you don’t fuck with the jesus. (or alternately, i believe i can fly)

May 31, 2008

Great game. For how cautious I was in proclaiming their extra-innings win against the Marlins a turning point, I’ll now say this: This team has it’s fight back, it makes for deliriously fun-to-watch baseball again.

Thanks to commenter Bill W for attending my reading Friday night. Always nice to meet a fellow Mets fan, and to have that support.



May 28, 2008

The Mets won two games in a row? WHAT?!

A winning streak? BUH?

A come-from-behind win…in extra innings? SHLUH?!

And for the first time in weeks, a real team effort tonight. I missed what turned out to be about half of the game as I was having an amazing all you can eat mussels dinner at Petite Abeille with Stan and his delightful ladyfriend, the Reese Witherspoon Doppelganger. I got home in time to hear Scott Schoeneweis throw what’s becoming an astonishingly routinely easy inning and hear the score as 5-4 Marlins. Immediately I’m all GROOOOAAANNNNN OLLIE. I check the box score and see how those runs happened to be (Luis Castillo hit a home run? WHU?!) and then crack open a beer and think, “All right, let’s do this.” Optimism? Why, I haven’t been optimistic since the Yankees series!

Endy’s game-tying home run. Excellent bullpen performance (the Amezega homer off Duaner notwithstanding…and hey, even then I still thought, “We can get that back.” Talk about optimism). And a beautiful finish, with Fernando Tatis clobbering the walk-off hit in yet another productive night.

I won’t say this is the turning point, and I won’t say this is momentum, but this is as good a time as any to start building towards something close to this team’s potential. Baby steps, sure. But who doesn’t cheer on when the baby begins to waddle?

Now, bring on my hated Dodgers. I will be there on Saturday. To watch, yet again, Mike Pelfrey pitch. Man, can I for once see a different starting pitcher?!


Time for some curt shilling: I will be reading this Friday night at the Poetry Project at St. Mark’s Church on the Bowery. This is my first reading in roughly two years. If you find yourself with nothing to do and feel compelled to listen to some tortured pyscho-sexual violence mixed with some gallows humor, come on by! Info here.

so long, mike

May 20, 2008

Today is a sad day as Mike Piazza has announced his retirement. Certainly this comes as no surprise, as he entered the twilight of his career, battling through injury and dwindling production, and began the season without a team to call home. It was a matter of time before we had to say goodbye, and now that time has come.

People who meet me for the first time always look at me quizzically when they find out I’m a Mets fan. Shea stadium vendors check my California ID and view my Mets hat with askance. A few weeks ago I was at Random Williamsburg Hipster Bar and a decidedly Long Island bro attacked me with joy and commiseration when he saw me in my away cap. “Are ya a real fan?” he asked. It’s funny how many times I’ve had to qualify.

To those who don’t know, I grew up in Los Angeles. Yes yes, boo hiss. Growing up in Los Angeles in the 1980s with a rabid sports-loving family (football excepted; I never rooted for the Rams or Raiders even when they played in L.A.) was a good time. You had the Magic-era Showtime Lakers (Retrospectively, this must also be the beginning of my convoluted love/hate/respect relationship with the city of Boston), UCLA basketball (though they didn’t do squat in the 80s), and of course the Dodgers. I knew I fell in love with baseball after watching Kirk Gibson’s home run in the ’88 World Series. And I thought I’d forever be ensconced in Dodger blue. I mean, look!:

Fucking shudder, huh?

My Dodger love only enhanced when Mike Piazza burst onto the scene in 1993, being named Rookie of the Year. He became, immediately, the first baseball player I ever truly loved. I watched as he hit the crap out of the ball. I watched every second as he caught Hideo Nomo’s no-no. And in spite of an always disappointing Dodger team, I could at least revel in his performance.

And then he was traded away. I renounced my love of the Dodgers! I renounced my love of baseball! I refused to watch a game, refused to look at box scores, refused to do anything at all. My first baseball boyfriend was gone from my childhood team, and it was gutting.

