Helping the Yankees with Derek Jeter's range problem

Watching the Mets take out C.C. Sabathia on Sunday Night Baseball to win the Subway Series, one thing became apparent.

Actually, there were several things, but let’s focus on one of them. Friends, despite what Joe Morgan said, Derek F. Jeter has no range.

None. Nada.

The reason the Mets could rip doubles up the third base line was because ARod was playing so far over that he was practically a co-shortstop.

The charitable folks at the Crane Pool Forum discussed during the game Jeter’s, um, issues, and decided to help the Yankees with this problem.

Here, submitted with love and respect, are potential players who, right now, have better range than Derek F. Jeter.

1) Roadkill opossum: Well look, he can cover both sides of the highway. And he’s already got pinstripes.

2) Garden gnome: A tribute to the Yankee farm system. Will have to lose the facial hair, though. But if Johnny Damon can do it. Hmmm, he can already throw better than Damon.

3) A tree: A little difficult to bring on the road, especially in stadiums with artificial turf.

4) The wax Jeter from the museum: All the range and twice the personality. Can also fill in for Derek’s busy advertising schedule.

5) A rock: Waiting patiently for his Yankee Moment, then he can be rolled out to Monument Park to be with the other True Yankee monuments.

6) Lady Liberty: Dressed for the occasion. Then again, the Yankees’ record on diversity isn’t good and they’re probably not going to let a lady take the field until every other team but the Red Sox makes the move.

7) Don Zimmer. Look! Zimmer already knows how to dive for a ball, as evidenced by this impromptu lesson from Pedro. When was the last time you saw Jeter dive?

8) A garden slug: Leaves a trail of silvery Yankee aura whever he goes. But no salt in the dugout, please.

Well, that should tide the Bombers over until the next Subway Series, when we can offer base running assistance to Francisco “Pump, Trot and Whine” Cervelli.

If the Mets were playing "Survivor," who'd be a hero and who'd be a villain?

"Survivor” is the only show I watch that doesn’t include baseball players. And watching Sunday’s finale of “Heroes vs. Villains,” I had an idea.

Why not merge them up, and leave more room on the “not-Tivo” – what we call the DVR – for iCarly, Colbert and old movies, the viewing preferences for the rest of the family.

And we’re 38 games into the Mets season, and ”Surivor” started on Day 37 and followed to Day 38 and 39 on the Sunday show.

This season’s heroes and villains theme fits perfectly with the way the Mets season has progressed, Let’s see how the Mets would have been divided and fared on the island so far.

Angel Pagan: Hero tribe. He’s not known for his baseball smarts, kind of like JT on the show. But he’s somewhat loveable and seems happy to be there.

Mike Jacobs: Like Sandra, he’s on the villain tribe, but not quite sure why. Probably because he kept Ike Davis in Buffalo longer than he deserved. But Sandra lasted for a while. Jacobs was the first one booted from the Mets tribal council.

Pedro Feliciano: Hero. Dependable in challenges, carries the load but without being one of the loud leaders.

Gary Matthews Jr.: Villain. Parleyed one amazing challenge victory into a big contract and has done nothing in camp since.

David Wright: Hero. Everyone’s favorite player, but like Colby has some big moments, but has sucked at a lot of challenges this year, probably from trying to carry the whole tribe on his shoulders.

Frank Cattanalotto: Villain. Appeared to be a hero with his hometown boy story but everyone soon learned that the only thing he could contribute were weak-assed grounders and pop flies. Second person voted off at tribal council.

Johan Santana: Hero. Was done in by cheating Phillies punks in recent reward challenge, then can’t get any support from rest of the tribe when he needs it.

Jason Bay: Villain. He’s supposed to be a big power hitter. Has one more homer than I do.

Rod Barajas: Big hero. Was last one picked for the tribe after other catchers went to other shows. Hit more home runs in one game than Bay has all season, including a dramatic walk-off.

Luis Castillo: Villain. He’s really not that bad a player, but everyone wanted Orlando Hudson on the tribe and Luis makes too much to be voted out.

Mike Pelfrey: Hero. Playing better than anyone expected, even led the team in saves at one point. Which leads us to…

Francisco Rodriguez: Villain: The fact that a starting pitcher has a save is not a good thing. The fact that the starting pitcher got that save because the record-holding closer blew a lead in the 19th inning – and several others – makes K-Rod a villain.

Henry Blanco: Hero. Has about 40 tattoos too many, which makes him like Coach without the stupid “dragon slayer” nonsense. But he has some very big hits and the personal catcher thing going for him.

Fernando Tatis: Villain. Oh, he’s not a bad guy. But he must have some incriminating evidence on the Wilpons to be in the game in the first place. That’s pretty villainous.

