
St. Mark’s Square is under there somewhere. It occurred to me, back in Venice showing our colors, that since I first came here in late September 2007 the Mets have been struggling to stay above water….
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St. Mark’s Square is under there somewhere. It occurred to me, back in Venice showing our colors, that since I first came here in late September 2007 the Mets have been struggling to stay above water…. I've been waiting to announce this because like every no-hitter in Mets history, I won't quite believe it until I see it in front of me, but it's listed on Amazon, so…well, there it is. Barnes & Noble, too: here. I think this is where I say pre-order yours today. More details as they become available.
Remember those innocent times when the league standings flags flew around the perimeter of Shea Stadium? Here’s our flag. It’s up for auction in the latest batch of treasures and trivia trafficked by MeiGray. And the Mets didn’t want to hold on to this authentic swatch of their history and fly it or at least display it at their new ballpark…why? Sell the men’s room sign. Sell the ashtray. Sell the excruciatingly rare onion and relish holder. But for the love of all that should be at least a little bit sacred and kind of holy, keep our flag where everybody can see it and salute it. Runner-up for least appropriate item to sell instead of keeping and showing off in the current lot? I’d say this picture commemorating the official naming of the franchise. That seems vaguely important in the scheme of things. Even if M. Donald Satan is in the photo, why wouldn’t this be worth showing off somewhere on Met grounds? And this thing is way too cool to be letting out of the family. If I were a Knight of Pythias, I’d be rather insulted. Some “fine civic attitude” selling it demonstrates. For Halloween this year, I'm dressing up as a Yankee Stadium sentimentalist. Eeeeeek!!! Relax. It's just a mask. Many thanks to Alex Belth of Bronx Banter (newly moved to the SNY family of blogs and richly deserving of whatever additional attention results) for the invitation to take part in the seriously wonderful series of Lasting Yankee Stadium Memories and recall a trip or two to the other local venue that will be haunting the gruesome graveyard of ballparks soon enough. More ghoulishness here. For the ones who aren't jerks; for the ones who didn't just find out about baseball; for the ones who honestly understand what a gift this is; for the ones like the men in their fifties I ran into outside of Shea after the last Sunday game between us in September 2007 who were too beset with anxieties over potentially blowing the Wild Card to even suggest they had a shot at winning the East despite having just swept the team in first place; for the real fans who have earned it over 28 years by being true and without being jerks…to them I say congratulations. For the rest of us, there's A. Bartlett Giamatti in cardboard concerto. For the rest of us, there's farewell to the old and welcome to the new…designed to be the greatest ever built for baseball. For the rest of us, there's the lingering hypothetical we can always imagine went our way. For the rest of us, it's Let's Go Next Year. It can't get here fast enough. As we wait for the World Series to continue or conclude or do something other than start late and generate low ratings, consider that if it were the Mets representing the National League under similar circumstances, last night would have been the final game in the history of Shea Stadium (and remember it was Billy Wagner not holding an eighth-inning All-Star lead that facilitated the middle three games being played in the N.L. park). Seeing as how Philly's weather edged our way not long after the tarp covered the Citizens Bank Park infield, can you imagine the final game ever at Shea Stadium being suspended? Can you imagine Shea being given a little extra life by sixth-inning tie, ungodly precipitation and/or commissioner's fiat? Can you imagine Wright driving the ball with Murphy on third and nobody out? So much for that flight of fancy. Early this morning, in a month when baseball is still being played fairly close to this latitude, there was frost that required scraping from my windshield. That’s the first sign that winter’s creepin’ in and I’m tired of this town again. I’m already tired of winter and it’s October. It was enough to make me calculate, for the fourth consecutive offseason, the coming of the Baseball Equinox, that precise moment when we are as close to the last pitch of the last season as we are to the first pitch of the next season. Everything from that point forward means there is hope for us yet, that next year is almost here, that you can make out, ever so fuzzily, baseball over the