Mets Claim They Are Creeping Into Pennant Race
"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing." --Edmund Burke (1729 - 1797)

Well, what a novelty after these last several years, that it's nearly Memorial Day weekend, and the Mets aren't yet completely demoralised or mathematically eliminated from the NL East. But one game over .500 with 117 to go has led them to some heady speculation and delusions of grandeur in these early days as people seem to recognise these as some sort of "meaningful games" the tireslessly torpid Wilpon Collective has whinged about since the offseason.

True enough, the Mets are operating with an $83 million payroll, which is a whopping $100 million less than the Yankees's. And true enough, following last night's victory over the front running Phillies, the Mets are now only two games behind the Phils and Marlins for first place in the NL East. But since we are still only in May, and the disappointment of the last several seasons still hangs so heavily in the air, before the Mets world starts putting two and two together, let's have a pause for some reality programming.

Given the reduced payroll and the fact that the Human Hammy Reyes has yet to play a game this season, the series of injuries to Floyd, Cameron, and Leiter among others, perhaps it is just creepy and Amazin' enough that the Mets haven't been buried yet this season to begin to allow a few tiny thoughts of hope to creep in.

But let's not forget that Hula Howe is still the manager of this squad, regardless of how well they are performing of late (as though going more than a week of losing more games than one wins is reason enough for somersaults and handstands of joy,) this is the same Hula Howe, low key and as relaxed as a post-coital cigarette, who blew his last three postseason opportunities with the A's by getting knocked out each year in the first round, thanks in many occasions, to Howe's listless managing efforts. So even if the Mets were, by some miracle of fate, able to wriggle their way into the postseason, they'd be starting off the postseason a bit headless in any matchup to begin with.

If Mets fans would like to see some progress on their successful beginnings, they should first pray that the Devil Rays dim beginnings will expedite Lou Piniella out of Tampa and onward to Shea.

Considering that such an event is unlikely before next season, thoughts turn naturally to how heavily the roster can be stacked to ensure that even Hula Howe can't cock it up.

So immediately, like most every other team with a few bucks and a prayer for this season, the Mets have focused on KC's Carlos Beltran, the "next" Barry Bonds, so the hysterics are wont to claim. Beltran is certainly going to be for sale, but just as he is underenthused about speculating about where he might end up since last season he was rumoured to be traded to just about every team in the league and still ended up with the Royals, the Mets too should be underenthused speculating about even obtaining Beltran. Not unless the washed out hopes of this AA pitching staff filled with future Cy Youngs at Binghamton or St Lucie will suffice for the services of a future Hall of Famer. Besides, the Mets, with a starting rotation of senior citizens like Al Leiter and Tom Glavine, are in no position to be giving away hapless young arms in their farm system.

At least unless Wilpon is prepared to be imaginative, prepared to spend some money and take some chances, a player of Beltran's calibre will always end up with a team like the Yankees, or the Red Sox, or the Cubs or the White Sox, to name a few. Perhaps even the Marlins or the Phillies, their chief opponents in the NL East, who knows?

So before Mets fans start peeing themselves with excitement, let's keep this little fantasy in perspective and start focusing on the kinds of free agents Wilpon and his crew are likely to have a chance in bidding for, like Jason Schmidt of the SF Giants.

In a sarcastic and cynical sense, Schmidt is the "perfect" pitcher for the Mets. Currently, he's riding high: coming off a one-hitter last week at Chicago, he won his 5th game of the season last night, this time against the Diamondbacks, whilst netting only two losses. He seems like the perfect fit, a righty power pitcher to sandwich in between the finesse of their two lefties, Glavine and Leiter. But he threw 144 pitches in his one-hitter, one start after he threw 122, and he tossed 123 the start before that. And 110 before that. Oh, and 111 last night. At this rate, Schmidt's arm will be gone by the 4th of July. Hopefully before the Mets land him.

*****

Bandwagons to Jump Off:

1. The Los Angeles Dodgers who with just two wins in their last 11 games are redefining mediocrity while miraculously maintaining a hold on first place in the NL West.

2. How quickly we forget: on the heels of two massively impressive starts to begin his MLB career, Orioles pitcher Danny Cabrera suddenly gave up six runs in four innings, saw his once-impressive ERA leap to 4.32 and earned his first loss in three decisions, all in one day, proving all the world a little too premature for the moment.

Bandwagon to Jump On To

1 and 1a: The Cincinnati Reds and Paul Wilson?

Which is more absurd, that nearing Memorial Day weekend the Cincinnati Reds are in first place in the NL Central, one and a half games ahead of the Cubs, rolling on a seven game winning streak and perhaps even crazier still, Mets castoff Paul Wilson joining Roger Clemens as the only other pitcher in the National League to start the season with seven straight victories

*****

Blog Watch

The Boys of Summer pose the eternal question of Who has the Best Fans?

"That one’s easy: the Phillies.

Say what you want about the judgmental New York fans or the unforgiving Boston media, but the City of Brotherly Love has easily got the worst fans in sports. What other city would throw snowballs at the opposing team, loaded with rocks or batteries? Where else might the crowd cheer as an opposing player is carried off the field on a stretcher? Who else would boo their own pitcher for not throwing 100 mph? In what other city would they boo Santa Claus? And then tell you how proud they are of the occurrence?"

Elephants in Oakland covers ESPN Gary Miller's apology to Moises Alou for breaking the "He urinates on his own hands!" story. Funny thing is, given the amount of drunks pissing on their own hands in the urinals of Shea Stadium around the 7th inning of a typical game, or most other MLB stadiums for that matter, you'd think the MLB would be filled with even more talented hitters than they've already got by now.