Ike Davis: Hero! Ike said he belonged in the game during spring training, and was kept out of the action. Now he’s one of the few player in the tribe worth cheering for.

Sean Green: Villain. Sucked mightily in early challenges then went down with an injury before be could be voted off.

Fernando Nieve: Hero. You know, you’re allowed to sit out a reward or immunity challenge once in a while.

Jeff Francouer: Villain. Oh, this hurts. Frenchy says all the right things. You know he’s trying. But after licking butt in all the early immunity challenges, Frenchy has become the hapless tribe member who stands there dropping his puzzle pieces on the ground while everyone else is getting ready to call for Probst.

Jon Niese: Hero. The Hawk’s a great warrior who keeps getting carried off by the medics.

Chris Carter: Villain. I think Carter wants to be a villain. The Animal knows he can beat these chumps and patrols the dugout with his weapon waiting to strike. Would anyone be surprised if we learned that he sabotaged Catalanotto to clear a spot on the roster?

Hisanori Takahashi: Hero. He’ll probably make it to the final two, but not win. He won’t get voted off because none of the other people in the tribe can spell Hisanori, and they can’t just write “The Japanese Guy” this year since there are two of them. But that also means they won’t write him down when it comes to pick the sole survivor, either. But that should make for an interesting final tribal council.

Alex Cora: Villain. Yeah, he’s popular in camp, but heroes don’t bat .232.

Jenrry Mejia: Hero. Talented as all heck, but some people think he needs to go back to Buffalo so he can be a starter. But he survives, probably because they keep writing down “Henry.”

John Maine: Villain. The smirk wants you to put him in the villain’s tribe. The performance this season makes it undeniable.

Raul Valdez: Hero. Isn’t he on loan from the Mexican League or something? The fact that he’s even on the roster makes him a hero.

Jose Reyes: Villain. I went back and forth on this one. How do you know love Jose, with that ever-present smile? Well, the whole resisting to being in the three-hole, then being great when he was forced to go there when becoming a pop-out machine after a couple weeks makes us put him on the villain tribe if pushed. But he doesn’t have to sit with Gary Matthews Jr. around the fire, and we the Heroes will happily talk him back into the alliance after the merge.

Manny Acosta: Hero. It’s not his fault he’s in the game. He’s probably the first to go when Ryota Igarashi comes back. That doesn’t make him a villain.

And finally:

Oliver Perez: Villain. Ollie is like Russell. He’s an uber-villain. Everyone knows he’s a villain. He’s a villain we all love to hate. And every time we think we’ve got him voted out, he somehow survives. Yet he doesn’t appear to get it, just like Russell, demanding to be the winner when he can’t get a single vote in the live reunion show. But after giving up homers to seemingly every Marlin but the pitchers, there can be nothing else to say but: “Ollie, the tribe has spoken. It’s time for you to go.

Tux or Tom? Go formal with The Franchise

My son is going to his senior prom this weekend, and he’s intent on renting a tuxedo with the fancy shoes, vest and bowtie.

It’s a classic look, and he’s not going to cringe in 20 years when we pull out the photos.

Meanwhile, a package of joy arrived in the mail Friday, containing what can only be called The. Best. Shirt. Ever., which we’ll call TBSE for brevity in the rest of the post.

I offered this to my son to wear in lieu of the tux. Why just look great when you can look amazin’?

The new TBSE is sold at the new Mets Hall of Fame and Museum, and is a mini biography of our hero Tom Seaver.

Tom is shown from a photo I’m guessing is from 1975 or 1976, about to unleash a laser-like fastball with his knee just about ready to skim the mound in the way we all know and love.

The late Shea Stadium is in the background, the workmark from the front of the uniform is in the top right, and just below it are his No. 41 and arching name, near as it appeared on the back of this 1983 uniform.

The top left has the cap logo, and under that are the year he was elected to the Hall of Fame, Tom’s career 3,640 strikeouts, his three Cy Young Awards and noting his World Championship in 1969.

I’m still ticked that there aren’t two more Cy Young Awards on there from the 1971 and 1981, but we can’t go back and correct voters at every turn. It’s a shirt, not a protest.

One might ask why it took until 2010 for the Mets to produce such a fantastic shirt, but, again, we must be thankful that it’s here now.

It should be noted that my son’s tux will have none of this important information. I fear that many, if not all, of his high school classmates will go through the entire evening without one discussion of Tom Seaver or reflections about upon his career, even the 1986 season we don't mention in polite company.

