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In Honorus Metsus
They're in, so I must write
For the first time since 2000, my New York Mets are in the playoffs. It's hard to believe it's been six years since they got knocked out in the first-ever Subway Series against the Yankees, but that's how time works nowadays.
I'm halfway ashamed to admit I didn't watch all of that series on TV. But my life was a pretty decent-size mess at the time, and any true excitement I had about watching the team was tempered by things unrelated to baseball that truly sucked. I was having troubles in every facet of my person, and it would take several years for me to right the ship, as it were. When the Mets lost the Series that year, it didn't disappoint me so much as feel like par for the course.
To give you a decent example of what my life was like back in October of 2000, I halfheartedly listened to the last out of the World Series on my walkman at a local Kinko's where I was printing out stickers for professional wrestlers. It was my job. Don't ask.
My existence was such that making those damn stickers by myself in a Kinko's with nobody around me was more important than being with loved ones while my team battled for the World Series.
No wonder they lost.
Since then, a half-dozen years and several lifetimes have passed. It's almost impossible to list how many things have changed on a personal and professional level for me, and on a national and global level for everyone. The personal and professional changes have almost all been for the better. The world? Perhaps not so much.
I should say that, in my heart, I didn't like the 2000 team as much as I liked the '99 team that got knocked out in the National League Championship Series by the Braves. That team was thrilling in ways the 2000 team just didn't match, and the empty feeling I felt inside watching them was symbolic of the way I felt about a lot of things that year.
Suffice it to say I'm in a much better place now, and fittingly, the Mets are a much better team.
My segues rule.
What's interesting is that while the Mets shared the best record in baseball with that other New York team this season, I am not assuming anything about their chances to make it to the World Series, much less win it all. Cautious optimism is something I've picked up in spades over the last six years. There are areas for concern, and other areas for mere foundless worry.
The pitching has taken some real shots, with Pedro Martinez out until next June with injuries and Steve Trachsel out until whoknowswhen with whoknowswhat [technically speaking].
The remaining rotation of Orlando Hernandez, Tom Glavine and rookie John Maine won't intimidate anyone outside of the '88-'91 Manhasset Indians. Hernandez and Glavine have experience, but both are, shall we say, very veteran (Glavine is 40, El Duque is 108).
I like what I've seen from Maine, who wouldn't be the first rookie pitcher ever to make a huge impression in the playoffs. But on the flip side he also wouldn't be the first rookie to implode, either.
The hope will rest on the bullpen, which has been spectacular all season. Even with the loss of Duaner Sanchez in mid-season, the pen has been better than we could have expected, and remains intact heading into the postseason. Billy Wagner has become automatic as the closer, and the setup tandem of Aaron Heilman and Guillermo Mota have been as good as any in baseball.
As far as the offense goes, no worries here. Current and former All-Stars throughout the lineup, and while the bench can be spotty at times (wake up, Chris Woodward), having Ramon Castro back in the dugout allows me to breathe easier. That, and asthma medicine. But mostly Castro. And I don't have asthma.
In my professional analysis, the success of the lineup will all rest on two guys. If Jose Reyes does his job and raises hell on the bases (poem in there somewhere), and David Wright continues his development as a superstar-in-training, we'll be fine. If too much weight gets put on the shoulders of Carloses Beltran and Delgado, though, we may be in trouble. Can't drive 'em in if they (Reyes) aren't on base, you know, and if Wright falters Delgado may as well leave a change of clothes at first. And by that I mean he'll be pitched around by the other team. So he'll get walks. And he'll be on first a lot.
First rule of comedy: if you have to explain the joke, it isn't funny. Second rule of comedy: rules suck.
On paper, the Mets do look better than their first-round opponents, the Los Angeles Dodgers. Rationally speaking, the Dodgers are kinda lame. Their starting pitching is no better than the Mets (and with a top three of Derek Lowe, Greg Maddux and Hong-Chih Kuo, oddly parallel); their bullpen is godawful.
And their starting lineup is old and had more trouble scoring runs than the '88-'91 Manhasset Indians (I'm going to run that joke into the ground if it kills me).
You might think I would predict an easy knockout for the Mets. But as someone who was there when Dodger punk Mike Scioscia took Dwight Gooden deep to kill the Mets at Shea in 1988, I know better. The Mets dominated the Dodgers that season, and it looked like the NLCS would be a cakewalk. No siree.
If I were a betting man, I'd bet that I won't say anything out loud about who I think will win the series between the Mets and Dodgers. Those memories are just too vivid and painful.
Instead, let's just say that I am planning to watch a lot more baseball from the comfort of my couch than I did back in 2000. Back then, my life was fragmented, and so were the Mets. Now, both my life and the Mets seem much more cohesive, much more on-track. I'm looking forward to watching the Mets venture into the playoffs, and sharing the results with friends and family.
With any hope, I'll write about what I see over the next six weeks, and not feel the need to write about what I lived six years from now.
And, so help me, I won't be anywhere near a Kinko's while the game is on.
