Which is exactly what the Mets got before the trade deadline!
I'm fine with that though, because as Kuni said, "Red Snappa very tasty fish!"
So we're stuck with what we got, which includes our nearly bare farm system. There are still a few things the Mets can do to improve their odds of making the playoffs, which are still over 50% right now. I talk about that and more in my latest in depth hard hitting report over at Flushing University. Read it, or take a drink from my fire hose!
Also, to follow up on yesterday's MtG's nerd dropping, check out what this collectible card gaming enthusiast had to say about my radical Hypnotic Specter:
What can I say about my good old hypnotic specter? This card has the perfect casting cost, a 2/2 flyer for 3 mana, right on the mana curve. It's ability however, is what makes it so special. The random discard easily tops the ability of Abbysal Specters and the other imitations. A first turn Hypnotic Specter via dark ritual can force opponents to discard some of their best cards before they have the mana to play them.
The bad news is John Maine strained his right shoulder's rotator cuff. And in a stunning, totally uncool coincidence, I also strained my right rotator cuff. Maine supposedly won't miss much time due to the mild nature of the injury. My injury is reoccurring and is more fucking painful each fucking time it happens. God damn it.
The good news is I just went through my old Magic the Gathering cards and found out my Hypnotic Specter is worth, like, 8 bucks. So I got that going for me.
Seriously though, motherfuck my shoulder. Anyone have any spare Vicoden?
Yesterday's win was quite satisfying and I'm not one to pee pee on the parade, but interim manager Jerry Manual seems intent on proving himself more worthless than the departed Willie Randolph with every game.
After pulling Santana after 8 innings with Wagner out of commission to disastrous results Tuesday, Manual saw his team enter the bottom of the 8th innings with a less than comfortable 3 run lead. While Wagner announced that he would be ready to go for the game, it was clearly in everyone's best interest to score some insurance runs so that Wagner would be able to rest his sore shoulder. So how nice of the first two batters, David Wright and Carlos Delgado, to reach base without recording an out.
The run expectancy for have a man on 1st and 2nd with no outs is approximately 1.5 runs. Sweet. So how does Jerry take advantage of these odds? By shitting all over himself, that's how.
First, Carlos Beltran, the best fucking hitter on the team, lays down a sacrifice bunt to move Wright and Delgado to 2nd and 3rd. This would be smart with a shitty hitter up, but not smart with best hitter up. And guess what, the run and/or win expectancy doesn't budge. It's a complete wash. What a fucking waste.
Now Marlon Anderson, who sucks a fat one, is up. So Jerry pinch hits for him. Good move right? Nope, Jerry, in his infinite wisdom, calls upon 3rd string catcher Robinson Cancel to bat. Robinson Cancel somehow, almost inconceivably, sucks an even fatter one than Marlon Anderson. What the fuck is the point of keeping 3 catchers on the roster if in pinch hit situations you bring in the shittiest of the three? That's fucking retarded.
And surprise surprise, Cancel grounds out to the Rollins and no runs score.
Now we're stuck with Damian Easely to drive in the runs with 2 outs. Nothing against Easely, he is a serviceable back up, and it's not his fault he has been forced into the starting lineup more often than not, but Easely also sucks it the fat one.
Easely promptly grounds out to end the inning.
Good job Jerry fucking Manual. A text book example of HOW TO KILL A RALLY.
Overall, not quite as bad as tubgirl, but still pretty fucking awful.
With a YUUUUUGE series with the Phillies starting today (to be read in a Donald Trump accent), it is only fitting that we all get pumped up with perhaps the world's finest band in history, Rush. Why is it fitting? Because I just saw them and the fucking rocked they fucking house, obviously.
My appreciation for the Canadian prog rockers has only grown over the years. My first exposure to the band was during the glorious summer I spent at Boy Scout camp in the Adirondacks. Sitting around the picnic table by the light of our lanterns we played Dungeons and Dragons, (actually a D&D derivative called Paranoia) while the ground breaking musical stylings of the Torontonian Trio played on the Troop's cassette tape boom box.
I distinctly remember our Senior Patrol Leader proudly sporting his Roll the Bones T-shirt while explaining the meaning behind the allegorical rock epic 2112.
I would drift away from Rush in my teenage years, as Geddy Lee's vocals were considered too faggy for metal proclivities of the time. Of course, when Stick It Out was receiving heavy radio play on Q104.3 I wouldn't change the channel.
