Go over to Brooklyn Met Fan if you don’t already (what the hell is wrong with you?!) and vote for “The Hottest Met 2009.” I voted Murphy, even though it’s probably David Wright. Santana at #3, bringing up the rear. GET IT?
What an image…brb.
Stan: Is Oliver Perez’s weight symbolic of his attitude after signing a fat three-year, $36 million contract? Will John Maine be the pitcher we remember from before his shoulder injury last year? Is this the year Mike Pelfrey matures?
STOP ASKING SO MANY QUESTIONS JULIA STILES
me: where is this
Stan: the damn wall street journal
Julia Stiles is an actress and a Mets fan living in New York. She blogs at www.juliastilesblog.com
me: oh good
Stan: she’ll be like your alyssa milano
me: SHE IS NOT HAVING SEX WITH BOBBY PARNELL ON MY WATCH
Stan: i don’t think bobby parnell is her stile
Here is the first line in the description of this book:
Bureau of American Defense operative Carlos Delgado has spent the past sixteen years watching over his shoulder, waiting for death to catch up to him.
By “death” I think they mean “Phillies.”
Earlier today the boy I’m seeing or whatever was comparing my love of the Mets to his love of America’s Next Top Model, of all things, a show I maybe have seen 10 minutes of total. I said that it didn’t seem the same considering he has contempt for the show’s participants. He emailed the following in response:
I don’t hate all of them. There are heroes and there are villains on every season, like every reality show, and the villains tend to be high-camp witches (Yankees), and the heroes tend to be unsophisticated but bright and likable (Cubs?), and the fun comes from putting vaguely ditzy girls in high-pressure situations (infield fly rule). There is fundamental injustice in Tyra Banks’ judging every week (bad ump), and it used to be that Janice Dickinson would say something hilarious and cruel at least three times a week (Marv Albert). She’s not on the show anymore.
Which is pretty good considering he knows nothing about baseball. I suppose the better analogies here would be “Eric Gagne” instead of “infield fly rule,” and since Marv Albert doesn’t do baseball, perhaps Joe Buck or Tim McCarver?
Tonight I headed over to Butterfield 8 in Midtown (not too far from where I work, thankfully) for the MetsBlog viewing party. While there I watched the game with Zoe, Coop, faithful Mets blogger reader Dykstraw, Crazy Met Girl, their assorted friends and/or significant others, and about a hundred or so other Mets fans (can I just say that a lot of those guys were insanely good-looking? Sighz) to cheer on our boys as they opened the season against the Florida Marlins. What a great atmosphere, everyone cheering and high-fiving and screaming or groaning as a collective. It was like mini-Shea in there.
I must say this Johan Santana character has got some potential. When he began the game by striking out Hanley Ramirez, I screamed, “I already have a boner!” What a stud, honestly. His only bad pitch of the night was the two-run shot to Josh Willingham, which shouldn’t even have been an issue considering some bad calls that gave Ramirez a walk to start the inning (how bad was the umpiring tonight? Neither Reyes or Wright were out on their stolen base attempts, from what I could tell). Luckily, the Mets had already exploded for a six-run fourth, capped by Golden Boy’s bases-clearing double, after which I swear the bar’s entire male clientele would have gone totally gay for him, already erupting in “MVP!” chants. What’s funny is that some dude behind me said “Bases-clearing double right here” before Davey Boy hit it. This same guy then idiotically began talking about a no-hitter for Santana (Dykstraw and I shushed him), and then five seconds later Willingham hits the homer. Idiot.
Otherwise, it was a great night, and even Scott Schoeneweis and Jorge Sosa got out of Matt Wise’s jam in the eighth. Good way to start the season. Especially with the Phillies giving up five runs in the ninth in a loss to the Nationals.
Fuck, are we supposed to worry about the Nationals now?!!?! L-Millz and Paulie, ready for vengeance.
Blogblogblog. What a stupid word. The actual sound of it is ugly and horrific, and I don’t think my distaste is merely associative either. Buh-l-oggggggggguh. Fucking gross. And it’s just seemed to lose all meaning too. Bloggityblogblog. I’m a blogger! Kill me.
Joe Smith ought to have his own blog. As he signed baseball cards fans had mailed to him with a stamped, return envelope, Smith told the story of how as a fifth-grader he mailed Michael Jordan a card and never heard back.
He also mentioned how last year he was so eager to meet ex-Cub Mark Grace, but the Diamondbacks announcer never came to the Mets’ clubhouse to meet him even after Ed Coleman mentioned it to Grace.
“He didn’t even come down and say hi,” Smith said, in playful disgust.
Added Smith: “Don’t make Mark Grace sound like a bad guy. He’s my favorite Cub.”
Smith received a copy of the 2K8 baseball video game, which coverboy Jose Reyes provided from his personal stash. The reliever was searching for an Xbox, which he claimed was to find out if Johan Santana had been included on the Mets. Teammates knew the real reason: Smith wanted to find out if he was included in the game.
Now, obviously I am a total faggot and I love Joe and think he’s a basket of puppies licking rainbow ice cream off kittens dressed as unicorns, but am I wrong here? Like, the kid is funny. There’s a reason why these beat reporters always have some kind of adorable Joe Smith quote or anecdote, and I’m sure it isn’t because they suck dick (although who knows, maybe the entire complex of Mets-related media content is created by homos). He’s just an empirically fun, charming dude, a total character and a crack-up. On an old post on Rubin’s BLOGGGGGGGUGGGUGUGUGUGHGHHHHHH regarding Smith’s frugal ways, I once commented “I DEMAND A JOE SMITH REALITY SHOW.” But I’d make do with a blog. I bet it’d be a hoot.
Who else on the Mets should blog?
Certainly not David Wright, who has already gone that route (and was remarkably dull in the process). Certainly not John Maine, who just recently learned how to access the internet (like, really John? Really? How in the world does that happen, that a by-most-accounts normal-seeming 26 year-old just now learns how to get on the internet?!). I could see Jose Reyes having a fun little reggaeton video tumblr or something (why is everyone using tumblrs nowadays and I fucking hate myself for even caring about that and typing out that question). Aaron Heilman seems like a really interesting guy–a proud Democrat and, according to a video on Mets.com a few weeks back, he enjoyed There Will Be Blood because it was “weird.” Maybe he could do film reviews. Ramon Castro is probably hilarious. And I think it’d be great to get a peek inside the mind of crazy ol’ Billy Wagner (because having him yap all the time isn’t nearly enough).
Lastly, smoking will be banned at Shea this season. What the hell am I gonna do!?!?!??! Nine innings of drinking and no cigarettes?! WHY WHY WHY. Cough. Black phlegm. I used to go smoke whenever Guillermo Mota came trotting out of his pen of doom and baby-killing, so at least I won’t have to worry about that anymore. But still. Gah.
Cough. Tar lung. Blog.