoying this. Are you crazy? Walking out there every three minutes? [Fans] didn't come to see me. They come to see the guys play."

It is fortunate that Santana, who can be the ultimate equalizer in this mess, can take the ball every 5 days. Hopefully, his teammates will be able to provide the necessary backing. 9 runs with Santana on the mound looks a hell of a lot better than 9 runs with Brandon Knight and company on the mound.

This is Fun?

I had to wait until this morning to write. I was in no mood to do so after the game, where my text message to El Guapo consisted of "It's over. We're through."

We may not be through, but we're certainly not looking too good right now. After Mike Pelfrey did absolutely everything he could possibly have done to keep the Mets in the game, the Mets offense failed to show up for the 5th game in a row. I know that the team has gone through power outages like this over the course of the season, but now isn't exactly an opportune time to do so. I'd like to say this is different than last year, but I think the only thing different from last year is that we already know what it's like. We've already seen this team go through this. You get the feeling that it's wearing on them just as much as it's wearing on us. It doesn't help when happy-talking chuckle heads like Bob Klapisch write these gloom and doom articles, and it doesn't help when I get asked "Hey, what's up with your Mets?" in some snide, sarcastic tone of voice 47 times a day, and it doesn't help when a Mets fan says to me, "We're gonna be OK!" in some thinly-veiled tone of false hope, and it really doesn't help when my insane co-worker will call me at around 12:40pm and begin screaming, and I mean SCREAMING, about Marlon Anderson and Endy Chavez, one of whom didn't even play last night, and the other whom didn't see a plate appearance.

It's easy to say that once the Mets fall out of first place, as they did last night, they probably won't see it again. It's easy to say that this whole thing is officially in their heads and now out of control, and it sure as hell appears that way right now. Jerry Manuel called a team meeting last night that appeared to have no effect. At least he appears to be conscious while this is going on. Last year, Willie was so lost that the team had to meet without him. But then the Mets go out and get shut out by a guy who, not even a week ago, they torched for 7 runs in 3 innings, and in one such inning forced him to throw 48 pitches. Now they can't hit him!? He's not a good pitcher! He's fortunate to have a Major League job, and the Mets made him look like Walter Freakin' Johnson last night. Then, I get a quote like this:

We hit some balls hard, they caught some balls, and Pelfrey pitched extremely well.

Thank you, Jerry Manuel, for this brilliant insight.

Philadelphia falls behind Atlanta and storms right back. The Mets go down a run to Washington and somehow this is an insurmountable deficit. Joel Hanrahan? Who the hell is Joel Hanrahan? I'll tell you who he is: He wild-pitched the winning run home for the Mets in a game back in April. Remember him? Now, he's Goose Gossage? I don't think so. This team clearly has its head so far up its ass it's ceased to be charming or funny or something to throw cliches at. But at this point, I don't know if anybody on this team even knows how to react in any other way. Take David Wright, for example, who got one of the 4 hits the Mets were able to muster against Odalis Perez. In the 6th inning, he was legitimately robbed by Willie Harris (whom I don't have the energy to launch a full-scale diatribe against, however rest assured I hold him in the same regard as Shane Victorino) on a ball that would certainly have tied the game had it not been caught. But it was caught, and in reality, the Mets had no business allowing the game to come down to a play like that. In the 9th, Wright battled Hanrahan before predictably striking out.
Last week, I would have thought him a likely candidate to hit one out of the park and tie the game. Not now. Not with the Mets playing within the last 2 weeks of the season. Now, it's Idiot Time! And after the game, Wright gives us this gem:

This is what makes it fun. We've got 12, 13 games left to decide the season, this is what you work for, this is what you prepare for, and as an athlete, you love this.

This is fun? Really? David, last week, you fed this guy his lunch. Now, he comes back and beats you 1-0, knocking you out of 1st place. Your teammates haven't hit in 5 games, you've lost 4 of them, and your team, as a whole, appears tight and haunted by the ghosts of last September. Maybe it's somehow fun for you to lose excruciating games that your bullpen pukes up, maybe it's fun for you to get repeatedly robbed by a pipsqueak in a #1 jersey, I don't know. You must be a masochist to think this is fun right now. I'm not having fun.

Full Blown Panic Attack

I'm rather frustrated right now.

I have this feeling that Jerry Manuel was somehow kidnapped by Willie Randolph, who has proceeded to put on a Manuel mask, uniform, and sneak into the Mets dugout in an attempt to submarine the entire season in the final two weeks. Either that or Manuel is just so married to the proverbial book that he's going to allow it to screw everything up. One or the other, I'm rather frustrated.

Given that the Mets marched into Washington with all the ferocity of the 2007 Mets when they marched into Washington one year ago, September 17, 2007, I think we're all frustrated. Given that the Mets were completely shut down by John Lannan and already trailed 4-1 in the 7th, why remove Ricardo Rincon, who proved himself able to get a batter out, and replace him with Duaner Sanchez, who right now would have trouble getting me out. Instead of holding the line and giving the Mets a chance to come back, Sanchez incinerated the game. Whether or not you want to kill the offense, particularly David Wright, whose DP in the 8th killed a rally, Beltran or Delgado, who went hitless, but it was academic by that point. For the first time all season, it seemed like the Mets had finally been hit by that death knell, that crushing loss that finally did them in, and it appeared to show on all fronts. Right now, WFAN is like a psychiatric ward, because the entire Mets fan base is about to collectively leap off the 59th Street Bridge. We're all so destroyed, mentally, from the end of last season, and the harbinger that this season is headed down that same track is throwing us all over the edge, one by one. The games over the weekend were the storm warnings, and now the floodgates are about to open, unless someone, ANYONE can do something to stop this mess from spiraling out of control.

