The Old Man Stays in the Picture

Way to complicate things, El Duque.

Of course this is good complicated — better complicated would be Mike Pelfrey following El Duque's fine effort with one of his own, leaving us with three viable candidates for two spots. (And Brian Bannister not far away.) And with Pedro having pronounced himself good to go, what next? If I were playing GM, I'd send Pelfrey down to Norfolk with a taste of the Show and a return date in September, unless something happens between then and now — which it probably will, starting pitchers being starting pitchers.

(Of course if I were GM, Jose Valentin would have been unemployed by mid-May. I know nothing.)

I'll leave deeper analysis of this one to my co-blogger, as I was out of action for most of it. (After catching a snippet of the Fox broadcast, I did note that as baseball games go, this wasn't a hard one to sum up: El Duque settled down after a rough start, Nady hit a three-run homer.) Anyway, Emily and I were at a party on Rockaway Beach, boy in tow, and keeping close tabs on the game had to wait until we left for the subway. Which we did in the bottom of the 7th inning, Mets up 4-3.

Since we were starting from Beach 94th, I had hope that I could hear the rest. And, indeed, the long wait at the elevated station at Beach 90th for the Shuttle and at Broad Channel (another elevated station) for the A worked in our favor, at least as far as hearing a good chunk of a baseball game was concerned. The Mets were batting in the 8th by the time we were settled in on the A that would take us back to Brooklyn Heights. That meant time was short, but the A runs on an elevated track until Grant (if memory serves), so there was still a chance.

Except Phil Garner had to use EVERY FRICKING PITCHER IN HIS BULLPEN, wasting precious time as the A kept on rolling. (And before you ask: With a fractious three-year-old who hadn't napped, stepping out to hear the rest on a platform wasn't an option.)

Aqueduct Raceway: Inning change, here comes Wags. C'mon Billy, an out per station and I'm golden.

88th Street: Preston Wilson is no more. Crap, not going to make it. Maybe Luke Scott will hit the first pitch.

80th Street: Luke Scott not cooperating. And it's raining.

Grant: And underground we go. But wait! Provided I turn my little radio to ear-bleeding levels and jam the earbud practically through my skull, I can still kind of hear the FAN every few seconds!

BZZZZZZZZZ pitch to scott WHIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNEEEEEEE fouled back SKKKKKKREEEEEEEEEEE WOWWWWWWWWWWW 1-2 on scott HOOOWWWWWWWWWLLLLLLLLL KZKZKZZZZKKKKKZKZKZKZKKZKZKZKKZKZKZKKZKZKZKZKKZKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!

(Oh, this is ridiculous.)

My timing may have been lousy, but the Mets' was just fine.