Johan Santana Pitches 1st Mets No-Hitter

Some Days It's Hard To Be a Mets Fan... Today More Than Usual

I received a solicitation email from the New York Mets today to purchase season tickets. I had previously been a season ticket holder until last season. Now they want me back and decided to ask me after letting Jose Reyes go to the Florida Marlins less than two days earlier.

My first thought was, "Are you fucking kidding me?!"

Here's my response:

Date: December 6, 2011
To: Christopher Leuth, Account Executive, NY Mets
From: Broadway Carl
Re: "We Want You Back" Email

Thank you for your email introduction and your information video for the upcoming 2012 New York Mets season. And as a lifelong Mets fan, I must say I'm impressed by your presentation. It's probably not very easy for you to be an account executive for the Mets these days. I know it's certainly not easy being a fan.

I am frankly a bit surprised, shocked really, at the timing of this email with the wounds so freshly open less than 48 hours after the news that the Mets organization didn't think twice about letting Jose Reyes, it's best player last season and arguably the best leadoff hitter in the league, go to a division rival without a fight. The fan base is at best, not happy, and at worst, in a rabid rage over this most recent example of insouciance.

That Mets management would think it's a good idea to release this email soliciting prospective season tickets buyers while they recover from its latest collective bloody nose shows the ineptness with which this organization has been run over these past few years and just proves how out of touch it is to its fans, regardless of how many surveys and online forms are filled out.
And what's really galling, what hurts the most as a fan of the New York Mets for the last four decades, is the dishonesty with which the organization treats its fans.

We're not stupid. We know that financially, things have been tough on the ownership. We know the Wilpons took a hit with the Madoff ponzi scheme and that they're not out of the woods yet. We know the new stadium was a big expense. We know that the organization was extended a loan from MLB to meet payroll. And we know that all these factors were going to hurt the team competitively. And yet, we were continued to be sold a bill of goods.

Instead of being honest with a loyal following, what were we told? We were told that we'd stay competitive just as soon as the contracts of certain players were shed. We were told that the contracts of Oliver Perez, Luis Castillo, Carlos Beltran and Francisco Rodriguez were a drag on the payroll. So Perez and Castillo were released. Beltran and Rodriguez were traded. And overall, the fans understood the trades because they thought your organization was looking to the future in the upcoming Reyes free agency eligibility. The fans thought that although your bosses were shedding on one side, it was all in preparation for a resigning of Reyes, the 2011 NL Batting Champion, the first batting champ in the history of the New York Mets.

But no. We couldn't even match the Florida Marlins' offer. The Marlins! The second worst team in 2011 attendance didn't even struggle to outbid a franchise in one of the biggest markets on the planet. Yet you want me to financially commit to season tickets, when your own management won't commit to a legitimate attempt to put a competitive team on the field.

Now we are hearing stories that the new drags on the payroll are David Wright, Jason Bay and Johan Santana. Well, where does it end? This isn't the Pittsburgh Pirates. This isn't the Kansas City Royals. This is the New York Mets. NEW YORK.

Still, I don't envy your position. And I hope you don't work on commission. But please convey this message to your supervisors, their supervisors, even the ownership: My love for the Mets will never waver. I live and die with every pitch. And I'll consider purchasing tickets on a regular basis when the team is sold to a viable owner.

On This Date...

posted by Armadillo Joe

Two years ago, Steve "Gilly" Gilliard died. He was one of the mightiest of the early proto-bloggers, a New Yorker, a journalist and military historian and a die-hard Mets fan. I never met him, but the blinding, gotta-wear-shades intensity of his writing inspired me to start blogging myself and much of my blogging style continues to draw inspiration from -- but could never remotely hope to match -- his unapologetic incandescence. His blog was the first place I ever posted a comment or even got into an exchange with another commenter. No one in the lefty-blogosphere, except perhaps the dark, billowing, poetic clouds of electric prose of driftglass, comes even close to replicating Gilly's wit, ferocity and exacting historical detail.

