poor mike pelfrey (eh, whatevs. maybe?)

June 29, 2007

No need for that, Pelf.

Well last night’s game between the Mets and Cards was rained out (did it really rain last night? I, uh, was very drunk very early and made some bad decisions, so fucking rain wasn’t even a concern, HELLO), which is always awfully disappointing, especially when you really want to see your team step it up to end a series. I mean, good God Mets. Hit a few balls here and there why don’tcha. Maybe going to Philly will wake you guys up.

If there are are some silver linings to last night’s apparent literal storm clouds, it’s that the Mets will have had some rest before they play today’s doubleheader (itself a makeup for one rained-out game earlier this season). Which means that last night’s starter, El Duque, will pitch the day game and John Maine will pitch the night game. Which also means that poor beleaguered no-luck Mike Pelfrey, who was supposed to be called up from the minors to start today’s game, will stay in New Orleans.

I really want to like Mike Pelfrey. I feel bad for the kid. He loses all five of his starts to begin the year, gets sent down, and has an opportunity to redeem himself only…no, sorry, thanks for playing, please stay where you are. Will the sun please shine on him at least once in his life?!?!?! Why does it always rain on him?!?!?!

This is not to say that I’m disappointed that he won’t be pitching. I definitely called him a “piece of shit” more than once this season. It was like Automatic Loss Time for every start, a deep burning pit of doom that would envelop me until I was belligerently screaming like I was Piniella Jr. In fact, as I behaved in that manner during what would be his final start, I got the following IM:

brent: it’s too bad pelfrey probably won’t make much money off this whole baseball thing, because he seems like he’d be a really good philanthropist

Which I chuckled at heartily, especially since it was coming from a dim 19 year old (sorry Brent! Nothing personal! I think you’re all dim!).

So maybe my current sympathy isn’t really called for. However. As I was moving a few weeks ago, I found a very old copy of the Daily News that I bought last year, and I remember looking at the pictures and recap of this game and thinking, “Hm, that new pitcher is cute.” When I found it, I realized it was Mike Fucking Pelfrey. I was perplexed. Really? I thought Mike Pelfrey was cute? The Mike Pelfrey that I have been calling a piece of shit? Hm. (To be fair he looked great in those pictures, but I can’t see any current resemblance…also, he actually won that game LOL I make joke)

But he’s a young kid, and obviously has some talent, just needs some control and also maybe to calm the fuck down and stuff. I will hope for his eventual (successful) return and will cease calling him a piece of shit. After all, I have Schoeneweis for that.


June 26, 2007


UGH. It was looking like yet another magical Mets comeback victory, another one of those games where you’re absolutely sure that the Mets won’t lose. They don’t lose these games! They don’t. Oh, except for some poor managing decisions late in the game. Can someone please walk me through the ridiculous thought process that went on in Willie Randolph’s head? The Mets just tied it up 3-3 in the bottom of the ninth, runners on second and third with two outs, and your pinch hitter is…JULIO FRANCO? Oldest man in the world? In what universe–IN WHAT FUCKING UNIVERSE–do you decide to have Franco pinch hit when you’ve got better options (Damion Easley and Ramon Castro) sitting on the bench?

So, okay. Franco grounds out to end the inning, and we go to extras. Okay, the Mets still win these games. Breathe in, breathe out. Billy Wagner does his usual brilliant 1-2-3 in the tenth, and in the eleventh you bring in…SCOTT SCHOENEWEIS? Worst Show Ever. In what universe–IN WHAT FUCKING UNIVERSE–do you decide to bring in Show before Joe Smith (or hell, even Aaron Sele, the last remaining bullpen option)?! Of course–OF COURSE–Show then gives up a homerun to Brendan Ryan (his first career homer!), and after managing to squeeze two outs out of Show, Willie THEN decides to bring in Joe Smith. Oh, but St. Louis then scores an insurance run on an error by Jose Valentin, who had earlier tied the game on an RBI double! Way to wipe out that goodwill, Jose. The Mets of course go quietly in the bottom of the eleventh to end the game, losing what should have been their fifth win in a row, and their second in a row in extra innings.

