METS MOTION SICKNESS

I’m exhausted. After sitting through last nights game, then heading home and getting to bed about four hours before I needed to get up to go to work, I’m going to need three XL Dunkin’ Dounts coffee’s to get through the work day.

My day at Citi Field started out with a great surprise. As we were walking from the car to the front of the Jackie Robinson Rotunda, I had the great pleasure of meeting up with Ed Kranepool. Yes, THE Ed Kranepool, my FME (Favorite Met Ever). He was with a bunch of people and was busy distributing tickets to them when I went over to say hello. I reminded him that we met at a luncheon at Gallagher’s for the 69 Champs and that I run this blog named after him, he started laughing and said “Oh now I remember you” we just chatted for a minute or two before we shook hands and bid each other well.  That was my “Let It Be” moment as a Mets fan. Just when I wonder is all this worth it, as I get more and more aggravated with the ownership, front office and manager and question why I actually give a shit about this team, I hear that song in my head:

When I find myself in times of trouble,

Eddie Kranepool comes to me,

Speaking words of wisdom,

Let it be, let it be.

After my Kranepool encounter, we then took a stroll through the Mets Museum. This was just my third trip to Citi Field this season (now that my baseball season has come to a close with a second round ousting in the playoffs, I hope to make a few more trips this summer to Flushing) but the first time I had the time to go a look around the Hall of Fame. I must say, I was thoroughly impressed. I love the fact that the two World Series trophies are on displayed for us, the great unwashed, to look at and enjoy instead of the days at Shea when the swells in the suites and Diamond Club, the folks who have zero attachment to them, had them in plain view. I also like how the plaques are made just like the one’s in Cooperstown. The display of Mets uniforms of the past is a treat as well and the baseballs from the first and last games at the Polo Grounds and Shea Stadium scream of our history. I don’t say this too many times but bravo Mets management on putting together a great place for Mets fans to relive and learn Mets history.

A few thoughts on last night’s game:

This team is madding. How does Johan Santana go from throwing batting practice in the first inning to morphing back into an Ace from innings 2-5?    

We sat in seats last night that allowed us access to the Caesars Club, as my wife said we needed to splurge since it was my birthday. Our seats were great, section 326 between third and home, but I’m just not cut out to be among the people who frequent that area. We may have been the only ones in the section actually watching the action on the field.  I was not impressed with the surroundings of the Cesar’s Club either. The furnishings look like the came off the set of Mad Men, with the couches and coffee tables that looked just like the furniture in my living room when I celebrated my 6th birthday in 1964. One very nice feature though was the air conditioning which was welcome relief on a stifling night.

I also grew weary of telling all the “Johnny Come Lately” Mets fans that life story of Mike Hessman.

I’m sure Jerry Manuel has all sorts of facts and figures in his binder that he keeps in the dugout. I am also sure that on one of those pages there shows Pedro Feliciano gets pounded by right handed hitters to the tune of .333/.446/.405 and that Raul Valdes, even though he’s a lefty, has success versus righties  .206/.322/.284 so why was Feliciano left to face El Hombre? I can accept not walking Pujols but why not go with Valdes? It’s your nightly “Gangsta’ Jerry’s Head Scratcher of the Game”.

I have really, really REALLY had enough of Luis Castillo.

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REMEMBERING THE QUIET MAN

I for one, can not get enough of reading about Gil Hodges and after reading Taryn Cooper’ (a/k/a The COOP) posting on Mets Merized Online, It gave me time to reflect on this great player, manager and man.

  I always point to the death of Hodges on April 2,  1972 as one of the two darkest days (the other was June 15, 1977 and is you don’t know what happened on that date you are reading the wrong blog asshole) and the day the promise of the Mets organization died.

I also remember as an 8 year old Mets fan/Brooklyn gutter snipe, going to Hodges wake with my firends and our dads. We wore our baseball uniforms and walked past the resting Hodges and just cried like it was a family member, HELL he was a family member.