So I suggested he toss the tux and strut with Tom. He could still wear the shiny shoes, but not the bowtie. And the lovely blue color of the cotton-poly blend will certainly compliment whatever his date is wearing. We even had plenty of time to match the shirt with her corsage.

Hey, the Mets are still wearing a lot of black. He could wear the alt cap, too!

Rejected.

In fact, I’m not sure he seriously considered the offer. And he quickly denied my attempt to be a chaperone.

It should be noted that the new arrival is the latest in a collection of TBSEs. When these eventually wear out, my wife ensures they are still available for future generations by giving the shirts a second life as throw pillows.

They’re not allowed on the sofa in the living room – don’t get me started – but do add a splash of style and color to The Baseball Room.

Let's help MLB make more All-Star Game rule changes

Major League Baseball announced some changes for the beloved and occasionally glorious All-Star Game, some of which almost make sense.

The problem is that MLB didn’t go far enough.

Once again, we are here to offer our services as consultants, free of charge.

First we’ll review the new rules – and explore the real reasons they were enacted.

1) The designated hitter will be used every year, regardless of the host ballpark’s league. I call this the “Ortiz-Giambi Rule.” MLB is no doubt yielding to pressure from the Red Sox and Yankees to allow their defense-challenged stars to appear as more than pinch-hitters when the game is in the National League parks, since trying to throw them on the field would likely expose the players – and probably the fans – to injury or show just how horribly one-dimensional these guys are.

Someone had to tell Big Papi which hand the mitt went on.

2) Any pitcher selected to the team who starts a regular season game on the Sunday immediately preceding the game will not be eligible to pitch, and will be replaced on the roster. The pitcher will be recognized as an All-Star, will be welcome to participate in festivities and will be introduced in uniform. This allows Bud Selig to stop lying about Barry Zito coming up with pretend, last-minute “injuries” so he can succumb to Yankee pressure and add Roger Clemens to the roster. (See Chicago, 2003)

3) Rosters will be expanded from 33 players to 34 players, consisting of 21 position players and 13 pitchers. Last year's 33-man rosters consisted of 20 position players and 13 pitchers. This way, when Yankee managers like Joe Torre clutter the roster with undeserving middle relievers from his own team, there’s still room for members of the Royals and Blue Jays. (See Nelson, Jeff.)

4) In addition to the existing injured catcher rule, one additional position player who has been selected to the team will be designated by each manager as eligible to return to the game in the event that the last position player at any position is injured. This allows the American League manager some flexibility after burning through his reserves by the fifth inning because Derek Jeter plays his three innings then hits the road.

OK, these are a good start. Now let’s roll up our sleeves and help some more with rules that MLB has somehow overlooked.

1) We accept that ESPN is going to assign Chris Berman to do play-by-play for the Home Run Derby. Not even MLB is powerful enough to stand up to ESPN and demand actual baseball announcers at its baseball events. But, perhaps, it can demand that Berman only use his signature “back-back-back-back-back-back” call for hits that have a shot at leaving the infield.

2) No Padres “closer” shall be allowed near the mound unless the National League is ahead by 10 runs and there are two outs in the ninth inning. We’re playing for home field advantage in the World Series here, and I’m tired of NL teams losing the series because Trevor “Bleeping” Hoffman and Heath “Bleeping” Bell think they’re throwing batting practice.

3) Because that home field in the Series thing exists, only players whose teams have a shot at being in said Series shall play in the final three innings. I’m tired of seeing all the good players like David Wright ripped from the game so the Pirates’ sole team representative gets in the game when everything is on the line. Home series advantage should be decided by the league’s best players, and not the guys on the fringe of the roster.

Have the people who desinged the jerseys used in San Francisco ever seen a suspension bridge? Willie Mays, on the right, is saying, "That's funny, guys. Where are the real jerseys?"

4) Batting practice jerseys and caps must be designed in a way that does not bring shame and embarrassment to the players wearing them.

5) Groundskeepers must have a special tarp available in the press box for when Mariano Rivera and his understated dignity enter the game and Bob Klapisch gets loose with applause that falls upon the closer like soft rain.

6) Sidewalk art will happen. There’s no stopping it. But no city’s beloved landmark must end up looking like it has been vandalized. This shall be known as the Lady Liberty Rule.

7) The collectible All-Star Game program shall be limited to one cover per year. MLB has decided to soak collectors, going from one cover to about five to an obscene 31 for the past couple seasons. Treat fans with respect, please.

That's a good start.

Place No. 81, Mississippi Sports Hall and Museum, and No. 81A Palm Beach County Sports Hall of Fame

I’m a pretty inclusive guy when it comes to halls of fame.

Bert Byleven would have been in the baseball Hall of Fame years ago I had a say. But not Tommy John, since he’s got Yankee taint.

