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Greg Prince and Jason Fry
Faith and Fear in Flushing made its debut on Feb. 16, 2005, the brainchild of two longtime friends and lifelong Met fans.

Greg Prince discovered the Mets when he was 6, during the magical summer of 1969. He is a Long Island-based writer, editor and communications consultant. Contact him here.

Jason Fry is a Brooklyn writer whose first memories include his mom leaping up and down cheering for Rusty Staub. Check out his other writing here.

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And Seo He Goes

If Jae Seo had pitched his last two games in newfangled bandboxes instead of RFK and Shea, it wouldn't seem unfair to deport him to Norfolk. Balls rocketed off Nats' bats in D.C., most of them dying in the alleys, but enough finding express lanes down the line to put him in a hole. Wednesday night, Shea held Phillie flies just long and far enough to turn Jae into a Jaenius. Had he made one of these starts in Philadelphia's Legal Immigrants Bank Park, he'd have been detained by the INS for entering the country under false pretenses. (“This line on your green card says you're a pitcher, but the line on the scoreboard gives us reason to suspect you're lying.”)

Still, it's one of those decisions you want to argue with because he was the Weong guy in the right place when the Mets needed him. Seo sure has pitched well in spurts since 2003. He could be on the cover of Spurts Illustrated and there'd be no jinx because he also pitches horrendously in spurts. He's the perfect sixth starter in a five-man rotation.

Braden Looper hates leads. Hates 'em. I was wondering why Roberto Hernandez had to come out after a sparkling eighth. Just because? To get a saver a save? But having thought about it, I found a rationale. Benson isn't likely to go more than five Thursday afternoon. We'll need a bullpen. If we can save our best reliever for a key situation, that's not an altogether bad thing. Gosh, it's strange to admit the manager may know a thing or two more about baseball than I do.

Does Cliff Floyd have a nickname? A real one? In his wonderful The Old Ball Game, Frank Deford suggests “perhaps the greatest loss to television, to the utter visualization of sport at the expense of imagination, is the disappearance of the nickname.” Bully! Let's get our leftfielder a proper sobriquet.

God? Blasphemous…to our guy. Reasonable people can debate the existence of God. Who doesn't believe in Cliff at this point?

King Floyd? Groove me, baby…to the tune of twenty consecutive games thus far.

Uncle Floyd? Remember the faux kiddie-show host who ran a low-budget daily hootfest out of Channel 68 in Jersey? I loved Uncle Floyd, but Cliff is high-priced talent and suddenly worth it.

Floyd the Barber? Ooooohhhh…Randy…I think I extended my hitting streak off you… And Cliff's not cutting it close either.

Cliff the Mailman? Here's a little-known fact: If Cliff Floyd were a planet, he'd be the third-hottest planet in the solar system, and I have it on good authority that he may just pass Uranus before the season is over.

Don Cornelius? Indeed, Cornelius Clifford Floyd makes one pitcher after another an offer he can't refuse.

Death to Flying Things? Roll over Robert Ferguson and tell Jack Chapman the news. After Cliff's Leapin' Lizards! catch of Jason Michaels' sure-goner in the seventh, could any nickname be more utterly visual?

As a public service, we will present from time to time as schadenfreude permits the New York Yankee Collapse-O-Meter, tracking 2005 vis-à-vis two other Yankee campaigns that followed crushing post-season defeats.


Through 28 Games

1965: 12-16 (Final Record: 77-85)

1982: 12-16 (Final Record: 79-83)

2005: 11-17 (Final Record: ??-???)

Remember: The New York Yankees are baseball.

7 comments to And Seo He Goes

  • Anonymous

    In our house he's known as “Clifford the Big Orange-and-Blue Dog.” Jace called him that long before he did anything worth discussing. Now it's a major rallying cry. Takes a long time to say, though.

  • Anonymous

    Ever since he's been a Met, Floyd has been known in our house as “Monster”. Not…”The Monster”. Just…”Monster”. It's nice to see him living up to it. Because damn if he isn't one scary-ass monster right now. As a Met, he's shown flashes of this. Perhaps all the Spring Training trade talk made him angry, a la Dr. Banner.
    It's fun to say, “Come on, Monster!” (emphasis on the mon in monster) when he's up at the plate. Even when he's like 0 for his last 21…try it sometime. And in the middle of his next hitting streak, you will say it just the same, and feel vindicated.

  • Anonymous

    I think I prefer “Monsta.” Like “gangsta” or “playa.” Not insinuating anything about Cliff, but it just sounds coola.

  • Anonymous

    Unless a substitution is made today, there'll be no Monsta's Ball as Willie is resting him. In another universe, good move given Cliff's historically fragile condition. But when he's sizzling like platter of Wor Ba at a Chinese restaurant, it seems a shame. Bet Benson's not too happy about it.

  • Anonymous

    Our former first baseman was the Zeile Monster, a play on Z-100's Z-Monster. For a monster, he was unusually tame.

  • Anonymous

    The two stoners who sit behind in my season seats call him “Cliff-errrr” or “Cliff-Banger.” I like the latter :)

  • Anonymous

    I can sanction you calling him “Monsta”. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm down wid dat.