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Well, Jose, the good news is your hyperthyroidism is treatable. The bad news is you need to rest for at least a few weeks until your elevated thyroid levels start to go down. You'll also need to make a few changes to your diet. Have you been eating a lot of fish lately?
Yeah, I have, now that you mention it.
Take me a through a typical day, meal-wise. What do you have for breakfast?
Usually, a caviar omelet.
I've never even heard of that. What do you do, add caviar to scrambled eggs?
No, the caviar is the base. I crack the fish eggs and fry em up in a pan. Sometimes I throw a few prawns in there, too.
Wow. How do you crack caviar?
Very precisely.

Despite being jaded and cynical about The Ways of the World, I still manage to surprise myself with my naive ability to be appalled. This happened on Sunday as I read Mike Lupica's rambling, borderline slanderous column in the Daily News about Jose Reyes. In it, he puts a bunch of dots on the same page as "Reyes", "hyperthyroid issue", and "HGH", expecting you to connect the three without ever explicitly saying so.

It was a Fox News-ian tactic: say an extremely controversial thing that will play well with your core audience, but say it in such a way that allows you to deny (technically) saying it when the other side gets its feathers ruffled. Except that in the world of sports "journalism", you can write such things and not face any consequences for actions that would result in censure in virtually any other arm of the fourth estate.

Here's a few choice quotes designed to sow doubt in readers' minds:

Reyes says he told the feds he didn't get human growth hormone from a Canadian doctor named Tony Galea, often regarded as a patron saint of HGH.

Yes, I remember when the Pope officially canonized him as such last year. Galea is under investigation for HGH distribution, but I don't think that makes him the "patron saint" of the shadowy substance any more than I'm the patron saint of Cheez-Its because I can't stop eating them. (Though I would totally accept the position were it offered to me, or existed.)

[J]ust because Reyes now has a problem with his thyroid gland, and is in New York City for sophisticated testing on it, does not mean those problems were caused by any kind of synthetic drug in his system.

Although the tone of my article, and this snotty sentence, indicates I totally believe they were.

Nobody should be surprised that people are looking to draw a line from Galea to what showed up in Reyes' blood tests.

I'm not surprised that people make such assumptions in blog comment sections or on sports radio. This morning, I heard the douchetacular Craig Carton scream at a doctor who dared suggest there wasn't enough evidence to make this logical leap. But I am surprised that such accusations--which have no shred of evidence to support them--are given credence in a major newspaper like the Daily News. 

Is there a way human growth hormone could have contributed to Reyes' thyroid problems? There are doctors who think so. Would they ever say HGH definitely caused Reyes' problems? No, they would not.

No, they would not say that because diagnosing a person you've never treated and revealing that diagnosis publicly would be a total violation of everything you learn from day one in medical school.

"Good medicine is about eliminating possible causes," Dr. Lewis Maharam - a doctor of sports medicine who has made sense about performance-enhancing drugs for years - said yesterday. "It's about differentials, making a list of possibilities and then eliminating them one by one. But there is a possibility that human growth hormone could cause a spike of thyroid hormone levels."

There's also a possibility that it could give you the ability to fly or learn ancient Sanskrit or grow  an extra set of arms. These things are all highly unlikely, but there's no reason to think they're impossible, right?

The negative side effects of HGH use aren't well known, because HGH isn't legitimately prescribed often, and most of its use is confined to the murky underworld of performance enhancing drugs, where users are reluctant to participate in clinical trials. So hell, why not say it could cause your hands to turn into saltines? You can't definitively say it doesn't do that, can you? I rest my case.

Also, Dr. Maharam "has made sense about performance-enhancing drugs for years"--I didn't know you could specialize in Making Sense. Is that a lucrative practice? Is it any more lucrative than badgering Tiger Woods, which he also seems to specialize in?

Lupica closes out his piece by unfavorably comparing Reyes to Jimmy Rollins and Derek Jeter. He notes that Reyes played only 36 games last year and Jeter has never played fewer than 119. He fails to mention that Rollins had a terrible year last season. He also doesn't mention that from 2005 through 2008, Reyes played at least 153 games every year, and played 160 games twice (something Captain Intangibles has never done). Because all of these facts would not jive with the well-established narrative of Jose Reyes as malingerer and malcontent and--now added to the pile--drug cheater.

I don't think Lupica has anything against Reyes, necessarily. This is not an attempt to railroad him so much as it is an attempt to stir up controversy and sell some more papers/get some more page hits (which I am indirectly contributing to, I suppose). And in the grand scheme of things, writing a shitty, wildly speculative column on Reyes is pretty low on Lupica's list of offenses.

For instance, he was directly responsible for driving Mark Kriegel and Lisa Olson away from the Daily News, all of them for petty personal reasons. He loves to insert himself into the news as much as possible, as he did during last year's U.S. Open. He is, by multiple accounts, a miserable prick who lives to throw his weight around.

He's risen to the heights of the sportswriting world, yet is still apparently haunted by jealousy and a fear of being outshone. What could possibly cause a man to behave in such a manner? I have no idea what personal demons Lupica may have within him, but I don't think you can eliminate HGH use from the equation.

I have absolutely no evidence that Lupica has used HGH. And I also have absolutely no idea if HGH could even cause such emotional neediness. But I don't have any evidence to refute these things either, do I? Lupica painted Reyes guilty by association on evidence just as flimsy, so I see no reason why I can't do the same.

Today, Sean from Massapequa graces us with his presence to discuss Jose Reyes' sudden medical woes. He told me he preferred to address the audience directly, unlike previous posts where we had a dialogue. So without further delay, here's Sean.

They say Jose Reyes has got a thyroid problem. Yeah, and I'm the mayor of Five Towns.

I'm not, just so you know. There is no mayor of Five Towns, cuz it ain't an actual town. Just like Reyes ain't actually hurt. We all know this guy fakes injuries, like he did last year so's he could take more salsa lessons.

How do I know that? Ask yourself this: Has he ever denied it? I rest my case.

There ain't no such thing as a thyroid. You ever seen one? I didn't think so. A thyroid is one a them things doctors make up so's they can prescribe you expensive medication. Like ADD, or your appendix. It's all just a scam. They say you got some disease, charge your insurance for the pills or cream or whatever, and you get some workman's comp cuz you got sick on the job somehow. That's what they call The Circle of Scam.

You get to be my age, you see the shit I seen, you realize everything's a scam. Congress. Santa Claus. The Pope. Cold fusion. The Post Office. All scams. Makes me sick just thinkin about it.

Listen: you go to the right doctor, you can get him to say you got anything. Anything. And if you go to the really right doctor, you can get him to write you a scrip for anything. Speakin a which, if you need that type a doctor, lemme know. I might know a guy. Just sayin.

Take my buddy Joe, f'rinstance. Works for the Parks Department supervising landscaping work. Easiest job in the world. Guy works like 15 hours a week, and half that time is replacing the string in the weedwhackers. Of course, Joe had to get greedy and try and get disability. So he goes to this one doctor I know in Fresh Meadows, doctor "diagnoses" him with "lawnmower lung".

The City said there was no such thing, but Joe threatened to squeal about the no-bid Soilmaster contract, so they gave him what he wanted. Now the guy collects a paycheck while sittin in a hammock all year. Even in the winter, two feet a snow on the ground. Guy loves his hammock.

I bet that's where Reyes is right now, swingin in his hammock, sippin a lemonade. I bust my hump on the job three days a week, and all I wanna do is watch some spring training baseball in the middle of my five day weekend. Now that's all ruined cuz Reyes don't wanna do spring training drills. Life ain't fair.

Look, Reyes, just get your ass on the field and all is forgiven. I need you back on the diamond so's I can scream horrible things atcha every time you don't hit a triple.

Welcome bu-HACK to The Mike Francesa Program, New York's Number 1, coming to you live from Port St. Lucie, where spring training has begin. The period called spring training is upon us. The time of year generally referred to by most baseball fans as spring training is here. Something has started to occur down here in Florida, and that thing I'm referring to is spring training. I'm at Mets camp, where apparently they're preparing for the upcoming season, rather than throwing in the towel by Opening Day as I suggested. My first guest on the program is a fifth starter candidate and a promising young pitcher, Jon Niese.
Thanks for having me on the show, Mike.
Let me ask you a question, Jon. Didn't you have some sort of injury or something last year?
Um, yeah, I did. Tore a hamstring pretty bad. Couldn't you have just looked that up before the interview?
Where would I have looked it up, the internet? I don't trust those calculator things. They got viruses and cookies in 'em. Now, let me ask you something else: Are you a lefty or a righty?
I'm a lefty. Any other questions you want to ask me that could've been answered by the back of my baseball card?
Yes, as a matter of fact. With Damon and Matsui gone, do you think the Yankee lineup will be as explosive as it was last year? How do you think Granderson's gonna do in his first year in pinstripes?
To be honest, I haven't given the Yankees' question marks much thought, since they won the World Series last year and I don't play for them. I've been concentrating on breaking into the starting rotation and recovering from a horrific injury.
Don't get testy with me, young man. This is how it works, son. I'm the number one host on the Mets' flagship radio station, and I'm here in Port St. Lucie visiting your team. Of course I have to talk about the Yankees!
You do that. I gotta go stand over here for a while
/leaves

Though no pitches have been thrown in anger just yet, players are in spring training camps, and that excites me. Jose Reyes is running the bases, Johan Santana is throwing bullpen sessions, and Ollie Perez has managed to eat lunch every day without hurting himself. I haven't seen footage of any of these things, but I know they are happening, and that knowledge soothes me.

But I got genuinely excited over something I saw yesterday. Matthew Cerrone at Metsblog posted this pic snapped at Port St. Lucie.

What is that? Why it's a stadium giveaway duffel bag, clearly sponsored by RC Cola, dating to the late 80s-early 90s. The sight of this thing was nigh Proustian in the memories it dredged up. But not of actually using the bag. Just of seeing ads for BAG NIGHT! at Shea, then seeing said bag used by classmates and townfolk for the next few years. It gave me the same feeling I get when I watch old commercials, and have phrases I haven't thought of in years ring tiny little bells in my brain.

I wanted this to be a springboard for a post on other Shea Stadium giveaways from the same era, but sadly, the interweb information on such things is rather poor. You'd think some maniac out there would have compiled a site dedicated just to this, but you'd think wrong.

But there is some web-based evidence of RC Cola's role in Mets history. The soda had a long, intermittent association with the team dating back to its earliest days. This was back when Shea had more small-time sponsors like Rheingold Beer and local Plymouth dealerships.

Oddly enough, they seem to have returned to this route at CitiField, where you now see ads for things like Arpielle Equipment, cash-for-gold web sites, and other second-tier businesses. Which seems kind of creepy and shady, now that I think about it.

It was a fitting partnership. RC Cola was always the shameful bronze to the gold and silver of Coke and Pepsi, while the Mets were the brand new "upstart" team in town. RC even tried to play up this connection, as you'll see in this ad from the 1960s. A shapely young lady poses with an RC Cola in front of Shea Stadium, though the facility can barely be discerned behind her, or the giant fountain which must have once been somewhere near it (or the Worlds Fairgrounds, or the designer's imagination). I get the destinct impression that baseball was not the focus of this ad.

Other than the duffel bag, the RC Cola promo I remember the most were these commemorative cans following the Mets' 1986 World Series victory. Decorated in a gloriously 80s design scheme, these cans declared to the world, "I know how to jump on a bandwagon as I drink."

RC Cola's association with the Mets continued into the 2000s, but ended by the time the last days of Shea rolled around (hence the Pepsi Porch at their new ballpark). I would lament this fact, but considering RC Cola is now owned by Cadbury Schweppes, they're not exactly a mom and pop outfit, either.

Plus, I don't wanna be one of those people who complains about the merits of essentially interchangeable junk food brands. The Wife and I once snagged fantastic seats for a Mets game, and sat next to a guy who wouldn't shut up all night about how he hated it when Shea stopped serving Kahn's hot dogs. I was too nice to tell the guy to leave me alone, plus he seemed like he might be borderline autistic.But my point is, if you can help it, don't be that guy. Nostalgia's great, being trapped in the past isn't.

I promise/hope this will be my last serious post on baseball for the season. Because funny ha-ha pieces are much better for this site, I think. And my soul.

Earlier today, I saw a fellow Mets fan tweet that the Vegas over/under for Mets wins this year is 89. The only NL team with a higher line is the Phillies, who are set at 89.5, and the next highest is the Diamondbacks, with 85.5.

