Papi, Don't Comes Home
"Time, which alone makes the reputation of men, ends by making their defects respectable." - Voltaire

The opprobrium and derision would have hung in the air like a fetid, dense fog Friday night to the human meltdown that is Armandogeddon, who would have finally returned to that great Abaddon in the sky, Shea Stadium, to take his lumps like a man and try to prove his Mets lifetime inaccurate, if not wrong. Except Armando's first regular season appearance against the Mets did not occur at Shea Stadium. It occured in the humid, friendly confines of Pro Player Stadium, sparing Papi the inevitable, groggy experience of gagging on fear once again, in Queens.

Armando Benitez managed to swallow an accumulated 160 saves in five choking seasons with the Mets, which, in some cities, might earn one a modicum of gratitude. But Armando saved his 160 games in the shadow of some very public and humiliating 25 blown saves, many of which were like judo chops to the throat of Met hopes over the course of several seasons.

Armando always whinged that Mets fans didn't appreciate him and perhaps he was in some ways, correct to observe so. After all, a success rate hovering around 86 percent ought to be worth even a reluctant beatitude here and there. But there is nothing like a choke artist to raise the hackles of the most feverant supporters. Choking in the clutch is like lying in a flotsam of chum in a shark pool waiting for the first chunk of flesh to be ripped from one's unsuspecting bones.

It was easy to be predictably hateful about Armando Benitez, because when it came to disappointing us, he was as punctual as the proverbial train in Germany, complete with timetables. Is it the 9th inning with the game on the line? Armandogeddon must be coming right around the bend!

But we don't have Armando Benitez to kick around any more. He's sprinted ahead of his ghosts and has landed in Florida where on Friday night anyway, he dominated the Mets to earn his 19th save of the season, lowering his earned run average to 0.31. True, the Marlins haven't played in any meaningful games yet this season. True, the Marlins rattle around in a quasi vacant Pro Player Stadium of apathists and heat-adled somnambulists, ranked 20th in the Major Leagues in home attendance. True, the Miami media is about as vicious as napping cat. And true, this game was not played in Shea itself, where Armando will surely asphyxiate in fear again once he reappears. But even having accomplished nothing yet this season in a moment of heat, he has already set a Marlins record with 26 2/3 scoreless innings, not allowing an earned run since Montreal's Jose Vidro homered off him on Opening Day.

Let's think of this as a postponement of the inevitable. Papi's home, but he isn't homefree yet and another choking spree is always just around the corner.

*****

Friday night, including Glavine who took the loss against the Marlins, was also Cy Young night in that five holders of the award all took the mound. Randy Johnson, Pedro Martinez, Glavine, Barry Zito and Roger Clemens all pitched with varying degrees of success on Friday night. Johnson and Martinez were the only winners of the bunch but they combined for 35.3 innings pitched, surrendered 28 hits and 10 earned runs (an impressive 2.55 ERA) walked 11 and struck out a combined 27 batters. Thus far, that quintet has a cumulative record of 27-13 with a combined 3.12 ERA, even including the lethargic presence of Zito who, with his 3-3 record and distended 4.86 ERA, is having more of a Bill Stearns season than a Cy Young season.

With all the impressive pitchers who were on the mound Friday, one of the hottest, Mark Buehrle, was not among them. Over the last 30 days, he is 4-0 in 6 starts with a 1.58 ERA and has struck out 37 whilst walking only 8. And perhaps another potential Cy Young winner, the rubber armed Giant, Jason Schmidt, is also 4-0 in that same period with a 1.62 ERA with 43 strikeouts and only 9 walks, isn't due to take the mound again.

*****

What the Hell am I doing in Chicago?

The old joke goes:

A black man is having a conversation with God: “Tell me, Lord,“ he says, “how come I am so black?“
“You are black,“ replies God, “so that you can withstand the hot African sun.“
“Tell me, Lord,“ continues the black man, “how come my hair is so short and kinky?“
“So that you will not sweat in the hot African climate,“ replies God.
“Tell me, Lord,“ implores the black man, “how come my legs are so long?“
“So that you can escape from the wild beasts that roam the jungles of Africa,“ replies God.
“Then tell me Lord,“ shouts the black man, “what the hell am I doing in Chicago?“

This reminds me of Dusty Baker's magical adumbration on why black players and their African roots made them better able to handle the hot sun than white players.

So what's the temperature in Chicago these days?

The Cubs have lost five in a row, three of them to the Pittsburgh Pirates, and if they lose Sunday, will have completed their free fall into the basement of the NL Central. Could it be that these Cubs, for whom such high hopes were held, might turn out to be like their 1985 predecessors, flailing away at mediocrity through injury heaped upon injury, destined for disappointment?

The scary parallels might very well be deja vu all over again.

Of course, that damned Rob Mackowiak might destroy the Cubs singlehandedly after homering 3 times in 10 at bats and knocking in 11 runs. It seems like only yesterday he was busy getting pinched for driving under the influence. Then he had a kid. But perhaps even more amazing than the quick recovery from making an illegal turn through a red light and driving the wrong way, and an even quicker recovery from fatherhood was that even after driving in 5 runs last night, Mackowiak STILL left 4 runners on base without knocking them in. Over his last eleven games, he's hitting .390 with 6 homers and 18 RBIs. Man, somebody bring that guy some smelling salts! By the way, the Pirates have won 11 of their last 16 games. I guess they've got Raul Mondesi's pimp, former major-leaguer Mario Guerrero, down in Santo Domingo to thank for all the success. The Pirates have been going great guns ever since severing ties with Mondesi. Wonder how his presence will now effect the Angels. The A's fans must be happy.

Blog Roll

East Coast Agony's "How To Watch Baseball For Six Dollars" had this particular gem:

"After you've called your Yankees fan friends and laughed at the absurd amount of money they paid to get into their game, pass up the Field Box seats for an inning or two and enjoy the upper deck. You'll be able to sit wherever you want, which means you'll have a great view of the field and of the evening sky, which is usually a truly remarkable blue thanks to (I assume) the marriage of jet fuel and the miasma of losing."

Apparently, the enigmatic Neifi Perez and his persistently panned powerlessness has no bounds. Across the Seams points out that his notoreity has made it as far as Tikrit.