Later, my love affair was rekindled in college when I burned Chronicles from a friend. These CD's would be played continually during my fraternity's rush parties, at least until the other fraternity members who were actually interesting in recruiting new members turned off the stereo, explained to me that no one thought that joke was funny, and permanently banned me from DJing all future rush parties. Bastards.
Now I would just like to point out for my own sake that despite all the recent evidence to the contrary, I have indeed seen a grown woman naked who was neither a stripper nor a prostitute. So there.
Anyway, just last Saturday I reached the pinnacle of my Rush fandom, attending my first live concert at the Nissan Pavilion. Despite participating in the performance from the relative distance of the lawn seats, the show was nothing short of spectacular. See for yourself.
Yes. Rock.
That's maybe a little blurry. Let me zoom in on my shitty shitty camera phone and highlight the rocking out.
Holy fucking shit that was awesome. For the installments of pumpitude, let me take you on a youtubed journey of the last three songs Rush played live.
First was the end of their regular set with an introduction from Lil' Rush:
Which led into their first encore of Train to Bangkok:
Mike Hampton got injured again, while rehabbing in the minors. It's tough to hate on a guy that's not only had one of the most pitifully snake-bitten careers ever but has also been so proficient at wasting the resources of the Atlanta Braves organization. Whats more, the act that he decided not to re-sign with the Mets meant they were awarded two compensatory first round draft picks which were then used on a David Wright and Aaron Heilman.
But then I just remember he is a Brave, so fuck 'em. Fuck 'em in the ear I say.
And I don't know what's going on with this picture either. I searched far and wide for a Naked Gun picture of Nordberg in a wheelchair and the best I could come up with is this. Kind of creeps me out to be honest. Whatever, it's Friday, and I have to go drink, and then sleep in, and then go see RUSH LIVE IN CONCERT. I will have more on the Rush concert next week (more than you'll want to hear, I'm sure), but now I gotta go put these tall frosties on ice and listen to Subdivisions.
New York Mess no longer, the Mets have been pummeling the their opponents lately, banging out a 9 win streak going into the All Star break. Pretty hot shit. It remains to be seen if the 3 day break will cool down the surging Metropolitans, however in the mean time I think we can all seek encouragement from the Iron Man of Shaolin Island to stay pumped.
Braves want me dead but they scared to step to me. Rip they guts out like a hysterectomy.
That's right, Pretty Toney in the house. Recognize.
One reason for the Mets improvement can be attributed to the resurgence of Aaron Heilman. Much maligned for his terrible start, Heilman has been, as Eric Simon at Amazin Avenue has pointed out, nothing short of dominant lately. Eric also deserves Kudos for his NY Post worthy headline. Nice, bro, nice.
Not that I'm constantly checking out players' hem lines, but I've always been a little put off by Heilman's proclivity for wearing nut-hugging pants. Check it out if you don't believe me.
Yeesh. Now I'm not saying Heilman loves wedgies, but when asked about the tightness of his trousers, Heilman replied, "I love wedgies!"
Whatever man, just keep dealing on the mound and you can where a tutu for all I care.
My adoration of Carlos Beltran knows no bounds. Yes, D-dubs is the media's dreamy great white hope, and I am all over his and Reyes jock sweat like every other good Mets fan, but there can be only one Numero Uno in mi libro, and thats C Belty-Belts.
Stupid Mets fans like to rag on him for all sorts of dumb reasons. Not clutch, over paid, doesn't hustle, doesn't care. Ridiculous. Totally ridiculous. For one thing, look at Carlos' mole. Why, his mole is so big, his mole has a mole, and IT'S mole is bigger than you're mole (and by mole I mean peene).
Alright, so maybe that wasn't the best example. Let me instead turn the floor over to the consummate professional over at sny.tv, Ted Berg.
Simply put, Beltran is as fundamentally sound a player as there is in baseball and he never gets credit for it. In terms of baseball IQ, he's a genius. Carlos Beltran is -- and has been since 2006 -- one of the best outfielders in baseball. The sad thing is that many Mets fans might never realize it until he's gone. Luckily for those that do, Beltran is under contract through 2011, giving us plenty more time to enjoy watching him play.
You are the man, Ted Berg. The rest of your column is well worth the read. In fact, everyone on earth should be given a copy and be quizzed on it's contents daily. Please, Ted Berg, take a bow.
In conclusion, fuck you Beltran haters. Also, nice stache, dude.
This photo, snapped by Flushing University editor and total badass, Mike McGann, is all the proof you need. When asked to comment on his rare public appearance outside of Old Detroit, Robocop replied, "You can call me Robocop, but my friends call me Murphy."