But there’s a difference between including a lot of people and including, well, everybody.

Josh Pahigian takes us to the Mississippi Sports Hall of Fame and Museum for place No. 81 in his “101 Baseball Places to See Before You Strike Out.”

I drove through Jackson on our way to Texas last October, but didn’t have time to stop at the museum, though Josh reports there is a nice display honoring Dizzy Dean.

But my recent adventures in Florida did offer an opportunity to explore another hall:

Place No. 81A: Palm Beach County Sports Hall of Fame

The Hall of Fame was created in 1977, and apparently the criteria for induction are pretty loose. Simply retiring in the Palm Beach area is apparently enough to get one enshrined, and there are a lot of people who retire in South Florida.

And the hall inducts a lot of people every year, even people who contribute to the Hall.

It started modestly with former Tigers manager Mayo Smith, who died that year before, golfer Jack Nicklaus and sports editor Bob Balfe.

But then they started inducting up to nine folks a year. It’s nice that full contact karate is recognized somewhere. But even the online version of the hall lacks any detail about who these inductees were.

And the actual display is just a series of banners hanging in Roger Dean Stadium listing the names and the years of induction.

Scanning the massive list of inductees, I found three Mets properly celebrated. Two, however, didn’t exactly work their sporting magic in the Palm Beach area.

Bob Shaw had a nice enough career, posting 108 wins against 98 losses with .352 ERA over 11 seasons. A shoulder injury did him in.

He arrived at Shea mid-season in 1966, purchased from the Giants, and posted a 11-10 record. The next year was not as pretty, going 3-9 before being sold to the Cubs in July.

His claim to fame was besting Sandy Koufax in Game 5 of the 1959 World Series while hurling for the White Sox.

The Dodgers that year were still playing in the Los Angeles Coliseum, and that game brought a still-record 92,706 people into the stands.

Koufax was not yet the studly pitcher he would become, with an 8-6 record that season. But beating Sandy Koufax any time is something to be proud of, especially when it’s a 1-0 duel in what Dodger fans had hoped would be the clinching game.

That season ended up being Shaw’s best, going 18-6 with a 2.69 ERA and finishing third in the AL Cy Young Award voting.

His other achievement? That would be teaching Gaylord Perry to throw the spitter when both pitched for the Giants.

Like a number of New Yorkers I know, Shaw settled down in the Jupiter, Fla. area and developed commercial real estate.

Gary Carter’s address seems to be his justification for enshrinement as well, unless his duties with the Mets during spring training 40 miles north are taken into considering.

Carter, of course, was a no-brainer for Cooperstown and the Mets Hall of Fame. But he was very active in the Palm Beach area, holding a charity golf tournament in Jupiter at a course where my brother worked at the security gate.

He brilliantly decided that all the participants should sign their parking slip on the way out. There was no official reason for this, mind you, other than to collect autographs for his brother! Not that Pete Rose, Tom Glavine and the other golfers knew that.

And Jeff Reardon is a member of the Class of 1999.

Reardon spent three years with the Mets, amassing a 10-5 record and a 2.65 ERA and 10 saves. In one of the Mets more unfortunate trades, he was sent to the Expos with Dan Norman for Ellis Valentine.

The Expos, of course, made him the closer and became one of the best of the decade an a four-time All-Star. Valentine, well, did not.

Reardon actually played in West Palm Beach, where the Expos shared a spring training site with the Braves.

After several other stops, he sadly ended his career by playing with the Yankees, no doubt causing the problems that led to a 2005 arrest.

I was hoping for more Mets, and more information about the inductees. But I also didn't want to miss a minute of Jose Reyes, so I guess things worked out.

Jose Reyes looked sharp, but I was pretty dizzy after our adventures with the Mets and Hammerheads

Jose Reyes looked pretty impressive when he stepped onto the Roger Dean Stadium field on Thursday. Me -- not so much.

But we had great adventures watching the St. Luice Mets open the season in Jupiter, Fla. against the Hammerheads, the Marlins’ Single-A team in the Florida State League.

Dad, Andrew and I made plans to see the opener long before we knew that the Mets’ star shortstop would be appearing for a rehab game before heading up to New York to join the team.

Being the FSL, I knew getting tickets would not be a problem. We arrived just before the gates opened and bought tickets, landing front-row seats that looked directly into the Mets dugout.

After last season's injury woes, the Mets even get repeated instructions for complicated things like the dugout stairs -- in two languages, no less.

We had barely settled into our sweet seats when a member of the Hammerheads staff appeared with a clipboard, asking if we’d be open to appearing in one of the between-inning entertainment sessions.

