The Serval Zippers Sign

The sun seems to shine a little bit brighter today, doesn’t it?

A shutout from an unexpected source will do that for you. Mike Pelfrey, the Mets first 2-game winner of 2008, showed us exactly why we should be grateful he wasn’t part of the haul for Johann the Magnificent. 7 IP, 2 walks, 4 K’s, 5 hits. I’ll take that any day of the week & twice on Sundays. Pelfrey “pounded the zone,” as the current argot goes, and showed a little moxie.

David Wright continues to be David Wright, slamming balls all over the yard. And welcome back Jose! Reyes. Performances like last night’s remind me what all the fuss was about. This man can play the game when his head’s on straight and the hammies aren’t barking.

All in all, a fitting tribute to Jackie Robinson by the home folks.

This was a win out of the 2006 mold. Hell, “we” even had Duaner Sanchez back for the first time in a year-and-a-half. Watching last night, I had a feeling I hadn’t felt since at least last Memorial Day: that this team is gonna be alright. Pedro out indefinitely? No problem: we’ve got Nelson Figueroa! El Duque in a boot? Pelfrey’ll step in and mow ‘em down! Castillo’s slumping? No sweat, just drop him to the 8-hole! I even can’t get on Willie for anything today. It just all seems good.

I know, I know, it’s against the Nationals, who aren’t exactly the next coming of the ‘84 Tigers. Still, it’s been so long since I’ve had this feeling, I wanna roll around in it for a bit.

Maine goes tonight. Take another draught from the cask of ‘06.

…but that wouldn’t be good for me and my Saturday plan, so maybe not so much.

So another Saturday/Sunday combo leaves the Mets with no wins. That’s 2 in a row if you’re scoring at home.

As for Saturday, it was a wonderful day all around. Too bad the ballgame didn’t match the peripherals. I was trying something new as I decided to take the train from Jersey. I figured I’d get to stretch out the iPod and save a couple of bucks in the process, seeing as parking at SheaCiti is up to $15 a pop! This’d be the first time I ever went from NJ by something other than automobile, so I was quite excited. I ran over to O Bagel to get a cuppa, stoped in Stop & Shop & pick up the News & the Star-Ledger, then over to the Lyons station to pick up the 10:10 to Penn Station. Changing in Summit as usual, I got to ride in one of those fancy-schmancy new double-decker trains to the City. So I get to Penn Station and hop over to the LIRR. I forgot that there are no ticket booths for the Long Island anymore, just the electronic kiosks. So for an $8.50 round trip to Shea Stadium, I put a $20 into the machine and got back a quarter and…11 Sacajawea dollar coins! My pocket weighed 57 lbs. I stood on the LIRR the 2 stops to Shea, up the Boardwalk, down the new steps — I miss the old rotunda, btw — over to gate C to leave my other ticket at the will-call for my nephew.

Once I took care of that, went up the escalator at gate C and I could smell the hamburgers frying and the Premio Italian sausages with the peppers & onions steaming and said to myself, “I’m home.” It was a kind of an “Amen”-moment, like I only have when I’m alone with my wife or among my rather large family: this is where I belong. Right here. In this place. At this moment. And I thought, “I am gonna miss this old dump when it’s gone.” It’s where I grew up, where I could first flaunt my “independence” as a teen — driving in with my buddy Tino when I was 15 & 16 and in no need of adult supervision. He was the nominal adult, all of 6 years my senior. The ballpark was ours then. The team was perpetually rebuilding and was drawing hardly anyone. But we were good for 7 or 8 games a year, until we all got proper jobs and could begin to afford the various available ticket plans post-College. By then, of course, tickets were at a premium, because we had an elite team on our hands. In the various ups & downs these past 20-odd years, there was always Shea. And of course in our memories, there always will be.

As I say, the only thing to spoil the idyll was the damn game.

Much as I hate to say it, I gotta pin the loss on Johan the Magnificent. We all knew he had a gopher, he decided to feed it on Saturday. 3 long — I mean long homeruns and a vapor-lock with a runner on third resulted in a 5-3 loss. Hey, even Michelangelo had an off day, right?

Sunday’s game was just ugly & disgusting. 5 double plays? What the hell is that?

OK, so an off day to lick wounds and mend psyches. I know I’ve been off the Willie Randolph bandwagon of late, but he finally has started saying the right things when they put up a stinker like this. Maybe he’s got an inner Gil Hodges after all…

Memo to Charlie Manuel: SUCK IT UP, PRINCESS!

Pissing and moaning about the umpires when you think you’ve gotten a bad call — hell, when you actually have gotten a bad call for that matter — is just bad form. It makes you look like a spoiled little brat. You’re supposed to be the grown-up here…

At the end of last night’s marathon, Jose Reyes scored the winning run on the remarkable Angel Pagan’s single — a mere whisp ahead of Jayson Werth’s tumbler of a throw to the plate.

After all the high-fives and bunny-hops, the aforementioned Mr. Manuel took exception to the umpiring on the play, suggesting that after 12 innings and 4 hours, plate ump Ted Barrett simply “wanted to go home” and called Reyes safe.

Let me ask you, Chuckles: how many dud calls did the Phils benefit from in their “miraculous” rise to the post-season last year? Any protesting howls were brushed away in a moment. Rightly so.