Upon reading this, my first reaction was excitement. I'd sign up for 89 wins right now (as Mad Dog Russo often said; he may still say it, but nobody listens to him anymore). Of course, when Vegas sets lines, they do so to stir up action. That's why they release MLB over/under lines the week when spring training begins, hoping to capitalize on fan excitement.

Setting the Mets at 89 means Vegas believes one of two things: (1) they hope the team isn't that good, but the surprisingly high number of 89 will excite gullible, optimistic fans to bet the over; or (2) they think the team might win even more games, but hope enough people will remember the stumbling, bumbling Mets from last year and bet the under.

My own experience, plus the events of recent seasons, told me that Mets fans are a pessimistic bunch. Ironically, this led me to believe that option (2) was more likely than (1), which in turn got me excited like the dumb, dumb man that I am.

And then I thought to myself, Do I even want the Mets to have a good year? Could that be the worst thing possible for them, in the long term?

TAMPA--Pitchers and catchers have reported to the Yankees' spring training facility, an annual tradition known affectionately as Hell Week. Prospects and new acquisitions alike report bright and early to endure the humiliation necessary to join America's most storied franchise.

"Drop and gimme 50, pussy!" growled manager Joe Girardi as he caught sight of new Yankee Curtis Granderson. The outfielder did as he was told, while also downing a Jagermeister shot after each rep.

"This team isn't just about partying, okay?" Girardi told reporters as he popped the collar to his brand new Ed Hardy-designed uniform. "It's about leadership, brotherhood, dedication. And I won't have a buncha homos messing all that shit up."

Girardi then instructed young catcher Jesus Montero to finish off a bottle of Goldschlager, followed by three laps around the diamond while balancing a rake on his head.

"That's what makes the Yankees so great, traditions like this," said team captain Derek Jeter. "I remember when I came up in 1996, Cecil Fielder told me I had to eat an entire package of hot dog rolls and chug a six-pack of Bud in five minutes or else clean his toilet with my tongue. I, um, I could only get down seven rolls."

"Winning is a habit, losing is a disease," said Girardi, as he gave a wedgie to beat reporter Tyler Kepner. "How do you vaccinate yourself against losing? By WINNING. That's why I changed my number. It used to be 27, but we won our 27th championship last year. So now I'm number 347. Because that's how many World Series trophies we're gonna win. This year.

"And anyone who says that's impossible, I say you better shut yer dick-suckin fairy holes and MAKE IT HAPPEN. Because I create winners here, not gay-queers."

The Hell Week tradition has been in place since spring training of 1956, when Mickey Mantle, Whitey Ford, and Billy Martin forced all newcomers to drink their weight in Old Smuggler. But it has come under fire in recent years, particularly in 2004, when a hazing ritual rendered new Yankee Alex Rodriguez blind for much of the season and subsequent playoffs.

Is somebody honking outside? Jesus, it's 7 in the morning. Oh, that's right, I gotta go to Florida today. That must be the cab to the airport. Well, better quick throw some stuff in the suitcase. T-shirts, undies, a couple button downs to hit the clubs in. What the hell, guess I'll bring my glove in case anyone wants to play catch...

FUCK! I FORGOT TO GET A PITCHER! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!

God, I got this assignment before winter break even started, and now it's already over! Where the hell did all the time go? There was Thanksgiving and Christmas and then I went on the ski trip to Canada to pick up Jason Bay, and then I got Bioshock 2, and the next thing I know, it's springtime and JESUS H. FUCK, WHAT THE HELL AM I GONNA DO?!

Hey, ma? Do we have any pitchers left over in the garage?

Are you sure?

Ma, Steve Trachsel doesn't count! Fine, maybe I WILL look for one myself!

Fuck, it's too late to find a pitcher now. WHAT DO I DO?!! I'M SUPER CRAZY FUCKED! I'M TOTALLY GONNA FAIL MY GENERAL MANAGER CLASS!

Alright, Omar, calm down. Just think this through. Maybe you don't need another pitcher. You have Santana, and he's money in the bank. John Maine looked good when he came back from injury last year; maybe he'll finally be healthy. Yeah, and maybe Mike Pelfrey will bounce back. And maybe Oliver Perez will...fuck...maybe he won't fall into an open manhole. And we have some decent options for fifth starter. Yeah, we could make this [pitching staff work, with a solid infield behind it...

FUCK! I FORGOT TO GET A RIGHT SIDE OF THE INFIELD! FUCK BALLS ASS COCK FUCK!

Chill, Omar, chill! Catch your breath! Luis Castillo had a good year last year. Sure, he can barely hit the ball out of the infield, but he could be a good #2 hitter behind Reyes. And Dan Murphy...well, it's too soon to write off a guy like that, right? Dude definitely works hard. And who knows? If he doesn't work out, maybe Mike Jacobs or Chris Carter does. Or maybe Ike Davis forces his way onto the major league roster. Weirder things have happened.

Okay, it's not the prettiest looking team, but if pick up some oaktag and scotch tape at the airport, I might be able to slap the whole thing together in time for spring training. Yeah, we can score some runs, and field the ball, and if we can get the ball to K-Rod...

OH, FUCK MY COCK!!

I've had this string on my index finger for so long now, I can't remember when I put it on! In fact, I even forgot it was there until this morning, and I saw it in the mirror while I was shaving. Weird, huh? For the life of me, I can't remember what it's supposed to remind me of. Let me think, let me think...

I think I put this string on right after the season ended. So maybe this was supposed to tell me to do something for the team. Was it to remind me to bid against myself for a slugging outfielder? Nope, did that.

Was it to overpay for a bunch of spare parts? No, I took care of that.

Was it to trade for a terrible fifth outfielder we didn't need? No, I just wrapped that up.

It was something like...switcher? Was I supposed to switch something? No, it just sounded like switcher. But there's no other word that sounds like switcher, right? Maybe it just sort of sounds like it. Nick Swisher? James Michener? David Fincher?

This is getting me nowhere. Boy, I'm thirsty. I could use a cool drink. Say, Darlene? Could you bring in some water when you have a chance? Like, a lot of it. A whole pitcher, if you can. On second thought, make it two pitchers. I could use two solid pitchers.

Where was I? Oh yes, I was trying to remember what this string was supposed to remind me of. Ugh, this is gonna bug me all day.

Now that Jason Bay has signed with the Mets, I can report that the Red Sox were never really interested in him. You see, Boston gave him an MRI midway through last season and discovered he had some knee issues, thus rendering him useless as a cog in the Sox's grand scheme.

Why didn't the Mets' doctors see the same issues when they examined him? Because they couldn't have, and neither could any other team. You see, the Red Sox are at the cutting edge of all aspects of the game: scouting, sabremetrics, proper allocation of resources, and medical equipment. They have a state-of-the-art MRI machine that can not only diagnose ligament and deep-tissue injuries in split seconds, but can also cause them!

But this machine doesn't cause injuries immediately. It implants a special subcutaneous chip that resonates to a very special frequency that only the Sox's MRI machine can emit. If the Sox sign a player after examining him, they remove the chip. If not, they emit the frequency and cause maximum damage.

In the case of Jason Bay, the Sox plan to be as benevolent as possible. They will not evoke their right to destroy his knees by mysterious remote waves before the first 18 months of his current contract. After that, all bets are off. The Sox also won't say whether they will simply cause Bay's ACL and MCL to deteriorate slowly, or if they will make all three knee ligaments blow out simultaneously and catastrophically.

As for other players the Sox have examined but not signed, they would not say how or when they would be crippled. However, it is highly suspected that if Jon Lackey hadn't gone with Boston, they would have given him a torn labrum, and possibly mad cow disease.

Republican Scott Brown has triumphed in the Massachusetts Senate race, and Democrat Martha Coakley has failed. Among many factors in Coakley's defeat was her Red Sox-related gaffe last week, when she erroneously identified Curt Schilling as a Yankees fan. In the Bay State, where the Sawx are held much more sacred than any other institution, that was a huge mistake.

I don't know if anyone's choice of candidate was actually influenced by this specific misstep. By all accounts, she ran a spectacularly inept campaign. The Schilling goof was simply indicative of the laziness she exhibited throughout her Senate run, which was actually more of a sleepwalk.

But if anyone, in all seriousness, did not vote for her because she didn't know enough about the Red Sox, go get hit by garbage truck. And then catch on fire. And then get hit by a garbage truck on fire. I hate you so god damn much right now.

What's more important, folks: the fact that your Senator knows all about The Bloody Sock, or the fact that your Senator will send a death knell to any hope of reform and change for at least the next two years?

I love the Mets. I think about them and write about them and worry about them way beyond the point I should for something that has no direct bearing on my happiness and well being. One of the big reasons I've never liked Rudy Giuliani is because he's the epitome of the obnoxious, blowhard Yankee fan (being a crypto-fascist made it easy to hate him, too).

However, if there was a candidate who was exactly the same as Rudy in his fandom but the exact opposite politically, versus a guy who was a diehard Mets fan but Giuliani-esque in his world view, I'd vote for the Yankee fan in a second. BECAUSE SPORTS ARE DUMB GAMES AND POLITICS CAN FUCK YOUR LIFE UP FOR DECADES.

If nothing else, hopefully this incident wakes lefties out of the torpor that's set on them in record time. Yes, Obama hasn't done everything we wanted. Yes, he has been slow to act in certain respects (most infuriatingly, on gay rights). Yes, even before Brown's election, the health care reform bill was less than ideal. Yes, there are still mounds of problems in this country that have yet to even plateau.

But if I may return to baseball for a minute, you almost have to think of Obama in 2010 as Jackie Robinson in 1947. There are too many people for whom the mere idea of a black man being in the national spotlight is too much to bear. Obama can't be as aggressive or fiery as some people would like, because there's too many people waiting for him to lose his temper, do something rash, and fail his way out of the Oval Office.

Like when Joe Wilson yelled LIAR at him during a Congressional address. Why did Wilson do that--because he's a nut? Yes, but also because he hoped Obama would fly off the handle and yell at him, thus alienating half the country ready to think of him as a Scary Black Man. So even though Wilson thoroughly deserved to be punched in the mouth, Obama kept his cool because that was ultimately more important than the immediate desire for retribution.

Obama needs to weather the storm of his first few years and prove to The Haters that he knows what he's doing and that him being in power isn't the nightmare they think it is (or want it to be). It's totally unfair, but it wouldn't be the first time a black man had to work harder than his white counterparts just gain some respect. And after this "trial period", like Robinson, he can start fighting back against the Ben Chapmans of the world and slide in spikes up.

Ask yourself this: Looking at the Sarah Palins and the Glenn Becks and the Bill O'Reillys (a fascist Mets fan) of the world--who are clearly at the vanguard of the Republican party--do you really think there's no difference between Dems and the GOP? I'm not the biggest fan of the two-party system. But for right now, today, what's our best hope for rising out of the shit eight years of Bush dumped us in--Obama's slower-than-you'd-like agenda, or the Republicans' obstructionist paleoconservative nihilistic non-agenda?

Oh, and Curt Schilling? Go get fucked sideways with rusty rake.

Hey Omar, can we talk?
Sure thing, Carlos. How's that knee?
That's what I want to talk to you about. I spoke to you about this surgery earlier this week, and I thought everything was cool.
Yeah, definitely, sounds like something I'd say.
But today, your assistant GM made it sound as if I went behind your back to do this. What the fuck?! If you had some problem with how this went down, why didn't we just handle it internally? Why did you go after me in public, by proxy, and make me and everyone else on this team look bad?
I didn't go after you, Carlos, my assistant GM did. But it's clear that somebody pulled a real choke job here on the whole communication thing, and we'll take care of that ASAP. Right after we work out that 7-year extension for Bengie Molina.
You're responsible for this whole mess! Why are you talking like it's somebody else's fault?!
Carlos, you've never been in charge of a multimillion-dollar operation...
I am a multimillion-dollar operation...
...so you don't understand how this works. I am not responsible for the Mets. I am in charge of the Mets. Being in charge is not the same thing as being responsible.
You're right, I don't understand.
You see, people who are responsible are held responsible for their actions. If I were responsible for things, I would've been fired a long time ago. Remember that time we assed away a postseason berth in the last month of the season?
Yeah, that happened two years in a row.
Really? I have no memory of it happening two times. Then again, there was that one season where I took a lot of naps. You see, Carlos, only schmucks are responsible for things. Men are in charge. Men lead. They lead by standing there, immobile, staring straight ahead while their ship runs aground.
How do you get to be in charge?
You thrust yourself ahead blindly, like a bull in a china shop, barreling all your competitors out of your path. Other guys in charge will admire your spunk and grit and determination, and they won't care that you have no idea what you're doing, because they don't know what they're doing either, and they're afraid to have anyone too smart or principled around them to make them look bad in comparison.
Well, unlike you, my job is based on performance. In the big leagues, you can't fail upwards and hope to be rewarded.
You can't? I assume you've met Oliver Perez.
DID SUMBODEE TAKE MY FUNYUNS BECUZ I CAN'T FIND THEMM

I admit that I used steroids for over a decade. However, I want to assure all my fans that I only did it to recover from crippling injuries that would have ended my career, not to inflate my majestic home run numbers. Of course, by lengthening my career, I also hit far more home runs than I would have otherwise and wound up inflating my numbers anyway. It was such a vicious circle!

