Daily Archives: June 30, 2006

The Mets have the best record in the National League, 3.5 games better than the Cardinals, lead their division by 11 games over the Phillies, and are two games better than the crosstown Yankees. Of course the Metropolitans play in a weaker league and a far weaker division than the Bombers. Still, when these two teams faced off in Shea Stadium in late May, they played a trio of one-run games and the Mets took the series two games to one having outscored the Yankees by a single run. It was every bit as close as that sounds, with the first two games being decided in the victor’s final at-bat and the third ending with the tying run on base.

At the time, the Yankees were at their most banged up, with Jorge Posada and Kyle Farnsworth unable to participate thus reducing the available roster to 23 men. Since then both teams have jettisoned the dead weight from their rosters (though Robinson Cano’s injury has reinstated some to the Yankees’), the Yankees releasing Scott Erickson and designating Aaron Small for assignment, the Mets designating Jose Lima, trading Jeremi Gonzalez, Kaz Matsui and Jorge Julio, and, for good measure, releasing Bartolome Fortunato, the other pitcher obtained in the Kazmir trade who, like Victor Zambrano, had been placed on the 60-day DL following Tommy John surgery.

As a result, the Mets that the Yankees will face this weekend, despite their just-concluded sweep at the hands of the streaking Red Sox, are a better team than the one the Yankees saw in May. The Mets have the second best offense in the National League, led by old Yankee-killer Carlos Delgado, 23-year-old David Wright, who is one big postseason away from rivaling Derek Jeter as the city’s biggest sports star, Carlos Beltran, who is serving up crow to his doubters daily by having the best year of his career, and Jose Reyes, who’s finally drawing walks thus becoming a weapon rather than a liability in the lead-off spot. To that tremendous core, they’ve added Jose Valentin at second base, slugging .529 in place of Kaz Matsui’s .200/.235/.269 performance, pushing Xavier Nady’s .497 slugging all the way down to the seventh spot in the order.

The Mets also have the second stingiest pitching staff in the NL, trailing only the Petco-assisted Padres. Tom Glavine, experiencing a Mussina-like resurgence, and Pedro Martinez give them a pair of Hall-of-Fame aces in the front of their rotation, both of which the Yankees will be fortunate to miss this weekend. Meanwhile the Mets bullpen has been the best in baseball, posting a staggering 3.19 ERA with only frustrated starter Aaron Heilman currently sporting an ERA above 2.80. Yes, even Darren Oliver has pitched well this year, posting a 1.02 WHIP and a 2.45 ERA as the long man in the pen.

Incidentally, I find Heilman’s to be an interesting case. Originally ticketed to be the fifth starter, he was passed over for the job by Willie Randolph in favor of rookie Brian Bannister despite a 1.59 spring ERA. As the primary set-up man in the bullpen He posted a 1.42 ERA through May 22, during which span he was twice passed over for openings in the rotation when injuries to Bannister and Victor Zambrano lead to the desperation employment of Jeremi Gonzalez and Jose Lima because Randolph claimed that Heilman had become too valuable in his role to move out of the pen. The Mets finally came to their senses, releasing Lima on May 20, but instead of relenting and moving Heilman to the rotation, where he’d both be most valuable and most happy, they reached down to double-A to promote Alay Soler. Since then, Heilman has posted an 8.66 ERA.

Tonight the Yankees send Mike Mussina, who won a tense duel against Dontrelle Willis his last time out, to the mound to face old Yankee warhorse Orlando “El Duque” Hernandez. El Duque, who last (and first) faced the Yankees as a member of the eventual World Champion White Sox last year was traded to Arizona this winter in a package for another ex-Yankee Javier Vazquez only to return to New York just days after the last meeting between these two teams in exchange for misbegotten Kris Benson trade booty Jorge Julio. Since then he’s made six starts for the Metropolitans, the best being a three-hit complete game against his ex-teammates in Phoenix and the worst being his last, when he was sent packing after surrendering six runs while getting just five outs in Toronto. Sounds about right from the fiery Cuban with the Milk Dud head. His starts are like a box of chocolates. Indeed, his style is much the same, hitters never know what they’re gonna get, how hard, or from what angle. With Moose working his Bugs Bunny change and Duque always a threat to lob in an eephus, tonight’s match-up should be a lot of fun to watch, no matter who comes out on top.

Meanwhile, for the first time since the ’80s, the Mets are threatening the Yankees’ grip on the back pages (remember, the Yanks were repeat Champions entering the 2000 World Series while the Mets were considered serial chokers). These three games could go along way toward reestablishing order should the Yankees prevail in a convincing manner. On the other hand, if the Mets take the series, clinching just their second season series victory over the Yankees in the now ten-year history of interleague play (the other coming in 2004), los nuevos Mets just might wind up painting the town orange and blue all over again.

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I saw a big, bald-headed Spanish guy wearing a maroon throwback Mike Schmidt jersey (with a 1979 barnstorming tour in Japan on the sleeve) today on the 1 train. The guy looked to be in his mid-to-late thirties. I didn’t really catch him until we were about to both exit the train. He was with two other kids, both in their early twenties I’d guess, maybe younger. I caught the dude’s eye as we went through the turnstiles. I complimented on him on the jersey and one of the kids says to the dude, “That’s the second guy on that’s said something to you since we got on the train.”