As referenced in the previous post, I had a few palpitations when Schoeneweis was brought in on Sunday, but he managed to go 1-2-3. He also had an eight-run lead to work with. These are the only times Show should ever be brought in. And even then, think long and hard before you bypass Sele. Jesus fucking Christ. Someone take away that man’s brisket.

if i were the post i’d be all “HOW SWEEP IT IS” but i’m not, thankfully

June 25, 2007

Let us raise our hands and rejoice in winning three games in a row!

Well that was fun. After not being able to hit a goddam thing all month, the Mets won two blowouts this weekend, with a sweet little pitching duel sandwiched in the middle. On Friday I went to this and met a lot of Deadspin commenters who had no idea who the fuck I was, but they were pretty nice about it (Stan got me a ticket). These guys were a hoot, and also I found out we used to work together. Imagine that. Tommy Glavine got win no. 296, and also managed to hit better than David Wright. Hey, maybe we can get Tommy to DH next time there’s an interleague game on the road. Next year (thank God).

Saturday I managed to be late to one of the, um, hippest parties/performances/hootenannies/thingamajigs I’ve ever attended because I was listening to the game on WFAN. I was treated with a lovely play-by-play of Lo Duca’s meltdown, and then a wonderful mental image of Ramon Castro huffing-and-puffing on David Wright’s double to score the only run of the game. The party, uh, was fun up until it wasn’t, and I may have acted a bit foolish, which is generally the case.

Sunday I went with Joe and his A’s-rootin’ friends to my first day game at Shea. Reyes’ double-that-turned-into-a-run basically set the tone for the entire game. It was just gonna be that kind of day. Johnny Maine was so dominant, and A’s pitcher Joe Kennedy was so ineffective, that the game basically became a laugher, and we all remarked how much we were zoning out. I did have a few palpitations when Scott Schoeneweis came out to pitch in the ninth. The following took place:

Steve: I would be surprised if Schoeneweis went 1-2-3.
me: Fuck, I’d be STUNNED. I’d strip naked on the field if that happened.
[Schoeneweis gets Chavez to ground out]
me [half-heartedly attempting ironic chant]: SCHO-ENE-WEIS! SCHO-ENE-WEIS! [looks around] No? Okay.
[Schoeneweis gets Ellis to fly out]
me [thinking]: Holy shit am I gonna have to get naked?
[Schoeneweis strikes out Cust]
me: [shrugs, begins to disrobe]

Okay that last part didn’t happen because there were CHILDREN there, children with Paul LoDuca bobbleheads, which I desperately wanted but they wouldn’t give them to grown-ups. I’m pretty childish, though, so I felt like I deserved one. And then I coulda made it go absolutely apeshit. With impeccably manicured eyebrows.

what a good night

June 18, 2007

Boy, it’s sure nice to win a game once in a while, isn’t it?

Even with the Mets’ piss-poor June play, they seemed to show some signs of life in their series with the Yanks, and it just seemed inevitable that they’d wake up and put on a show. So they were only facing Carlos Silva. So what. We’ll take whatever confidence builder we can get, and God knows we need as much as is humanly possible right now.

I met up with Frank The Tank at Copper Door Tavern for cheap wings and beer, and the chance to maybe watch the Mets win a fucking game. We then realized, somewhere around the fifth inning, that Copper Door was hosting some kind of retirement party for two members of the FDNY. At some point a firetruck pulled up screaming across the street and the bar emptied. Pretty great Mets viewing, actually. There was a cheap-ass looking retirement cake too, and I got to talking with one of the firemen (he was old and not hot, oh well) about the Mets, and we’d calm down Frank when he’d scream about Reyes hitting some fouls by saying, “No, he fouled off a certain strike. Good at-bat by Jose.” It’s nice when I get to one-up straight boys with sports knowledge.