If only I hadn't played in The Steroid Era! Then all of this unpleasantness could have been avoided! I wish I had a mentor when I was younger, someone who would've told me that if I played in The Steroid Era, there was a very good chance I'd do steroids. Darn this era! Darn it all to heck!

Maybe you don't know this, but when a baseball player reaches the majors, he has a choice of what era he can play in. I couldn't play in The Deadball Era, because nobody hit homers back then and nobody wore gloves and everybody gambled. I thought about The Babe Ruth Era, but I've never had the stomach for bathtub gin. I thought about The Postwar Era, but you couldn't go to the World Series unless you played for the Yankees or the Dodgers. And The Sixties weren't an option, because the pitchers had too much of an advantage; I think the mound was two stories high back then. 

I know what you're thinking: How can you pick an era to play in? You see, MLB mastered the space-time continuum in 1975, thanks to a joint effort between NASA and Bill Lee. The principles are complicated and probably boring to the average layman. Suffice to say that the linearity of time is merely an illusion. I could have played 600 years in the future if I wanted to, in The BRX-797-0 Era, but I thought telepathic abilities would take a lot of the mystery out of life, you know?

So while I'm definitely sorry for what I did, I think most of the blame lies squarely on The Steroid Era itself. Perhaps this not-easily-defined span of time needs to do an interview with Bob Costas and explain itself, not me!

I want to thank all of the people who've been supportive during this difficult time. My family. Tony LaRussa. The entire St. Louis Cardinals family. And of course, all those baseball writers who urged me to unburden my soul. Your pushing, poking, and prodding gave me the strength to come clean. I'll never forget you, but I will try to forget all of you weeping and gnashing your teeth because I just did exactly what you wanted me to.

In conclusion, I think the time has come to turn the page and once again start blaming the big black guy for all this unpleasantness.

Today I chat with Sean from Massapequa once again, as we discuss the Jason Bay signing.

The Mets finally made a big move this off season by landing Jason Bay. That fills at least one hole, doesn't it?

Yeah, and fills it with another hole. That guy stinks.

The guy stinks? He hits 30 homers and 100 RBIs every year. He's performed everywhere he's been, even in a Pirates lineup with little protection.

Typical Omar move, gettin some guy who used to play for the loser Pirates. Nobody who ever played for the Pirates has ever been good, ever.

What about Willie Stargell, Roberto Clemente, Honus Wagner...

Honus Wagner? What is that, an electric spray painter?

No, he was one of the greatest baseball players ever.

I never heard a him, so he's a bum, just like Bay!

Even if you totally want to dismiss Bay's years in Pittsburgh--and I don't know why you'd want to do that--he played just as well in Boston. And he couldn't have had a stickier situation to deal with, taking over for Manny Ramirez.

Then why don't the Sox want him back? I'll tell ya why: because he stinks! And because he's injured. I read this thing that his shoulder is about three seconds from bursting into flames.

He passed his physical.

Big deal. You can fake a physical any way you want. My buddy Joey's got half a lung, a metal plate in his head, and seven toes on each foot, but he passes the fire department physical every year. See, if you think healthy, you can convince yourself and everyone else that you really are healthy, even if you're on death's door, which Jason Bay clearly is.

C'mon, the man is not on death's door.

But he's Canadian, ain't he?

Yes, he's from British Columbia.

See, right there, that's another reason not to like him. There's something weird about Canadians. I can't put my finger on it, but they just ain't...right, you know?

So you don't like the Jason Bay signing even a little bit because he's Canadian?

The only good Canadian I know is Randy Bachman of The Guess Who and later Bachman-Turner Overdrive.

Good to see that you've expanded your roster of prejudices.

And speaking of Canadians, why'd the Mets hand Bay a Rangers jersey at the press conference? That's a slap in the face to the Islanders! They practically play down the road! I got a buddy who works at the Nassau Coliseum, and we coulda gotten him a DiPietro jersey for nothin!

So you woulda given Bay a discount on an Islanders jersey?

Yeah, the old five-finger discount. Listen, if you know anybody who wants some game-used equipment, we can hook you up. Jerseys, pants, pads, goal nets...you want a zamboni?

No, I don't want a zamboni.

Cuz I can get you a zamboni. Kinda fun to drive, but it's a bitch to insure.

Always a pleasure, Sean.

You bet.

Last summer, I wrote a piece about perceptions of Jose Reyes and his hamstring injury (which turned out to be season-ending) and, in part, the racial overtones of those perceptions. In it, I blamed the portrayal of Reyes as a malingerer or malcontent on the Doughy White Guy network of sportswriters for not quite getting Latin athletes, or feeling intimidated by the large Latin presence in Major League Baseball--a reflection of many people's similar feelings about the growing Latin population of this country as a whole.

I revised my stance slightly after reading a few tweets from Dave Lennon, Mets beat writer for Newsday. In Lennon's opinion, no one who actually covered the team and spent time around Reyes would question his dedication. I had to concede that was probably true. It seemed most of the anti-Reyes talk came from opinion writers like Jayson Stark (whose ESPN piece set me off in the first place) and professional pot stirrers like Mike Francesa (who would've been sued for libel a thousand times by now if he worked in a print medium).

And then on Sunday, I read a piece (or rather, a piece of a piece) in the Daily News that made me rethink my rethinking. Because it's clear to me that even the more traditional newspaper reporters have a problem with the growing Latin presence in baseball. Or at least know how to tap into such thinking among their readership.

It came to my attention thanks to a post by Andrew Vazzano at The 'Ropolitans. The piece was about the offseason plans for a slew of baseball teams, and was written by Bill Madden. He's sort of the News' Peter King type: equal parts reporter and op-ed guy. He's been around forever, and he's very much an old school guy. The old school that says guys should hustle, play the game the right way, and be racially pure.

I assume that last bit based on his assessment of the Mets' hot stove action (or lack thereof):

Mets? Did somebody say the Mets? They won't spend the money for Holliday, Bay or Lackey and apparently, they're only interested in signing low-budget Latin players, having shown little or no interest in Byrd, Figgins, DeRosa, Wolf or even Staten Island's Jason Marquis, while waiting for their markets to come to them. At the same time, the Phillies and Braves wasted no time in addressing their needs. Sad.

Emphasis added in case that needle-dragged-across-record moment escaped you. Unsurprisingly, later in the day, a certain word was removed from this paragraph. (Hint: It starts with "L" and ends in "atin".) But the fact remains, his original intent was to say what you can read above.

Bill Madden can spin his words any way he wants to, but this is straight-up racist. I don't know whether he really believes this, or just wrote it to stir the pot amongst the Archie Bunker portion of the Mets' fanbase (which was in full force in the article's online comments section). The fact remains, his choice of words was blatantly racist, and I can't be convinced he was not aware of this fact. You can see a screengrab of the original page here, which includes some reader comments as well. But don't read the comments unless you have a strong stomach or can afford to lose 20 IQ points.

Much less important than blatant racism on the sports pages: Madden is way off base here in criticizing the Mets for not making any moves yet. Because very, very few teams have made any moves of any consequence. Here are the big free agent signings so far:

• Omar Vizquel (White Sox)
• Chone Figgins (Mariners)
• Billy Wagner and Takashi Saito (Braves)
• Placido Polanco (Phillies)

That's it. So the Mets haven't made any big signings. That puts them in the same boat as 27 other teams. They've made two small signings: backup catchers Henry Blanco and Chris Coste. I'm not all that familiar with Mr. Coste's background, but I'm gonna go out on a limb and say he is not of Hispanish heritage. I guess Madden is upset about 50 percent of the team's free agent signings being too brown for his (or his audience's) liking.

Also, it's expected that, due to tough financial times, many teams will nontender even more players than usual once that deadline rolls around (December 12). That means the free agent pool will soon expand. Why rush to sign a player right now if waiting a bit means your options will increase?

His assertion that the Braves and Phillies have improved is highly debatable. The Phillies let go Pedro Feliz--an excellent defensive third baseman and a decent-enough bat--to sign Polanco, who is several years older than Feliz and hasn't played third with any regularity since 2002. It's often overlooked how much defense has contributed to the Phillies' success over the last few seasons. Putting Polanco at third creates a defensive hole that their pitchers can't really compensate for (other than Cliff Lee).

Meanwhile, the Braves essentially replaced two young relievers (Rafael Soriano and Mike Gonzalez) with two hurlers pushing 40, both coming off of major surgeries within the last year. This detail is even more alarming when you consider that Atlanta has a Mets-esque track record when it comes to keeping its players healthy. Not to mention the fact that Takashi Saito, once a dominant closer, is now basically a LOOGY; righties have destroyed him the last few years, when he's not hurt.

And then there's the school of thought that says the Mets can't really address their needs with the current crop of free agents and their budget. So they'd be best served to plug up holes as best they can and not lose draft picks by signing Type A free agents. I'm not sure I agree with this theory, but I recognize it as a legitimate argument.

It's certainly a lot more legitimate than saying the Mets only sign Latin players and don't care about baseball because they're always dancing merengue and eating chalupas in the dugout.

Listen: The Mets deserve tons of criticism. I have very little faith that their current manager, general manager, or ownership know what they're doing in the slightest. I don't think this is a smart organization, and I have no evidence that it's getting any smarter. And I'm really worried about Omar Minaya in particular, since his job is clearly on the line, because that's the sort of situation that might spur him to make ridiculous moves that will seriously jeopardize the team's long-term chances.

But Madden didn't lobby any serious charges against the team. He simply accused then of being cheap and making racially motivated signings. To do so, he had to ignore a mountain of evidence to the contrary, plus equally large piles of deductive reasoning and common sense. And for what? So he could sell a few more papers, maybe get a few more page hits as idiots scrambled to drop racist garbage in the comments section?

Madden knew exactly what he was doing. So did whichever editor allowed the article to run as-is (at least initially). Neither of them might be racist, but they were perfectly willing to tap into a deep, insecure, racist vein of their readership. I can't decide which is worse.

Over the weekend, Kevin Kernan of the New York Post wrote a brief, heartbreaking (to me) article about former Met Edgardo Alfonzo, erstwhile member of The Greatest Infield Ever. He's been in the baseball wilderness since 2006, playing for the independent Long Island Ducks, the Mexican league, and the Venezuelan winter league. Last year, like his former teammate Benny Agbayani, he finally won a championship thanks to the Japanese baseball league, going all the way with the Yomiuri Giants.

But as thrilling as that was, he has one thing he still wants to do: he wants to retire as a Met.

My dream is to retire with the Mets colors. That's my dream. That's what I'm praying for, maybe it will happen, maybe not, but dreams sometimes come true, you know....I love the Mets and I love the Mets fans. I would like that dream to come true.

Fonzie thinks he still has some baseball left in him, and can be a good utility man. He's hoping the Mets will extend him a spring training invite. If he makes the team, great. If not, he's happy to retire from the majors wearing orange and blue.

Perhaps you're not aware of how unusual this is. Most Mets leave town in a huff, or in disgrace, or embittered, or in some head scratchingly bad trade. Almost no player retires as a Met, and the few that do make little sense.

In recent memory, I recall Jeromy Burnitz and Todd Zeile playing their last seasons as Mets, both in their second tour of duty with the team. Neither were exactly returning heroes. Then there were random spring training invitees like Andres Galaragga and Bret Boone, who quit the game rather than fight for a roster spot on bad Met teams.

Even Tom Seaver barely retired as a Met. He got a token spring training invite in 1987, then hung up his cleats for good. He should have never left the team in the first place, but that's a whole other story. Ask Dick Young about it, should you ever find yourself strolling through hell.

