Groundhog Day in September

I went to last night's Mets-Nats game in the lovely new Nats stadium here in DC. Sat in the best seats I had been in this season, courtesy of a good friend/recovering Mets fans.  As we watched the game last night, he told me how his spirit had been broken during the 2000 World Series.

I get his pain circa 2000. Flashback.... The Mets were right there (against the Yankees no less) in the big time. And they screwed up. They let it slip through their gifted little fingers in the 12th inning in Game One, coming back in the 9th in Game Two only to lose, winning the third and crumbling to the end. That was the Mets of 2000.

Fortunately he gave up then. He didn't have to live through 2006 or last year. Instead of feeling like it was Groundhog Day in September, he was yippin' it up with the fans of the lovable losers and yet again Mets spoilers. Hadn't I been to this same game in September already?

Sadly, it wasn't deja vu. It was another Mets loss. In September. Against the lousy Nats. The only consolation is that it wasn't the Yankees.

Oh and those beautiful seats. 

Someone Else to Kick Around

Oh Mets. What can I say? The only thing that changed since I last blogged about you is that you are no longer clinging to .500... you're officially under .500 and are closer to competing with the Nats than with the Braves. You dropped three out of four against the Rockies. Something is outta whack.

Charges of racism (in a game that is more integrated than most workplaces or communities in America it should be noted) by Willie, our star players looking like Mitt Romney (over-hyped and under-performing), and of course the hitting. Or lack thereof.

My two cents on the Willie thing - I said last month that it might be time for him to go. I don't know if that will solve the problem immediately but there is something wrong at the core if a team built like this can't get things going. Sometimes those who are the most gifted are the most lazy laziest, which is why leadership and guidance are critical. I fear those things are missing and is that is precisely what is holding us back.

And it looks like tonight will be no different than the last couple of days. Another loss; I suppose the Marlins is an excuse. Clearly the boys aren't playing up to their potential, but in this case the perception fueled by the media have become the reality. Joe Girardi must be a happy guy - everyone is so busy trashing the Mets that the end of a five-game winning streak is probably not a contender for the sharp tongue of tomorrow's NY Post.

Better Than Broadway

Oh New York. Such drama. The saga of the Mets has taken on a soap opera feel, with Billy Wagner playing Cruella de Vil in the locker room after the Nats disaster. Instead of a game against the Yankees on Friday, the team had a rain out meeting something like an AA gathering replete with recriminations, apologies and a vow to play like the $100 million plus team the Wilpons and you and me have paid for.

Something worked. Maybe it was the sharing of feelings, maybe it was the thrill of the subway series. Whatever the case, we've got yesterday's win and today's plowdown in the Bronx. 11-2. Now granted there's no A-Rod and no Posada in the Yankees lineup. But it wasn't about that. It was about Oli holding it together and more importantly the Mets bats performing (18 runs over the last two days, which is probably more than the last three weeks).

What's so amazing about the Willie-Billy-Delgado drama is that in any other town it wouldn't have escalated to this point. But other towns don't have the tabloids or the aggressive fans. At least the tale of these two wins after last week will give them what they are all looking for - a damn good show.

Disgusted

I didn't watch yesterday's "pitchers duel" between Mike Pelfrey and the Nat's Jason Bergmann (who was recalled from the minor leagues). 1-0. And not one for us.

I'm not giving the blow by blow, but yet again the matzo bats failed. Just call the Nats Mike Huckabee - unlikely to win it all, but certainly exceeding expectations.

Me, I'm just disgusted.

Eye on the Prize

Yes, I know the Nats are the worst second worst team in the National League. Yes, I know we should be kicking their butts. But it is not so. 5-3 at the hands of Heilman, who maybe should also be designated for assignment a la Sosa and Figueroa. Claudio Vargas, brought up from the minors, pitched a solid game before the Heilman giveaway.

What gave me a giggle was watching the broadcast on MASN (the Nats network) and the announcers commenting how they couldn't understand the booing at Shea when Heilman showed up on the mound. Couldn't understand?? Haven't these guys watched a single day of Mets baseball?!

Nevermind. I'm letting go. It's not far off from Clinton's West Virginia victory earlier this week... kinda futile. Phillies and Braves lost, so the half game sandwich remains.