They're in, so I must write
October 2, 2006
For the first time since 2000, my New York Mets are in the playoffs. It's hard to believe it's been six years since they got knocked out in the first-ever Subway Series against the Yankees, but that's how time works nowadays.
I'm halfway ashamed to admit I didn't watch all of that series on TV. But my life was a pretty decent-size mess at the time, and any true excitement I had about watching the team was tempered by things unrelated to baseball that truly sucked. I was having troubles in every facet of my person, and it would take several years for me to right the ship, as it were. When the Mets lost the Series that year, it didn't disappoint me so much as feel like par for the course.
To give you a decent example of what my life was like back in October of 2000, I halfheartedly listened to the last out of the World Series on my walkman at a local Kinko's where I was printing out stickers for professional wrestlers. It was my job. Don't ask.
My existence was such that making those damn stickers by myself in a Kinko's with nobody around me was more important than being with loved ones while my team battled for the World Series.
No wonder they lost.
Since then, a half-dozen years and several lifetimes have passed. It's almost impossible to list how many things have changed on a personal and professional level for me, and on a national and global level for everyone. The personal and professional changes have almost all been for the better. The world? Perhaps not so much.
I should say that, in my heart, I didn't like the 2000 team as much as I liked the '99 team that got knocked out in the National League Championship Series by the Braves. That team was thrilling in ways the 2000 team just didn't match, and the empty feeling I felt inside watching them was symbolic of the way I felt about a lot of things that year.
Suffice it to say I'm in a much better place now, and fittingly, the Mets are a much better team.
My segues rule.
What's interesting is that while the Mets shared the best record in baseball with that other New York team this season, I am not assuming anything about their chances to make it to the World Series, much less win it all. Cautious optimism is something I've picked up in spades over the last six years. There are areas for concern, and other areas for mere foundless worry.
The pitching has taken some real shots, with Pedro Martinez out until next June with injuries and Steve Trachsel out until whoknowswhen with whoknowswhat [technically speaking].
The remaining rotation of Orlando Hernandez, Tom Glavine and rookie John Maine won't intimidate anyone outside of the '88-'91 Manhasset Indians. Hernandez and Glavine have experience, but both are, shall we say, very veteran (Glavine is 40, El Duque is 108).
I like what I've seen from Maine, who wouldn't be the first rookie pitcher ever to make a huge impression in the playoffs. But on the flip side he also wouldn't be the first rookie to implode, either.
The hope will rest on the bullpen, which has been spectacular all season. Even with the loss of Duaner Sanchez in mid-season, the pen has been better than we could have expected, and remains intact heading into the postseason. Billy Wagner has become automatic as the closer, and the setup tandem of Aaron Heilman and Guillermo Mota have been as good as any in baseball.
As far as the offense goes, no worries here. Current and former All-Stars throughout the lineup, and while the bench can be spotty at times (wake up, Chris Woodward), having Ramon Castro back in the dugout allows me to breathe easier. That, and asthma medicine. But mostly Castro. And I don't have asthma.
In my professional analysis, the success of the lineup will all rest on two guys. If Jose Reyes does his job and raises hell on the bases (poem in there somewhere), and David Wright continues his development as a superstar-in-training, we'll be fine. If too much weight gets put on the shoulders of Carloses Beltran and Delgado, though, we may be in trouble. Can't drive 'em in if they (Reyes) aren't on base, you know, and if Wright falters Delgado may as well leave a change of clothes at first. And by that I mean he'll be pitched around by the other team. So he'll get walks. And he'll be on first a lot.
First rule of comedy: if you have to explain the joke, it isn't funny. Second rule of comedy: rules suck.
On paper, the Mets do look better than their first-round opponents, the Los Angeles Dodgers. Rationally speaking, the Dodgers are kinda lame. Their starting pitching is no better than the Mets (and with a top three of Derek Lowe, Greg Maddux and Hong-Chih Kuo, oddly parallel); their bullpen is godawful.
And their starting lineup is old and had more trouble scoring runs than the '88-'91 Manhasset Indians (I'm going to run that joke into the ground if it kills me).
You might think I would predict an easy knockout for the Mets. But as someone who was there when Dodger punk Mike Scioscia took Dwight Gooden deep to kill the Mets at Shea in 1988, I know better. The Mets dominated the Dodgers that season, and it looked like the NLCS would be a cakewalk. No siree.
If I were a betting man, I'd bet that I won't say anything out loud about who I think will win the series between the Mets and Dodgers. Those memories are just too vivid and painful.
Instead, let's just say that I am planning to watch a lot more baseball from the comfort of my couch than I did back in 2000. Back then, my life was fragmented, and so were the Mets. Now, both my life and the Mets seem much more cohesive, much more on-track. I'm looking forward to watching the Mets venture into the playoffs, and sharing the results with friends and family.
With any hope, I'll write about what I see over the next six weeks, and not feel the need to write about what I lived six years from now.
And, so help me, I won't be anywhere near a Kinko's while the game is on.