Edgardo Alfonzo says he wants to retire as a Met. I don't think anyone has uttered those words in the last 30 years.

Of course, this is the man who, upon leaving the Mets for free agency after the 2002 season, used his own money to take out ads on top of taxicabs to thank Mets fans for their support. As The 1999 Project will attest, he had nothing but huge hits that year, particularly in September and into the playoffs. He was a Gold Glove caliber third baseman (I mean in the imaginary universe where Gold Gloves are handed out for actual fielding skills and not on legacy/popularity). But he moved to second base to make way for Robin Ventura, never uttered a peep about it, and played just as well there.

That was The Fonzie Way: quiet, dignified, workmanlike. He was constantly overshadowed by flashier players and the random course of events. Still--and I know that as a rational baseball fan, this is a borderline silly thing to say/write, but I'm saying it anyway--in a big spot, in a must-win game, there was no player I'd want coming up to bat for the Mets more than Edgardo Alfonzo.

As I've written on many occasions, the Mets (as an organization) don't do right by their history. They don't honor it, they don't cherish it, and they barely acknowledge it. Alfonzo is not a legendary player, but he was a great one for a short period of time, and he was definitely a beloved one.

If we were talking about virtually any other organization, there'd be no question that he'd get a spring training invite. Maybe you strike gold, and Fonzie has something left in the tank. If not, it costs the team virtually nothing, you grant his wish, and pay him back for everything he did for the team.

I don't have much faith in the Mets to do the right thing by Fonzie. But I hope this is enough of a no brainer that even they can make this happen.

Yesterday, Benny Agbayani retired from the Japanese major leagues (NPB) where he'd been playing for the last six years, occasionally under the skipper-hood of ex-Met manager/Scratchbomb nerd-heartthrob Bobby Valentine. Benny will always hold a special place in my heart, as I'm sure he does for most Mets fans.

Every fanbase in every sport has a guy like Benny: beloved for performing way over his head, despite a seeming total lack of physical gifts. Benny was built like a fireplug, had a boyish, pudgy face, and ran like he was mad at the ground beneath him. Fans like guys like him because it makes them think that any slob can play the game. Of course, even a guy like Benny has physical gifts better than those of 98% of the population. Regardless, he's the kind of player whose appearance allows for the amount of identification and self-delusion necessary to be a Sports Fan.

Benny toiled in the minors for five years before finally getting a call up in 1998, thanks to Valentine, who'd managed him at triple-A Norfolk. After getting called up again early in 1999, he blasted 10 homers in his first 73 at bats, a Ruthian pace that, of course, could not be maintained (he waited until September before finally hitting his 11th homer of the season). In the postseason, he was somewhat eclipsed by the emergence of Melvin Mora, but he did have a few key moments. In game 4 of the NLDS, he hit a double to put the Mets ahead, and in game 6 of the NLCS, he got on base to lead off two late innings, and came around to score both times to give the Mets the lead, though his bullpen could not hold the lead in any of these cases.

In 2000, he became a more permanent fixture in the Mets' lineup, and contributed many huge hits on their road to the World Series (one of which we'll get to shortly). He also mistakenly tossed a fly ball he caught into the stands, thinking it was the third out (it was only the second) and had to frantically retrieve from the youngster who snared it. Such was Mets' fans love for the guy that the blunder only made him more loveable somehow.

Unfortunately, loveability does not always equate to ability to play in the big leagues. Benny fell back to earth, as players of his type often do. He was traded to the Rockies in 2002, wound up on the Red Sox briefly, then went to the Far East, where he won a championship with Valentine's Chiba Lotte Marines in 2005 (along with another ex-Met, Matt Franco).

Apparently, he was just as beloved in Japan as he was in Flushing, as this video will attest. This is footage from a Chiba Lotte Marines game, where the local fans are reciting a Benny Agbayani chant en masse. This is not unheard of in Japanese baseball, where fan folkways are a lot less like their American counterparts and more like European soccer supporters. But the Japanese baseball fans do not develop choreographed chants for everyone.



When I heard he retired, I thought immediately of game 3 of the 2000 NLDS, possibly the greatest game I've ever seen in person. I reminisced about that game way back in January of this year. Let's take a trip back in time, shall we? (Original post here.) 

You may have thought that poorly-thought-out, knee-jerk, Neanderthal baseball opinion pieces were out of season until next March. If so, you thought wrong. The tweeting of OldHossRadbourn (who everyone should be following NOW) alerted me to an article on SI.com by Bruce Jenkins entitled "Joe Girardi deserves praise for refusing to pamper starters". I think you can see where this is heading.

The article opens with a definition of the word "mollycoddle", for those readers under the age of 90, taken from the well respected lexicographic authority WordNet.

I once knew a Molly Coddle. Close friend of Jimmy Jack. Neither is related to Joe Girardi, as it turns out, and for that we should all be grateful.

And I once knew a guy named Loopy Louie and another guy named Sad-Eyed Sid. What the hell are you talking about?!

The World Series gave us a novel's share of heroes...but for me, the lasting impression will be Girardi's three-man rotation. He used it throughout the postseason, 15 games' worth, with spectacular success. He turned back the clock, drove a lot of people nuts, and emerged with a great big trophy in his hands.

Checking the national-media reports as the World Series reached its most crucial stage, you got the impression Girardi was an odd sort of dead man walking. "You'd better be right, you idiot," was the general tone. "Because you'll lose your job if you blow this."

I don't remember anyone being too stunned or upset at Girardi's move. The only time it came into question, really, was when he started A.J. Burnett on three days' rest in game 5--which didn't work out too well for the Yankees, you may recall. In fact, I think most reporters were on the same page as Jenkins, praising Girardi for his Macho Manliness in employing old school baseball tactics

Jenkins doesn't name any specific "national-media reports", so I can't really attack his hypothesis. I think he thinks Nervous Nellies attacked Girardi's strategy, and now he's giving these Imaginary Wusses a piece of his Manly Mind!

In truth, Girardi's job never was in jeopardy, but such was the tone of panic and paranoia as the Yankee manager wielded that deadliest of weapons: common sense. He employed a strategy that worked in baseball for, oh, about 70 years, not including the 19th century.

I think Jenkins is confusing "worked" with "was the status quo". Lots of things existed for long periods of time, but whether they were effective, wise, or just is a whole other story. Western civilization "worked" for a few millennia without the input of non-whites, the landless, and women. Does that mean we should return to those wonderful days?

While four-man rotations were employed by most teams until the 1970s, how well they worked depends on your definition of "worked". If by "worked" you mean "allowed baseball to exist", then yes, they worked. If by "worked" you mean "kept pitchers healthy and ensured long careers", that's a different question. It's also a question that's very difficult to answer, but Jenkins doesn't seem interested in asking it in the first place.

Somewhere along the line -- and I'm sure it's connected in some sinister way with the Nixon administration -- baseball lost its way. Forever the province of workhorse starters, pitching entire seasons on three days' rest and approaching 150 pitches in a given start, the game surrendered to the Mollycoddle Generation. Five-man rotations became the rage, and "100 pitches" equated to a traumatic overload, certain to destroy a man's arm and perhaps cause flooding in the neighboring streets.

So many things about baseball are different now. Until 1961, there were only 16 teams and 154 games in a season. There are far fewer off days now--a team will routinely play eight, nine, or ten games in as many days, often while traveling across large distances. In the olden days, series were often four games (or longer) instead of just three, meaning travel between points was less frequent. Until 1958, there were no teams west of St. Louis, and most travel was done by bus or train. I don't care what anyone says, but constant plane travel is NOT good for you, mentally or physically, especially the coast-to-coast variety.

So is it unreasonable to ask the game to adjust to these new realities? Yes, apparently!

The old-school guys didn't know whether to holler or weep. A number of them, including Bob Gibson and Robin Roberts, were hanging around this year's World Series, wondering aloud what happened to the game's integrity. "I don't get it," Gibson said after Game 4. "A guy can't pitch with three days' rest? I don't think it's going to kill somebody."

Bob Gibson wonders why guys can't pitch on three-days' rest because he's Bob effin' Gibson, one of the best pitchers ever. He doesn't know what it's like to be mortal. I'm sure Einstein wondered why people couldn't do quadratic equations in their head.

Using a legend like Gibson to prove your point about short rest being okay is like pointing to to an eagle and saying, "Why can't everybody fly like him?!" We can't because we're not all gifted with wings. For every Gibson, there are 10 guys who had a few good, promising seasons, were overworked when teams didn't know any better, blew out their arms, and were never the same.

How about Sandy Koufax? He was a workhorse, too, and he had six of the best seasons any pitcher has ever strung together. And he had to quit after those six seasons, because the Dodgers rode his arm so hard, he had to get special jackets made with one sleeve shorter than the other.

It was so refreshing to watch Girardi go through a month of excruciatingly tense baseball with CC Sabathia, A.J. Burnett and Andy Pettitte as his starters....There wasn't any big puzzle to the strategy [in the old days]. Teams went with their very best, not some questionable fourth or fifth starter, with the idea of rising above the rest. Other sports, notably football and basketball, have found ways to maximize the "bigger, faster, stronger" element and develop athletes more fit and productive than ever before. Baseball has managed to go backward, and it's not as if the pitch-count madness has improved the product. There has never been an era with more elbows, forearms, rotator cuffs and labrums on the shelf.

Thanks to advances in medical science, we're able to diagnose and treat things like torn labrums and rotator cuffs. In ye olden days, when a pitcher's arm hurt, they patched him up with voodoo and greenies and sent him back out there until his elbow exploded. Then they threw him on the scrap heap, because there was no free agency and all players were expendable, interchangeable parts. Ah, the good ol' days!

I don't think there's more injuries nowadays; teams are just able to detect them better and be cautious about them.Thirty years ago, most front office types probably thought the labrum was one of those little bones in the ear. Blaming the modern pitcher's regimen for injuries is like blaming an x-ray for a broken bone.

I'm not saying that a four-man rotation is an idea completely without merit. Even amongst the sabremetric set, the debate rages: at least one Baseball Prospectus writer thinks a four-man rotation would improve the game without damaging arms, while Rob Neyer believes that such a rotation simply wouldn't work with the modern baseball schedule, for many of the travel/day off reasons I mentioned above. I can't say I know enough to make a conclusion in either direction.

This is what I do know: Throwing a baseball the way pitchers throw baseball exerts a huge amount of trauma on the arm. Especially when it's done over and over again, which is unavoidable when you're a pitcher. It seems to me that a pitcher's effectiveness would be in indirect proportion to the amount of work that arm is asked to do. Not in every case, of course. But in most cases.

Asking an athlete to do that to their body throughout a season, then asking them to be in top shape down the stretch when it matters the most--which is the whole point of a baseball season, isn't it?--is begging for trouble.

Long story short: Unless I'm show definitive evidence to the contrary, I don't think a four-man regular season rotation would be to the overall benefit of all pitchers or clubs.

But I guess we should just do it cuz that's what manly men like Allie Reynolds and Bob Feller and Warren Spahn did. Can't argue with that logic!

One thing Jenkins neglects to mention: While the Yankees employed a three-man rotation throughout the playoffs, they didn't really pitch anyone on short rest until the World Series. Thanks to a short NLDS against the Twins and rainouts during the ALCS, they didn't need to. Sabathia pitched game 4 of the ALCS on three-days' rest, but that was the only short-rest start for the Yanks until he pitched game 4 of the World Series.

So this "daring act" Jenkins credits to Girardi was really just the byproduct of some fortunate scheduling. Had the dates and the climate conspired otherwise, who knows what he would have done?

If other managers haven't tried similar gambits in recent World Series, it may be due to the fact that this year's Fall Classic was the first one to last more than six games since 2003. There's little point in starting a pitcher on short rest when you have a commanding 3-0 or 3-1 lead in a series. In fact, when Girardi did that with Burnett in game 5, it very nearly blew up in his face, and basically forced him to start Pettite on short rest in game 6.

But again, I don't recall too many sportswriters in traditional media blasting him for doing this. So I really don't know who Jenkins is railing against here. I imagine that he sees the Bill Jamesians the way that Dave Berg used to draw all "young people", like dirty long-haired types, a bong in one hand and a pitch counter in the other.

As I've said on many occasions, I don't hate the Yankees. Really, I don't. (No really! SHUT UP!). But they perpetuate a certain kind of Mystical Bullshit about themselves that the sports press force feeds to its readers, which makes me want to hate them.