To this day, his dismantling of Rudy "9/11" Ghoul-iani stands as one of my all-time favorite blog posts.

This is what I wrote over at my original old blog on the day I read of his death:

Steve Gilliard of The News Blog has died. He's been sick for a while, and I have thought for these last few months of his illness that he would be pulling out of it sometime soon, but today it got the better of him. As you can see on the left, The News Blog is on my blogroll. He's one of my online heroes, and his methods and style have been a guide and inspiration for this blog. His fierce tone and unapologetic argumentation have seemed to me for the three years I've been reading The News Blog the way liberals should be approaching discourse with a disingenuous and petty right wing. He gave no mercy and he expected none.

He was also a New Yorker. As Jane Hamsher of FireDogLake wrote this afternoon:

He was very much affected by the experience of 9/11 and resented those who wanted to appropriate it for their own purposes, and didn't think that anyone who wasn't there that day could ever understand what it was like to have their whole existence shaken in such a profound way. Like many New Yorkers, he felt quite proprietary about that day and it very much shaped who he was and fueled his passion for blogging. He'd spent most of the morning grumbling online at those he felt could not possibly know what they were talking about.

Steve was unique, and it struck me as odd how someone could be such a pragmatist and a purist at the same time. He was eloquent, fierce, irascible, passionate, brilliant and brave.

I never met him. I had hoped that at some point I could build enough street cred as a blogger to eventually meet up with one of my fellow New York bloggers, even though he is the King of All New York City Blogosphere and I have a readership of about three (and a half). Now I won't get the chance to invite him to a Mets game to talk about politics and military history. That makes me sad.

He was even, to my knowledge, the first blogger to be profiled in the New York Times -- albeit posthumously -- as part of their end-of-year wrap-up for 2007. I reprint it here in its entirety:

Steven Gilliard Jr. | b. 1964
Invisible Blogger
By MATT BAI
Published: December 30, 2007

The sidewalks of Harlem’s main thoroughfares are wide and inviting, and in the 1960s the kids playing “boxball” shared the asphalt squares with some of the greatest orators in creation. The most famous spot for speechifying was the “Speakers’ Corner” outside Lewis Michaux’s bookstore on 125th Street, where Malcolm X delivered his lectures on race and politics. On weekends or after work, fathers took their boys down to the corners in Harlem to watch any number of would-be firebrands engaged in emotional debate over Vietnam or the state of race relations or Bobby Kennedy’s political future.

Steve Gilliard was born into this Harlem and took it all in, but he wouldn’t find his voice on the corners. He was quiet, bookish, overweight. He won entrance to an elite high school, where he passed his time reading obscure military histories, then studied history and journalism at New York University. He found his true calling, though, on the Internet. In 1998, when he was 34, Gilliard joined a new site called NetSlaves.com, whose blogger-reporters chronicled the misadventures of the new high-tech work force, and there he discovered his own kind of incendiary oration. It was by the dim light of a computer screen, rather than on the sunlit corners of Harlem, that Gilliard took to expertly excoriating the moneyed establishment.

By 2003, Gilliard had become one of the first official “guest bloggers” on Daily Kos, then on its way to becoming the most influential of the new liberal political blogs, where he informed his indictments of the Iraq war with detailed references to the British occupation of Mesopotamia. Eventually he created his own site — “Steve was a big personality, and it was clear he needed his own stage,” Daily Kos’s creator, Markos Moulitsas Zúniga, later wrote — and became one of a small group of early political bloggers with his own devoted following (and a self-sustaining, if modest, income from ads). On Gilliard’s “News Blog,” along with the partisan attacks on Republicans that made him a hated figure on the conservative blogs, he specialized in applying history to the present day, which made him an unusual and distinctive voice. In 2004, he banged out a remarkable 37-part series, the equivalent of about 200 typed pages, chronicling the foibles of European colonialism.