This isn't good. People are asking me what I think or telling me that everything's going to be fine and they'll make the playoffs, and I don't know what to make of it. The same damn thing happened with 2 weeks to go last season, with the hell stretch and no days off, with these middling to miserable opponents who play their asses off because they know they can beat us, and I feel like I'm re-living the whole damn thing over again. If I write a post at any point within the next two weeks calling for the head of Willie Randolph, I guess you can send the nice men with the white coat out to get me, because I'll have proven myself more fit for the looney bin than Shea Stadium at any point during the next week. This isn't good. Did I say that already? That's a bad sign.

All of this is a bad sign.

Big Pelf needs to be bigger than he's ever been tonight.

Once Things Look Up...

So, something rather predictable happened on Sunday afternoon. Given a 2-run lead in the 9th inning, Luis Ayala, anointed the closer, came in and gave up 2-singles and a 3-run HR to Ed Norton, who apparently climbed out of the sewer to beat the Mets. Wow. What a team.

I guess the same thing could have happened on Saturday afternoon as well, except that Scott Schoeneweis did a sufficient job of making sure it didn't even get to Ayala.

Many people will probably tell me that these guys rebounded and continued to play well in spite of this, even sweeping Milwaukee, and winning some hairy games against Washington, with whom they'll play 4 games of massive importance this week. You know, Washington, who the Mets got off to early leads against and then watched as they came back each time, and made both games much closer than they needed to be?

It's really funny the way the Mets work. I went into this in a bit of detail after the last meltdown in Philadelphia. Somehow the Mets seem to go into this complacent mode after they go up a few runs, like, say, a 4-2 lead in the 7th or 8th inning, and don't tack on, and teams realize this and keep playing. This is why teams don't like the Mets and don't respect the Mets, and then, the Mets have a pair of games like this in the middle of a pennant race that they spit up. And it happens all too often. It's one thing to blame Luis Ayala for blowing a 2-run lead, and he should be blamed for it because his outing yesterday was an absolute disgrace. But this wouldn't have happened had the Mets gone into the 9th inning with a 5-run lead, which is probably what they should have had, given the number of men they had on base.

As I, and perhaps every other Mets fan knows, every loss, especially every loss like the two to Atlanta over the weekend brings back that horrendous reminder of last season, and the ghosts start to come out, and the bad feelings return, and the questions start to get louder and louder until we all want to start tearing our hair out and run into the street screaming. 1 game up with 14 to play. My co-worker says the Mets should go 4-10. Yes, this isn't last year's team. Yes, this is a team that's shown the ability to come back and charge ahead despite some damaging losses. But now's the time they really have to do it, and it means that Carlos Beltran and Carlos Delgado can't be giving away At Bats with a 2-run lead. Let them get an 8-run lead, then, they still shouldn't give away at bats. Washington is terrible and the Mets blasted them for 23 runs in 2 games last week, and somehow that was just barely enough. This time, the Mets don't need to just win. They need to beat Washington's heads in. I mean some 9-2, 13-4 games. Philadelphia's got the hot hand again, and you know them and their gum-flappers and their tiny ballpark. The Mets have to keep pace. Now isn't the time to start sucking each other's popsicles.

Dealing With a Sad Reality

There are but 10 Regular Season home games left at Shea Stadium, although should the Mets finish strong and move into the Playoffs, Shea Stadium will live a bit longer. Yesterday, I recieved, as I'm sure all of my fellow 7-pack holders did, an e-mail regarding Playoff tickets. This has always worked out great for me; it certainly beats having to search things out on the secondary market or taking my chances through the random online drawing to be able to sniff a Playoff game at Shea. Thanks to this, I'm guaranteed at least one, and perhaps two playoff games, and one final trip to Shea before the building is but a memory.

Since we're on that topic...

Only about a week ago did I resign myself to the fact that I wasn't going to be able to get in to the final regular season game at Shea. I passed on the "Shea Goodbye" pack, impractical since I could only get to a few of the games, didn't win the online drawing, and couldn't finagle any other connections. But I still held out hope, after all, tickets are always plentiful on StubHub, etc. Surely, there would be a way. But with the tickets for that game bottoming out at $100 a pop for Section 48, Row Q, I drew the line. I figured I would keep checking, and wait it out. Surely, the prices would come down as the Summer drew on.

The available seats became better, but the prices held. I spoke with El Guapo and SVB about it. Their ceiling was even lower than mine. I kept looking. Still, no drop, no $50 miracle. So, last week, I decided to give up the ship. Sad and unfair as it may be, after 21 seasons and, to date, 261 regular season games at Shea, I'm afraid I'm going to be absent for the final one.

There's still time, I suppose, and there are still 6 regular season games that I will be able to go to (that's not saying that I'm going to all 6, I'll be at at least 1) before the season comes to a close. But it seems, to me at the very least, a letdown that I've been priced out like this. It's starting already. So, I save my money for the Postseason, which isn't guaranteed. I save for next season, and an almost certain price increase. But for one day, and one grand sendoff, I'm not going to be in the building.

Heart Attack Game

I wrote, last September, about the kind of game I like to call the "Heart Attack Game," the kind of game where the Mets seem to have a game won or lost about 27 different times before they eventually win, or lose it. Last year, the Mets lost these games more often than not. I suppose last year could very well have been a Heart Attack Season, but that's another story that appears to not be relevant anymore.

Wednesday night's game was a prime example of a Heart Attack game, and I was on hand for the festivities, a 3 hour, 25 minute sweat-fest that saw the Mets charge ahead, the Nationals chip away and come back, the Mets charge ahead again, the Nationals fire back, and the Mets finally pull away for the win.

