Mets Collapse Again--Who Says History Never Repeats?

      Well, I do actually. Yes, once again, the Mets' playoff hopes were dashed by the Florida Marlins on the last day of the season, thanks to a miserable final two weeks. But though the heartbreaking result was the same as in 2007, history didn't exactly repeat itself in 2008.
      Last year, the highly-paid Mets stars pressed and underperformed at crunch time, failing to produce when it mattered most. This year the stars all played pretty well (that fateful Cubs game notwithstanding), but were repeatedly let down by what turned out to be the worst bullpen in the National League--perhaps the worst Mets bullpen Shea has seen since Casey Stengel sat scratching his head in the dugout. While front-office management can't produce on the field, and the loss of Billy Wagner could not have been predicted, a group of players at or near the top in most offensive, defensive, and starting pitching statistics might be forgiven if they look to Minaya and the personnel powers that be and wonder why there was no fourth wheel on the playoff bus.
      So go ahead and tear the dump down and move next door. Shake the dust from your cleats. After the last two years--if it weren't for a handful of magic World Series moments at Shea--I'd say go ahead and salt the earth while you're at it. Let's go Mets!

New VISA ad to Feature Johan Santana

• One baseball program--with pencil--to document what might have been the final meaningful game of the Mets' season--$3
• One complete New York Mets uniform, number 57, including pitcher's glove and rosin bag--$284
• One season of ace left-handed starting pitching--$16,984,216
• Nine innings of shut-out ball on three days rest with the season on the line--priceless

Mets Cling to Flickering Spark of Life

      During the press conference after a gutsy, come-from-behind win against the Cubs in the wind and pouring rain at Shea, an excited but surprisingly pale Jerry Manuel talks about the Mets' hope for the postseason.

Mets Celebrate Second Annual September ChokeFest: Curmudgeon's Corner (8)

      Smokey Burner, the Broken Stove's resident curmudgeon, doesn't often find himself at a loss for words, but that is the case with Smokey this morning. You see, Smokey is a Mets fan, and last night Smokey watched his Mets--for the second year in a row--make early plans for their October golf vacations. Technically, they were playing an important game against the Cubs in the middle of a playoff race, but metaphorically, they were on the phone with their travel agents, booking flights to Pebble Beach.
      And Smokey witnessed the whole bloody debacle. Smokey cheered when Carlos Delgado, who has almost single-handedly carried the team to the brink of the playoffs since the All-Star break, hit a grand slam to give the Mets a four run lead. Smokey frowned when volatile pitcher Oliver Perez told Carlos "thanks, but no thanks" and promptly pissed that lead away. Smokey's flagging hopes were raised in consecutive innings when the Mets had a runner on third with nobody out, then dashed as they only managed one run in those innings--on a bases-loaded walk.
      But the much-maligned bullpen was doing just well enough to give the Mets a shot, and when the bottom of the ninth rolled around they were still tied at six. Then rookie Daniel Murphy, a bright spot in the lineup all year, opened the bottom of the ninth with a triple, and the heart of the order was coming up. Smokey wondered to himself about the statistics--with a runner on third and nobody out, how often does at least one run score? Seventy percent of the time? Eighty? More? David Wright--the Mets' RBI leader--had a 3-0 count, but could not single, or fly out, or even ground out to the right side of the infield. He struck out swinging at ball four. That's all right, thought Smokey, we've got two more shots, and the odds are still way with us. The Cubs walked Delgado and Beltran to get to Church, who grounded meekly into a force at the plate. Suddenly, Smokey was less sanguine. Suddenly, Smokey had thoughts of 2007 and deja vu all over again. Sure enough, Ramon Castro then struck out on three pitches, and Smokey knew what would happen next.
      Let's try a little hypothetical exercise, shall we? In a key game for them, and knowing the team they are chasing in the standings has already lost that day, a baseball team (let's call them the Mutts) have three consecutive innings (including the bottom of the ninth) with runners on third and nobody out--and manage only one run. Their opponents (let's call them the Cabs), in a game that doesn't matter to them at all, have two outs and nobody on in the tenth inning, then score three runs to win the game. Which of these teams is most likely to already be in the playoffs? Oh, yes, Smokey knows the Mutts, umm Mets, might still sneak into the playoffs ahead of the Brewers. Heck, they might even catch a break and catch the Phillies.
      But Smokey knows they've already made that metaphorical call to the travel agent. Smokey knows they've already got tee times.

The Dangers of Living Green, or The Attack of the Beast with Two Cheeks

      Whenever the weather's fine, my wife and I like to save a little electricity by hanging our clothes out on the deck and taking advantage of some of that free solar power that's so plentiful here in North Carolina. It might not end our national dependence on foreign oil, but it keeps the electric clothes dryer silent for several months a year. Plus, it makes the clothes smell good.
      I discovered yesterday, however, that green living is not without its dangers. I had just showered and pulled on a t-shirt and pair of shorts that had dried out on the line the day before. As I stood in the bathroom brushing my hair, I heard a buzzing, like a fly caught in a window. But loud. I couldn't quite place where the little guy was, but since I was standing right next to the window, I assumed he was trapped behind the blinds. But, man, did that bug sound pissed off. And loud. Too loud for a housefly. Maybe he was one of those big horseflies...but, you know...he really sounded more like a bee. And loud. And closer even than the window.
      The exact nature and location of the insect in question were finally made clear to me when the little bastard stung me twice in the ass. I quickly vacated the bathroom and my clothes, and retreated to the living room to assess the situation. When my brain finally cycled out of ass-preservation mode, I realized that a bee had gotten caught up in my clothes from the line and spent what must have been a long, dark night of the soul trapped in my shorts in my dresser drawer. Since he had already had a bad night, I shouldn't exactly have been surprised that he reacted less than charitably to finding himself swept up once again and trapped against my naked ass. His reaction, while regrettable, can hardly be second-guessed.
      I've been saying "he," but really I should say "she." When I girded up my loins and returned to my abandoned clothes, I discovered a Xylocopa, or carpenter bee, still dazed and obviously traumatized, clinging to the inside of my shorts. According to Wikipedia--the fount of all suspect knowledge--among carpenter bees, "males are harmless since they do not have a stinger. Female bees do have a stinger, but are not aggressive, and will not sting unless directly provoked." I must admit that shutting her in my drawer and then pressing her against my ass cannot be considered as anything other than provocative.
      Animal lovers will be glad to hear that I decided against retribution, and imprisoned Mrs. Carpenter only long enough to show her to my wife and tell my tale of woe. After the requisite laughter at my expense, Donna released her back into the garden, where Mrs. Carpenter was last seen lustily pollinating one of our sedum plants, and presumably sharing with her apian friends her own harrowing tale--of a dark night, sudden movement, and the attack of the beast with two cheeks.