As Mets fans we bask in the fact that Hodges was not just the man that led the Mets from misfits to champions but he was also one of us, as he lived with his born and bred  Brooklynite wife Joan in Mill Basin, It’s a shame that Mets ownership doesn’t put together a campaign to get Gil Hodges into Cooperstown where he belongs.

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SLOW RIDE, TAKE IT EASY

 

I’m having some major computer issues today so that’s why this post is sooooooo late. I’m internet (as I posted on Twitter) was as slow as Ramon Castro going first to third and has surpassed Mo Vaughn after lunch slow to Bengi Molina slow so that’s why I’m shutting everything down and going out to hang out with James Gandolfini and Steve Shrippa out here in TriBeca. 

Before I write about the Mets today a word or two on Lawrence Taylor. What happened yesterday with  LT is a major kick in the nuts to all NY Giants fans of my generation. Taylor was not just the greatest Giants player of all time but arguably one of if not the greatest football player to ever approach the line of scrimmage. I don’t know if he was set up by the girls pimp or what the whole story is with this girl who was portrayed as a runaway and now from reading the news stories this morning, had a falling out with her family and removed from her home to live with an uncle, it’s such a sordid affair and a story that will just grow as more information comes out. But with all that the fact that the girl was 16 will be what sends LT to the slammer and if he did have sex with this girl, who allegedly was sent to LT against her will and was beat up by the pimp before hooking up with Taylor, then LT should go to prison for a long time.

I’m not throwing my 56 jersey in the trash just yet. I’m holding out hope that this was a frame job and that may be naive of me but LT is in my pantheon of New York sports legends so he gets the benefit of the doubt right now.

The Hall Of The Very Good has a Q & A with ex-Met and Hall of Famer, Gary Carter. An interesting exchange in this post is Carter’ take on Tim Raines making the Hall of Fame:

HOVG: This July, you’ll be on that stage in Cooperstown when “The Hawk” finally makes his way to Cooperstown. How long until Raines gets his call?

 

CARTER: It may be a long time or maybe never. He has good numbers but that is a tough call.

Interesting to say the least

The Mets Police has a couple of interesting items today one is a photo of $iti Field with the walls painted Mets blue and the old skyline that was above the (bow heads) Shea Stadium scoreboard and is now above the Shake Shack and Blue Smoke incorporated into the new scoreboard. This looks fabulous, absolutely fabulous. Then Mets Police Chief Shannon Shark brings up an interesting argument, should the Mets wear either their Los Mets or a roadie made up with Nueva York when the go to Puerto Rico to play the Fish and then wear them to Phoenix when they play the Snakes ? As Shannon says I don’t want to start a political shit storm here, but I’m sure long time readers can figure out where I stand on the law passed in Arizona, I would definitely vote to wear Nueva York jersey’s as they make more sense than Los Mets.

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WHAT ABOUT JERRY GROTE?

 

I don’t give a rats ass about the numbers and Hall of Fame credentials Pepsodent smile and all that, my favorite Mets catcher of all time is was and may forever be Jerry Grote. Not even close. Go ahead flame my ass about this I don’t give a fuck you hear me all you Piazza and Carter fans.  My guy Grote was the original Captain Red Ass.  Nobody fired a ball back to a pitcher (including The Franchise) with purpose like Grote did.  Add in the fact that he wore a wool baseballall cap with the bill turned up (no protective helmet for him) that my young whipper snappers readers was a man’s catcher.

So why the “Get off my lawn” diatribe you wonder? Well the good folks at The Hardball Time have an outstanding post on the comparison between Mike Piazza, Pudge Rodriguez and <head bowed> Johnny Bench that fired my middle aged ass up this morning

For all my love of Grote I also have a deep respect and admiration for JB. In fact last time I was up in Cooperstown I bought a Reds t-shirt with BENCH 5 on the back. Check out the posting as it breaks down all three’s offensive and defensive numbers   

Still, the guy I want behinf the plate for my team is Jerry Grote.  Now GET OFF MY LAWN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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