Clintonian

The New York Mets. When they are on, they are like Bill Clinton in 1992. When they are not, they are like Bill Clinton in 2008.

Today it's 1992.

Losing One Can Mean Everything. Or Nothing.

My favorite part about the MLB package is that you get to watch announcers from all over baseball. So I have been listening with glee to the Dodgers announcer who knows as much about the Mets as the current Congress and President seem to know about policy making.

This false sense of perspective must have worked on me. I fell asleep on the couch sometime in the 4th inning without too much agita. The Dodgers had a pitching meltdown that looked disturbingly Met-like. The boys were winning 4-1. I felt alright going to bed.

But I had ignored the warning signs - no hitting. David Wright striking out. Lots and lots of base runners stranded. I was so focused on the decent pitching and excellent offense, I ignored the soft underbelly... bats as cold as an office building in summertime. Mets lose 5-4.

As in life and in politics, you can't have it all. Sometimes you win one, sometimes you lose one. As this stage of the baseball season it's not just one that makes the final decision. As for politics, I guess we'll see in Denver.

What the West Can Do

West coast baseball is a sleep killer. The games don't come on until 10 and by midnight I am usually begging to be put to bed. Last night was no different; after watching the first inning of Oliver Perez I figured I could go to bed because I already knew the outcome.

He was battered by the batters (literally by a pitch) and just seemed to lack concentration at times. Sigh. Nothing new here, unfortunately. Just a repeat of the last two outings.

Now it could have been worse, in the end it was only 5-1. And the Dodgers are hot, hot, hot. But, I'm not sure this was the team I saw pounce on Arizona just a few days ago. Who the hell showed up last night? Maybe it's California, we know what it can do to you. Just ask Barack.

Our Guam

Wow, what a weekend between the Mets and the gorgeous weather. The past two days were literally the most beautiful of the year - 70s, 80s... perfect biking weather. And I took advantage of it.

That, of course, meant that I only saw a bit of the Mets take the series 2-1 from Arizona, the team with the best record in baseball. Now before you think we're out of the woods, think again. Yes, we won today in a pitchers duel (yes, we won a pitchers duel, shocking I know) between Johan and Dan Haren. But yesterday was a complete and total pitching meltdown, not dissimilar to the Pittsburgh avalanche last week. Friday was a beauty, with Moises Alou back, Jose's bat alive, and pitching that held it together. What can I say... we're streakier than my pollen covered windows.

And we're still a half game out of first. Consider this series kind of like Guam - sometimes it's the perception and the subsequent momentum that matters more than anything.

Believe

Now I know what it is like to be a Ron Paul operative. After yesterday's unbelievable Mets performance (for those of you not in the know 13-1 trouncing), I can only believe that it is my own delusions that are feeding any ideas of Mets grandeur.

I didn't watch, since it was a day game. But here's the quick recap: poor Oli left after the second inning when the Pirates... yes, the Pirates, scored SEVEN... yes seven, runs. But that was only meltdown #1. Sosa repeated the same performance just a couple of innings later. But this time, it was just 5 runs. While these problems are not new, they were just jacked up on steroids yesterday.

More disturbing were the number of errors. Chase downs, bad communication between players. Dude, where's the team that has dominated over the last two years? Trying not to freak out. It is only April and if you're gonna melt, this is the time. Plus, these guys are only human. And while we expect our ballplayers and our political figures to be absolutely perfect every time, I know they're all just human. So no yelling, no booing. Y'all are perfect on paper, now you all just need to believe it.

Rocky Road

Yesterday was free cone day at Ben and Jerry's, but I abstained since beach season is around the corner. However, I still got a dose of Rocky Road watching the Mets last night. And against the Pirates at that. Almost worse than watching a bungling against the Nats.

Ugly night. Crap throw by Reyes, bullpen dramas (Heilman continues on a trajectory that looks like Fred Thompson's presidential bid - doomed from the third week; two run scored off Billy Wagner; Sanchez loading the bases), and the usual high number of stranded runners.

After 11 innings, they won 5-4. That was the dessert.

Settling In For the War

For just a moment watching the Mets v. Braves today, I felt bad for the Braves. In an emotion I am all too familiar with, I watched an aging pitcher fall part. But this time it was John Smoltz (because of course, every aging Mets pitcher is already on the DL).

This tiny weakness was enough for the Mets bats to wake up, including two, yes TWO, big ass home runs by Carlos D. Beautiful. I, along with pretty much all of Metland, have been trashing Carlos D. for not performing. Today was a welcome change; I guess Friday's mental health day did its' voodoo.

The bullpen even held it together, Schoenweis included. 6-3, the boys are back. We won the battle. The war? Tied for second with Philly, where half the team is on the DL. Let's settle in for a long season gang, just like another contest that won't be settled until later this year.

Is Willie's Time Up?

Now, I love Willie Randolph. Love. Seriously. An exceptional player. A Brooklyn boy. But this team has so much talent, has spent so much damn money, and has so much opportunity. Last night's loss against the Braves was not just the bullpen or the starting pitching, but slopping fielding and lost hitting opportunities. It's a serious funk. Benching Carlos D isn't a bad idea, but I wonder if that's just throwing the wrong man overboard.

Sometimes when things start to feel Titanic-like, you've got to look around and make some changes. More fundamental than a new player here or letting go a manager coach. Hillary Clinton did it by dumping Patty Solis Doyle, who was a longtime, very loyal staffer. McCain did it by dumping the Bush crew last year. And look at where we are now.

After last year, after this type of start, I just wonder if a complete change of atmosphere is needed for everyone in Mets nation. I'm not screaming in New York-ease, "Get him the fuck out" but maybe it's an option to consider. There, I've said it.

#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.

Loss in Politics and Baseball

Am home watching Pennsylvania returns, no baseball. And after last night's gut wrenching loss to the Cubs, I was grateful to miss the Mets daytime slaughtering. Last night, 7-1 and today 8-1.

And a bloodbath it was today, identical to yesterday. Bullpen takes over; Mets fall apart. Last night Heilman, today Sosa. My relievers that not only give no relief, they give away the damn game. Bats asleep, even my boyfriends couldn't get it going.

I mourn, I loss, I grieve, I move on. Is this how life feels at Obama HQ tonight? Spent so much, but just not getting enough to win.