When the Yankees reach the pinnacle of the baseball world, as they did last night, the sportswriter hackery goes into overdrive. Grown men turn a baseball game into Harry Potter fanfic. One of the great thing about baseball is that it turns adults into little kids again. That's fun when you're talking about fans. But as we've seen before, that feeling shouldn't be invoked in self-proclaimed journalists.

So let's take a tour of the NY papers today, shall we? How about the staid New York Times. Surely they will have some sense of restraint, like in this fan piece by Ken Belson:

Elijah McNally started rooting for the Yankees in 2004, when he was 6 years old. Back then, the Yankees were only a year removed from a World Series appearance, and another championship seemed just around the corner.

Since then, Elijah had known nothing but seasons that ended with the Yankees falling short of winning a 27th World Series championship. On Wednesday night, he and his father, Chris, secured two seats in the right-field bleachers to see the Yankees end that dry spell.

"I've lived too long hearing that the Yankees got eliminated," said Elijah, who stood in the bleachers in an Alex Rodriguez jersey trying to get players to toss him a ball during batting practice.

Thanks to this piece, I think I am now legally cleared to smack an 11 year old.

To be fair, the Times also has one of the few pieces that dares to call out fans on their A-Rod flip-floppery, by William C. Rhoden: "With a World Series title, A-Rod will receive richly deserved adulation and praise. The fans who jeered, who called him A-Fraud, who wanted him run out of town, now toss laurel wreaths his way. Makes you wonder who the real phonies are."

But if the Times acts like this, you can just imagine how the tabloids are treating the news. Amazingly, the Post is not as ridiculous as you'd think, considering its earlier Photoshop work. There are, of course, talk about an "elusive" 27th title by Joel Sherman, and a piece on A-Rod by Mark Hale that glosses over the whole steroid thing.

No, for true batshittery, you have to go to the Daily News. For it is there that Simon Weichselbaum collects quotes from "psychiatrists" whose advice consists entirely of insults to Philly fans. Matt Gagne relates A.J. Burnett's postgame "cream pie" adventures. (Glad to see Burnett made himself useful for something in this series.) There's Filip Bondy's report from The Bleacher Creatures (biggest bunch of mutants on the planet) and their declarations of "fifteen more years of domination!" (Try one for starters, see how that works out.)

And Joanna Molloy says that NYC "needed" the Yanks to win it all:

Ordinary New Yorkers needed to see the Yankees keep their act together, and hang tough day after day, because that is what people have been doing all over the city, all across this tough, tough year....

New Yorkers have just kept going. Feeding the kids, squeezing onto rush-hour subways, putting in long hours. Just kept putting one foot in front of the other. Ordinary heroes, their character only getting stronger.

And we saw the Yankees do the same. And we identified with these men in pinstripes.

Yes, this ragtag group of misfits are just like us regular New Yorkers! So plucky! Fighting and srapping with nothing but grit and determination! Plus a $200+ million payroll and a brand new state-of-the-art billion dollar stadium! What a testament to our city's spirit!

And what of Derek Jeter? Oh won't somebody please think of Derek Jeter! Sean Brennan, tell us how much this means to him!

It had been nine long seasons. Nine campaigns without experiencing baseball's ultimate victory, without a parade through the Canyon of Heroes, without being the last team standing at the end of the season.

After four championship rings in his first five seasons, Derek Jeter had to wonder if the success he enjoyed early in his career would ever come around again.

"With only four World Series rings, piles of money, and tons of beautiful women around him, how could Jeter live with himself unless he won his fifth title?!"

Just 160 days until spring training...

Can the Yanks win their 27th world championship? Can the Phillies force a game seven in the Bronx? I haven't the slightest idea. But I do know that Joe Buck and Tim McCarver are bound to say a mountain of stupid things. So meet back here at 7:30 sharp for all the mockery!

Yeah, I told Cole Hamels "I thought you quit" after he said he couldn't wait for the season to end. So what? I'd say it again. I'd say it three times if I had to. If pushed, I might even say it four times. But I wouldn't say it five times. Brett Myers don't say nothin' five times, not for nobody!

/pops open new can of Axe body spray, completely empties it on chest

Yeah, I know he was awesome in the postseason last year. Big fuckin' deal. Shit is ancient history. You know what his problem is? He ain't Philly. He ain't one of us and he ain't never gonna be! You know the man has never had a Tastykake? I offered him a butterscotch crimpet once and he said no thanks, and started givin' me all this shit about preservatives and chemicals bein' bad for you. Fuckin' pussy.

/tries on five slightly different looking Ed Hardy shirts

We're on the brink of another world championship. YOU DON'T QUIT ON THAT!!1! You gotta seize your Destiny! You gotta grab Destiny by the hair and drag it out into the street and punch it in the face! Cuz sometimes, you're just tired of listenin' to Destiny go on and on and on about all this dumb bullshit she's doin at work!

/pounds a can of Rockstar

I AM SO PUMPED!! Get me on a mound right now! I'll throw some chin music that horse lovin' punk-ass A-Rod! Fuck, I'll throw him some side-of-his-skull music! I don't care! Think I care? CUZ I DON'T! I'LL CAVE ANYONE'S SKULL IN BECAUSE THAT'S BRETT MYERS' PLATE YER STANDIN' ON!

Whoah, did you see that guy lookin at me? THE FUCK YOU LOOKIN AT, ASSHOLE?! WHY DON'T YOU MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS, YA FUCKIN QUEER?!

/stomps over, lands one punch

Fuck, I think that was a parking meter. Pretty sure I just broke every bone in my pitching hand. But I had no choice! You saw the way it was blinkin' that one red eye at me! BRETT MYERS' DON'T TAKE NO SHIT, ESPECIALLY NOT FROM INANIMATE OBJECTS!

NEW YORK--Stand-up comedians from across the country gathered outside of Caroline's to call for a clarification on the latest Alex Rodriguez scandal. Over the weekend, it was alleged by an anonymous ex-lover that Rodriguez commissioned paintings of himself as a centaur.

"While this revelation would appear to be a goldmine for the comedic community, it leaves us with many questions that must be answered before we can proceed with entertaining the American public," said Bill Henwick, president of the American Stand-Ups of America and host of the Tuesday open mic night at Baron Von Laughsalot's in Albany.

"I, for one, don't really know what a centaur is," Henwick continued. "Is the centaur the thing with the one eye?" Reporters informed Henwick he was thinking of a cyclops. "That's too bad, because then he could just take some Viagra the next time he's in a slump!"

Henwick chuckled to himself, then added, "Ladies, back me up on this."

"This controversy is far too obtuse and bizarre for the stand-up community for work with," said comedian Jack Rosham. "How can I write jokes about creatures from ancient mythology? A centaur is mythological, right? It's not one of those blind cave fish that scientists just discovered or something?"

Assured that centaurs were mythological, Rosham continued. "I'd like to remind Mr. Rodriguez that he needs to work with us and keep his indiscretions more straight-forward, because our jokes keep his name in the public consciousness. Cheat on your wife, take steroids, remain obviously jealous of Derek Jeter--these are things we comedians can handle. I'd also like to remind everyone that I'll be doing three shows next week at Zany's Chuckle Dungeon in Piscataway."

"A centaur isn't even an ethnicity, technically," said 18-year stand-up veteran Bill Moreno. "I can't tell centaur jokes until I know if they smoke crack or drink too much or are really cheap. What is A-Rod, Mexican? Puerto Rican? Please tell me he's Cuban. I got all these Elian Gonzalez jokes just collecting dust at home."

"Stand-ups are still upset with A-Rod for breaking up with Madonna," said comedian Fred Stinger, currently headlining at The Texas Joke Depository in Dallas. "Do you know how much material was wiped out when that relationship ended? I saw a solid five minutes go down the toilet! I have a buddy who wrote a whole parody song to the tune of 'Like a Virgin'. What the hell am I supposed to do with Kate Hudson? Make fun of Goldie Hawn third-hand?"

Because you demanded it (you = me), once again I shall be live blogging the World Series. Game 4, aka Citizens Bank Park on Patrol, will feature CC Sabathia versus Joe Blanton--a matchup for the ages! I'm sure it will also feature more cheap homers than you can shake a stick at. Just a hunch.

So meet back here at 7:30pm NY time for all the Buck and McCarver mockery you can stand!

Update 10.30: Thanks to everyone who participated in this glorious live event! If you want to see what you missed or relive the glory, just press that little play button below.

As a Mets fan, can I ignore the World Series just because it features two teams I don't like? Of course not! This is still the World Series, and I intend to watch every inning. This is part of baseball history, unfolding before our eyes. Plus, maybe someone will get horribly injured on live TV!

So keep your eyes on this space, for I shall be live-blogging this whole grotesque event for posterity! God help us all!

All live blog posts in chronological order, after the jump.

NEW YORK--As of press time, Phillies manager Charlie Manuel had yet to decide on what appalling blunder his team would commit in game one of the World Series. Per the expanded postseason rules instituted this season, every team playing the Yankees in a playoff series must commit at least one mind-meltingly stupid error per game and submit it to the league office by 3 pm EST prior to game time.

"It's a tough call," Manuel told reporters. "I've been thinking about having Jimmy Rollins catching a ball in foul territory, then flipping it to a fan in the stands, even though there are only two outs, so a runner could score from second. I might also have Shane Victorino run from first to third base in a straight line. Of course, Chase Utley's still not over his case of the Knoblauchs, so gives us another weapon to work with."

The manager also noted that any ball hit near Ryan Howard "opens up a whole world of gaffe possibilities."

Manuel remained cagey when pressed by reporters. "Maybe it'll be a fielding error," he said. "Maybe it'll be a baserunning blunder. Maybe Cliff Lee will trip on his shoelaces and commit a balk to force in the winning run. You never know. I ain't gonna show my hand so easily!"

When asked about Manuel's reticence to choose an error before the deadline, Yankees manager Joe Girardi seemed unperturbed. "I have great respect for Charlie and his team," he said. "They're the defending champs, they're a great ballclub, and they play hard. We just have to be ready to capitalize on whatever hideously idiotic mistake Charlie chooses. Or we could forget how to hit with runners in scoring position and have another 15 inning game. That might be fun."

Manuel's brain cramp of choice wasn't the only unfinished detail prior to game one. As of press time, the umpiring crew had not yet decided in which inning they would commit a disastrous blown call. Crew chief Dana DeMuth could not be reached for comment, as he was receiving treatment for a injury sustained while trying to eat his breakfast.

"We believe that, rather than try to eat pancakes with a fork, he got confused and did it the other way around," an MLB official said. "This has happened a lot this year, which is why we recommend to our umpires that they don't eat until they've got a Breakfast Buddy to help them."

The question weighing on every Mets fan's mind for the past week: Who to root for in the World Series? And if that question didn't weigh on your mind, I'm sure you've met a Yankee or Phillie fan who was more than happy to lob the question at you until you pleaded for mercy.

Maybe the real question is, Do I have to root for anyone? Can't I just watch the World Series in the hopes of seeing some exciting games? I watch football games all the time that I have zero rooting interest in, and enjoy myself quite a bit if the game is good. Can't I just do that with the World Series?

Unfortunately, the answer is no, for two reasons: 1) This is already touted as a battle between two "evenly-matched teams", which virtually guarantees that one team will slaughter the other. It's always a five-game series where one team ekes out a win in, like, game 3, while the victor destroys the other team 10-3 in every other game.

Reason number 2: It's the Yankees vs. the Phillies. No matter who a Mets fan roots for, it will be bad. If the Yankees win, they'll have to hear it from their fans about how they easily dispatched the team that's tortured the Mets the last three seasons. If the Phillies win, their fans might finally achieve the arrogance and entitlement of Boston fans, while retaining their traditional anger and penchant for mayhem, a deadly combo.

So can you root for one team to lose? No, you can't. Because whoever loses will still have made it to the World Series. Losing in the World Series is not humbling, unless you blow a big lead or have totally disastrous meltdown a la Bill Buckner. In other words, even the loser can lord that fact over the Mets. And if you actively root for the team that wins and rejoice in their victory, you'll need to shower for a week to wash the shame from your soul.

This is like Alien vs. Predator: no matter who wins, we lose. Or like a situation Tom Scharpling once called "the reverse Highlander": must there only be one? Or, please let there be just one.