Nasty as They Wanna Be

If the Mets were Sybil, last night would have been the appearance of their childlike personality. With pitching and fielding like an 11 year old slow pitch team, they were routed by the Nats (yes, the Nats) 10-4. Nelson Figueroa melted down early and often and Sosa (one of my favorite S's) gave the Nats the rest of it. Nice scoreless 8th from Sanchez, who was shaky the last time I saw him.

But overall, ugly. Ug-lee.

What seems to be the talk today (other than Figueroa's future) is Lasting Milledge and his crew applauding the Mets flubs. The Times writes all about it.

I didn't see it, but I'm not surprised. Milledge, who was once a Met, always lacked a little maturity. Showing up late, high fives with the fans - it just ain't classy. Hence his move to the Nats.

We got the better end of that deal (Church and Schneider) even if it didn't show last night. Oh well. The battle v. the war, right? I need something as I think about where we were last May (first place) and where we are now - three back, in a half game sandwich between our two biggest rivals. And who's number one? The Marlins. Look out world, it's as crazy as John McCain getting the Republican nod seemed 9 months ago.

The only consolation in that is McCain imploded early.

#6

Last night was my premiere of the Nats new stadium, which is absolutely lovely. Gleaming like a shiny pair of new shoes, the stadium stands in a neighborhood of the city that once housed titty bars and gay male strip clubs. Now, instead of rave clubs (that I once went to), hulking shells of buildings that promise urban reclamation are being slapped together by a developer who also happens to be the majority owner of the team. How convenient for me, a taxpayer shouldering one of the largest individual municipal tax burdens in the nation. No fretting though, there's also MLB's largest jumbotron!

At least there was something for me to enjoy because the game was a complete disaster for the Mets. Every potential weakness became as magnified as that big ass TV in centerfield. Ugliness from everyone - Perez, the relievers that bring no relief, Carlos Delgado, and Reyes and Wright not hitting. A Mets apocalypse, 10-5.

Nearly all of these things are not new. I have bitched about them in one form or another since I have been blogging. But there's a new one on the list.... Carlos D. I was talking about him last night to my friend who I went to the game with. In our conversation, we talked about his move to 6th in the batting order. She revealed that she too had been cast into the role of #6 when she was in a slump. Just as interesting, she was also at first.

She got over her slump. Let's just hope #6 is the tonic.

Praying for a Surge

The Mets have had a lovely week thus far, pounding the Nats in a manner reminiscent of Desert Storm. Pitching, alive and well, even Mike Pelfrey. But tonight, it is now 11 pm and things are starting to look more like the more recent foray into a large, oil filled country in the Middle East.

It's the 12th inning, the Mets barely scrambled to the 2-2 tie in the 8th. It's not the pitching. Again, we are suffering from the bats that are as flat as matzoh. Passover is Saturday boys. I need my surge today. It may or may not work, but if it's all you got, it's all you got.

Crocodile Tears

The only tears that came from last night's 3-2 win by the Nats is that the new stadium is finally open. While I am part of a group of taxpayers that is financing 94 percent of a stadium in a city that doesn't have functioning public schools and potholes that threaten my daily commute, I am not bitching. No more institutional food, no more seats with posts in the way. Now that's progress.

And hey, now the Mets are a half game up on the Braves...

Amazin'

I started yesterday determined not to let baseball dominate the day. I had a party to prep for and a good friend who needed my attention.

We are out shopping and a random dude says to me, hey, you know they are up 4-0. Ah yes, I am wearing my Mets hat. Addiction resumed, thank gawd for the blackberry and auto refresh. And it just kept getting better; emails started to come in, people started calling. I watched the last 2 innings of the Philles- Nats....

Amazin'.

As long as you control your own fate, anything is possible. And that's where we are today. As FOI (Friend of Oliver & I) MEC reminds us, this is exactly why Tommy is here. Do your thing Tommy G and make the Mets fate what you want it to be.

This is where politics and baseball are different; at the end of the day in politics, there is something emotional that impacts people to choose you and transcends your physical ability to campaign or raise money. At the end of the day in baseball, your ability is all you've got. That and your own emotional state. Yesterday was the turn on that one and there has never been any doubt about our ability.

So let's show 'em what we've got.

Moises=Moses

I gave up last night, somewhere in the 7th inning and retreated as depressed as the day before about the state of Mets Nation as I am about the rest of the nation. Thankfully I nearly spit my coffee out this morning as I was reading all about how the boys came back to score 6, yes 6 runs in the 9th.