It was a rhetorical question, for sure. Andrew and I quickly agreed to take part in the dizzy bat race, signing a waiver protecting the team from everything but us being struck by lightening, and that actually might have been included had I read the document more closely.

By this point the Mets team bus arrived, players already in their road unis with St. Lucie arching across the chest in the same style as the parent club’s New York. Very nice.

It was a treat to see Reyes seemingly having a grand time mixing it up with the other players, laughing and joking as he stretched, usually with a big grin. He was wearing his familiar No. 7 – did a St. Lucie player lose his number for a day? – and batting lead-off.

When a Tigers player rehabs in West Michigan, the place sells out, the fans go nuts and the team later produces a bobble head with the rehabber appearing in his one-day Whitecaps uniform.

That wasn’t the case in Jupiter, where the attendees were better described as a “gathering” rather than as a “crowd.” No complaints from me, mind you, as I made use of my unobstructed and up-close view of my favorite shortstop. Billy Carroll of the Marlins also was in the game for a rehab stint.

With the crowd so silent, it’s easy to hear the umpires and the coaches, and a fastball slamming into the catcher’s glove echoes throughout the park.

Jose grounded out and later took the field, still smiling. The Mets took and early lead, but starter Jeurys Familia was not having his best game.

Just after the top of the third inning started, our friendly Hammerheads staffer appeared and took us over to the third base side of the stands, where we sat with two other staffers and Hamilton R. Head, the Hammerheads’ mascot.

We had a nice chat since it was a long inning. Familia hit three batters, including Carroll, who must have been pissed since he is rehabbing after being beaned in a spring training game.

Hamilton technically couldn’t chat, being a mascot and all, but he contributed to the conversation through hand gestures.

Our host was a recent Michigan State University grad, and we talked baseball and about the joys of working for minor league baseball teams. FSL teams don’t draw well to being with, and the Hammerheads share the stadium with the Palm Beach Cardinals. With a game virtually every night, there’s no rush for folks to head to the park. And because most of the teams in the league play in spring training stadiums, the crowds seem even smaller.

Familia finally retired the side, and we rushed down to the field. Hamilton and a staffer, held a line of crepe paper behind us as a finish line, and our host introduced us to the, um, gathering. Another staffer stood by the rail of the dugout, and I couldn’t figure out why. Did he think I was going to jump the rail and charge the Hammerheads?


Andrew and I were to run a little bit, stand a bat on its end, lean over so it touched our foreheads, and spin around until we were told to run to the finish line.

Now, I’ve watched this type of thing dozens of times at Whitecaps games, and it didn’t seem too tough. When dizzy fans well over, I assumed they either weren’t trying or were tipsy to begin with.

Plus, I was armed with some advice from my friend Sharon, who replied to a Facebook post I sent from the iPhone after being selected.

So I was spinning, spinning and spinning, probably making eight or 10 circles before being told to run.

OK, it’s harder than it looks. I stood up, tried to take a step toward Hamilton. I knew which way to go, but my legs wanted to go elsewhere. All I could see was the green grass, and it was still spinning. I realized I was running at the dugout -- and that was not where I was supposed to be going.

Now I knew why the one staffer was positioned by the dugout, because he tried to catch me as I went sprawling into the dirt. I looked up and saw players just a couple feet away, smiling and laughing.

After being helped up – and with the world no longer spinning – I saw that Andrew had no such trouble and was already holding his crepe paper tape.
Shameful. At least the fans are having fun. Look at the guy in the yellow, and the people in the Hammerheads' dugout.

My first thought: I'm laying in the dirt and Jose Reyes is not impressed.

“I’m so embarrassed!” I said to a staffer. “Don’t worry about it. You did great. That’s what we like to see.”

Our prize was a baseball stress ball and a pair of tickets to a future game. On the downside, I tried to show off my cool Faith and Fear in Flushing T-shirt to the friends in Florida. My flopping around on the dirt probably did little to expand readership. Sorry, Greg and Jason.

Settling back into our seats, We watched Familia continue to self-destruct, and was yanked after giving up 7 runs in 3.2 innings, all the Hammerheads would need.

Naturally, we continued to focus on Reyes, snapping shots of him sitting, standing, talking to teammates, picking out his bat, picking up his glove, shouting encouragement to batters and every other single thing he did. Felt a little bit like a stalker after the fifth inning or so.

Jose, didn’t do much at the plate, only getting one ball into the air. But he made some nice plays in the field.

Being in the front row and the stadium being so quiet, we were free to converse. As Reyes walked back after making one out, we said, “Looking healthy, Jose!” and he turned and smiled. After the game, we said, “Glad to see you back, Jose” and he looked over and said, “Thank you!”