I'm not 100% sure about this, but I believe last night's game was, in fact, the highest-scoring game I've ever attended. It also may have been the most ass-backwards game I've ever attended. This game, to put it simply, had a little bit of everything.

Whether or not the argument is made that Pelfrey came unglued in the 4th inning, after Elijah Dukes (Bitch!) flipped out after Pelfrey came a little bit inside on him is bunk. Pelfrey really didn't have it at all last night, and he was fortunate that his defense bailed him out on several occasions, just about every inning. Fernando Tatis made an Endy-like grab on a Milledge line drive that appeared to be sailing over his head. Ryan Church closed quickly and nabbed a Milledge liner in the 3rd. Pelfrey just didn't have his good stuff last night, was working from behind and the Nationals batters were laying off the sinker and sitting on the fastball. There was nothing about Dukes' antics that would have rattled Pelfrey; in fact, Pelfrey seemed ready to fire right back had Dukes decided to go after him. Although I don't know if it's necessarily wise to go after someone as volatile as Elijah Dukes. But that's another issue entirely.

Pelfrey certainly wasn't good last night, but his counterpart Odalis Perez was worse. Although his defense turned a pair of DPs behind him in the 1st and 2nd, Perez then got his doors blown off in the 3rd, an inning so ugly that with 1 out and runners on 2nd and 3rd, the Nationals thought it better to walk Carlos Delgado and pitch to Fernando Tatis, and Tatis indignantly smacked a 2-run double to extend the Mets lead to 5-1, and stretched as far as 7-1 before the inning ended. And yet, for some reason, I had this feeling like that wasn't enough.

So, of course, the Nationals came back and tied the game, bit by bit. 1 in the 4th and 3 in the 5th chased Pelfrey, which meant that the bullpen would have to get themselves through 4 innings with a 2 run lead.

They managed to get through .2 of an inning with that lead intact.

Aaron Heilman came in and did what appeared to be his best Steve Trachsel impression. He came in and immediately went 3-0 on the leadoff batter. The fans were apoplectic. He threw 2 quick strikes. OK. As if on cue, he threw ball 4, thereby bringing the tying run to the plate. With a runner on 1st, Heilman then slowed the game down to an absolute crawl. I swear there must have been a solid minute between pitches. He wasn't even throwing to 1st, despite the speed of the runner, Roger Bernadina. He got Langerhans to pop out and Bonifacio to ground into a fielder's choice, and that brought up Cristian Guzman with 2 out. Guzman, a gap hitter, not a power hitter, mind you. But Heilman is usually good for one long fly ball per outing. We all know where this is going. Off the bat, you could tell. Church barely moved in right. Lead gone, game tied, fans howling. Heilman is removed for Joe Smith and booed about as fervently as Dukes was throughout the night. Smith restores some semblance of order in the 6th, and again in the 7th.

The Nationals have been parading obscure reliever after obscure reliever out of their bullpen since the 4th. Not only do I not know who any of them are, they're not even listed on the team roster in the program. Not until the 7th do they bring in someone I've heard of, Saul Rivera, the Puerto Rican Jew himself. This Nationals bullpen gave the Mets fits last September, and Rivera was among the ringleaders. So, tonight, the Mets took him behind the woodshed. Rivera didn't help himself much during a rather odd sequence where the Nationals appeared to remember that they were the Nationals and kick the ball around a bit. After Delgado drove in the lead run on a Sacrifice fly, the Mets were looking to tack on more runs. Lord knows they would need all of them tonight. With Beltran on 2nd and Tatis on 1st, and Murphy at the plate, Rivera wheeled and threw to 2nd in an attempt to pick off Beltran. Beltran appeared to be a dead duck, but somehow the ball glanced off Guzman's glove and into Center Field. Beltran dove back in and appeared momentarily stunned as the ball rolled in the outfield. Fernando Tatis was making a mad dash for 2nd, and screaming and waving for Beltran to get up and go to 3rd, but Beltran just lay there. Finally, he got up, looked around and decided he might want to take off for 3rd, since Tatis was just about 3/4 of the way to 2nd. Lastings Milledge had run in to pick up the ball and make an attempt to throw out Beltran at 3rd. Milledge got the ball, reared back...and slipped and fell flat on his face. Rivera then followed that up by throwing a wild pitch that was so wild, it ended up under the ball boy's stool next to the Mets dugout. Brian Schneider singled home two more runs before the inning came to a close, the Mets seemingly in charge with a 11-7 lead.

So, of course, the Nationals rallied in the 8th. Cristian Guzman came up with 2 on and 1 out and the scoreboard read that he had 3 RBIs on the night. I looked at my scorecard. Impossible. He had two RBIs, and even if I missed something, he never even had another opportunity for an RBI. So, Guzman decided to take care of that and then some by hitting his 2nd HR of the game. I wonder if Cristian Guzman has ever had a 2 HR game in his life?

Well, here we go again.

David Wright, after a few weeks of scuffling around and looking pretty bad at the plate, appeared to have righted himself, with 3 hits and a walk. He was in or around every rally the Mets put together, scoring 3 runs and driving in 1. So, of course, the scoreboard reads 3 RBIs. so, Wright decided to take care of that, and with Church on 1st, Wright slammed a HR into the bleachers to give the Mets a few more insurance runs, and himself the proper number of RBIs for the game.

13-10 as Ayala came in for the 9th and I still wasn't convinced that things would end quietly.