horizon. That’s when you can start counting down in earnest to pitchers and catchers. You can start doing it now if you must, but my ballological clock is still set to 2008 time. I remain stuck on how we sprung back to second and I’m not nearly ready to consider how we might fall ahead to first. Anyway, on to the big number… The 2008 season ended for Met intents and purposes on September 28 at 5:05 PM. The 2009 season will begin at approximately 2:15 PM on April 6. That places our Baseball Equinox at 3:40 AM, January 2. That’s a Friday, if you’re scoring at home (or even if you’re by yourself). Stay warm. Keep the faith. Go Rays. No doubt I'm rooting for the Rays in the World Series for every obvious reason. They're not the Phillies. They've got Steve Henderson. They've got Cliff Floyd. They're the closest thing we'll ever see again to the '69 Mets. The '69 Mets are into them. They play up the road from Al Lang. I went to college in Tampa. They're not the Phillies. But a word on behalf of the Phillies. No, not these Phillies. Not the Phillies of ancient dubious history (Ben Chapman, et al), but of my flirtation with the Phillies for one season and my heartbreak in empathy for the Phillies on one October night, in Florida. This was 1993, the year the Mets sucked as I had never seen them suck before and I adopted as my second team the first-place Phillies. Not against the Mets, mind you, but we were in seventh (the only year the National League East had a seventh) and they were roguishly charming. They had Lenny Dykstra and a bunch of fellows who seemed Dykstraish. We didn't play them 'til June that year and by then we were literally 20 games out. It didn't seem a conflict of interest to pull for the Phillies in a non-Mets vacuum. It didn't even seem bizarre to have bought at Shea, when you could buy this sort of thing there, a Phillies cap. Sounds a lot worse now than it felt then (though it wasn't the worst cap I ever tried on for size). It made perfect sense to me in '93. I needed an outlet for my competitive rooting. The Mets I rooted on institutionally. The Phillies I hoped would go all the way. One night in August when the Mets were rained out, I tuned in the Phillies station and listened surprisingly intently. Man, I thought, if the Mets ever ceased to exist, is this what I'd be doing on summer nights? I was excited when they held off a late charge by the Expos to win the East. I was thrilled when they upset the Braves in the NLCS (back when I also thought well of the Western Division Braves…how fucking bad was 1993 anyway?). I was psyched for them to take on the Blue Jays. They were down three games to two in a slam-bang Series when I found myself in Fort Lauderdale on business. An old friend from college was living in Miami, so I gave him a call after having fallen out of touch with him for a while. He was never much of a baseball fan but in the mid-'80s when we were close he was highly supportive of me and the Mets. It felt like kismet that the Phillies were in the World Series that week and I was in the area because he was originally from Philadelphia. When we goofed around playing Wiffle Ball back in the day, I wore my mesh Mets cap from Cap Night 1981 and he wore an old-school Phillies cap, the pre-Schmidt model on which the new retro Phillies caps were based. If he could get behind the Mets for my sake in '85 and '86, it was the right thing to do in '93 to return the favor. We hooked up on the Saturday afternoon before Game Six was to be played at SkyDome. We went mini-golfing and to a batting cage like we used to in Tampa. After a nice meal at an Italian joint I knew from when my parents had a place in Hallandale, we headed back up to Lauderdale to my hotel to join the game in progress. We had trouble finding it on the radio because the station that had been airing the World Series bumped it in favor of the Miami-Syracuse football game (reminding me how glad I was to be living in New York where priorities weren't askew). We turned on the TV in the seventh. Dykstra was up with the Jays leading by four. He was traded to the Phillies from the Mets the day after my buddy got married. I had flown down to Miami for the wedding on short notice to be the best man and got word when I arrived in New York that night: Dykstra and McDowell for Juan Samuel. (Samuel…he's pretty good, I instantly decided.) Four years later, two on, nobody out, Dave Stewart pitching. Lenny swings and makes it 5-4. It’s his fourth homer of the Series. By the end of the inning, Al Leiter is pitching for Toronto and gives up the sac fly to make it 6-5 Phillies. My friend and I are high-fiving and yelling and looking forward to a seventh game. I’ll be flying home in the morning, but this will be great. I’ll call him tomorrow night after the Phillies