Though Gilliard, unlike many bloggers, always used his real name, few readers knew much about him. They didn’t know, for instance, that at age 39 he had open-heart surgery to repair an infected valve. They didn’t know he lived alone in a small apartment in East Harlem. And, although Gilliard often wrote about race and alluded to his own perspective, a lot of readers never realized he was black. In the incident that brought him the most infamy, Gilliard acidly attacked Michael Steele, the black Republican candidate for U.S. Senate in Maryland in 2006, as a traitor to his race. Black conservatives like Steele infuriated Gilliard, who couldn’t understand how any African-American could support a party that exploited racial prejudice. “I’s Simple Sambo and I’s Running for the Big House,” read Gilliard’s caption, below a doctored photo of Steele as a minstrel. Only after the post earned him headlines in major newspapers and recriminations from politicians of both parties did a lot of readers come to understand that a white man hadn’t written it — although, for Gilliard’s critics, that hardly made it less offensive.

The paradox of Gilliard’s existence is a familiar story on the blogs, where people often adapt avatars that are more like the selves they imagine being. Online, he was vicious and uncompromising. In person, Gilly, as his close friends called him, was reserved and enigmatic. His writing at times betrayed a sense of loneliness and dislocation. In 2000, after seeing the movie “High Fidelity,” he posted on NetSlaves.com a melancholy reflection on life as a geek. “Geeks live in an eternal conflict between their love of topic and love of people,” he wrote. “I wonder if people substitute fascination with things they can control over things they can’t — other people. You start to wonder if you’ve created a world so limited that you can’t really reach beyond it.” He lamented that he didn’t know what it was to “wake up naked in a strange bed,” but, he wrote, “at 35, I’ve figured out that this is it, at least for now. Anything I do, any life I make, is going to revolve around words and computers and strange, bright people.”

It was a life both short and loud. What began with a bad cough just after Valentine’s Day became a spiraling infection that ravaged Gilliard’s vulnerable heart and kidneys, and he spent most of his last four months hospitalized. The identities he kept separate for most of his 42 years collided in the days after he died; the few dozen mostly white bloggers who came to Harlem for the funeral saw for the first time the stark urban setting of Gilliard’s childhood, while his parents and relatives groped to understand what kind of work he had been doing at that computer and why scores of people had come so far to see him off. They must have been confused when Gilly’s online pals, sickened by the way some right-wing bloggers were gloating over his death, advised them not to disclose where he was buried, out of fear that someone might deface the site. The grave, like Gilliard himself, is known only to a few.

I was glad he didn't live to see the Mets collapse in September of 2007. And 2008. I can only wonder what he would have made of the new stadium and the new stadium for that other team from New York. I wonder what he would have made of Michael Steele's rise to prominence. I wonder what he would have made of Barack Hussein Obama.

The obit failed to mention that he hated the Yankees even more than he loved the Mets. So, as driftglass writes in his memorium of Steve at C&L: "...of course, Eff the Effing Yankees. Now and forever."

What A Game!

Imagine my surprise when I found out that the tickets I was given to last night's Mets/Red Sox game in Fenway Park were (wait for it) in the luxury suites! And being in enemy territory, but in the "General's quarters" if you will, we treated each other with mutual respect which made for a good time for an exciting game.

A great pticher's duel between Josh Beckett and Mike Pelfrey along with some amazing defense found the Mets down 2-1 in the 9th inning with one man on and two and Mets catcher Omir Santos at the plate. With out left to win the game, Red Sox closer Jonathan Papelbon grooved a pitch to Santos that he crushed over the green monster in left-centerfield for a 2 run homer that had to be reviewed on video to confirm it indeed went over the designated line at the top of the wall.

The Red Sox made one last effort in the bottom of the 9th but some stellar defensive plays by David Wright, Lius Castillo and a diving stop in the hole by shortstop fill-in Ramon Martinez stopped the threat.

One of the best games I've seen in a while not just because the Mets won, but because of the excellent defense. It's always fun as a baseball fan to watch well played ball on both sides.

Slow Blogging Weekend

Heading to Boston early tomorrow morning to spend the weekend with relatives, catch the Mets/Red Sox game at Fenway Park and do some general relaxing with some good food, good wine and good company.