Speaking of Flushing University, here are links to all the FU articles I've written in the last couple months or so.
Here's my first column about how I much I hate the Braves, which was really hard to do without cursing.
And here is where I bitch about Red Sox fans (which got a total of ZERO comments in the forum boards - man I am on a roll, now!)
This is one about how shitty play by the Mets batters got Willie Randolph fired, and when I finally start including some actual jokes, if you want to call them jokes.
And a follow up here full of more dorky stats and lame jokes except this time I only discuss the pitching staff.
This is my favorite so far, where I dump all over the Phillies and the city of Philadelphia (also, by the way: GO GIANTS DIE EAGLES!)
And finally, my latest piece of shit, that has nothing to do with the Mets, or even baseball, and everything to do with my awful taste in stupid movies.
Read 'emall! It's great fun! If you're a really bored loser!
So my buddy, J P (and the Nis), just recorded an album that you can listen to and buy here.
It's just him sining with his guitar, but fortunately he's excellent at both, so if you're in to dreamy folk-rock and incredible fingerstyling, I implore you to give it a whirl.
Personally, I prefer something a little more mainstream, something with a nice hook and a beat you can dance to. Like Stefy here.
Sure, it's just a ripped off Devo riff carelessly tacked on to a blatantly derivative No Doubt single, but look, I've got to listen to SOMETHING while I stride away on the elliptical machine.
It's baffling to me that the Mets are only 3.5 back from the 1st place Phillies and can cut that 2.5 by the end of today. Pretty soon Omar will have to decide if the Mets are buyers or sellers as the trade deadline is approaching and as C.C. Somebanthia* knows, some teams are already making their moves.
The good news (kind of) is we have no prospects, so Omar can't trade them away! Except F-Mart, of course, but if he gets traded for anyone except Albert Pujols, Omar will die (of embarrassment from all the bad press; and from strangulation by me).
Anyway, today is a still a big game, so hopefully Peter Martinson can give us even a pale resemblance of his former self and pitch a semi decent game. Lets get pumped up with some classic AC/DC live. As Artie Lange would say: FIIIIIIYAAAAAAAAA!
*feeble Star Wars pun on Banthas, the huge mammoth-like pack animals of the Sand People. I know, I suck. Sorry!
P.S. As you're all well aware, the blog is completely bereft of any credibility whatsoever. But thats okay, because I enjoy being able to link to stuff like Clit Notes without worrying about my reputation (reputation, hah!). Then I see something like this (kinda not safe for work) linked to on The Big Lead and all I can think is, hey man, I've been drawing fake penises and making blatantly homophobic jokes for like, 2 years now, TBL, what do I have to do to get a link? I guess my next post should involve a tribute to Will Smith or something.
Can't wait until Teixiera is starting at first base next year. And don't give me any crap about not wanting to overpay for him. Fuck that, it's not my money. Over pay. This isn't some flakey pitcher who's arm could fall off at any moment. This is a proven masher (131 career OPS+) who will only be 29 next year.
Plus signing Tex will have the added benefit of being a good 'here's nut in your eye' to Atlanta.
As Craigers says*: "There has still been a sense that at any given time the Braves were only a winning streak away from glory. That's still technically true, but it's time for us to let go and face reality."
Yes, the reality that their team is full of rotten bastards. Die, Braves, die.
*It should be noted Craig shares none of the thoughts expressed in this post, nor would he ever assign such rank, hyperbolic, derogatory attributes to players that I am so fond of doing. In all sincerity, Craig and his blog are legit, whereas as this blog is an obvious piece of shit, and I apologize if there is any confusion regarding the two wholly separate opinions shared therein.
Sometimes living out of market can really suck. Like when you finally get psyched to see a nationally televised game in HD against those asshole Cardinals and not only to the Mets get waxed like a candle but you have to listen to that asshole Steve Philips while it happens.
Philips likes to joke around about how Mets fans still tease him about his time as GM, like its some cute little love/hate relationship. Wrong, it's all hate, Steve, all hate.
ESPN, Steve Philips is neither witty nor insightful nor personable. Why is he employed?
This broadcast, by the way, was following a Fox, Joe Buck/Tim McCarver shitshow in which the Mets we're drubbed by the Yankees. Meanwhile, Cary Cohen, Keith Hernandez and Ron Darling all announce the shit out of those buttcakes.
You know what doesn't suck to listen to though? Girl Talk. You can download his new album totally for free here. Aw motherfuckin yeah.
NOTHING! ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!!!
