While I haven't been posting, the Mets have gone ahead and lost a series to the Good Brew Crew, won a series to the Bad Dad Crew, and now dropped another series to the Great Red Crew, continuing to keep that RISP number at a loser's level. With myself, my aunt, uncle, cousin and lil sis on hand for Father's Day at a rather full, actually, Citi Field, I was happy to see Curtis provide a spark at the top of that lineup with an awesome Pepsi Porch leadoff home run. I have been settling into the family of Mets fans that is Two Boots that the poor sight of the Mets in San Louis has not generally been in mine. Though I did not work Monday Night, I do not have cable, nor plan to anytime soon on my budget, so my sight generally does not take in the Mets live, rather listening to Howie and Josh describe the sight that's in their eyes.
It's clear, however, that we all need to just smile. Unless we take some serious political protest stance in some fashion or another, which would be interesting to see but I'll tell ya right now that I won't be the leader of the revolution, this team will most likely fail to be properly managed all the way from the top down. The Wilpons do not know how to run a ballclub, let alone know what it means to run the New York Metropolitan National League Baseball Club. I have very little faith, no matter what happens- no matter whether they have a winning season over the next couple of years- that the Mets can have sustained success with the Wilpons at the helm.
So, when I think about what I want to write on this blog at this particular moment, all I can think of is playing the song below, because every time I listen to it, it puts a huge smile on my face. Don't read into any of the lyrics, though I'm sure many of you may do so. That was not my intention, no matter how poignant it may seem at this particular Metsian intersection. I just want to smile, and tonight, when I got home from Two Boots and settled down, the song came on, and I just smiled. So, screw it, man. Let's just listen to Bob Marley.
The offseason has finally arrived. All the debate about what the Mets will or won't do....well, I guess it will continue, but this time with actual action or non-action literally right around the corner.
Enough speculation. Time to see it for ourselves.
(Sidenote: I am conducting a special Halloween edition of the Bedford & Sullivan podcast at 12PM ET. The former SF Giants owner Peter Magowan, who grew up a baseball Giants fan in Manhattan and was instrumental in helping to keep them in San Francisco and in signing Barry Bonds, will be on the program. Brooklyn Dodgers outfielder Duke Snider (and a 1963 Met) once said that he hated Halloween because it shared the colors of black and orange with the Dodgers' rival, so it is fitting to have someone so connected with the franchise on today. Make sure to tune in.)
So, cue up the free agents.
Strike up the trades.
Bang on the hot stove drums and bring us a championship again.
You would think, after a debacle like that, I would welcome these hours that ESPN is making us wait for the next Mets Braves game. But it sure feels like I'd rather be watching Mets baseball right now than writing about it. Watching the next chapter unfold. Yeah, everything unraveled last night, but I was never really upset. As all those dribblers rolled by fielders, I just nodded my head and said to myself, "Yeah, that makes sense." It's the way it is meant to be right now, and of course Met fans are sick of it. A lot of us are worrying about whether this team will ever be able to get it together, since so many of the problems will not necessarily be helped by oncoming farmhands. The bullpen is yet again a mess (even though they've been relatively solid throughout this period of loss; of course they couldn't have been solid when the starting pitching was at it's best), there are no sure-thing outfielders coming up, and the catching position is a world of hurt. Many doubt the Wilpons are in a position to take care of those needs this offseason, let alone sign our All-Stars (I doubt they won't sign them, and if they don't, it will probably spell the end of their ownership.)
Yes, the Mets look flat right now. Every one of their holes has been exposed and the losses are piling up (we fans in Queens have only seen ONE win since the All-Star break.) But these are just growing pains, folks. It's not like Rod Barajas keeps pwinging and missing (which is a mixture of trying to pull the ball and swinging.) Jeff Francoeur isn't here NOT believing in taking a walk once in a while. Robinson Cancel isn't catching (although he might be able to take it on the chin better than our current option.) Forty-year-old Gary Sheffield isn't riding the bench with the occasional start, and Jerry Manuel isn't claiming we'd be better if we had everybody healthy. This evaluation season that took off but got exposed might not be answering all the questions, but it's answering a ton of 'em. And I like what I see.
As the night grew closer to finishing and the score steadied at 3-9, only one song played through my mind.
Hang in there, guys.
The New York Mets may not be at their best right now.