After I found out he was traded from purgatory the Marlins to the Mets, I loosened up a little. I’d always liked the Mets. I had an affinity for New York, had a dream to live there one day, and would quietly cheer on their sports teams (not the Yankees though; even at an early age I knew that much). And because of their reputation as perpetual underdogs (along with the ’86 team’s legendary Bad Boy rep), the Mets were a team easy for me to like. And with Piazza, grow to love.

I followed him from LA to New York, not just in terms of switching dyed-in-the-wool fan allegiance, but eventually in locale as well. And it pleased me greatly that Piazza continued his play from LA into New York. Maybe he had better years numbers-wise with LA, but Piazza became the beloved face of the Mets, as far as I’m concerned. He led the charge in the team’s over-achievement, made it so the other New York team got its own deserved face-time. And I’m glad that New York came to love Piazza even more than LA did. They knew what they had, unlike my formerly beloved hometown team.

Thanks for the memories, Mike. Without you, I wouldn’t be the baseball fan that I am now. And I certainly wouldn’t be the Mets fan I grew to so ragingly, obsessively, irrationally, lovingly become. Eh, but I won’t blame you for that.

(Yes the Mets lost to Glavine today. Blah.)

these are the mets i love to watch

May 19, 2008

These are the Mets who hit with runners in scoring position.

These are the Mets whose starting pitchers go deep into games.

These are the Mets who knock out the opponents’ aces.

These are the Mets who throw out dominant bullpen performances.

These are the Mets who make opponents pay for their mistakes.

These are the Mets who make a drunken Will write lazy happy blog posts as this.

Now go kill Glavine.


May 15, 2008

or, for the fans of brevity: STFU, OMG

Scoreboard watching the game today and am quietly stunned to myself regarding Mike Pelfrey’s performance (while being flabbergastedly unsurprised by the lack of Mets offense). Then someone goes: “Pelfrey’s pitching a no-hitter!”


Aaron Boone: /hits single


But good job, Pelf. Let’s hope the bats wake up.


I don’t know that I’ve ever cheered on a team whose players I love so much who, collectively, piss me off/make me tear my hair out/disappoint me so/break my heart. What incredible bullshit this game was.

frankly, i am stunned.

May 13, 2008

Today has been a frenzy of Joe Smith v. Jorge Sosa debate in Mets land, with the overwhelming consensus from bloggers and beat writers being that young Smith’s sparkling performance deserved a place on the team while Sosa and his $2 million ineffective slider special should be cut. The presumed reality–even amongst Smith and his teammates–saw the Mets keeping Sosa and his contract in favor of Smith and his options, so as not to risk losing Sosa. This sparked lots of upset and angry opinions from Mets fans.

And to be sure, I was all set to join the fracas and portray my disgust and confusion and bile. As soon as it happened. And is it turned out, it didn’t. Glad to not add to that shitstorm.

But I’m shocked and overjoyed to see that the Mets made the right decision, that they favored performance  above money, solid youth over ruined experience, results over the hypothetical. For once, at least, we can’t complain about a front office decision.

happy birthday, john maine!

May 8, 2008

You are a total stud. In spite of this goofy-ass honky celebration dance you’re doing.

Johnny’s beautiful pitching performance yesterday was exactly what this Mets team (and its fans) needed, and the team responded in kind, putting up a 12-spot against the Dodgers. Isn’t it interesting how the bats wake up when given a dominant pitching performance? (Looking at you, rest of the rotation!)

But he wasn’t satisfied with just pitching 8 1/3 of one-run ball (which included a pitch under the chin of Douchebag Jeff Kent, leaving him sprawling). No, he got into the offensive fun as well, lunging for a Brad Penny breaking ball and blooping a 2-out, 2-run single in the fifth. What a beaut that was (the result, not the swing; boy, is he awkward-looking at the plate.)

Favorite quote from yesterday comes from the birthday boy himself: “I’ve got a batting average and Pelfrey doesn’t.”

Your move, Pelf.