In the course of a season, one makes choices. Whether one can enforce his choosing is another matter.
For example, it was quite human-natural to decide whom we wanted to play when — when, not if; ah, 2006…do you really have to end? — we made the postseason. That it was a nonbinding referendum was beside the point. If our choices had any impact on any of our fate, we'd be brandishing 44 rings (baby).
In any event, I'm sure we all made hypothetical choices. We sure didn't want to play the Cardinals, the only team with a real chance to knock us off. Until we probably wanted to play the Cardinals, barely hanging on as we speak. We also didn't want any part of the pitching-rich Astros, preferring to play some hitting-impaired outfit like, uh…the Astros. The Giants and all that experience (creaky bastards). The Reds and all that scrappiness (callow bastards). The Diamondbacks and Webb (and nobody else).
Bring 'em on!
I mean keep 'em away!
It doesn't work. The Brewers were on my radar a long time ago as dangerous. They fell off it almost as long ago, but you know what? I still wouldn't want to play them in the playoffs. Unless they were who was put in front of us. Then it's, you know, let's beat the living crap out of the Brewers.
All of which brings us to our last hypothetical of the regular season. We know we're not going to be playing an N.L. Central team in the first round and we know we won't have anything to do with San Francisco, Arizona or Colorado. And because we won't play anybody from the East at any point (au revoir at last, Philadelphia — who knew waving the white flag would very nearly succeed?), that leaves us one from Column LA and one from Column SD.
Dodgers or Padres? Padres or Dodgers? By tonight, we'll know how the NLDS sets up. Right now, it goes like this:
• The Padres beat the Diamondbacks, we play the Dodgers.
• The Padres lose to the Diamondbacks but the Dodgers lose to the Giants, we play the Dodgers.
• The Padres lose to the Diamondbacks while the Dodgers beat the Giants, we play the Padres.
What to do, what to do? And for whom to root, for whom to root?
I'm not good at this. I know I'm supposed to be wanting to keep Houston from sneaking in for several reasons, starting with Clemens the Juicer, continuing with that fucking funhouse full of yahoos and ending with my longstanding personal animus for all things Astro. But they were playing the Braves last night, and the Braves are still the Braves (technically speaking). Plus, damn my editorial impulses, the Astros have been quite a story. Wouldn't it be something to see this Houston-St. Louis thing go into double-secret overtime? Then again, this is no occasion to be kibitzing from the balcony. Self-interest is all that counts. I don't want to deal with Houston in the second round if there is a second round for us.
And now that I've said that, I don't want it posted on the bulletin board in the home clubhouse at Busch Stadium. Or that of the Western Division team that might beat either one of them.
Where was I? Oh yeah, I'm not good at this. I don't think it's healthy to take sides in battles that don't superdirectly concern you as long as you have skin in the game. That make sense? Well, consider our so-called choices.
I don't want to play the Dodgers. They are one of the three teams, along with the Phillies and Astros, that stuck around in the last month who reminded me of us when we were just dangerous enough to do marvelous things in '99 and '00. They have an odd mixture of Hall of Fame locks and candidates (Maddux, Kent, Garciaparra), all-time gadflies (Lofton, Drew, Furfuckingcal) and guys whose names half the time escape me but always seem to be doing something to somebody (like that catcher and that closer and who knows who else). Plus there's the requisite recent ex-Met who is lurking in the weeds and ominously blowing bubbles, Marlon Anderson. He'll want revenge. Beware storylines like that and like all those ex-Red Sox showing up but not Pedro. The ghosts of '88 also figure to hover.
I don't want to play the Padres. The ex-Met factor is off the charts, of course (Cameron sure has gotten hot), but there's a more frightening reason: They don't frighten me. We saw them seven times this year, three times less than two months ago plus I've seen them a good bit on Extra Innings, yet I still fail to retain who's on that team. Try as I might to get into a tizzy over Jake Peavy and Chris Young and Woody Williams and that fuck David Wells, I keep defaulting into “yeah, but they're Padres,” which is stupidthink. Trevor Hoffman became righteously reviled here for a week in July, but can you really hate Trevor Hoffman based on an exhibition? Before his unhelpful All-Star meltdown, I carried a vague admiration for Trevor Hoffman based on his not being Mariano Rivera. As for their bats, besides our old Mikes (and Manny Alexander), there's Brian Giles and that first baseman for whom I accidentally rooted for a portion of one plate appearance when Piazza was visiting and Klesko, I think, but maybe not that irritating shortstop who's been hurt but definitely that second baseman whose father was once traded for Al Leiter. He really killed us in April (the second baseman, not Leiter). And that other catcher who fills in for Piazza like clockwork late in games. And I'm sure I'm leaving out tons of guys who can hurt us.
I'd avoid the Dodgers and the Padres if there were a more appealing option, but taking our division title and going home would actually rather suck. So later today, after the two Western qualifiers sort themselves out, I'll be waiting at the proverbial airport to theoretically chauffeur to Shea the National League Wild Card winner. Finally we can stop being hypothetical and start rooting for us and against our definitively determined Division Series opponent.
Whatever is said about aces who are hurting, third starters who are in personal transit, rookies who are grating on veteran nerves and first basemen who are mysteriously sitting from “soreness” (say, isn't what Delgado has what Beltran had before it was a quad?), we just showed for the 96th time in 2006 that we're a team I'm pretty certain nobody would freely choose to play.
But it's not like they have a choice in the matter either.
Luckily, YOU can choose to purchase a Faith and Fear t-shirt. Just a couple of days left to place your order before they go back in the vault. We're like Disney that way.