Dukes led off the 9th by grounding out to Argenis Reyes, on a rather nifty play by Reyes up the middle, and a nice pick by Delgado on Reyes' dying quail of a throw. But Dukes, who had been hearing it loudly and often ever since the incident in the 4th, decided to milk his moment, running way down the Right Field line and then taking his sweet time walking back to the dugout, waving to the fans as he walked off. Well, if this is what he wants, this is what he gets. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Steve Somers said, later in the evening, on WFAN, that the fans above the National dugout might want to take it easy, you can't be quite sure what Dukes is going to do. The potential for him to go Milton Bradley or Frank Francisco on you is there (Ron Artest is a stretch). But Dukes went off and that was it for the Elijah Dukes sideshow. Luis Ayala, who was probably the last person you would have thought would be the reliable guy in the bullpen held the line and got the Nationals 1-2-3, and I exhaled and took my leave.

I certainly hope the Mets don't intend to make a habit of playing games like they do against the Nationals. It's been a difficult enough journey to get to this point, and their 3 1/2 game lead is their biggest of the season. But let's all hope these games are just an anomaly. I don't like too many Heart Attack games.

The Case For:

Last September, the Nationals came into Shea and played a few especially wacky games with the Mets in the midst of a Pennant race. The Mets played uninspired and lost all 3 games.

This September, the Nationals came into Shea and played a wacky game with the Mets in the midst of a Pennant race.

This time, the Mets fought them off.

As he did on Sunday night, Carlos Delgado stole the show, posting his 7th 2 HR game of the season, and as the Mets continue to win games and stretch out their lead in the East, however slim it may be, Delgado's HRs have become more and more impressive. Clutch, too.

Delgado's first HR banked off the American League side of the scoreboard, giving the Mets a 5-2 lead. When the pitching faltered and the Nationals tied the game, and eventually took the lead, it was Delgado blasting another HR in the 6th, this one clanging off the strikeout board in the Mets bullpen, and basically serving as a blow to restore order to the game. His HR extended the Mets lead to 10-8, and it stood up.

Last year, at this time, Delgado was in and out of the lineup, and not providing any bit of a spark to a lineup that desperately needed his thunder. This time, he's been the difference, and it's been going on all Summer.

Isn't that what defines an MVP? Someone who makes the difference between his team winning and losing?

There are other, perhaps more worthy candidates. Albert Pujols has had yet another stellar season in St. Louis. Ryan Braun's year for the Brewers has been excellent as they drive for their first playoff berth in 26 seasons. Chase Utley in Philadelphia has had some ridiculous hot streaks. Pick any one of the Cubs big 3, Soriano, Lee or Ramirez. All worthy candidates.

Nobody would have figured Carlos Delgado's name would be in the mix at all. Certainly not with a batting average in the mid-.260s. Certainly not after his first half, where he appeared a shell of his former, slugging self. But here he is, with a second half of the season that has been nothing short of unconscious. He has, quite literally, put the Mets on his back and run with them the past few weeks. The HRs have been there all season, but now, they're coming in huge spots, making the difference between inspiring victories and damaging losses. The smiles and the jokes that were absent in '07 are back with a vengeance. Where the pitching has been the subject of derision and has cost the team games, it's been Delgado keeping the offense solid, and keeping the team afloat. Think about it: Where would this team be, given the state of the bullpen, with guys like Wright slumping and Beltran streaky, without the resurgent efforts of Carlos Delgado?

The rumblings haven't drawn a great deal of attention, at least as far as I've noticed, in the media or on ESPN. But the big hits and the fans screaming MVP!! may now be becoming too loud to ignore. There are still games left to be played and still so much that can happen. We know that all too well around here. But if Carlos Delgado is going to continue to perform at such a lofty level, with a class of candidates that could very well cancel each other out, why not Delgado for MVP?

I'm starting to believe it.

Prime Time Players

Sunday began as a rather important day for the Mets, in which they would play two huge games against their closest rival.

By the time 6pm rolled around and I was heading out to Shea, the Biggest Game in the Galaxy had become the Biggest Game of the Season for the Mets. A loss, and certain doom appeared imminent, even if it were just in the head of the media and the fans. But still, a team with playoff aspirations, a team that has been playing virtually unconscious ball for the past two months cannot, simply cannot allow their closest rival to sweep them in their own park in September. We already know what that can lead to. We didn't need to see it again. After a flat, uninspiring effort in the day game, another loss to Philadelphia in which the Phillies just flat-out beat the Mets, that ride to Shea was tense, and that's being kind.

I was sitting in UR 16, Row U. A birds-eye view of everything. Fear and loathing as what felt to me like far too many people in Philly gear filed in around me. A family in which the two sons wore a giant green Philly fanatic hat and the other son wore a Cheesesteak hat. New on me. Philly fans with Flags. Mets fans with nerves. A bad combination for a game that had all the atmosphere of Game 7 of the World Series.

And it may as well have been Game 7 of the World Series if you look at the way the Mets played the game last night.

After a near-catastrophic 1st inning that nearly sent me up and over Row V and off the side of the Stadium, the Mets bats came back and made Cole Hamels look rather pedestrian. I took to chewing gum to allay the tension somewhat, and by the time Jose Reyes stepped up to the plate in the last of the 1st, my jaw was sore. But a couple of hits and hit catcher's mitts, followed by an irrational shit-fit from Charlie Manuel and capped off by Carlos Delgado stepping up and all of a sudden, I felt a little better. So did the rest of the crowd. It's rare that I've been to a regular season game where fans were up with every 2-strike pitch. And as Santana settled down and slowed down the tempo of the game, and the Philly bats, it became clear that things would be OK, at least as long as he remained sharp and kept his pitch count down. After a sweaty, 25-pitch 1st inning, it wasn't exactly clear how long he could hold out. Or if the Mets could get him some more runs.