They still lost, 10-9, but seems like all the boys pitched in to close the gap. Jose the spark, Castillo, my boyfriend, and of course Mosies Alou, who has become the beacon of hope.

Note this exchange from the Times:

“It doesn’t mean a thing,” Lo Duca said. “It doesn’t matter if we lose by eight runs or one. It’s still a loss.” Perhaps 15 feet away, Moises Alou, whose bases-loaded double with one out drew the Mets to within a run, said: “You always want to think about the positive. You never want to dwell on the negative.”

I'm pretty sure Moises is Moses. And you know how my tribe feels about Moses.

Oh Where, Oh Where Has it Gone?

Our pitching, that is. I didn't want to fully discuss, but last night's super painful 13-4 raping by the Nats is the end of my silence. The sad thing is, I can tell you where- it has gone to the last 156 games and staying in first all season, albeit today by just 2 games.

There were pitchers last night that I never even heard of warming up in the bullpen. And I have been paying attention, I promise.

I just can't believe this is where we are with just a week left in the season. No political analogies; I need to research some great comebacks, cause at this point I can't see any on the current political front.

Half Alive, But Alive Still

8-4, they got it done. It wasn't perfect, but the pitching seems to be alive again (Mike Pelfrey, I misjudged thee). The bats were alive, but the defense remains as sloppy as Fred Thompson's stump appearances.

I am off to the Sunshine State on Friday and I will join the Mets on Saturday with my parents on the holiest day of the Jewish year. Let's hope for the best; I need to believe that somebody up there is a Mets fan, I am kinda starting to wonder. At least we can hope for a better Florida appearance than Thompson endured.

Phillies are still duking it out with the Cards, but we're still at game and a half. It's a big number in New York right now.

32" Flat Screen

That is where I am enjoying tonight's game... 3rd inning, Mets down 2-1, Jose Reyes on 2nd. I am hating the announcers for the Nats; they are talking about the team as if they are hermetically sealed in a bubble and don't know that the Nats are actually 15 and a half games out of first place. That being said, if you were hermetically sealed in a bubble in this series, you wouldn't know the Mets were in first place.

Game update: My boyfriend drove Reyes in, game tied. Believe.

I Just Couldn't Cope...

Am watching from home tonight. After the incident that conspired last evening, I thought it best to have a swim, find some zen and take tonight's events from a safe place. My couch. So far, 7-3, Mets.

UPDATE: Johnny Maine melted down; 8-7 Nats. I am foraging for ice cream. Pitching, pitching, pitching, where have you gone?

I Witnessed the Crime

Against the name of the New York Mets last night... Between the bad pitching, nightmare relief, sloppy fielding and too much to eat, I left RFK last night feeling like I had been poisoned.

Pounded would be an understatement. And by the wimpiest guy in our school. Massacred actually, 12- 4. I just hope we live.
I can't decide if I should go to tonight's game, I may end

up permanently damaged. I try to find a high note, but after what I saw last night, it is tough. Really tough. I can't decide if my lingering stomach ache is from the giant hot dog or from how painful the beating really was. Or the fact that our lead in the NL East is now as skinny as Nicole Ritchie when we need it to look more like Britney.

Please come back New York Mets, I miss you.

My Name is Not Chicken Little

Some regular O&I readers have chastised me for not always seeing the big picture, for fretting over every win and every loss. Well I hate to gloat now, but it is getting tighter than the Democratic nomination race will ever be - three and a half games.

Today, complete disaster. Total disaster. Backed into a corner disaster? Maybe. I'll let ya know after I see the Mets here in DC tomorrow night. If that can't beat the Nats, the world really is ending.

At Last, the Golden Ticket

Ahh.. at last it is glorious spring in DC, probably the most perfect weekend for the Mets to grace my adopted hometown.

I went to the game on Friday night to see Oliver. In knickerbockers-style uniform, he lasted seven innings, but went down 4-3. The Nats scored off him early, which could have led him into disaster, a la his last loss against Philly a couple of weeks ago. But he held it together and in the end, the Mets hitting, which is still warming up to full potency, did not come through.

Oliver knew he was not to blame. After he pitched an uneventful 7th inning, he skipped off the field, hopping over the sideline like an 11-year old boy. The funny thing was, he was on a verge of a loss and he was as elated as Charlie when he found the Golden Ticket. And why? Because he came back from his brink, from his first inning of near disaster and pitched a solid game. Like the big boys do.