Reyes said in the dugout with hitting coach George Greer after the game, and signed about five baseballs for him, then scooted across the field to the third-base side, where the Mets team bus was waiting. Apparently the players make the 40-minute trip back to St. Lucie before they change.


And Dad, Andrew and I celebrated a fun night with an up-close view of one of our favorite players, ending our already eventful week in Florida on a very high note.

Jose Reyes looking healthy in Jupiter

I was able to see Jose Reyes in a rehab assignment Thursday as the St. Lucie Mets took on the Jupiter Hammerheads. The Mets lost, but it was great to see Jose in action again.

I'll have a full report, because we had some great adventures, including me almost spilling into the Hammerheads dugout.

Here are a couple shots to get going, with more to come!

Redeeming No. 46 in delicious fashion

I'm a little worried about today.

I turned 46, and each year we look for inspiration by seeing which Mets wore the uniform number of the age.

The fantastic Mets By The Numbers site helps with this. And before listing the Met 46ers, it is written: "Whatever you do, don't wear this number."

Neil Allen is the high water mark. And he ditched it after two seasons. Randy Niemann also tossed 46 before the glorious 1986 season.

Dave West tried it twice. Others are Chris Jelic, Terry Bross, Barry Jones, Brian Bohanon, Jermain Allensworth, Rich Rodriguez, Tyler Walker, Jeremy Griffiths, Jose Parra, Tim Hamulack, and, gasp, Oliver Perez.

Plus, we had manager Dallas Green and pitcher Willie Blair, who I met in his Tigers days and he really nice.

If we can break the streak of shame, we can redeem No. 46.

And to start the year on a good note, my brother-in-law Neil made this amazin' birthday cake. He got cable in the house only a couple weeks ago, started watching "Ace of Cakes," and within a week was able to gain the skills to create this masterpiece.

I didn't want to cut it. They made me do it. And it was really good!

Maple Street Press' 2010 Mets Annual not something to fear

It is, quite possibly, the most frightening thing I’ve seen – at least since we pulled out that Rusty Staub Hostess card a couple months ago.

Right there on pages 42 and 43 of the Maple Street Press’ 2010 Mets Annual is a chart showing the 2009 season day-by-day, depicting in blood red the days each player spent on the disabled list.

There’s more blood red on those pages than in your typical Jason movie, and by July the Mets season was just as predictable.

Movie: Camp counselors go off for nookie, Jason arrives, carnage.

Season: Mets player steps on field, carnage.

Luckily the 2010 Mets Annual is a lot more than a recap, because here’s where the Mets and Jason part ways – and I don’t mean the new acquisition, Jason Bay. There were about a dozen Jason flics, and I never want to see a sequel to the Mets 2009 disaster.

Full disclosure here. I’m partial to Jason Fry’s stunningly awesome look at a dozen Mets bloggers. Mostly – but not entirely -- because I’m one of the dozen writers Jason profiled.

Hmmm, another Jason, but this one wears a Mets cap instead of a hockey mask.

It’s fun to learn more about the Mets blogging family, because as Dana Brand of Mets Fan Blog told Jason, “The Mets seem to attract stubbornly individualistic, somewhat unusual people.”

Guilty.

Jason introduces us to Eric Simon of Amazing Avenue, Dana Brand of Mets Fan Book , Steve Keane of the Eddie Kranepool Society, Matthew Cerrone of Metsblog, Caryn Rose of Mets Grrl, Shannon Shark of Mets Police the mysterious person of Mets Walk-offs www.metswalkoffs.blogspot.com, Mike Steffanos of Mike's Mets, John Coppinger of Metstradamus, Taryn Cooper of My Summer Family, and, of course, his effort with writing partner Greg Prince, Faith and Fear in Flushing, Faith and Fear in Flushing.

Speaking of Greg, he offers a look at the near-glorious 2000 team that went all the way to the World Series. Hard to believe it’s been a decade since we started waking up in a cold sweat yelling, “Run, Timo, you knucklehead,” and “Watch out, Mikey! Clemens is homicidal!”

Jason Vorhees, not Jason Bay. Or is it Roger Clemens?

Greg’s book “Faith and Fear in Flushing” was published last season, and fellow authors Matthew Silverman and Jon Springer also are represented in the Annual.

The Annual isn’t quite a book, and it’s sturdier than a magazine. Plus, it’s packed with resource material like stats and schedules, something I will refer to throughout the season.

I like how there are also extensive sections on the minor leagues, so if Jason reappears and assorted Mets end up on the disabled list, we can be familiar with the guys who might come up from the farm to take their places.