beat the Blue Jays, having been down three games to one. There's going to be a seventh game. Lenny and the Phillies still have a chance! In the bottom of the ninth, Joe Carter goes Bill Mazeroski on Mitch Williams. Wild Thing, he made our hearts sink. My old friend and I sat on opposite sides of the bed, saying nothing for the longest time as the Blue Jays celebrated. He was from Philadelphia but not the biggest Phillies fan by any means. I was from New York and every other year of their existence except that one hated the Phillies. But for a few minutes in Florida we were both crushed by this turn of events. The Phillies reverted to anathema to me the next spring. I eventually discarded their cap. I haven't heard from my friend since 1996. He lives in Tampa now. I wonder if he even knows who's in the World Series this year. Alright, I’m lost, Jim said aloud although a bit begrudgingly You may have noticed that as many as three games of the World Series will be taking place in the National League East ballpark closest to Shea Stadium that isn’t Shea Stadium — and we’re not talking Citi Field, wise guy. So relatively close yet really, so far. The Mets finished three games behind the eventual National League champion Phillies in 2008. Were there really only three games separating the two teams? One of the outs I gave the Mets in case they didn’t win their division throughout the season was I never honestly thought they were as good as the Phillies, a team that seemed far more loaded in just about every department. Conversely, if the Phillies were that good, I wondered why they didn’t have at least a seven-game lead most of the season. You’d like to think if your team can get close to winning something — lest I remind you the Mets led the Phillies by as many as 3½ in the second week of September — they can pull it off. Having had more time than I wished to observe the Phillies this month, I revert to my default stance that the team that should have won did win (even if one bleeping fly ball could have changed the course of the final week, but never mind that Wright now). However little you think of their followers and however much Ray blue you bleed starting Wednesday, the 2008 Phillies are very good, they deserved to win the East, they are the best team in the N.L. So how’d they do it? In one of Omar Minaya’s traditional no-time-to-think explanations right after the Mets eliminated themselves from playoff contention — with so much experience in offering concession statements, you think he’d have this stuff down pat — I heard him say something curious. Paraphrasing here, he said the difference between the Mets and Phils was the Phillies’ core had a little more experience, specifically that they’d been contending longer. “What a crock” was my first reaction. Where was this experience differential in 2006 when we were new to first place but had no problem holding it? The Mets had adequate enough service time then. If anything, two years should have made the Mets wise beyond their years and our dynasty should be in its heyday as we speak. Owing the Mets’ failure to the Phillies’ longevity seemed as strange as insisting the Mets who failed in historic fashion down the stretch in 2007, despite defending a division title, were done in by not having enough pennant race experience (which is what our general manager suggested in the aftermath of Collapse I). But let’s look at the Phillie side of things, particularly how their roster’s been constructed. If we can’t stand the Phillies (and we can’t) I think it has something to do with their familiarity. They have put together a team over time that has grown together. Grown on our nerve endings, sure, but grown to win, too. Every year since 2000, one of the key members of these Phillies has established himself as a Major Leaguer: Burrell in 2000, Rollins in ’01, Myers in ’02, Utley in ’03, Madson in ’04, Howard in ’05 and Hamels in ’06. Every one of them was drafted by the Phillies. Not all of them were immediate successes and most of them experienced setbacks along the way, but here they are, a unit, a core. It’s as if somebody somewhere had a plan. Baseball doesn’t work the way it did forty years ago, but these guys coming and staying together reminds me of “the boys from Syracuse,” the future Tigers who played together in the minors in the mid-’60s and coalesced into the world champions of 1968. There was no free agentry then and there was generally less inclination to trade young talent for quick fixes; there was no Wild Card to tempt a GM into quick fixes. It’s not the same in 2008, but it’s a close enough echo of what worked for a long time in this game. Complementing the core are a slew of smart, inexpensive pickups. The dreaded Shane Victorino was a Rule 5 selection on whom the