I'll still have President Obama's Weekly Address up (if it's available at 5am) and a couple of Must Reads posted by noon. If I feel so compelled, I may be a-postin' and a-Twitterin' with the use of my handy dandy cellular phone machinery.

Have a great weekend and a happy and reflective Memorial Day.

Today's Experience with Faux Patriotism

I went to the Mets game tonight and experimenting with the new and varied food choices at the new ballpark, decided on La Verona Taqueria. I couldn't resist after hearing Keith Hernandez rave about them on television.

While standing in line (about 15 minutes before game time) the announcement came on for the singing of National Anthem, which was not clearly audible in the food court behind the centerfield scoreboard due to the large amount of people standing in line waiting for their food, having conversations and ordering their beers.

All of a sudden, just as the anthem was starting, I heard someone behind me go off on a little diatribe resembling something like the following:

Take of your caps. TAKE OF YOUR CAPS! Show some respect. This is ridiculous - (to his friend) I don't have many pet peeves but someone not taking their cap off during the Star Spangled Banner really fucking pisses me off. Look at these guys, these guys don't know what the hell is going on. TAKE YOUR CAP OFF! The fucking national anthem is being sung and they keep their caps on. Goddammit! All it takes is 30 seconds. 30 fucking seconds. Would it kill them to take of their caps? Would it?

He continued his outrage... THROUGHOUT the entire National Anthem. This faux patriot spoke through the anthem. He didn't stop once to actually listen to it. He just bitched and moaned while waiting in line for a taco.

So I thought about it for a bit. What would be the proper procedure? Everyone stops speaking, the lines stop moving, the vendors stop selling and we pay respect. Or, this being America, we could choose to honor the anthem in our own way or not, silently reflecting on its performance or laughing at the bad rendition, dissecting the lyrics and what they mean... or just ordering a taco. In any case, my reaction was to initially take off my cap despite my embarrassing hat head, but I immediately decided against it once some asshole was ordering people in the general vicinity to take off their caps. If you haven't guessed, I'm not the type to let people have the satisfaction.

By the way, the Mets lost 8-3 ending a 7-game win streak but the tacos were delicious.

Reason #735 Why the Mets are Better Than the Yankees

by Armadillo Joe

Hey Blog-O-Maniacs, let's play some baseball! But first, we must clear a couple of things up, OK?

Yankees fan:

Mets fan:


[*Note by Broadway Carl: I have nothing to add except, "PLAY BALL, MOTHERFUCKERS!"]

Shea Goodbye

I've been meaning to stop by what's left of Shea Stadium to take some photos. I drive by Shea every couple of weeks or so while running errands and watch with sadness as the building turns to rubble and all that will be left are my memories. My initial idea was to photographically archive the dismantling with a week by week progression, but one never has time for such things.

Luckily, a friend stopped by to take some pictures last Saturday. It's almost all gone. The bulldozers and wrecking balls are doing their job. The remnants are scooped up and trucked away. Here are a couple of photos my friend sent of what's soon to be the Citi Field parking lot.

(Click for full size)

Out With The Old...

...in with the new.

Some of you may know that I'm a Mets fan. A rabid Mets fan. I've been a Mets fan since I went to my first game in 1975. It's been 33 very long years, with two World Series appearances and one World Series Championship. The Mets have won two championships in their 46 year history but I was too young to remember the first in 1969. So I'm left with one. One... in thirty-three years... in a town that shares baseball real estate with the New York Yankees.

You know the Yankees. 26 World Championships. TWENTY-SIX. And six in my lifetime. And they beat the Mets in 2000. I think Mets fans' only solace is that they haven't won since 2000 even while outspending every other team in payroll. But I digress.

The point was that the Mets are getting a new stadium next season. Citi-Field will open on April 13th. I'll be there rooting for my team, and enjoying the new stadium I'm sure. Shea Stadium was one of those cookie cutter stadiums built in the 60's and 70's. Pedestrian traffic patterns were horrible, not enough bathrooms, the food sucked and the seats were small and uncomfortable, no leg room.

