Carpet bomb ’em. You understand? Chew ’em up. Spit ’em out. So we understand each other, right?
—Mayor Lucy Rodell (Dillon, Tex.)
As we and us prepare to watch our team encounter their/our first postseason in six years, keep this in mind:
Six innings.
If we can get six innings from John Maine or Joe Vermont or whoever is going to take the ball, we have a fine chance. That’s not an appraisal limited to Maine. Six solid innings from any starter and we’re relatively golden.
This team’s foundation is its bullpen. There’ll be lots of bullpen from which to choose, with Royce Ring shockingly tossed into the salad this morning. He’s the 12th pitcher, presumably (so much for the brilliant three-catcher strategy as DiFelice is dropped and Chris Woodward is the emergency everything). Oliver Perez takes El Duque’s place on the roster as the Game Four starter. Well, he take’s Maine’s spot and Maine is in for El Duque who is out for the series.
When it comes to Met starters, we are all our own grandpa.
The pen, though, has been a rock all year. Even without Duaner Sanchez, whose presence is missed, it has held steady to spectacular. Its hiccups are in its past. Wagner is tough. Heilman is hard. Mota is unbelievable. You have to trust Bradford to get out righties and Feliciano to get out lefties. Roberto Hernandez can overcome a threat. Oliver can pick up others’ slack.
This is baseball in the 21st century, more pronounced but not altogether different from what it was six years ago when it was as much the combined work of Rusch, White, Cook, Wendell, Franco and (occasionally) Benitez that saw the Mets through to the World Series as it was several excellent outings from Al Leiter, Mike Hampton, Rick Reed and Bobby Jones. Certainly Met victories in the second and third games of that year’s NLDS and Game Two of the NLCS owed to bullpen excellence.
Our last postseason rotation doesn’t jump off the page as phenomenal, but they were pretty substantial. Pretty substantial or at least pretty good is what this team needs right now. Pretty good has described its starting pitching over the past four months, since Pedro’s aches acted up and Glavine slipped out of sorts. It’s been about relief pitching when we’re on defense. Give us six solid innings and I’ll take my chances.
Quick, how many World Series did the supposedly stifling rotation of Mulder, Zito and Hudson win for the A’s? How often did Maddux, Glavine and Smoltz steamroll the postseason competition after 1995? Which victory parade included Kerry Wood, Mark Prior and Carlos Zambrano? I don’t mean to denigrate great pitching. When you get it, you’re close to unbeatable. But I’ve heard over the past decade repeatedly in advance of October baseball how some ace or set of aces was going to dictate the terms of engagement and proceed to carry their teams on their shoulders to nirvana.
It hardly ever happens that way. Yes, a Schilling and a Johnson in their primes were something to see. They had the reps and they lived up to them. Otherwise? Was anybody fearing the White Sox rotation last year — especially in comparison to Clemens, Pettitte and Oswalt — before it proved infallible for a couple of weeks? Did the Marlins of ’03 strike terror into the opposition until after the fact? How about those highly offensive Angels in 2002?
On Tuesday, Johan Santana pitched a whale of a game. His team lost. Jake Peavy came in considered a top gun. He didn’t do so well. Would I hand the ball to either of them again? Of course, but it just goes to show that there’s no telling what will happen in a game, regardless of the month it takes place.
You don’t want your starters to go three innings and out. But it’s a myth that World Series — or even Division Series — are won because you’re sporting three famously strong arms. There are too many variables in a baseball game. Fielding is a variable. Baserunning is a variable. Managers’ decisions are a variable. The bullpen is a variable. And a stacked lineup, like that of the Mets, does occasionally supercede good starting pitching.
I’d rather go into this with the pitchers we anticipated a couple of weeks ago, even a couple of days ago. That doesn’t seem to be happening. But we’re still here, with our bedazzling leadoff hitter, our gamer catcher, our all-world centerfielder, our imposing cleanup man, our clutchrageous third baseman and their assorted superfriends. The Dodgers are good, but they don’t have Reyes, Lo Duca, Beltran, Delgado, Wright, Green, Floyd and Valentin. They don’t have Wagner, Heilman or Mota either. We have some positive difference makers and very few negative ones.
We’re also still here with John Maine, who was a very valuable contributor to the Mets in the second half of the year. He was gonna pitch a Game Four? So he’ll pitch a Game One. They’re all baseball games. We know how to win those.
If it ain’t over ’til it’s over, then it’s damn sure not over before it’s begun.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go start yelling at us. I’ll let you know how that turns out.
And oh yeah…buy a shirt.
I want to say something, to post something eloquent and articulate, but I can't. My stomach is in knots. Any confidence built up over the last 6 months was torn to shreds in the last two weeks. I'm not having lunch. My dad said we'd go out to dinner after the game. I'm guessing that my appetite then will be dependent on the outcome. I haven't been to a postseason game since Grand Slam Single, and I can't wait to lose my voice this afternoon. I can't believe it's here. I'm thrilled. And terrified.
Let's go Mets.
{Any fans (or bloggers) in or around Mezz Reserved Sec 9, give a holler. I'll be in home pinstriped jersey, next to my wife in her BP Orange Wright 5 t-shirt.}
I hate to put all that pressure on the bullpen. They've been great. They can't be perfect. Most have never tossed a post-season pitch…we're asking for disappointment if we go in there and expect them to be our secondary starting rotation for every game.
Here's a thought. We may be sans Duaner, Pedro and Duque, but look on the bright side. Thanks to Omar Minaya's shrewdness, we have someone other than Kris Benson is pitching Game One. I think that's a good thing.
And let's not forget that great song by Graham Parker, “I'm Just Your Maine.”
WE DID IT!
Our magic number is now 10.
You're totally right, Greg. I keep hearing all these analysts say that offense doesn't matter in the postseason, pitching is all the counts, you need aces or you die instantly.
And I keep thinking: huh?
Can someone explain to me how postseason baseball is ANY different from regular season baseball besides the fact that it matters more? As far as I understand, the goal is to score more runs than the other team. That still stands, right? Are you sure they don't give the win to whichever starter gets more strikeouts? We're still supposed to have people playing the field, I think. Or is it just starters and batters whose sole purpose is to be cowed and dominated by the flashy aces?
I think that whole impression — that starting pitching is what the postseason boils down to — is the product of editorial impulses gone wrong. Everybody wants to see Schilling vs. Clemens or whatever every game because that's exciting — it gives the newspapers a story to tell. Man vs. Man is easier to hype than team vs. team. So they're trying to turn baseball into boxing. But it's a bunch of bull. Good hitting makes dominant starting less necessary. Good hitting makes opposing aces less effective. We don't throw away our bats just because it's October. (My favorite was somebody on ESPN yesterday who said pitching was the most important because in October it's too cold to get hits. Somebody tell that to Carlos Beltran three years ago.)
WE DID IT! WE RULE! WE'RE GOING ALL THE WAY! YOU GOTTA BELIEVE!
Hang on, my brothers and sisters. It's gonna be a wild ride!!