It was an intense back-and forth, moreso in the stands than on the field. Ryan Howard, who appears to swing completely flat-footed, reached Santana for an out-of-nowhere HR in the 3rd, especially considering that Santana would otherwise strike out the side. Again, tension in a 3-2 game. But Carlos Delgado has a habit of coming up big in big games. The first of his two HRs, in the 3rd inning, opened the lead back to two runs and relaxed us some more. The second HR simply stole the show. It wasn't the typical Delgado HR, a high, parabolic fly that hangs forever and lands over the wall, it was more of a line drive. But it was one of those line drives that kept sailing, off into the night, far beyond the eyesight of anyone in attendance, perhaps interrupting the Tennis going on across the street.

The previous game I attended, against the Astros, Delgado similarly hit two HRs, and appeared to be thrown out of the dugout for a curtain call. It seemed as if the same thing happened last night, but a closer look revealed that Delgado went up on his own. And with the crowd screaming MVP! MVP! MVP! why not?

But, still, with a 5-2 lead, things still seemed up to chance. Things also got progressively rowdier and rowdier. Several sections to my left, arguments between a large, flag waving pocket of Philly fans and Mets fans got more and more heated, and people began to get thrown out. Things would continue to escalate into fisticuffs by the 7th inning, the entire lot of Philly fans ejected in the 8th inning, and a lone Philly straggler attacking a security guard and presumably getting thrown down several rows of seats in the 9th inning. It makes me glad I was in the no-alcohol section.

On the field, the Mets continued. Manuel managed the game as if it were his last. Santana kept mowing down Philly hitters, working over 100 pitches in the 7th, and then taking it a little further, into the 8th. This was the must-win, ace effort the Mets needed out of him, and Santana proved to be every bit up to the task. By the time he finished, after a double by Jayson Spiezio Werth-Less that appeared more misjudged by Beltran than well-struck, Santana had gutted it out for 116 pitches, 2 runs on 5 hits, 6 strikeouts, 1 walk and 1 gigantic Standing Ovation as he departed. His 13th win of the season, and it couldn't possibly have come at a better time.

Feliciano and Stokes efficiently did their job in the 8th and Ayala made it rather hairy in the 9th, to the point where I was chomping down on my gum and my jaw was beginning to stiffen up. How the hell he managed to give up an infield single to Matt Stairs is beyond me, and Andy Tracy hit a screamer that nearly gave everyone in the stadium a heart attack before Endy played the part of Endy and ran the ball down, turning certain doom into an academic Sacrifice Fly. Ayala got Rollins to meekly wave at strike 3, and thus, the Mets staved off the Phillies, prevented the sweep, maintained a 2-game lead with 19 games to play, and saved the sanity of their entire fan base ove the course of, perhaps, the most intense 2 hours and 49 minutes of baseball they've played to this point of the season.

Following the game, and following the ride back on the crowded, exhausted, yet mirthful 7 train, I was ready to collapse. Yet, somehow, I was too wired to fall asleep. I wonder if anyone else felt that way. The energy of games like this doesn't exactly wear off quickly.

Phew.

Day For Night

The predicted storm did move into New York on Saturday afternoon, just late enough for my company to get our afternoon performance in, but by time that happened, the Mets/Phillies game had long been postponed, creating what will undoubtedly be a long and breathless Sunday for just about anyone with rooting interest in either team.

I don't know whether or not the afternoon game, Pedro v. Moyer at 2pm will be quite as well-attended as the originally scheduled game was supposed to be. These makeup games tend to be sparsely attended, although given that Saturday's tickets are only valid for Sunday afternoon, and the fact that the attendance, no matter how many asses are actually in the Shea Seats, will be announced at something relatively close to 54,000, I suppose it won't matter much.

I'm still a bit reserved. Pensive, if you would. It would be, if I lived under a rock or in a cave, much easier to not feel as bad, although the hooting and howling about the ghosts of last season trumpeting on the back page of every paper can't make anyone feel too good. It's as though everyone has decided to conveniently forget that it's a new year, a new team, and a new attitude. I didn't help myself any by checking out our brethren at The 700 Level, the likely ringleaders of the Invasion, if only to check if they had planned a raindate. I don't know if they have, although they certainly don't have anything kind to say about the Mets, Shea, the fans, or just about anything else New York related. It's my hope, of course, that the Mets come out guns blazing tomorrow and win both games, just to give these guys a nice big shitburger. After last night, it seems like everyone's just a little tense, and the media is all too happy to feed into the tension. You know, these e-mails that fly around are know for having season-changing effects.

A quick hop over to Faith and Fear to read Jason's latest post should make you feel better. It helped me. Philly won last night simply by virtue of a few breaks and an outstanding pitching performance by a pitcher on a roll. The Mets didn't give them an inch. That should already tell you that this isn't last year. Daniel Murphy, for one, can be the poster boy for this. After banging a pair of doubles off Myers, he hung in and battled Brad Lidge in the 9th, pitch for pitch. He did what's become a bit of a specialty for him, hanging in and working the pitcher. When he finally got his pitch, the 10th of a particularly tense at bat, he hit a screamer headed for the gap in left-center. Unfortunately, it was run down. I don't need to tell you who caught it.

When Murphy returned to the dugout, he was stone-faced. It was the kind of look I hadn't seen a ballplayer exude since Mike Piazza in this particular game. It wasn't the drawn depression we'd seen last season. This was frustration. Teammates came over to him to say good at-bat or whatever, but it appeared he wasn't having any of it. Frustration, because he knew he'd got the better of Lidge. The ball just didn't fall in. Such is the way games like this go. Another chance, and he'd sail it over the head of the un-named outfielder.

Murphy, like the 2008 Mets, has the ability to shake it off and get them the next game. You didn't see an awful lot of that last year. The nerves may remain for the fans, and they'll continue to remain for the duration of the season. But something tells me this story has a different ending this year.

It continues on what is unquestionably the biggest day of Baseball the Mets will play to this point in the season.