But it's bittersweet because I'll always have fond memories of Shea. My first Major League baseball game watching players live instead of on the screen. My amazement at Dave Kingman popping up a ball that flew higher than the top of the stadium. Going to double headers on my own as a kid with my friends and sitting in the upper deck. Being at the game in 1986 when Dwight Gooden won against the Chicago Cubs to win the pennant for the first time in thirteen years. And my only time on the field watching Billy Joel play the final concert at Shea. So it's a little sad to drive by and see the dismantling of a place that holds a lot of memories. The seats are gone, the scoreboard is down, the field is slowly being covered by debris.

Anyway, a friend sent this picture to me - his brother was coming back from vacation and took this shot as he was landing at LaGuardia Airport. (Click picture for full size.)

Out with the old, in with the new. And hopefully a change of luck in the process. Those season tickets are getting expensive!

Mets Fire Randolph

June 17 (Bloomberg) -- Willie Randolph was fired as manager of the New York Mets, who have struggled this year after missing the playoffs last season in the biggest collapse in Major League Baseball history. He was replaced by bench coach Jerry Manuel.

I don't know if the timing of this move was right, but when a team is underachieving as much as the Mets have been, you can't fire 25 players. Letting Randolph go was inevitable when you consider the collapse at the end of last season coupled with the fact that this team has been playing .500 baseball since last June (a full calendar year).

The bottom line is that, in my opinion, Willie Randolph didn't have the respect of certain players and it ultimately undermined his authority. He also didn't show the personality traits to be hard on his players when he needed to be.

According to general manager Omar Minaya, he decided to pull the trigger on Sunday night, slept on it, and flew out to Anaheim the next morning to let Randolph know personally. The constant media buzz as to whether Randolph would continue as Mets manager over the weekend was the final nail in the coffin, as Minaya thought it was too much of a distraction from the day to day operations of the team and its players.

Jerry Manuel's first game didn't go so well as the Mets fell to the Angels 6-1.

UPDATE (6/19/08, 1:45am): I just have to vent a little bit. Take a look at this front page of the New York Daily News.

Are you fucking kidding me? This is typical of a sports media trying to make controversy out of something that we all knew was inevitable.

"Cowards In The Night"?! The NY press was pissed off that they got a press release announcing the firing of Randolph at 3am. They are up in arms, screaming in disbelief wondering how the Mets organization can possibly have the audacity to do this in the middle of the night. The fact is the Mets were on a west coast trip and the firing happened after the game, in private at about midnight PDT. The news was released immediately. Oh those poor, poor reporters that didn't find out about it until the woke up the next morning, I feel so sorry for them.

And take a look at the subtitle: "Never in the history of New York baseball, has there been a more shameful, indecent firing of a manager."

Seriously? Never? Were any of these intrepid reporters around in the mid 70's when firing managers in the Bronx was practically a weekly occurrence? "Never been a more shameful firing"? Maybe they should ask Yogi Berra how he felt after getting a vote of confidence from Herr Steinbrenner and then getting bounced on his ass 16 games into the 1985 season. 16 games!

Or maybe they should take a look at Billy Martin's managerial career with the Yankees when he was hired and fired five times in ten years. Any Yankee announcer (yes, I'm talking to you Michael Kay and you, Susan Waldman and you, John Sterling) or any Yanks fan who can call this situation "classless" after what George Steinbrenner did to Yankees managers in the 70's and 80's have got to get their noses out of Steinbrenner's decrepit ass and enter the real world.

Where was the outrage at the termination of Joe Torre, a manager who got you to the playoffs every single year he managed the Yanks; where was Kay or Waldman speaking out about having Torre fly down to Florida for a meeting only to be offered an insulting contract with no negotiation? I know, I know. They were sucking Steinbrenner's ass.