The Unanswerable Question raised its ugly head as I watched game 6 of the ALCS with my extended family. Most of them are Mets fans of varying degrees of fanaticism, but there are few Yankees fans in the mix as well--particularly an uncle who's loved to torture my mom about the Mets' woes. So when the Angels went down in order in the ninth, the ball had barely left Mariano Rivera's hand before this uncle asked me and my brothers and cousins who we would root for.

Our initial response was, begrudgingly, the Yankees. Now that Roger Clemens is long gone and disgraced, I don't hate anyone on the team, whereas the Phillies have several players I can not stand (exhibit A: Shane Victorino, an obnoxious, hypocritical punk who'd hit about 7 homers a year in any other ballpark and any other lineup). I know a lot of Yankees fans who are decent human beings and who will be happy if they win. The pain that the Phillies have inflicted on the Mets in the past few years is much more fresh and cutting than anything the Yankees done. And when the Phillies won last year, even during their championship parade, they wouldn't shut up about the Mets, as if the only reason they won the World Series was because it might hurt the Mets' feelings.

Yes, my first thought was that I could imagine myself quietly rooting for the Yankees in this situation. And then I saw this in today's New York Post:

I have a hard time deciding which is worse: the front or the back cover. And yes, I realize this is coming from the Post, not the Yankees themselves. But it's indicative of certain type of Yankee fan and organization arrogance, dismissiveness, and flat-out ignorance of anything outside of the Yankee Universe

Let's start with the front cover. And let's ignore the bad Photoshop job on Cheerleader Victorino. And I'll try to forget the fact that I hate Victorino for a moment. The Phillies are the defending world champs. They're a really good team. They beat the Yankees two out of three at the Stadium earlier this year. It's really dumb and childish to write them off as if they're nothing, just because they're from Philly, and to think that they'll wither and die under the MAJESTY and the AURA of the New York spotlight.

Not to mention the caveman sexual politics behind depicting someone in a skirt to imply that they're weak. Because women wear skirts and they're so weak and fragile and can't drive! And don't get me started on my mother-in-law!

Peep some of these idiotic quotes from the accompanying article, entitled "Their fans are second rate & so is their city":

Yankee fans have a message for the Phillies and their hometown: This ain't Rocky, and the underdog won't win!

Are the Phillies the underdog? Maybe, but not by a huge margin. I think anyone with half a baseball mind knows that the Phillies are a strong team up and down. The bullpen has regressed (or Brad Lidge has, anyway), but their starting pitching and lineup is actually better than it was last year. A good chunk of Yankee fans wouldn't know that, because they're are about as familiar with the NL as they are with self-restraint and perspective.

"Philly fans are a bunch of whiners and should learn how to dress[, said a fan] "They should try reading GQ."

This has to be the first time a sports fan has insulted other sports fans by suggesting they pick up an issue of a high class fashion magazine. "Those mooks down in Philly don't even know how exfoliate! Yo, try pickin' up some skin products from the fine people Aveda some time!"

And don't even try to compare the iconic House That Ruth Built with the long-gone Veterans Stadium.

You mean the iconic House That Steinbrenner Tore Down so he could bully the city into building a new billion-dollar Yankee Stadium on public land? Or are you referring to the iconic NYY Steak/House of Blues/Johnnie Walker Pavilion with the baseball diamond in the middle of it?

Of course, the article is filled with fans talking shit about Philadelphia and saying how it can't compare to New York. You will not find a more pro-NYC person than yours truly, but thumping your chest about the greatness of your city is lame at best, bullying at worst. If New York is truly as great as you think it is, you shouldn't have to put down other places to prove it.

But if anything can top the idiocy and short-sightedness of the Post's front cover, it's the back cover. The Yankees wanna win one for The Boss? Really?

Here's how George A. King III starts his article that rests upon this thesis:

The Boss has lost something off a Hall of Fame fastball, but that doesn't mean the need to win has been sucked from his marrow.

There are quotes from Derek Jeter, Reggie Jackson, Brian Cashman, and the Steinbrenner sons, all insisting that winning this World Series would "mean a lot" to the ailing Boss.

You won't see buttons attached to the pinstriped uniforms that read, "Win One For The Boss," but there is a feeling in the organization that it would be a nice touch to give the 79-year-old Steinbrenner another title.

Sure, the Yankees have won six World Series under his ownership already, but that's small potatoes. Ring number seven, that's the real special one.

Winning a World Series would be "a nice touch". Yankee fans, wanna know why everyone hates you? Peep that statement. It's like an entire organization of those rich assholes from the Lexus commercials.

Look, I know that Alzheimer's is terrible. I've had family members suffer from it. I don't wish it on my worst enemy. The Wife and I have already said that if either one of us gets it, the other one is morally obligated to push them in front of a moving bus.

But the fact that George Steinbrenner suffers from it now shouldn't make us forget the fact that, before he was banned from baseball in the early 90s, he was an insufferable prick. The fact that he ruined the franchise. Yankees fans literally cheered when he was banned--at Yankee Stadium. And after his reinstatement, he was only slightly less intolerable. I understand not wanting to speak ill of someone who's sick, but this goes beyond that into the realm of historic revisionism.

So who am I rooting for? The meteor, the earthquake, the last-minute union job-stoppage, or the month-long rainstorm that would wipe out any hope of a World Series this year.

The great thing about sports in general--and baseball in particular, I think--is that it turns adults into little kids again. It makes us marvel at amazing feats, believe in miracles...

/the theme from The Natural swells

Sorry, almost had a Costner moment there. Schmaltz aside, sports are fun because they can bring us unbridled joy and enthusiasm. We can all go a little nuts when our team wins The Big Game, pump our fists and proclaim THAT'S THE BEST DAMN GAME I'VE EVER SEEN!

And when I say "we", I mean "the fans". That should not include members of the media, who are paid to be impartial and stoic and have a sense of perspective during even the most thrilling moments. Jayson Stark of ESPN must have missed that day at J-school, because he busted out a column about game 4 of the NLCS that blew my mind with its complete lack of historic perspective or rational thought.

When last we met Mr. Stark, he was advising the Mets (via anonymous MLB scouts) to trade Jose Reyes. So his judgment is already suspect in my eyes. My opinion of him has not been elevated by his piece about Monday night's thriller, entitled "Phillies walk off into history".

He sets the scene with a series of one-sentence paragraphs, describing how the Phillies were down to their last strike when Jimmy Rollins belted a two-run double into the right field gap, completing a come-from-behind victory and putting Philadelphia on top three games to one in the series.

It was a dramatic win, to say the least. It deserves some dramatic prose. What it does not deserve is to be described as "an October baseball game that is going to be talked about for the rest of our lifetimes."

Maybe Stark has powers of prognostication that I don't. But "talked about for the rest of our lifetimes"?! This was, at best, the third-best playoff game played in the past week. It was the second-best playoff game played that day. Games 2 and 3 of this year's ALCS--extra-inning, tension-filled marathons--were both better.

If nothing else good comes out of these MLB playoffs (and nothing probably will, as a Phillies-Yankees World Series leaves me rooting for the meteor), they may force the league to correct two glaring deficiencies. The first is, obviously, the umpiring. I am 100 percent convinced one huge game this year will be definitively and adversely affected by a terrible call. There will be no room for debate as to whether this call cost a team the game, as there was with Phil Cuzzi's brainlock in the ALDS. No, I'm talking about a blatant blown call at a critical moment in a deciding game of a series that shifts victory from one side to the other. It's not a matter of if, it's a matter of when.

Then, hopefully, Bud Selig will be forced to reverse his idiotic anti-replay-expansion stance. We have the technology to make replay review work efficiently, it wouldn't appreciably lengthen games (if anything, it'd shorten them, since it would prevent managers stomping out onto the field to scream about blown calls), and we could even use umpires to man the review booth/room/quonset hut. Selig is like an astronomer who refuses to use a telescope. "No way! Looking at the spheres too closely ruins their mystique! I'll just keep using my magnifying glass to view Jupiter, thank you very much!"

The second one is less essential, but just as important to fans, in my mind. Hopefully, this postseason will force MLB to get new announcers for the biggest games of the year. Because right now, the play-by-play guys they've chosen are across the board terrible.

Just like bad umpiring, fans' toleration of announcers' hideousness is at an all-time low. Read any sports-related site and you will see nothing but contempt for the men who are supposed to be the Voices of Baseball. Spend an evening on Twitter during a game, and it's hard to miss the embarrassment and anger inspired by bad play-by-play. That contempt is finally starting to find its way into the mainstream media, which gives me hope that some changes will be afoot by this time next year.

Chip Caray's gotten the worst reviews, even though this is his second year doing the playoffs. The difference this year is that he's calling Yankee games, thus exposing a large, vocal, passionate fanbase to his hideousness. Although it is somewhat curious that Yankee fans would object to Chip when they're usually treated to Michael Kay. But when picking the announcer for the tentpole games of the postseason, shouldn't you have higher criteria than "not much worse than Michael Kay"?

Joe Buck, on the other hand, receives few complaints. I think most fans feel that he's been around for so long, there's no point in slagging him. We'll never be rid of him, we realize now. He's like some small town mayor voted into office for 17 consecutive terms. No one bothers running against him anymore.

Buck and Caray are Legacy Broadcasters. They're both the sons of beloved baseball voices. Between them, Skip Caray and Jack Buck had about 700 years of play-by-play experience. Add in Chip's uncle Harry, and that's quite a bloodline. One with an unhealthy amount of Budweiser and pork. ("If the moon was made of ribs, would you eat it?")

So Chip and Joe were just sort of admitted to broadcasting, the way people are admitted to Harvard or Yale because everyone in their families went to Harvard or Yale. Merit had nothing to do with it. And just like the inbred blue-blood alumni of Harvard and Yale tend to grow up to do terrible things to our country, so too have Chip and Joe done terrible things to the game of baseball.

Here's the thing, though: If you put a gun to my head, I'd take Chip Caray over Buck. Yes, Chip Caray gets things wrong and his knowledge of players is extremely limited and his impoverished vocabulary means he uses certain words constantly (like "fisted" regardless of whether the ball was actually fisted or not and without any seeming awareness of the double meaning). Worst of all, he used to be a Braves broadcaster. But even allowing all of that, I'll take Chip over Joe, if I have to take either.

Because if Chip Caray has nothing else going for him (and he might not), when he does play-by-play, he sounds as if he likes baseball. He seems to understand that there are exciting moments in a game that should be reacted to with a certain level of enthusiasm. He can at least do this simple, obvious task.

Joe Buck can not. Because Joe Buck fucking hates baseball.

There's an old saying: The worst day at the ballpark is better than the best day at the office. Joe Buck does not understand this saying. Because every moment spent in the vicinity of the game is a torturous hell to him. He is trapped in a purgatory of his own making, and he does not rage against its walls. He resigns himself to apathy, because caring would be pointless.

When Joe Buck calls a game, he simply tells you what happened. After each pitch, he says "ball one" or "strike two". Each time the ball is put into play, he says "grounder to short" or "single to left. No embellishment whatsoever. Every second he spends in a broadcast booth is destroying him, and he transmits that horror in every breath of his chilling, soulless play-by-play work.

It's as if the playoffs are being called by a vampire. And not a sexy Twilight/True Blood vampire, either. A classic vampire, devoid of life, envious of the dead, wanting to take everyone else with him into his cold nether-region of the damned.

But I will thank Joe Buck for one thing. His complete apathy in the face of the year's most exciting games provided the best moment of the playoffs so far. It came in game 2 of the ALCS on Saturday. You'll be forgiven for missing it, because it came at a moment that you (unlike Buck) were wrapped up in because you found it exciting.

Top of the ninth, two outs, game tied at 2, Mariano Rivera on the mound in his second inning of relief. Torii Hunter at the plate. Future Hall of Famer versus dangerous hitter. Rivera falls behind 2-0, then gets two swinging strikes. The crowd is on its feet, cheering between the raindrops. Finally, Rivera throws his signature cutter, right on the inside black, and freezes Hunter. Called strike three, inning over. Mariano walks back to the dugout in his typically subdued way, a totally contrast to the fans, who are going ballistic.

This is the kind of moment a broadcaster lives for. Athletic theatre of the highest order. It is a sliver of time screaming out for either profundity or silence. What did Joe Buck say?

 

"What. A. ... Game."

I absolutely lost it. I laughed harder than I've laughed since I heard Tom Scharpling and Paul F. Tompkins discuss the Gathering of the Juggalos. It was so awkward and unsure of itself and tragically incompetent, I almost applauded.