Blankety Blank

If I'm not mistaken, this might be the first normal, run of the mill loss the Mets have had in what feels like 3 months.

The Mets, of late, haven't had many games like this; games where nothing they did seemed to break their way, where they ran into a pitcher who simply buzzsawed them, where they couldn't get any rallies going, and where they got a nice, solid effort from their pitchers, and that added up to a nothing game from the Mets.

And I don't know how, exactly, to react. I figured that the Mets would lose at least one game in this series, and as the Mets/Phillies series have gone, the Mets have lost the first game in 5 of the 6 series they've played this season. But usually, these losses have been of the excruciating variety. Usually, it involved a massive clutch failure, a blown lead, and a massive vomit job from more than one pitcher. Tonight, Pelfrey did his job. He got burned on an unearned run in the 1st (and my main man Squeak Scolari Victorino was right in the middle of that), burned again when Greg Dobbs (another guy I just love) poked a HR that was nearly Endy'd by Ryan Church, and with as good as Brett Myers has been, well, that was pretty much that. A rally in the 9th was a longshot, and came up a bit short, Church's drive wasn't going out, and it just only served to turn that knife even more when Squeak corkscrewed himself making the catch.

(I've finally decided on what I think is a suitable nickname for my guy Victorino there. I believe Squeak, after Squeak Scolari from Baseketball, should work, and the alternate nickname "Little Bitch" is also fitting.)

So, then, what's next? I don't know. When the Mets have lost, it's generally been a flameout that you're not quite sure they can recover from. Which is why this kind of lifeless loss makes me fairly nervous. I know that, more than likely, this is just a case of Myers, who has a history of pitching well against the Mets, and who has been unconsciously hot lately, just being on top of his game and dominating. But what if the offense is about to drop into one of their total power outages? Maybe I shouldn't worry so much. I think these losses, any kind of loss, has thrown the Mets fan into a frenzy, and it's been going on all season. It's September, and it's against Philly, so it's magnified. Maybe it'll be OK. Maybe Pedro Martinez will come out today and pop Squeak in the puss for good measure (for a team that complains about the Mets over-the-top Celebrations, this guy really likes to whoop it up himself). Maybe the monsoon that's headed for the New York area will wash the game out entirely, moving it to Sunday afternoon and wrecking the little Pizza Party the Philly fans were fixing to hold. I don't, however, know how the Mets are going to react.

You know it's a big series when you get a Saturday post out of me. But the rain has already started to fall, and today might be washed out before it gets going.

One Final Tango

(This would have been much more effective if Schneider were dancing with Chase Utley instead of Mike Jacobs)

The final Mets/Phillies series of the season begins tonight, and it's hard to believe that the season has flown by so fast. These Mets/Phillies games have taken on a life of their own, so much so that this entire weekend is just going to get bigger and bigger. Tonight's the first act, with Pelfrey and Brett Myers squaring off, the hot hands on both sides delivering the keynote speech. Tomorrow afternoon, a nationally-televised affair on FOX. Although I haven't heard much from him this season, and it's quite possible he's off somewhere fawning over Troy Aikman, Joe Buck should be on hand for the festivities, which inlcudes the much-ballyhooed Turf War, as scores of Philly fans have planned to storm Shea. Sunday was supposed to be a day game, but how could the last Mets/Phillies game of the season pass with such little fanfare? No, the powers that be stepped in, and the final game of the season between these two rivals will, indeed, be The Biggest Game In The Galaxy, featuring The Biggest Pitching Matchup In The Galaxy, Johan Santana vs.
Cole Hamels.

Initially, it appeared I wouldn't get to any of these games. But once again, I appear to be the only one who's benefitted from Sunday's time change. Because the game was moved to Sunday Night, I can go, and I'll be there. One last time for the Mets and the Phillies.

These games seemed to take on a life of their own from before the season even began. After the way last year played out, with the Phillies treating the Mets with little respect, indignantly sweeping them 3 times and winning the last 8 games they played with each other. Then, there was the war of words between Jimmy Rollins and Carlos Beltran. Clearly, the Mets were intent on playing the Phillies as if they had a score to settle. The Phillies were more than happy to play with that same intensity, and even talked about brawling if they had to. The rival factions joined in the fun as well. It started way, way back in February. It's been a long-standing tradition for Mets fans to take the trip to Philadelphia and take over Steroid Field II, or The Vet before that. Philly fans come to Shea, too, but not quite in the same numbers. This year, Philly planned to change that, and Saturday, September 6th will be their day. Entire sections of the Upper Deck in far left field have been bought up and Philly fans are ready and raring to make themselves known. Assuming the game isn't washed away completely (heavy rain and winds are forecast all day for Saturday), it will certainly be a very, very interesting afternoon at Shea.

Although the Mets/Phillies games seemed to take on a Playoff Atmosphere and the fans certainly did their share of noisemaking as the season progressed, the teams themselves backed off from any physical fisticuffs. They just shut up and played, which is what they're supposed to do (not that I have a problem with a good brawl every so often). The Phillies won the first matchup, kicking the Mets and their sellout Opening Day crowd in the nuts on April 8th. But the Mets rebounded, beating the Phillies soundly the following night, and in a tense, 12-inning game won by Angel Pagan and a nifty slide by Jose Reyes. Energized, the Mets went on a brief winning streak, capped off by winning two of three in their first trip to Philly, although Philly came back to win the finale because of the Mets inability to get a key hit.