In the course of a season, one makes choices. Whether one can enforce his choosing is another matter.

For example, it was quite human-natural to decide whom we wanted to play when — when, not if; ah, 2006…do you really have to end? — we made the postseason. That it was a nonbinding referendum was beside the point. If our choices had any impact on any of our fate, we'd be brandishing 44 rings (baby).

In any event, I'm sure we all made hypothetical choices. We sure didn't want to play the Cardinals, the only team with a real chance to knock us off. Until we probably wanted to play the Cardinals, barely hanging on as we speak. We also didn't want any part of the pitching-rich Astros, preferring to play some hitting-impaired outfit like, uh…the Astros. The Giants and all that experience (creaky bastards). The Reds and all that scrappiness (callow bastards). The Diamondbacks and Webb (and nobody else).

Bring 'em on!

I mean keep 'em away!

It doesn't work. The Brewers were on my radar a long time ago as dangerous. They fell off it almost as long ago, but you know what? I still wouldn't want to play them in the playoffs. Unless they were who was put in front of us. Then it's, you know, let's beat the living crap out of the Brewers.

All of which brings us to our last hypothetical of the regular season. We know we're not going to be playing an N.L. Central team in the first round and we know we won't have anything to do with San Francisco, Arizona or Colorado. And because we won't play anybody from the East at any point (au revoir at last, Philadelphia — who knew waving the white flag would very nearly succeed?), that leaves us one from Column LA and one from Column SD.

Dodgers or Padres? Padres or Dodgers? By tonight, we'll know how the NLDS sets up. Right now, it goes like this:

• The Padres beat the Diamondbacks, we play the Dodgers.

• The Padres lose to the Diamondbacks but the Dodgers lose to the Giants, we play the Dodgers.

• The Padres lose to the Diamondbacks while the Dodgers beat the Giants, we play the Padres.

What to do, what to do? And for whom to root, for whom to root?

I'm not good at this. I know I'm supposed to be wanting to keep Houston from sneaking in for several reasons, starting with Clemens the Juicer, continuing with that fucking funhouse full of yahoos and ending with my longstanding personal animus for all things Astro. But they were playing the Braves last night, and the Braves are still the Braves (technically speaking). Plus, damn my editorial impulses, the Astros have been quite a story. Wouldn't it be something to see this Houston-St. Louis thing go into double-secret overtime? Then again, this is no occasion to be kibitzing from the balcony. Self-interest is all that counts. I don't want to deal with Houston in the second round if there is a second round for us.