It was delivered in the same tone as Comic Book Guy sneering "Worst. Episode. Ever." Joe Buck actually paused between "a" and "game", as if he forgot what he was going to say next, or someone clogged up his robot RAM with too much information and he was slow to process it. FATAL ERROR. SOME DATA MAY BE LOST.

Faced with an epic moment in a thrilling playoff game, this was the best Joe Buck could do. Ladies and gentlemen, the prosecution rests.

This October marks a solemn--nay, sacred!--anniversary. Because it was two years this October that we, as a nation, stood up and said we would not live in fear. We joined hands and proclaimed that we would not be terrorized, that we would stand firm and resist the great evil that had been foisted upon us!

It was two years ago that this October that we said no to Dane Cook as a spokesman for the MLB playoffs. That may not seem like much now. But this proclamation was the first small step in saying no to Dane Cook the Movie Star, and Dane Cook the Comedian, and hopefully, someday, Dane Cook the Well-Known Celebrity altogther.

If you don't remember those heady days, check out this post from 2007, which detail his ridiculous playoff ads from that year. Original post here

Clayton Kershaw--the Dodgers' starter for game 1 of the NLCS--looks like a very young, slightly more athletic version of Tom Waits.

I have no joke for this. Believe me, I tried to find one. Maybe it's just funny enough that a fireballing southpaw resembles the whiskey-soaked bard of hobos, drunks, and drunk hobos. Seriously, look at this pic of Kershaw:

Now peep this pic of a young Tom Waits, back when his voice sounded only slightly demonic:

Not convinced? How 'bout this clip of Mr. Waits on Fernwood 2 Night?


I wonder if Kershaw also lives at the corner of Bedlam and Squalor.

Today, Bob Raissman of the Daily News reported that Bobby Valentine is close to signing a "lucrative multi-year deal" with ESPN, and will join the crowded ranks of Baseball Tonight.

I, for one, am sad. I'm glad Bobby V is employed, but Baseball Tonight is a pile of trash-fed garbage. The MLB Network's nightly rundowns of baseball action blow BBTN out of the water. In the gap of quality between them, you could drive a Mack truck through a cruise ship. If there was a footrace between the two, MLB Network would be already across the finish line, and BBTN would still be tying its shoes.

However, with Bobby V joining ESPN, I may finally get to see a dream realized: watching someone beat the living shit out of Steve Phillips, live on television

But I'm also sad because this, in all likelihood, means he will not be managing the Mets any time soon. Jerry Manuel, you seem like a nice guy...scratch that. You don't seem like a nice guy, since you drove both Ramon Castro and Ryan Church out of town for reasons that I still don't understand. And you're also not a very good manager.

But Bobby V, that man could manage some baseball. I've tried to remain as neutral as possible in my ongoing 1999 Project. But it doesn't take a sharp eye to notice that I assert the following theses whenever I can: 1) The Braves are Satan; 2) Steve Phillips should be horsewhipped; 3) Bobby Valentine was a genius.

I covered this territory in 2008, after viewing the excellent documentary The Zen of Bobby V. Feast on my wisdom after the jump, or click here for the original post.

NEW YORK--Yankee fans nationwide rejoiced Tuesday, as their team finally emerged from the wilderness and ended their playoff drought. The Bronx Bombers hadn't made the playoffs since 2007, a staggering lapse that tried the patience of even the most die-hard loyalist.

"Today is all about the fans, after all we've been through," said Brad Dunphy of Toms River, 26, one of the hundreds of fans who celebrated the occasion at the Hard Rock Cafe in the new Yankee Stadium. "We went almost two years without making the playoffs. You realize Bush was still president back then? I don't think Obama had even been born yet."

"Two years. That's like, 104 weeks," chimed in Brad's friend Pat Sullivan of Yonkers, 25. "Think about this: Back then, I was really into Rush. Now, I'm kinda over them. That's how long ago that is. Crazy."

Dunphy concurred, "Dude totally used to be into Rush."

"I got a real good feeling about this team," Sullivan said. "I think they could go all the way. This has gotta be one of my favorite Yankee teams ever, and I'm a fan from way back, all the way to 1996."

"We stuck with this team through thick and thin," Dunphy added. "Like last year, when they were just an okay team. And those first couple of weeks this season, when A-Rod was hurt and Teixeira couldn't hit for shit, and I called up WFAN and said Girardi and Cashman should be fired."

After last night's 6-5 win in Anaheim, Derek Jeter praised Yankees fans for their loyalty. "They've always been there to support us, in both the good times and the slightly-less-good times," the shortstop said.

Not everyone in New York was elated, however. For instance, Frank Lopez, 29, a Red Sox fan from Washington Heights. He was "dragged" to the Stadium by Yankee fan friends, and was not in a celebretory mood.

"These people don't know about suffering," Lopez tsked. "You wanna talk about suffering? How about the Sox? They went all of 2006 without making the playoffs! That's even longer ago than 2007! Some people got no perspective."

It's still the best game I ever went to. And for the reason why it's the best game I ever went to, I hope I never see a better one.

NEW YORK--Derek Jeter knows what's at stake. If he can get just one more hit in tonight's game versus the Orioles, he will not only take sole possession of first place in the all-time Yankees hit list. He may also finally erase all memory of the tyrannical Lou Gehrig, history's greatest monster.

The fearsome first baseman, who played for the Bronx Bombers from 1923 to 1939, amassed 2,721 hits during a major league career that nearly brought a nation to its knees. Jeter's next hit could very well remove the stain of his name from the Yankee record books for evermore.

Gehrig bullied his way into the starting lineup for the first time in 1925, pushing aside beloved first baseman Wally Pipp and selfishly refusing to share the position. At the time, a shaken Yankee manager Miller Huggins told The New York Times, "He simply overpowered me. It's out of my hands now." Huggins was later found brutally murdered in a ritualistic manner that haunted the nightmares of all the policemen called to the scene.

Gehrig also formed the infamous Murderer's Row that menaced American League pitching and slashed throats on its way from one major league park to another in the 1920s and 30s. He was nicknamed The Iron Horse for his cold, steely, inhuman gaze, and is rumored to have inspired many of H.P. Lovecraft's Cthulu tales.

The first baseman might have remained unstoppable, were it not for an experimental government bio-terror project that sapped him of his strength. While weakened, Gehrig was tricked into entering a parallel dimension, the gate to which is in an undisclosed location, kept under constant guard by armed servicemen.

Before game time, Jeter was as humble as ever. "I'm just grateful to have had such a great career and to have this opportunity," the shortstop said. "My only professional regret is that I was born too late to drive a stake through Gehrig's monstrous heart."

Apparently my Jose Reyes piece has gotten a bite or two (which is great, so if you Tweeted about it or emailed a link or sent it to your friends via passenger pigeon, many thanks). Of course, not everyone agrees with my take, which is fine and to be expected.

I did see a tweet that gave me pause, however. Dave Lennon, Mets beat writer for Newsday, had this to say:

I don't buy the "Media vs. Reyes" premise. No one who actually knows Reyes calls him a slacker. Just fans or radio hosts.

And a short while later:

I could be wrong, but I don't remember reading in any of the newspapers (or their web sites) about Reyes being a slacker.

And you know what? That's probably true. Newspapers usually confine their coverage to the games themselves, and even their opinion pieces tend to not be wreckless.

Unfortunately, the sports media is no longer confined to newspapers. There is an enormous Sports Media Landscape, and the percentage of it that actually reports sports news gets smaller every year. The rest of it is composed of the "fans and radio hosts" Lennon mentioned, whether they call into WFAN or write their own blogs or comment on newspaper web sites.

I understand why a beat writer would feel it's unfair to think The Media is 'out to get' Jose Reyes. Because when a beat writer thinks of The Media, he thinks of guys like himself, who  travel with a team 162 games a year (plus spring training) and do actual work. He doesn't feel like he's on the same level as the Mike Francesa's of the world (nor should he), who make sweeping pronouncements from their thrones in Astoria.

But Average Joe Sports Fan doesn't just read beat stories anymore. He listens to Francesa and reads blogs and comments on stories and watches guys yell at each other on ESPN. To him, all of these things are SPORTS now. Lennon's a reporter, Francesa an entertainer--yet they're put on equal footing in the eyes of most fans.

So when I talked about a media narrative, I meant the entire amorphous modern sports media, of which reporters are a disturbingly small part. I don't think there's a Vast Anti-Reyes Conspiracy. The Trade Reyes Groundswell is just one those Big Dumb Ideas that a large group of angry people can latch onto and get swept up in.

Mets fans are certainly angry these days. I suggest they channel that frustration in healthy ways. For instance: buy a punching bag and put Shane Victorino's face on it. Just don't let this anger make you hate one of the best players the Mets have ever produced.

It's hard to know why the media latches onto a particular narrative. Sometimes it's a naked attempt to curry favor with the audience. Sometimes it's to push an agenda (see: the entire Fox News Channel). Sometimes it's just pure laziness, because it's always easier to go with what everyone thinks they think about something than it is to actually research stuff.

Regardless of the reason, there's usually a Point of No Return: a time after which it becomes virtually impossible to change the narrative, or temper it with another point of view. If everyone says the same thing, saying anything else suddenly sounds like lunacy. It's a corollary of The Big Lie Theory. Repeat something often enough and it becomes true, at least in most people's minds.

I feel like we're on that precipice right now with Jose Reyes. If you read/listen to/watch any NY-based sports media--and even some not in NY--you will hear many different people beat the same drum. Its cadence goes like this: Jose Reyes is a malingerer who is not trying hard enough to come back from his hamstring injury, and the Mets should trade him because they'll never win with him anyway, because he's not a "gamer".

Normally, I could care less about writers' opinion of a player's work ethic and whether or not he should be traded. But this line of reasoning seriously scares me for two reasons:

1) The frequency of these "Reyes must go" features makes me think that the Mets have already decided to trade him, and are feeding these stories to the press to soften the eventual blow.
2) The Mets are extremely sensitive to the media, and also not very smart. If enough people say "trade Reyes", they may just bow to pressure and do it. Particularly since this narrative ties into another Mets-related media narrative: that the "core" of the team (code word for Reyes, Carlos Beltran, and David Wright) is not "tough" enough and therefore, one (or more) of them must be jettisoned for the good of the team.

For a prime example of what I'm talking about, see Jayson Stark's recent column on the Mets--an infuriating work given an excellent takedown by Sam Page at Amazin' Avenue. Ostensibly, Stark's column is about the "impossible spot" the team will be in next year. (Peter Gammons does not see things quite as dimly.) But really, what Stark does is cherrypick through a series of quotes from anonymous baseball executives and scouts and use them to come to conclusion that Reyes must be traded.

Of course, every reporter uses anonymous sources. And this is an opinion piece, so it doesn't have the same burdens as straight-forward reportage. But Stark doesn't have a single on-record source, so I haven't the slightest idea what agenda these nameless Baseball People might have. For all I know, these sources supplied quotes because they hope the Mets will be dumb enough to trade Reyes. (Amazingly, I find myself agreeing with Murray Chass's critique of the piece; though Chass doesn't explictly reference Stark or that column, it's pretty clear who his target is.)

I don't mean to pick on Stark. I chose his piece because it's indicative of the Current Reyes Narrative: Reyes is not a hard worker and never will be one and therefore should be traded. The line has been repeated so often that it's almost pointless to argue otherwise. The problem is, there's no serious evidence to support it.

This is not like when Carl Pavano did several very stupid things to set back his injury rehab, then refused to take a minor league deal from the Yankees when he clearly deserved no better. All of the evidence against Reyes in this case is rumor and hearsay. Not some, or much of it, or even most. All of it.

Reyes hasn't done anything--or failed to do anything--that should make anyone doubt his dedication. Hamstrings are tricky injuries. They can take weeks or months to heal. Nobody but Reyes and his doctor(s) know how much he's injured. Nobody has any right or reason to question his ability to play.

Still, they do. There's an oft-repeated rumor that his teammates think his injury might be more in his head than his hamstring. No one's ever gone on record with that accusation. There's no evidence to support it. But you hear this rumor on WFAN all the time, particularly on The Sports Pope's show. It's even alluded to often at MetsBlog. Site founder Matt Cerrone says "I'm not sure I believe that, but it's an understandable conclusion".

From 2005 to 2008, Reyes had played no fewer than 153 games at an extremely demanding position. He played in at least 160 games twice (Derek Jeter, who's always praised for his grit, has never played that many games in the regular season). Someone who plays that many games plays through pain and fatigue. That's a simple fact of baseball.