The teams didn't meet again until July, and it seemed like a different season by that point. The Mets had basically gone to hell and back, and didn't exactly look the worse for wear. The Phillies, meanwhile, had stormed ahead, but never really pulled away despite several moments when it looked like they were ready to do so. And when they came back against the Mets and won the series opener, it seemed like the Phillies were going to leave the Mets in their dust. But that didn't happen. The Mets instead came back and won the next two games, coming back in one, and shaking off a disastrous blown save by Wagner in the other. These games began to take on a formula: One team storms out early, the other team comes back late. Sometimes, they tie. Sometimes, they fall short. Sometimes, they take the lead. Sanity and logic are out the window. And the finale of this series held true to form, as the Mets stormed out to an early 9-run lead and nearly blew the damn thing, barely holding on for a 10-9 victory.

The formulaic Mets/Phils game happened again back at Shea in late July. With the two teams now tied for 1st place, the Mets came in and were Cruising along with a 5-2 lead, the Mets went into the 9th inning without their closer and promptly and thoroughly shit the bed, allowing the Phillies to run away with the game in a 6-run bloodbath. Such a loss should have crippled the Mets. It didn't. Instead, the Mets came back and gave everyone the proverbial middle finger, winning the next two games by a mile and by an inch, exiting the series, amazingly, in sole posession of 1st place.

Then, last week in Philadelphia. More of the same. With both teams streaking ahead and falling back, it was a neck and neck race that continues to this day. The Mets entered half a game ahead. It was that game in July again, where the Mets stormed ahead, and the Phillies made a furious comeback. But this time, it worked. The Phillies tied the game in the 9th, and won in the 13th in a game that was like a bad movie that went on too long. Another potentially devastating loss for the Mets. So, of course, the Mets came back from a late deficit and won the next night.

The Mets have, for the most part, handled the Phillies well this season, winning 10 of 15. They've been the hotter team over the last few weeks, and fresh off their sweep of Milwaukee, certainly come into this series on a higher note than the Phillies, who struggled against Washington. What happens this weekend remains to be seen. But you can bet the farm that these teams are going to make it interesting.

They always do, don't they.

Church on Wednesday

I know that most people, myself included, are still reticent to give the Mets their due. But let's face it. The Milwaukee Brewers were one of the hottest teams in Baseball through the month of August, cruising along, and the Mets just buzzsawed them. Even more impressive, the Mets had a chance to treat Wednesday afternoon's game like gravy, having already won the series. Under Willieball, this is exactly what they would have done. Now, they come out guns blazing, scoring 6 runs in the 1st inning and flattening the Brewers before they had any idea what was going on. Once Ryan Church's truly monstrous grand slam (both for him and for the Mets) left the yard and the Mets had a big lead, the rest of the game played out rather quietly. Sure, there were some mildly prickly moments for Ollie, who wasn't on top of his game, but good enough, and given that the bullpen remains the bullpen, you couldn't be too sure, but then the Mets tacked on some more runs and that pretty much buried the Brewers.

Afterwards, WFAN ran a replay of the radio broadcast for Super Bowl XLII in preparation for the Giants season opener tonight. They've been doing this all week, with the Dallas and Green Bay games as well, and me not having a life or anything better to do, I've been listening. The obvious comparison here would be to simply say that, hey, if the Giants can come back, with the uneven season and spotty team they had, and go all the way to the Super Bowl and cap off one of the most improbable seasons ever with the most improbable upset ever, beating the 18-0 Patriots, well, then anything's possible. Antonio Pierce even came by Shea earlier this year to share some of the good vibes. But listening to the Super Bowl in particular last night, and I knew this to be true from having watched the game, but the Giants radio announcers kept talking about the "Unusual Suspects" who would have to step up and make plays in order for the Giants to win. And more often than not, it was the Unusual Suspects. It's not always Eli Manning, Plaxico Burress, Pierce, Strahan or the stars (although it was Manning and Burress hooking up for the winning TD). Usually, it's the guys you least expect. Corey Webster coming up with a pick in OT in Green Bay. Or it was Kevin Boss coming up with a major reception setting up a touchdown. Or it was David Tyree making a catch of Endy Chavez-esque proportions. Or it was Jay Alford, a special teamer coming in to make a key sack on the Patriots final, desperation drive. Guys you don't expect who come up in key spots and get the job done. The Mets know all about that, from both sides. They've had their own Unusual Suspects getting the job done for a while, guys like Daniel Murphy, Nick Evans, and yesterday, Ryan Church. But that's the Beauty of the Unusual Suspects. you have no idea when it's going to happen, you have no idea who's going to do it, but you know one of these guys is going to do something big. And when it happens enough times over the course of a season, great things happen.

Baffler Meal

How the Mets continue to win games like this in the fashion that they do just baffles me. But in a good way, y'know?

After a Monday win in which they caught a break by Sheets coming out of the game and a late rally, the Mets win on Tuesday after Jonathon Niese looked like a nervous, overwhelmed, 21-year old kid making his Major League debut against a team with a penchant for eating left handed pitching for lunch.

So, it would be up to the much-maligned Bullpen to carry the game out from the 4th inning forward. If the Mets had blown the game, it wouldn't have been surprising. It would have been incredibly frustrating, but not surprising.

So, the Mets bullpen goes out and throws 7 shutout innings. Of course they do.

So the Mets bounce back after Niese couldn't hold a 5-1 lead, maintain the tie into extra innings, and win on the merits of Daniel Murphy and Endy Chavez.

So, the Mets win the first two games—and the Series—in Milwaukee, a team that had been playing even better baseball then they had themselves of late.

So the Mets stand 5-2 on this current road trip, ending this afternoon, that served as one more murderous stretch in a season that seems to have presented the Mets with nothing but murderous stretches.