And speaking of the real world, it looks like George's son, Hank is a cowchip off the ol' block. After Chien-Ming Wang injured himself running the bases, Hank "Brain Child" Steinbrenner had this to say about the National League not having the designated hitter:

"My only message is simple. The National League needs to join the 21st century," Steinbrenner said in Tampa, Fla. "They need to grow up and join the 21st century."
Am I (mad) about it? Yes," Steinbrenner added. "I've got my pitchers running the bases, and one of them gets hurt. He's going to be out. I don't like that, and it's about time they address it. That was a rule from the 1800s."

What the fuck?! Maybe someone should remind Baby Steinbrenner that the D.H. didn't come into existence until 197-fuckin'-2. By that point, the Yanks had won 20 World Series Championships, all while their pitchers took their turns at bat, as the baseball gods intended.

But it doesn't stop there. Listen to this pearl of wisdom from Yanks pitcher Mike Mussina:

"We don't hit, we don't run the bases," Mussina said. "You get four or five at-bats a year at most, and if you happen to get on base once or twice, you never know. We run in straight lines most of the time. Turning corners, you just don't do that."

So let me get this straight: professional athletes being paid millions upon millions of dollars can only run in straight lines?

Hey, Mike. Here's a little tidbit of information for you. Before every game, there's this thing called "batting practice" where you can hone your amazing athletic skills and learn to hit the fucking ball! And the next time you go out for a jog, try making an occasional left turn. You might get that "turning corners" thing down. Dipshit.

Jackie Robinson Day

Today was the 61st anniversary of Jackie Robinson breaking the color barrier in baseball. My wife and I enjoyed our game at Shea as the Mets beat the Nationals 6-0.

"A life is not important except in the impact it has on other lives."
- Jackie Robinson

Opening Day!

This is one on my favorite days of the year. The trees are blooming, the birds are singing, and baseball is back!

I know the season officially started in Japan last Tuesday, and the US home opener happened last night at a beautiful new Nationals Park in DC (even if Bush did sully the night a little), but my official season starts with the first game of the year played by my beloved Mets. Anyone that knows me well, knows my rabid Mets fanaticism.

So for at least one day this year, I'm going to concentrate my energies on enjoying the Mets season opener and try not to let the horror of Iraq and our corrupt administration ruin it. I'm also waiting in anticipation for the final home opening day at Shea Stadium.

LET'S GO METS!

Mets Original Sign Man Dies

NY TIMES: Karl Ehrhardt, who through championship seasons and woeful ones and grand slams and botched plays let the Mets know what he thought of them by raising block-lettered signs from his box seat behind third base at Shea Stadium, died Tuesday at his home in Glen Oaks, Queens. He was 83.
...On Oct. 16, 1969, when left fielder Cleon Jones caught the final out of the World Series, a choked-up Sign Man held up, “There Are No Words.”
...In an interview with The New York Times in 2006, Mr. Ehrhardt said, “I just called them the way I saw them.”

Matthew Artus, Metsblog: So raise a glass for Karl Ehrhardt, and think of him the next time you hear the Cowbell Man banging away - because it's these small gestures that make going to a baseball game all the more memorable.

Four days til pitchers and catchers.

Mets Finalize Santana Deal

MLB.com: Neither the value not the length of the contract is known, but executives in the game had said since early Friday afternoon that they expected Santana to have a contract through 2014 worth $139 million. That figure would reflect annual salaries averaging about $22 million and a signing bonus of about $7 million that would increase the 2008 earnings of the two-time American League Cy Young Award winner to about $20.25 million. The average annual value of the deal would be about $19,587,000.

UPDATE: Santana and the Mets agreed Friday to a $137.5 million, six-year contract extension...

Mets Land Santana

Today, I'm a happy Mets fan. I hope it holds.

At a seemingly reasonable price -- swift outfielder Carlos Gomez and young pitchers Philip Humber, Kevin Mulvey and Deolis Guerra -- the Mets have satisfied the Twins. Now, they have until 5 p.m. ET on Friday to satisfy Santana, who, armed with a no-trade clause potentially as effective as his world-class changeup, can veto the trade if the Mets don't make him happy.