Greg Gibson is bad. That’s all there is to it.
Clayton Kershaw is spectacular. That, too, is all there is to it [1].
If the Dodgers wanted to beat the Mets every game ever, they’d start Hong Chih-Kuo each time and never take him out.
The Mets can’t afford to play shoddy defense. Nobody can, obviously, but there’s a list somewhere that suggests during the current 15-day period retroactive to July 2, they have no margin for error.
The Dodger Stadium PA was playing “Miss You” during BP while Sandy Alderson explained Jose Reyes was headed to the DL.
Reyes has made four All-Star teams and injured himself in the week or two leading up to the game three times.
The Mets lost a 6-0 game in the same series they won a 6-0 game. I’m both very curious to know if that’s ever happened before and damned if I know why things like that make me very curious.
Dillon Gee’s probably going through a dead-arm or adjustment phase that besets all young pitchers. He’s not necessarily morphing into Matt Ginter or Jae Seo. He’s not. He’s not. He’s not.
Ruben Tejada stealing third with two out and the Mets down six as Carlos Beltran batted in the eighth was the epitome of “it’s a bad play even if he makes it.”
The girl that guy in the Caesars commercial picks up in the clothing store…she’s a pro, right?
I would have traded Bobby Parnell had I had the chance last year. I, of course, am not the general manager of the New York Mets, and sometimes I’m extra glad about that. I hope Parnell continues to justify my lack of faith in my occasionally hairtrigger judgments.
The Mets need to forget that the next six starters they are slated to face are, like Kershaw, All-Stars. They’re opposing pitchers, not demigods. Vogelsong, Lincecum, Cain and “those animals” from Philly already feels like a meme and a ready-made excuse.
Carlos Beltran, once assumed to benefit from the clubhouse cover provided by Carlos Delgado, has stepped into the sunlight of being The Man and has never looked more comfortable as a result. Funny how that goes.
I had a dream the other night/morning that Jason Bay changed his uniform number from 44 to 86 even though he had just gotten the winning hit in the Subway Series finale. He wanted Jason Isringhausen to have 44 back and, despite his success against the Whatchamacallits, he felt he could use the change of luck — and what could make him more popular with Mets fans than wearing 86? He may have even been sending his teammates a message that it’s time to win another championship.
Angel Pagan and Daniel Murphy will never not make me nervous.
Nick Evans should really use every ounce of whatever playing time he receives in the coming days to hit a ton, no matter who’s pitching (as if it’s that easy). On a team that keeps stitching together lineups from whoever’s not ailing, Evans and Fernando Martinez have demonstrated no sense of timing. Then again, they might have done exactly as much as Scott Hairston and Willie Harris have done had they been around all year.
Terry Collins may not win N.L. Manager of the Year, but he’s having the best season any Met skipper has had since Willie Randolph couldn’t help but have a wonderful one in 2006.
Having lapped up Mets Yearbook: 1979 during the half-innings I couldn’t bear to watch any more of Clayton Kershaw than I had to, I was reminded that the Mets of 32 summers ago were not only dismal, but everything about them was dirt cheap. They brought in second-rate celebrity softball players, as if the guy who portrayed Rossi on Lou Grant was a gate attraction; they stuck white tape over the names on the backs of the current team’s uniform tops and handed them to the 1969 old-timers, their only champions to date; they didn’t give the players’ kids baseball pants for the “fun” game against their fathers; a Chevette was parked in the visitors’ bullpen all year; and even that ridiculous mule looked undernourished. Also, why was Joe Torre — in a fancy suit, no less — giving us such a hard sell from behind a desk regarding the acquisition of Mark Bomback? I was worried Joe wasn’t going to let me out of his office until I bought a term life policy from him.
Honestly, I never thought the San Diego Chicken was that great. Or Alex Treviño.
I’ve hated the Dodgers for four days. I’m about to hate the Giants for three days.