So why is it an "understandable conclusion" that Reyes could be milking his injury? Why did Reyes have to insist to the Mets' beat reporters--with tears in his eyes--that it's killing him to not play?

More importantly, why are there any Mets fans who want to get rid of Jose Reyes? I can understand that people associated with other teams might not like him. But how did we get to the point where a vocal segment of his own fan base has written him off? Before this season, this team's mantra was As Reyes Goes So Go the Mets. Now it's Reyes Must Go for the Mets to Go Anywhere.

Peep the comments below that NJ.com link, if you can stomach them. The Reyes defenders are few and far between. Instead, you get comment after comment saying Reyes is soft. Saying he didn't rehab properly, as if they've followed his every move or even know what constitutes proper rehab for such an injury. Saying he's never come through in a big spot, which is completely untrue. Saying he's never had a definitive "moment", whatever the hell that means.

Read any other local newspaper's sports site, and you'll see the same kind of comments. Listen to WFAN, and you'll hear tons of Mets fans chomping at the bit to say similar things to Mike Francesa, the baton twirler leading the anti-Reyes bandwagon. Or Joe Benigno, who, as a Mets fan, is a frightening barometer of mood of the fanbase.

They say Reyes has never "reached his potential" and never will. Keep in mind that he's put up numbers that haven't been seen since the days of Honus Wagner. I don't know what potential these people think is unfulfilled, unless they expected him to raise the dead and heal the sick.

You can look at traditional stats or the new-fangled sabermetric ones. But by any measure, he's the best shortstop in baseball not named Hanley Ramirez--and is a better fielder than Ramirez by a mile.

By more ephemeral measures, Reyes is a joy to watch. There's few more exciting things to see at a game than watching him toy with a pitcher, then steal a bag anyway. Or hit a ball in the gap and try for a triple. From a merchandising standpoint, I'm sure he's one of the top jersey sellers for the team. He's a Game Changer for this franchise in every sense of the word, on and off the field. Why is this even being discussed?!

Contrast this perception of Reyes with the general perception of Daniel Murphy. In most fans' minds, Murphy is a gamer. Murphy guts it out. Murphy works hard. The fact that he's one of the worst offensive producers at first base in the NL doesn't bother most Mets fans (if they're aware of that fact at all). Regardless of his output and overall talent--neither of which could touch Reyes's with a 10-foot pole--they appreciate his work ethic.

I have no reason to doubt that Murphy works hard. But I have no reason to doubt that Reyes works hard, either. Like a lot of Dominican players, Reyes comes from humble origins and had to overcome cultural and language barriers as he advanced through the minor league system. And he did this at an age when most American kids' biggest worry is the prom.

If you took a hundred teenagers, dropped them in a foreign land, and asked them to succeed in completely alien territory, how many could rise to the top of their chosen field? Maybe one?

But only Murphy gets glowing articles written about his work ethic. The other is labeled a "pouter" and a "faker".

I can't help but think that Reyes wouldn't have this problem if he was a few shades lighter or didn't speak English with such a heavy accent. As Can't Stop the Bleeding tweeted earlier this week, "Anyone heard Francesca suggest that JJ Putz isn't trying to come back from the DL fast enough?" The Reyes Myth has traction because it taps into stereotypes that have existed ever since Latin players first emerged in baseball. Roberto Clemente was slandered as being "soft", and that's been a rap against Latin players ever since.

Here's the thing about sportswriters: they're mostly Big Doughy White Guys, writing their articles for a largely Big Doughy White Guy audience. (I write this as a fellow Big Doughy White Guy.) Very few of them speak Spanish. Very few of them have the slightest idea about the background Latin players come from.

Sportswriters don't go out of their way to slight or misunderstand Latin players. It's just that, for the most part, they have no clue about them. Nor does a large, vocal segment of their audience. JUST PLAY THE GAME THE RIGHT WAY, they say, without recognizing that what "the right way" is depends on where you're from. For instance, Reyes is often slammed in the American media for his "dancing". This is a take that would be inconceivable in the Dominican Republic, where cheerleaders dance merengue on top of the dugouts in between innings.

The Mets once had another superstar who was inexplicably slammed for being a complainer, with all the evidence coming from hearsay, rumors, and in some cases outright lies. After a while, it became simply impossible for this superstar to stay with the team.

That's how Tom Seaver wound up traded to the Reds in 1977, and how the Mets lost their franchise player. They valued the vindictiveness of Dick Young over the good of their team. It was a move that sent the Mets into a death spiral, with hideous baseball and tens of thousands of empty seats at Shea. The team wouldn't contend for another seven years.

Mark my words: A media-induced trade of Jose Reyes would be just as disastrous for the team's future. The scary thing is, we may already be at the point of no return, where Reyes may find it impossible to stay here anymore.

There's very, very little that would force me to stop following the Mets. But something this stupid, cowardly, and racially motivated might just be bad enough.

Jerry, I don't need to tell you that this year didn't go the way we planned. But it would help both of us out if the team could play well down the stretch. You know, salvage some of our dignity, and maybe our jobs.
We're still playing? Sorry, I blacked out sometime in July as a psychological defense mechanism. Besides, I thought you traded you traded your dignity at the waiver deadline a few years back for Luis Ayala.
In any case, we need to some up with a plan for next year. Most of our prospects are 12 years old or going to the Red Sox. I thought I was getting a couple of minor leaguers back for Billy Wagner, but Theo Epstein made me sign all these forms...I still don't know how it happened, but they get our first and second round picks for the next eight years.
It's just as well. I don't like young players anyway, full of spunk and promise and hope. Makes me sick.
So we'll need to address our needs via free agency. First up, the hole in left field.
I heard about that. Big patch of quicksand ate up Jeremy Reed.

I kept with yesterday's Mets game, for reasons even I can't understand. Perhaps I am drawn to failure, as the salmon is compelled to swim upstream, or Jeff Francoeur is compelled to swing at every pitch thrown his way.

I was in the car on the way to the mall when Ollie Perez had his gutless first inning shit show. I had no faith in Ollie to begin with; I was more interested to hear how the crowd would greet Pedro Martinez on his return. Warmly, as I expected. And early, since he got a turn at bat before even taking the mound.

And when Jerry Manuel made a terrible situation even worse by yanking Ollie mid-batter, I'd heard alls I could stand. As I parked the car, I made a point of turning to another station so I wouldn't hear the game when I returned. No more Mets today, I said to myself. It ain't worth the aggravation. Maybe they can mount a comeback, probably they can't. And in either case, who effin' cares?

My resolution lasted approximately 15 minutes. In true hopeless junkie fashion, I kept checking the game on my phone, and saw that the Mets dared to make it interesting, scoring four runs off of Pedro. It may have had something to do with the fact that I was at Queens Center, which is my most hated mall of all time, full of the rudest human beings on the planet. That place could turn Fred Rogers into Travis Bickle.

Ignoring my earlier impulses, I got home in time to see the last few innings, and as the Mets mounted a rally of sorts (aided by the Phillies' less than capable gloves), it looked like they might be able to come back after all. First and second, nobody out, a run already in, a very shaky Brad Lidge on the mound who seemed primed for a total metldown, and Francoeur coming up, who'd been swinging the bat well (and often, as usual). It was at this point that my wife and I had this actual conversation.

WIFE: I can't watch now.
ME: Why?
WIFE: 'Cause it's just too nerve wracking.
ME: But this game doesn't mean anything. Maybe they pull off an awesome comeback, maybe they don't. At least they made the Phillies sweat. It actually turned out to be a decent game, in a weird way. So what if they lose? What's the worst that could happen?

Well, that's the worst that could happen, pretty much.

At this point, it's easier to name the horrible ways to lose games that the Mets haven't managed this year:

• Sharp liner to center field lands in Angel Pagan's pocket, winning run scores when he can't dislodge it.
• Omir Santos unable to tag out runner at the plate when he spontaneously combusts.
• Something involving Angel Hernandez. That prick has not reared his ugly head in a Mets game this year, but trust me, he will before the season is over.
• Attempting a squeeze play, Luis Castillo trips on the same ball he bunts and is therefore out. And also fractures both ankles.
• Anderson Hernandez unable to turn a game-ending double play when he accidentally inhales a hot dog wrapper.
• Gary Sheffield hits a walk-off homer, but is called out when he can't run the bases because he's been impaled by the shattered end of his broken bat.
• Shane Victorino gets caught in a rundown and punches Daniel Murphy in the face. Umpires award him a three-run homer for some reason.
• In his return to the lineup, David Wright fouls a pitch back, which caroms off the brick backstop and hits him in the head again. He now thinks he's a roguish European baron.
  

The pic to your right is one of the banner headlines for the NY Post sports section this morning. George Steinbrenner visiting the Yankees in Tampa is, apparently, a huge deal. And Joba Chamberlain's eight great innings against the Rays last night was not another superb outing from a possibly emerging ace. Nope, it was a tribute to The Boss.

I was all set to write some angry piece, complaining about George Steinbrenner becoming this beloved, benevolent figure, when I can vividly remember him being completely reviled by Yankees fans everywhere when I was growing up. Then I remembered that I already wrote such a piece last year, when the All Star Game prompted some truly emabrrassing and history-deficient Stein-Love. That post follows after the jump. (Original post here.)

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That last post was my funny-ha-ha one over the current Mets mess. Here's my Howard Beale extravaganza.

First off, I shouldn't have to give two rats' deuces about the VP for player development. I doubt a fan of any other team could even give you the name of the man who fills this job for their favorite squadron. Only the Mets could staff this position with a shirt-ripping, street-fightin maniac.

As for Omar Minaya accusing a beat writer of trashing Tony Bernazard because he wanted a job with the team, that has to be straight-up the rock stupidest thing I've seen a GM in any sport do during a press conference.

Many writers have compared this mind-meltingly idiotic move to Bobby Valentine imitating someone who's high trying to play baseball, which he did during the now-forgotten "the Mets-love-pot" kerfuffle. But at least Valentine did what he did as a failed attempt at humor. He wasn't trying to ruin a man's reputation.

The Mets are one of the richest teams in baseball. They play in a huge media market that attracts the biggest and the brightest in every conceivable profession from all over the country. All over the world. Are you telling me they can't hire better people for their front office?

I'm not even talking about whoever scouts/develops talent--that's a whole 17-volume set in itself. (Long story short: If the Red Sox can fill their FO with sabermetric geniuses and make a killing in the draft every year, despite big free agent signings, so can the Mets.) Are you telling me that their PR department can't handle bad situations like these without making sure they turn into raging shitstorms?

They didn't all just fall off the back of the turnip truck. These people should be very aware of the shark tank that is the New York newspaper world. In preparation for this press conference, did no one raise their hand and say, "We're going to accuse a reporter of having a vendetta against us. A beat reporter for one of the biggest tabloids in the nation. Excuse me, but isn't that fucking insane?!"

And let's just assume for a moment that Adam Rubin, the Mets beat reporter for the Daily News who broke the Bernazard story, did write his stories because of some personal vendetta. Why on earth would you say that during a press conference, even if you had irrefutable proof? And how would that in any way mitigate the fact that Bernazard should be fired?

Woodward and Bernstein couldn't have broken the Watergate story without Deep Throat. Everyone assumed that Deep Throat was some White House insider who was morally repulsed by the Nixon Administration, who felt the Republicans had gone too far and must be stopped. Turned out it was Mark Felt, an FBI lifer who was annoyed for getting passed over for a promotion. He mostly blabbed to the Washington Post out of spite, not out of some sense of patriotic duty. That's disappointing as a storyline, but does it make Richard Nixon's acts any less despicable?

Obviously, what Tony Bernazard did is nowhere near the level of Watergate. But my point is, how or why his offenses came to light has no bearing on the matter whatsoever. Even before yesterday, I assumed the Bernazard reporting had some sort of personal motive, since it was so unrelenting. When somebody gets slammed in the press again and again, it's because some editor has decided he wants to get that guy fired--and it's usually due to one agenda or another.

Regardless, if Bernazard really did what he was accused of doing, he deserved to be fired. And if Rubin was truly operating under a conflict of interest, he would have been more seriously accused of doing so. Once again, the Mets were able to take a nasty little molehill and transform it into a huge, festering mountain of stupid.

If my team is gonna engage is Machiavellian tactics, is it too much to ask they be good at them?