And now that I've said that, I don't want it posted on the bulletin board in the home clubhouse at Busch Stadium. Or that of the Western Division team that might beat either one of them.

Where was I? Oh yeah, I'm not good at this. I don't think it's healthy to take sides in battles that don't superdirectly concern you as long as you have skin in the game. That make sense? Well, consider our so-called choices.

I don't want to play the Dodgers. They are one of the three teams, along with the Phillies and Astros, that stuck around in the last month who reminded me of us when we were just dangerous enough to do marvelous things in '99 and '00. They have an odd mixture of Hall of Fame locks and candidates (Maddux, Kent, Garciaparra), all-time gadflies (Lofton, Drew, Furfuckingcal) and guys whose names half the time escape me but always seem to be doing something to somebody (like that catcher and that closer and who knows who else). Plus there's the requisite recent ex-Met who is lurking in the weeds and ominously blowing bubbles, Marlon Anderson. He'll want revenge. Beware storylines like that and like all those ex-Red Sox showing up but not Pedro. The ghosts of '88 also figure to hover.

I don't want to play the Padres. The ex-Met factor is off the charts, of course (Cameron sure has gotten hot), but there's a more frightening reason: They don't frighten me. We saw them seven times this year, three times less than two months ago plus I've seen them a good bit on Extra Innings, yet I still fail to retain who's on that team. Try as I might to get into a tizzy over Jake Peavy and Chris Young and Woody Williams and that fuck David Wells, I keep defaulting into “yeah, but they're Padres,” which is stupidthink. Trevor Hoffman became righteously reviled here for a week in July, but can you really hate Trevor Hoffman based on an exhibition? Before his unhelpful All-Star meltdown, I carried a vague admiration for Trevor Hoffman based on his not being Mariano Rivera. As for their bats, besides our old Mikes (and Manny Alexander), there's Brian Giles and that first baseman for whom I accidentally rooted for a portion of one plate appearance when Piazza was visiting and Klesko, I think, but maybe not that irritating shortstop who's been hurt but definitely that second baseman whose father was once traded for Al Leiter. He really killed us in April (the second baseman, not Leiter). And that other catcher who fills in for Piazza like clockwork late in games. And I'm sure I'm leaving out tons of guys who can hurt us.

I'd avoid the Dodgers and the Padres if there were a more appealing option, but taking our division title and going home would actually rather suck. So later today, after the two Western qualifiers sort themselves out, I'll be waiting at the proverbial airport to theoretically chauffeur to Shea the National League Wild Card winner. Finally we can stop being hypothetical and start rooting for us and against our definitively determined Division Series opponent.

Whatever is said about aces who are hurting, third starters who are in personal transit, rookies who are grating on veteran nerves and first basemen who are mysteriously sitting from “soreness” (say, isn't what Delgado has what Beltran had before it was a quad?), we just showed for the 96th time in 2006 that we're a team I'm pretty certain nobody would freely choose to play.

But it's not like they have a choice in the matter either.

Luckily, YOU can choose to purchase a Faith and Fear t-shirt. Just a couple of days left to place your order before they go back in the vault. We're like Disney that way.

Rotator cuff. Surgery. This week. Out. Eight months.
Go Pedro. To a full and healthy recovery.

Rotator cuff. Surgery. This week. Out. Eight months.

Go Pedro. To a full and healthy recovery.