It was one of those easy, undramatic winning nights. Great production by everybody on the team (even Ricky Ledee!) and finally a win for John Maine, inconsistent of late but generally pitching winnable ball over the past few weeks when the Mets couldn’t hit a damn thing. Hey, the elder Carloses even got some hits tonight, including a homer for Delgado! Good stuff, guys. Keep it up, ‘cos, uh, Santana is tomorrow. He’s pretty smooth (GRRRROOOOAAAANNNNN!!!!!!!!!!)

when i think about sports anthems…

June 18, 2007

these people certainly spring to mind:

They would certainly make you want to hit a ball damn hard, yes?

I’m very late to this, but per Idolator, I don’t know what the fuck the Royals are thinking with these candidates to replace “Take Me Out To The Ballgame” during the seventh-inning stretch. The big obvious point of contention, first of all, is that “Take Me Out To The Ballgame” is unfuckwithable. What is the seventh-inning stretch without it? It’s un-American otherwise, and I won’t stand for it (I also will not stand for “God Bless America” during the seventh-inning stretch…before the game, sure, but the stretch? That’s time for fun, not morose patriotism, and “God Bless America” is kind of a lousy song anyways, and I’m not the only one to think that either. If you want patriotism, why not “This Land Is Your Land”? I know it’s subversive, but no one really realizes it because we all stop at the chorus, like Reagan and “Born In The USA.” Wow what a long parenthetical).

Idolator makes the very good point that some of the songs are just godawful (“Cotton Eyed Joe”), some are inappropriate considering how bad the Royals are (“The Limbo,” “Ring of Fire,” “Shake Your Body (Down To The Ground)”), and some are just plain played-out (“Sweet Caroline,” though, uh, I have always loved this song, so call me crazy, but I don’t mind it). What they fail to point out is the fact that three of the choices–Dusty Springfield’s “Son of a Preacher Man,” Donna Summer’s “Last Dance,” and ABBA’s “Dancing Queen”–while being absolutely fantastic, are, um, a little ill-suited for a sporting event.

By which I mean: They are SO GAY.

I mean, my God, they just stink of sodomy + ID Glide. “Last Dance” for one, is a huge disco anthem (one of the best) and disco = gay. Also, the sentiment is perfectly in line with gay clubs in particular, that last dance as your last chance for romance, or at least your last chance to fuck someone that night and forget about romance until the next last dance (vicious circle, eh boys?). “Dancing Queen” is, well, kind of the same thing but more about the optimism of the beginning of the night rather than the ensuing desperation, but ABBA also thankfully includes “Queen” in the title. And then there’s “Son of a Preacher Man.” Stan and I had the following exchange:



Stan: i mean

then again

YMCA is done at like ALL sporting events

maybe they should go one gayer

and do “in the navy”

me: YMCA is technically a gay song, sure, but i think hetero middle america likes to have pleasant denial about that (“i like my homosexuals FA-LAAAAMING”) whereas “son of a preacher man” is inherently about getting it on with a dude


I wonder if I’m missing something; is someone in the KC Royals a son of a preacher man? That’s sort of the only way I could see this as a legitimate candidate. Otherwise, whoever chose these is a huge jokester and I salute them. If I were ever in KC watching a game, I would just die to see a bunch of dudes sing along to the following:

How well I remember!/The look that was in his eyes/Stealing kisses from me on the sly/Takin’ time to make time/Telling me he’s ALL MINE

Because that shit would just be hilarious.

(Also I refuse to talk about the Mets-Yanks series. Except to say how nice it was nice to be at the Turkey’s Nest on Friday, the bar divided equally, and see Ollie outpitch the Fatass and have Carlos Gomez save the game early with a huge catch. Delgado’s Golden Sombrero, on the other hand, was not so nice. Saturday and Sunday’s starting pitching debacles were too much considering I was already ill, and if Beltran needs to rest, then maybe he should rest and we can get a non-injured bat in the lineup. Uh, if only our lineup could hit. Guh.)