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.