Dodgers gave up. The nearly as dreaded Greg Dobbs was plucked off waivers after Seattle let him go. Carlos Ruiz worked his way up the minors after signing out of Panama. Chris Coste is a legendary scrap heap reclamation success story. Jayson Werth was a bargain basement free agent. Brad Lidge came in an almost no-risk trade and brought along Eric Bruntlett. Jamie Moyer was a quiet deadline deal that keeps paying dividends. Pedro Feliz was an under-the-radar signing. Matt Stairs, the quintessential September pickup, proved his value with one swing in Game Four of the NLCS (and boy does he enjoy the company of his teammates). All their ancillary setup men seem to have come in on little cat’s feet but unlike our setup men, they don’t do unspeakable things in their litter box. I don’t watch the Phillies every day so I’m probably missing the slumps and the godawful outings. Because all I know about them is this year’s version made up 3½ games in a blink and last year’s version made up twice as much ground just as fast, it is my impression that they’ve been gellin’ like a felon when it’s counted. I see role players fulfilling their responsibilities, stars living up to their billing and strikes being thrown and outs being secured in late innings. What I don’t see is a big-name free agent in the lot. What I don’t see is a humongous contract assumed and extended. What I don’t see is overpaying for underperformance. Geoff Jenkins didn’t seem to do much for them and So Taguchi was a bust (thank heaven for small favors), but it apparently didn’t drag them down. They’ve been right way more often than they’ve been wrong. The Phillies were building in the early 2000s. They competed for Wild Cards from 2003 through 2006, never winning one. It took The Greatest Collapse In Baseball History™ to push them across the line in 2007 and two ill-timed, king-sized letdowns in Flushing and Milwaukee to ensure their good fortune in 2008. But they’ve won their division, our division, two years running. They got there with a clutch of extraordinarily talented players and a gaggle of mighty useful contributors. They may not have won then, but they do win now. No need to compare all their moves to the Mets. We know who we’ve got, how we got them, what they’ve done for us lately. We know it hasn’t been quite enough these last two seasons. We sense that something has to change. I wonder if it’s this assumption, as expressed from Omar Minaya to Matt Cerrone in Metsblog’s recent Q&A with the GM: “We are a market with a ‘win-now’ mentality.” To be fair to Omar, he was responding to a question that used that phrase. But he agreed with Matt’s assessment, and it’s not exactly out-of-the-box thinking to identify New York as an impatient place. I think we can all agree we’d rather win now than not win now. But we’re not winning now, not in the winning enough to keep playing in October sense. We’re not losing more than we win, which is an upgrade from where we were pre-Minaya — and at some level we’ll always be grateful for that — but where exactly has yielding to the pressure of “win now” gotten this franchise? Has anything been put in place to not just “win now” but to win later? To keep winning? To win against the Phillies who are not just an admirable case study in baseball management if you examine them in a vacuum but your most serious divisional rival? The Phillies have that core as catalogued above. Rollins, Utley and Howard aren’t going anywhere. Hamels is entrenched. Victorino is clearly a virus that won’t be eradicated anytime soon. Guys will come and go from their roster like anybody’s, but will enough of them leave to make a difference for the Mets? Will they be replaced by ever more efficient cogs? How will the Mets make up a gap that reveals itself, the closer you look, as wider than three games? Minaya had some good luck with a few reclamation projects of his own in 2008 and we saw a couple of rookies make a promising mark along the way…will there be more of that? Or will “win now” automatically mean another flurry of commitments negotiated beyond anybody’s concept of the limits of practicality? Is another class of two-bit relievers and no-account infielders lining up to sign on the dotted line for three, four, who knows how many years? Is it perhaps possible that we’ll someday look back on 2007 and 2008 as the most stressful chapters of a building process whose ultimate outcome more than makes up for the body blows we’ve absorbed in these saddest of Septembers? I have no idea. Does anybody? If you’re not overly cheerful yet, check out Dan from Mets Refugees‘ expertly taken shots of the Shea scoreboard in ruins. It’s not like the Mets needed a scoreboard anyway the last time we looked anyway. |
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