I told them that I had Schmidt on the brain lately thinking about the kind of treatment Alex Rodriguez is getting from a lot of Yankee fans this year. But before I could finish getting the words Alex Rodriguez out of my mouth, one of the younger kids skipped ahead of me as we walked down the steps of the 231st street station and said definitively, “A Rod sucks.”

I think Rodriguez is a great player of course. Got a piece on him over at SI.com today, just in time for the subway serious. I enjoy rooting for Rodriguez because his at-bats, particularly at home, really seem to matter. Just like they do for all of the superduper stars. Though he has not come through as often as Yankee fans would like he has had many great moments in his two-plus years with the team. As Ben Kabak points out today, Rodriguez particularly struggles when the Bombers are behind, so when Yankee fans are amped for a rally, that is when Rodriguez is faltering, magnifying his failures in the process.

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Have you ever heard the term “passing?” Until recently, I had not. The way I heard it used, “passing” refers to a situation where you decide not to address something that might offend you. For instance, you are in a conversation with some people–at work let’s say–and somebody says something bigoted. It bothers you but you choose, for whatever reason, not to confront it. You change the subject or ignore it altogether. That’s called passing.

Most of us encounter these kinds of situations all the time. Two days ago at the ball game, I found myself unable to “pass.” I was watching the Yankee game with my cousin and two guys I played high school ball with–one of whom is a good friend. The two jocks started talking about women and baseball and the gist of the discussion was, “Let’s make fun of women because they don’t have a clue when it comes to sports.” I just knew where the conversation was going and it instantly made me uncomfortable, not only because my girlfriend is a devoted fan but because sitting in front of us was a woman who is more knowledgable about the game than most men could ever hope to be.

I caught myself and thought, “Aha, so this is a ‘passing’ sitation.” At first I didn’t know how I was going to respond. One instinct was to join them. I had an ideal story. Earlier in the day, my cousin Eric and I were playing stickball on 5th street between first and second avenues. We were pressed for time and only had about ten minutes left to play when a sexy young thing walked towards us. She had been watching us play for a few minutes when she approached me and said, “Can I play?” She was friendly and exceedingly cute. How do you say “no” to that? If I were single, I’d have turned into Charlie Lau and not only let her play with us but I’d teach her how to hit, anything, in the process. But not only am I not single, I don’t have wandering eyes like that and am not that tempted to flirt with hot young East Village women. So I told her that it was nice of her to ask but that we only had a few more minutes left and we wanted to finish our game. “But if you ever see us playing down here again, feel free to stop by and you can join us then.” I was as friendly as possible and it felt good not to compromise the moment Eric and I were sharing. She looked surprised–not quite comprehending how we could turn such an offer down–and quietly walked away.

Anyhow, I was pleased with how I handled the situation–tactfully but with conviction. Now, I could use this story as a way to join the “He Man Woman Hater’s Club” brewing behind me. Screw women, this is our sport, kind of a thing. I turned around to the guys and instead of directly confronting their chauvanism, or joining it, I started talking to them about Emily and how much of a baseball fan she’s become. I told them that sometimes Em will ask me what I think is a ridiculously stupid question but other times she’ll come up with something simple and logical that I just can’t answer. For instance, say the Yankees are at home and have a runner on first. If the opposing pitcher throws over to first more than once the crowd–any home crowd–will start to boo. One day Emily asked, “Why are they booing?” I stuttered and finally had to look at her and tell her I hadn’t the foggiest idea why. “Because…that’s just the way it is,” was the best I could come up with.

My friend Adam was amused by the story and told me I was so right. The conversation shifted and that was that. But it got me thinking about the different, often refreshing sensibilities women bring to a male-dominated world like baseball. Nancy Smith, the woman sitting in front of us, had an opportunity to meet several of the Yankees last summer and she told me that she had a pleasant ten minute conversation with Mariano Rivera. “He’s a very nice man,” she reported. What did they talk about? Where he lives when he’s up here, how much his kids love the winter and the snow. You know, regular stuff. Things that most guys would never think of talking about if they were to ever to meet a baseball player.

I’d be asking him all sorts of questions about baseball, about pitching. I’d never think to talk to him about such mundane things as the weather. The irony is Nancy probably put Rivera more at ease, and had a more intimate, natural conversation with him than I would have in the same situation. She might enjoy being around him as much as any male fan, but even if she was geeked about it, there was probably nothing urgent beneath the surface, no agenda. She didn’t “want” a piece of him, she just wanted to chat.

Nancy’s story reminded me of something Jane Gross, a former sports writer, once told Roger Angell (from the story “Sharing the Beat,” which can be found in Angell’s “Late Innings” collection):

“I think women reports have a lot of advantages [over male reporters], starting with the advantage of the players’ natural chivalry. We women are interested in different things from the men writers, so we ask different questions. When Bob McAdoo gets traded from the Knicks, my first thought is, How is his wife, Brenda, going to finish law school this year? And that may be what’s most on his mind.

Not better, not worse, just different. Sure, there are times when Emily asks a question that has my snotty-ass rolling my eyes. Other times, she’ll just floor me with her insights–whether simple or profound. I deliberately use my love of baseball as a way to relate to other men. But some of the greatest fans I know are women. And that’s a beautiful thing, bro.