Place No. 82: Joe DiMaggio's boat; and 82A: Scott Kamieniecki's apartment

I’ve got another beef with Josh Pahigian.

Recreational watercraft belonging to dead Yankees does not make for a baseball place.

Yet, here we are in Martinez, Calif. with a boat that once belonged to Joe DiMaggio as place No. 82 in his “101 Baseball Place to See Before You Strike Out.”

Note that we’re skipping over place No. 81 for now.

Apparently of you go to the Martinez Marina, you’ll see on a platform a powerboat named “Joltin’ Joe” that was given to the ballplayer on the day he retired in 1949.

Josh writes that DiMaggio used the boat a few times then gave it to his brother Vince, who then passed it along to a cousin.

You won’t be surprised to know that I not only have not seen a boat that DiMaggio sorta kinda had, but have no intentions of doing so.

This is not to say there have not been encounters with Yankees. I submit to you:

Place No. 82A: Scott Kamieniecki’s apartment.


Here’s another tale from the archives.

In hindsight, It’s probably better that I didn’t realize the guy living right above us was Yankees pitcher Scott Kamieniecki.

My wife and I had just moved into a different apartment in our sprawling complex, landing a better unit with two bedrooms and a washer and dryer. It had only two floors, and four units – two upstairs and two down -- shared a little foyer and an outside door.

I claimed the extra bedroom as my first “baseball room,” a place to hang the glorious life-sized posters of Tom Seaver and Frank Thomas, the Mets pennants and yearbooks I’d collected since childhood and other stuff.

In the six years we lived in apartments, I can’t say we really got to know any of the neighbors other than a “good morning” when we passed, only sometimes not even knowing their names.

So it wasn’t much of shock that I didn’t really formally meet the new family that moved upstairs in the fall of 1992. The guy had one of those nasty halo harnesses you wear after a neck injury, and he had a wife and young child. I saw them a couple times as we passed in and out, even once in Meijer, which is a big store here in the Midwest.

My wife helped the woman carry some boxes up the stairs once, and said she introduced herself. The woman said, “We’re only here until our house is done being built” and closed the door on her.

My colleagues in the Flint Journal’s sports department did a good job keeping track of local athletes in the pros, and Flint’s got a lot of them. Kamieniecki was from Mount Clemens, which is closer to Detroit than Flint. But his wife was from Grand Blanc, the Flint suburb where we lived.

My friends at the local baseball card store stayed on top of such things, too. Dave “Pop” Zittel was a retired school administrator who was active with sports programs and opened the store with his brother as a hobby. He knew everyone, and told me Kamieniecki was moving into the area. And we had read that he was having some kind of neck surgery during the off-season.

But I never thought that the guy living upstairs might be the Yankees pitcher. And we barely took notice when the family moved out after a short time. People moved in and out all the time.A new family moved in, and one day they placed a letter atop of the mailbox in the foyer, and wrote on the envelope “Please forward to Scott Kamieniecki” and the address.

Finally, all the dots were connected … neck surgery … building a house … wife from the area … A MAJOR LEAGUE PITCHER IS LIVING RIGHT ABOVE ME! Or, more accurately, was living above me.

My wife said, “Oh yeah, when I helped the woman with the box I saw all kinds of bags with the Yankees logo on them.”

“And you neglected to tell me this why?” I asked.

“Well, when the woman closed the door on me, I thought ‘That’s not very nice' and forgot all about the bags.”

I was crushed. The guy was living right upstairs from my baseball room.

Looking back, I realize this could have gone one of two ways:

Scenario one: Me and Scott become tight buddies, he comes downstairs to hang out and tells funny stories about Rickey Henderson while I throw some brats on the Weber. Then he teaches me a devastating change-up so I can finally beat Will at Wiffle Ball. When the Bombers pull into Detroit during the season he sets us up with tickets behind home plate.

Scenario two: Overcome at having a Major League ballplayer live upstairs, I’m reduced to a shaking, pointing mass whenever I see my new neighbor, who humors me once by accepting a tour of the baseball room and deeply regrets it when I retell the story of Reggie Jackson and the Hall of Fame ball for the third time. From that point on, Scott tiptoes past my door and up the stairs every time he enters the building to avoid making contact.

Yup, I think we know which one of those paths we would have walked down.

Kamieniecki, who still lives near Flint, had a nice career in the majors, pitching 10 years with a 53-49 record and 4.52 ERA. He was with the Yanks from 1991 to 1996, spent some time with Baltimore from 1997 to 1990 and split 2000 with the Indians and Braves.

And let’s just say I’ve made it a point to thoroughly get to know any and all new neighbors – just in case.