We contacted several Baseball Experts and asked them to explain to us how the Mets might cope with the loss of Pedro Martinez. Like most Mets fans, Jason and I watch the Mets just about every inning, but we're not Baseball Experts and neither are you. Thus, we should rely on Baseball Experts to tell us what might happen with the Mets next even though the Baseball Experts didn't necessarily pay much attention to the Mets all season. They are, after all, Baseball Experts. Here is their report.
LINEUP: Pedro Martinez will not be pitching for the Mets, so no amount of runs generated by the Mets' offense in any of their games will mean anything.
DEFENSE: Without Pedro Martinez striking out every batter the Mets face, Mets' fielders will likely be overworked and overtaxed.
BENCH: Pinch-hitters and late-inning replacements will be too overwhelmed by the absence of Pedro Martinez to perform effectively…as if it matters.
STARTING PITCHING: Pedro Martinez was going to pitch Games 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5. The Mets now have five gaping holes in their rotation.
BULLPEN: Counting on being well-rested due to the 11 shutouts Pedro Martinez was sure to throw in the postseason, Met relievers are now far too tired to fire a single strike.
MANAGER: The loss of Pedro Martinez will drive Willie Randolph to distraction. Willie had been counting on his ace pitcher to twirl the first no-hitter in Mets history and hit a couple of grand slams in Game 1 of the NLDS and repeat the feat continually, peppering in perfect games and cycles along the way. Perhaps Joe Girardi could make something of this mess, but Randolph is clearly up against it.
INTANGIBLES: Don't be fooled by the presence of others on the roster. The Mets were a one-man team in 2006. Pedro Martinez electrified their attack by leading off, tripling, stealing bases and scoring at will. Pedro Martinez elicited chants of “MVP!” for his team-record slugging and awesome centerfield play. Pedro Martinez grew into one of the best two-strike hitters in the game. Pedro Martinez was a rock behind the plate and surprisingly solid in the No. 2 hole. Pedro Martinez filled the gap in the cleanup spot beautifully. Pedro Martinez was an ideal fourth outfielder. Pedro Martinez came out of nowhere to take over second base. Pedro Martinez provided wise counsel based on his nearly 30 years in the game. Pedro Martinez led the team in saves. Pedro Martinez set up the closer. Pedro Martinez took the starts of pitchers who couldn't start. Pedro Martinez negotiated one great personnel acquisition after another. Pedro Martinez scouted the opposition and provided foolproof intelligence. Pedro Martinez uncannily waved every runner home safely. Pedro Martinez affixed a gigantic baseball to his head and entertained the fans between innings. Pedro Martinez sold delicious sushi on the field level. Pedro Martinez showed you to your seat. Pedro Martinez sang six different national anthems without missing a note. Pedro Martinez built the new stadium all by himself and provided plenty of parking during construction.
CONCLUSION: No need to provide one. The Mets are already out of it. We know. We're the Baseball Experts.
Of course you don't need to be an expert to wear a Faith and Fear in Flushing t-shirt. Join the best blog-readers in baseball and order several or just one today!

We contacted several Baseball Experts and asked them to explain to us how the Mets might cope with the loss of Pedro Martinez. Like most Mets fans, Jason and I watch the Mets just about every inning, but we're not Baseball Experts and neither are you. Thus, we should rely on Baseball Experts to tell us what might happen with the Mets next even though the Baseball Experts didn't necessarily pay much attention to the Mets all season. They are, after all, Baseball Experts. Here is their report.

LINEUP: Pedro Martinez will not be pitching for the Mets, so no amount of runs generated by the Mets' offense in any of their games will mean anything.

DEFENSE: Without Pedro Martinez striking out every batter the Mets face, Mets' fielders will likely be overworked and overtaxed.

BENCH: Pinch-hitters and late-inning replacements will be too overwhelmed by the absence of Pedro Martinez to perform effectively…as if it matters.

STARTING PITCHING: Pedro Martinez was going to pitch Games 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5. The Mets now have five gaping holes in their rotation.

BULLPEN: Counting on being well-rested due to the 11 shutouts Pedro Martinez was sure to throw in the postseason, Met relievers are now far too tired to fire a single strike.

MANAGER: The loss of Pedro Martinez will drive Willie Randolph to distraction. Willie had been counting on his ace pitcher to twirl the first no-hitter in Mets history and hit a couple of grand slams in Game 1 of the NLDS and repeat the feat continually, peppering in perfect games and cycles along the way. Perhaps Joe Girardi could make something of this mess, but Randolph is clearly up against it.