On WFAN, yesterday afternoon, Mike Francesa (solo, and believe me it's difficult to adjust to now saying "The Big Guy" instead of "The Big Guy and The Little Fella") proclaimed that the Yankees were done, their season was over, and after he spent the better part of 2 hours trashing them, he said that this is the Mets city now, for as long as they can hang on to it. In his speech, given in typical Francesa pompous tone, Mike handed the keys to the City to Mets fan Bob Heussler, and told him that it was his town, and his time will be brief. It will be a wild ride and a wild September, especially with that bullpen. Good luck.

Whatever anyone chooses to take from it, it makes a lot of sense. Two days into September, and it's already a wild ride. The whole season has been a wild ride. Especially after the way the team played last year, and after the way 2006 played out, it's very, very easy to treat every loss as the beginning of the end. And it seems like we, as Mets fans, have done that all year long. And early this season, as the team continued to play in uninspiring fashion, and losses mounted, how could we not but want to give up, throw the team and the season in the toilet, and come back next year. But this switch has flipped. Now, the team wins. Losses are still met with fear and loathing. But these losses are coming fewer and farther between. September will and almost always is a wild ride. But something tells me this year is going to play out in a vastly different fashion from last year.

The Delgado Redemption

I think we can officially put all the questions and criticisms of Carlos Delgado to rest. He's back.

I've been reticent to actually make this admission for a period of time, and he's still prone to going hot and cold, but hot or not, he's making his hits count, and they continue to get bigger and bigger.

Monday afternoon was just the latest chapter in the story of The Delgado Redemption. In a game that the Mets appeared to be primed to squander away, unable to cash in after Sheets left with a mysterious groin injury, squandering opportunity after opportunity, watching as David Wright looked silly and miserable on two strikeouts with men in scoring position, it would be Delgado, standing in the sunlight in that oddly-constructed ballpark in Milwaukee and coming through with the Mets biggest HR of the season to date.

The game played out as every bit the potential future matchup everyone was talking about. Sheets and Santana threw darts at each other for 5 innings, until Sheets left, suddenly, leaving the Brewers to go to their bullpen. And their bullpen appears to be in about as solid a shape as the Mets bullpen. It almost made me feel better about the whole affair. For 2 innings, the Brewers were barely able to cobble things together, eking out a second run on a rare Santana Balk in the 6th, as Carlos Villanueva, Brian Shouse, David Riske and Mitch Stetter did their best impression of Sanchez, Feliciano and Schoeneweis, only getting out of one jam when David Wright let his Ho-Jo "Let's go for that 6-run HR to left!" swing get the better of him, and giving up a run on a very wild pitch in the 7th inning.

Then came Gagne in the 8th. Then came Kid Serious coming up with the igniting hit, Wright looking like Ryan Howard and then Delgado. And suddenly, a game that appeared to be playing out in rather frustrating fashion for the Mets turned in their favor. Suddenly, they had the lead. Suddenly, they extended their lead. And energized efforts from Figueroa, Feliciano and Smith paved the way for Luis Ayala to close it out. And on this day, it was the Brewers beleagured bullpen who wore the dunce cap.

It's good to look at these things in perspective. As I mentioned, this would be a future matchup if things hold to form. Both of these teams have very good starting pitching, led by a pair of guys who can eat innings and get outs. But behind them lies a muddled mess, guys who will alternately look great one day and miserable the next, and you never know what the hell you're going to get. It's not so cut and dry that the Mets would get their clocks cleaned. It's not that the Mets in particular have this horrible bullpen that can't hold any leads. It's magnified, if only for us, because we watch them every day and have to go through the minutae. But we're not alone.

It's only somewhat of a comforting thought.

Talk of the Town

Since Billy Wagner went on the DL on August 5th, the New York Mets have gone 18-8, a record that has moved them into first place in the NL East. A slim lead, no doubt, but a lead nonetheless.

I don't know that I've ever seen a more stressful, agita-filled 18-8 run by a team with playoff aspirations.

The Mets have been winning games, certainly, based on the merits of their starting pitching, and some timely hitting. The starting pitching has been a given all season; it's guys like Santana and Pelfrey who've really stepped it up during this particular stretch, particularly helpful with Maine ailing, Pedro shaky and Perez Perez. Jonathon Niese will make his Major League debut on Tuesday, perhaps filling that 5th spot in the rotation.

The offense has done its job for the most part tolerably, and yet if they'd done a better job in certain instances, the Mets could have done even better during this particular stretch. They score, yes, and they score early and often. But where they've gotten into trouble is when they score early, and often, and then shut down in the 4th inning. I've already made mention of the prime examples of this offense, but it's really been going on all season. Put a few of these games out of reach, and then they can't be blown, and 18-8 might be 22-4.

This is because of that beleagured unit that has become the source and the target of every ounce of frustration coming from the fans, the team, and everyone else who seems to have any say about the fate of the 2008 Mets. There were, over this recent 18-8 stretch, 4 losses in particular where the Mets had the lead and the bullpen (perhaps moreso than the offense, though the two seem to work in cahoots) could not hold it. 4 times. That's not even taking into account the number of times that the Bullpen tried their damndest to blow the game, but couldn't. 18-8 could have been 14-12 just as easily as it could have been 22-4 if things broke one way or another.

It's nothing new to complain about the bullpen, and the reinforcements that are arriving today with the expansion of the rosters don't exactly inspire a lot of confidence. But, if nothing else, they're just more options. Guys like Sanchez and Schoeneweis can take a back seat and not have to be thrown to the wolves every day. Instead, we have...Ricardo Rincon! Ruddy Lugo! Nelson Figueroa!

The series against the Milwaukee Brewers beinning today is talked about as a potential October matchup. Today's pitching matchup, in particular, with Santana opposing Ben Sheets. If the season ended today, this would, in fact, be the matchup.

If it does come to pass, I hope I'm around to see it. The bullpen stands a very good chance of giving me a heart attack before September 28th.