Remember, you heard it here last: “That’s baseball.”

It depends on where you want to put your focus, I guess.

I’m certainly happier today than I was at this time yesterday. A win’ll do that for you.

Here’s the beauty of baseball, though: you can look at things a couple of ways. Did “we” win last night because Mike Pelfrey pitched well, as the company line would have us believe, or was it a fortunate confluence of events which helps a Philly phan sleep at night?

In any case, there ain’t no RPI in baseball: a win is a win is a win. I won’t be giving it back.

And what to say?

The anticipation of yesterday has turned into disgust in the cold light of this morning.

I wasn’t there, but the “feel” of yesterday’s version of Amrageddon was exactly the same as last September 15, when I sat in my LF upper deck seats (aka “The Perch”) with Greg. We were oh so clever, sticking it to the Phiile phans as Pedro Martinez was mowing ‘em down inning after inning…

“NINE-TEEN-AAAY-TEE! (clap, clap, clapclapclap)”
“You boo’d Mike Schmidt!”
“Ben Chapman was a racist!”
“The Eagles have never won a Super Bowl!”
“Your public transportation system is sub-standard!”

We were rolling.

Until Pedro had to leave the game, that is…

The bullpen follies that day were instrumental in running the Mets’ L streak against the Phils to 7 straight.

The bullpen follies yesterday were instrumental in running the Mets’ L streak against the Phils to 9 straight.

Willie’s bullpen and in-game management troubles are well-documented. Yes, I know he was hamstrung yesterday with Feliciano and Wise unavailable, and I know Schoeneweis actually did induce the DP grounder from Howard, but Perez should not have been removed! And why wasn’t Endy bunting in the 8th with Schneider on 1st & nobody out?

I’m not quite in the “Willie Must Go!” camp — though membership is increasing exponentially with every game, he’s still no Bud Harrelson — but I’m beginning to seriously question Willie Randolph’s ability to skipper this crew.

And then…

There’s the “even keel” attitude, which probably works fine for the collective clubhouse psyche, but drives us fans up a tree. It can be summed up by these two internet postings.

In any case, with the chill weather and the dispiriting play, until further notice — or, more accurately further better play — this is still Autumn 2007, rather than Spring 2008.

The home opener is less than 2 hours away and I’m too keyed-up to write anything coherant, so let’s just say I wish the Phillies to have the snot beat out of them for the next 3 days and…

LET’S GO METS!

The other day, I was complaining about the pitching matchup I’d get to watch this coming Saturday.

Well, due to a somewhat fortuitous rainout on Friday and Willie Randolph’s desire to look like an intelligent manager, I’ll get to see Santana after all…

OK, so after a weekend of truly crappy play in Atlanta, I’ve come to 2 conclusions:

1. The Braves are gonna be a bitch all year long.
2. The Mets need Moises Alou.

As to the first point, there ain’t much we can do about it. They’ll do what they do the 143 times they don’t face the Mets and the Mets will have to knock ‘em off at every opportunity. They did not do that this weekend.

The second pont is a bit more of an iffy proposition. With Carlos Delgado in obvious eclipse, there’s a bit of a sinkhole south of the cleanup spot — Ryan Church notwithstanding. Today, it seemed like Brian Schneider or Johann Santana was perpetually leading off. That ain’t good.

Alou in the middle of this lineup offers that elusive “protection” for Delgado above him, or would be available to switch spots with Delgado as he continues down the slippery slope towards retirement. Alou would bust up that lefty-heavy portion of the order.

Unfortunately, Ol’ Moise’s injury is one that can’t be rushed or quickly rehabbed: he’ll be ready when he’s ready and you can’t fool with it. I can only keep my digits overlapped that he’ll be able to return before the 1st of June.

Johann Santana deserved far better today, and Christ, John Smoltz must have a portrait of himself that’s going to hell tucked away somewhere in his attic…

Not feeling like writing a whole lot today. It was an off-day yesterday and the weather is most dreary today. I’m still obviously excited about our new purchase and I’m up to the G’s in loading my iPod touch — alphabetically by artist’s last name, in case you’re wondering.

Maine vs. Hudson tonight in Atlanta. Looks to be a very good pitching matchup.

Oh! Here’s something…

The fallout from Pedro’s injury has fallen on me. I have tickets for Saturday, April 12 vs. the Brewers. Going by the initial rotation that was talked about, I was gonna get a Johann Santana start.

But now, with Pedro out, Oliver Perez gets pushed up to start the Opener on Tuesday and I get…the immortal Nelson Figueroa!

Jesus, I’d rather see Ed Figueroa…

None of the above.

More like 4-to-6. That’s how many weeks Pedro gets to sit and try to heal his “mildly” strained hammy. If it’s so damn mild how come he’s out a month? This is why I’m out here and not in a dugout…or an MRI clinic…

Anyway, nice win last night.

Ollie Perez looked dominant over 6 — he could have gone longer, but by then the Mets had an 11-0 lead. It should have been 12, but the boneheads in blue turned Carlos Beltran’s homer into a double. But I don’t want replay, so I’ll just have to suck it up. This should be my biggest worry as a new homeowner, right?

Off day today. First of 3 with the heated rival Atlanta Braves tomorrow.

‘Dazit.