INTANGIBLES: Don't be fooled by the presence of others on the roster. The Mets were a one-man team in 2006. Pedro Martinez electrified their attack by leading off, tripling, stealing bases and scoring at will. Pedro Martinez elicited chants of “MVP!” for his team-record slugging and awesome centerfield play. Pedro Martinez grew into one of the best two-strike hitters in the game. Pedro Martinez was a rock behind the plate and surprisingly solid in the No. 2 hole. Pedro Martinez filled the gap in the cleanup spot beautifully. Pedro Martinez was an ideal fourth outfielder. Pedro Martinez came out of nowhere to take over second base. Pedro Martinez provided wise counsel based on his nearly 30 years in the game. Pedro Martinez led the team in saves. Pedro Martinez set up the closer. Pedro Martinez took the starts of pitchers who couldn't start. Pedro Martinez negotiated one great personnel acquisition after another. Pedro Martinez scouted the opposition and provided foolproof intelligence. Pedro Martinez uncannily waved every runner home safely. Pedro Martinez affixed a gigantic baseball to his head and entertained the fans between innings. Pedro Martinez sold delicious sushi on the field level. Pedro Martinez showed you to your seat. Pedro Martinez sang six different national anthems without missing a note. Pedro Martinez built the new stadium all by himself and provided plenty of parking during construction.

CONCLUSION: No need to provide one. The Mets are already out of it. We know. We're the Baseball Experts.

Of course you don't need to be an expert to wear a Faith and Fear in Flushing t-shirt. Join the best blog-readers in baseball and order several or just one today!

But their clutch hitting again suffered; they went 2 for 13 with runners in scoring position and managed only two runs from two bases-loaded, no-out situations.
So says Ben Shpigel in the New York Times, addressing tonight's 4-3 win over the weary Nats.
OK. Yes. But.
Those two runs in those bases-loaded situations came on sac flies by Jose Valentin (4th inning) and Shawn Green (8th inning, actually there was one out). Valentin's drive sent Ryan Church to within a couple of feet of the fence; Green's left George Lombard practically squashed against it.
Maybe three or four feet in all separated those two sac flies from being twin grand slams. In which case Green's sac fly would have made the score 10-3 instead of 4-3. In which case no one would have fussed overmuch about how we did with RISP (we would have been an acceptable 4 for 15, by the way), because we'd be too busy exchanging bloggy high-fives about Green showing signs of life and Valentin coming around and the offensive funk being behind us and bring on the postseason! (And in this alternate posting universe, John Maine's win in a 10-3 romp would probably have been deemed promisingly strong with a couple of moments of distraction, rather than feeling like a distracted but ultimately decent enough no-decision. Maine wouldn't have thrown a single pitch differently, but there you have it.)
Three or four feet. That's 36 to 48 inches. Not a long distance in talking about the mileage of balls struck over the course of a game. In other words, oh fellow anxious play-out-the-stringers, oh fellow travelers in the Land Without Pedro…relax.
(Want a shirt? It'd be our honor. Here's how to get one.)

But their clutch hitting again suffered; they went 2 for 13 with runners in scoring position and managed only two runs from two bases-loaded, no-out situations.

So says Ben Shpigel in the New York Times, addressing tonight's 4-3 win over the weary Nats.

OK. Yes. But.

Those two runs in those bases-loaded situations came on sac flies by Jose Valentin (4th inning) and Shawn Green (8th inning, actually there was one out). Valentin's drive sent Ryan Church to within a couple of feet of the fence; Green's left George Lombard practically squashed against it.

