8 Days in Mets’ May 2011: Did I Miss Anything?

I spend most of a week at a conference, then have computer issues for the rest of it, and look what happens.

I was able to follow the Monday night follies (5/16) against Florida (http://www.baseball-reference.com/boxes/NYN/NYN201105160.shtml) and the dancin’ through the rain (5/18) vs. Washington (http://www.baseball-reference.com/boxes/NYN/NYN201105180.shtml) from the mostly unfriendly environs of the Tropicana Casino/Hotel in America’s seashore playground, Atlantic City. Waaaaaay too many Phillies hats down there for my liking, but that’s personal preference. I cam home just in time to watch the stellar starting pitching continue – by way of the new & improved MLB Gameday, which I love — with yet another shutout of the Nats on Thursday. (http://www.baseball-reference.com/boxes/NYN/NYN201105190.shtml) The formula was straight out of the “traditional” NYM playbook I grew up with: fantastic starting pitching, a lockdown bullpen and JUUUUUUUST enough offense.

Now, against the likes of Washington, that’s all well & good. Against the Yankees? Well, that’s a whole ‘nother matter, entirely. Trekking up to the Bronx just a game below .500 and brimming with unusual confidence, they put that formula to the Yanks and came away one-for-three. (http://www.baseball-reference.com/boxes/NYA/NYA201105200.shtml) It could very well have been TWO-for-three, but for a meltdown inning for the ages in the Sunday seventh. (http://www.baseball-reference.com/boxes/NYA/NYA201105220.shtml) That was pretty tough to take, I thought.

What the heck did I know?

When Monday’s edition of the NEW YORKER magazine hit the stands, the black cloud over Citi Field got a little bit blacker. If you’re reading this, you’ve read most of the incendiary Wilponian quotes in other precincts. So Reyes won’t get “Crawford money” because he’s hurt all the time. David Wright is a “good kid, good player, not a superstar.” Carlos Beltran is only here because “some schmuck in New York” paid him based on a crazy-stupid hot post-season. The Mets are “snakebitten, baby” and a “sh*tty team.”

I’m flummoxed every time I stop and think that these quotes came from the OWNER OF THE TEAM! These weren’t the rantings of some beered-up New Breeder from section 532. These weren’t pithy opinions worthy of no less than Jeff Pearlman. These weren’t the Sunday morning MSM ramblings of Mike Lupica, Bob Klapisch or Ken Davidoff. When you’re the owner of a team – or of any business, really — simple decorum dictates that you don’t alienate the few customers you have left by running down your own product. As I’ve stated elsewhere, the state of the Mets’ ownership has left me bewildered since the New Year dawned. More recently, it has left me feeling as if we fans were Pauline in peril. Maybe I’m missing something, but I fail to see what the point of the whole thing is. Is Fred trying to paint himself as an Alzheimer’s case, so that there’s no POSSIBLE way the Madoff thing can be perceived as anything but an accident? Is he driving his own price/value for the team downward, so he can claim a capital loss when the team is finally – MERCIFULLY — sold? Is he angling for sympathy usually reserved for the Pittsburghs and Kansas Citys of the world? Does he want revenue-sharing money?

In the end, we, as fans, are left with these questions, along with the same questions as other Madoff investors and Irving Picard: are the Wilpons simply clueless, or are they stone evil? The unfortunate conclusion I reach is really the worst one of all: they’re a deadly combination of both.