Maybe three or four feet in all separated those two sac flies from being twin grand slams. In which case Green's sac fly would have made the score 10-3 instead of 4-3. In which case no one would have fussed overmuch about how we did with RISP (we would have been an acceptable 4 for 15, by the way), because we'd be too busy exchanging bloggy high-fives about Green showing signs of life and Valentin coming around and the offensive funk being behind us and bring on the postseason! (And in this alternate posting universe, John Maine's win in a 10-3 romp would probably have been deemed promisingly strong with a couple of moments of distraction, rather than feeling like a distracted but ultimately decent enough no-decision. Maine wouldn't have thrown a single pitch differently, but there you have it.)

Three or four feet. That's 36 to 48 inches. Not a long distance in talking about the mileage of balls struck over the course of a game. In other words, oh fellow anxious play-out-the-stringers, oh fellow travelers in the Land Without Pedro…relax.

(Want a shirt? It'd be our honor. Here's how to get one.)

Congratulations go out to David Anderson, Jr., who dug up all 20 correct answers to our Flashback Friday quiz. He wins the A&E Home Video release, The New York Mets Vintage World Series Films DVD, featuring the 1969 and 1986 triumphs to end all triumphs…except, hopefully, for another triumph that will arrive in short order. The disc is graciously provided by A&E, which can tell you how to purchase it for your baseball library.
He also gets the KT Tunstall CD Eye to the Telescope because my wife and I each bought on a copy on the same day and I'm too lazy to return mine.
A “well-played!” to Ray Stilwell, a.k.a. Metphistopheles, for sending in a very entertaining set of answers, 19 of which were dead on, one of which got tangled in a legal interpretation, a concept with which I'm guessing he's familiar. I know he's intimately familiar with his Mets postseason history, which you should read here. Ray has earned a Wild Card prize to be determined by the judges.
The answers…
1. What did my mother refer to Danny Heep as?
A dunner
2. Where did Joel and I go for lunch when Opening Day II was rained out?
Chi-Chi's
3. What did Mr. Jarvis at the hobby shop trade Geoff Hayton for a ball autographed by the '86 Mets?
Santa Cruz dots skateboard wheels
(This was where Ray got tripped up. He said it was a skateboard, which was pretty close, but wheels are wheels. Either way, Mr. Jarvis best start running the other way right quick, for in addition to living in the shadow of Geoff's grudge, he has just earned a lifelong enemy in the Buffalo area.)
4. Who didn't expect her husband to take his shoes off after a game?
Margie Backman
5. What was the theme of the 1986 Old Timers Day?
The Mets' 25th Anniversary
6. When the ticker-tape parade crowd began booing Mayor Koch, who did he start to introduce?
The Board of Estimate
7. What distracted Larry Russo from witnessing Ray Knight's walkoff hit off of Tim Burke?
A paper airplane
8. Who referred to Keith Hernandez as “dark, reflective, analytical, urban”?
Pete Hamill
9. What movie did Fred and I want to see instead of Stand By Me?
Reform School Girls
10. To what tune did I compose my own idiotic Super Bowl XXI song parody, “Giant Steps to Pasadena”?
“Walk Like An Egyptian”
11. What pitcher's name did I invoke to shut up Danny the Yankee fan in Tampa?
Britt Burns
12. Who spiked Jason's foot in St. Petersburg?
Wally Backman
(As Ray noted, “See what happens when you're not used to taking your own shoes off?”)
13. What was Dwight Gooden's ERA in the 50 starts that preceded his first loss of 1986?
1.38
14. In what 2006 film does the main character declare, “I hate the Mets”?
Game 6
15. By what nickname did I refer to Rick Aguilera in my journal entry of July 23, 1986?
Rick “Rock Me” Aguilera
16. What brand of gasoline did Gary Carter endorse?
Northville
17. Why did my friend Chuck tell me he rooted for the Mets?
For my sake
18. What was the Newsday back page headline that captured the essence of the age in June of '86?
Ho-Hum. Another Win.
19. What was the front page headline of El Diario on September 18, 1986?
CAMPEONES
20. Which six seasons attempted to haunt me on one particular Friday?
1971, 1976, 1981, 1991, 1996, 2001