Going green with the Mets on St. Patrick's Day

Kevin McReynolds and Jeff McKnight were among the Mets in green when I arrived at Dodgertown in 1994.

The Mets have had six Patricks in their 48 years.

Pat Tabler didn't drive in too many runs, much less snakes, in his short stint in 1990. We made the playoffs in both 1999 and 2000, the two years of Pat Mahomes' tenure.

And poor Pat Zachry was supposed to take the place of a Franchise when he arrived as part of the trade for Tom Seaver. I was too distraught to tell if he had any saintly powers.

And, as Chris O'Dorso points out below, Pat Howell, Pat Strange and current Met Pat Misch are also on the list, though I shamefully forgot them.

I caught the Mets on St. Patrick's Day twice, though one was a rain-shortened game in Melbourne.

The other, 1n 1994 at Vero Beach against the Dodgers, was more promising. At least it seemed so at the time.

The Mets were in transition. Dwight Gooden and Kevin McReynolds were still around. Todd Hundley and Bret Saberhagen were there. But so were folks like Mauro Gozzo and Ryan Thompson.

Dallas Green, second from the right, was at the helm.

After the disaster of 1993, when the team finished below the expasnion Marlins, the Mets were looking to rebound.

The team had pulled up to third place with a 55-58 record before the disaster that was the labor battle shut down the season.
Glenn Davis didn't make it north with the Mets, and took Mike Piazza a couple years to get there.

But they sure seemed to turn the corner, and even came back with the proper attire, dumping the big, fat tail that intruded under the team name on the front of the jersey.

And that was a reason to celebrate.

Baseball Place No. 80: Massive Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum; Place 80A: Massive Cleveland Stadium

It must have seemed strange for the 1958 Dodgers to go from their beautiful and intimate Ebbets Field – which was kind of like Citi Field without the majesty of the home run apple – to the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum.

The stadium, home to two Olympics and a lot football, was retrofitted for baseball so the Dodgers had a place to play while their palace at Chavez Ravine was under construction.

Josh Pahigan takes us there for place No. 80 in his “101 Baseball Places to See Before You Strike Out.”

I was in L.A. for a conference in 2003, and a little time to sneak in visits to Dodger Stadium and Angels Stadium, but didn’t get to the coliseum.

Sounds like people went to Dodgers games in those days to see major league baseball without actually getting close to much baseball, since many of the seats were ridiculously far away from the action.

Other things were too close, like the leftfield fence. The wall was just 251 feet from home plate – or 30 feet closer than the fence on my softball field. Of course, I’d like to have the 42-foot-tall fence that Dodger pitchers had when I take the hill, since my slow-pitch arcs occasionally arc back over by head and land on the adjoining field.

That happened to Dodger pitchers, too. There was talk of adding a second fence 80 feet beyond the first, and balls that dropped between the two would count as ground rule doubles, but it never happened.

Despite the quirks, the team drew nearly 93,000 fans to 1959 World Series games, a record that still stands.

I did enjoy a game in the stadium that previously held that mark, at 86,288 fans. That would be:

Place 80A: Cleveland Stadium

Cleveland was the last stop of the epic baseball road trip of 1989. Rick, Mark and I watched the Red Sox and Blue Jays at SkyDome on June 30, and the plan was to make the fairly short trip through Niagara Falls and to Ohio with plenty of time for fun.

Alas, we were unaware that July 1 is Canada Day. And apparently Canadians celebrate by packing as many cars as they can on the 403 because we spent much of the day stuck in traffic. After several hours of inching along, we started to fear that we would not get to the game in Cleveland on time.

We got there just in time, frazzled, on each other’s nerves and out of film. I set off on my own to do some exploring.

Cleveland Stadium was ready for baseball by 1932, and was massive. The centerfield fence was 470 feet from home until owner Bill Veeck created an inner-fence to cut down the distance.

Veeck, a known bad ass, actually moved fences in and out depending on whether his team would benefit until the American League banned the practice.

The old stadium was one of the most derided in the game when we arrived. It was old, and so huge that even a nice-sized crowd left the place looking half-empty. It didn’t help that the Indians were horrible and had been for years.

We did get a close-up view of former Mets hero Jesse Orosco, who was then on the Indians and appearing in a pre-game autograph booth for several hundred children.

Wondering around the stadium, I heard the unmistakable boom-boom-boom of a bass drum coming from the outer reaches of the ballpark. Bing a National League fan, I was not familiar with John Adams, a super fan who brings his drum and pounds away to inspire the team.

The sound echoed throughout the stadium, and I wandered out to meet Adams, sitting in a section he pretty much had to himself, with the drum propped in the seat in front of them.

We watched the game together, and he converted me. I described the scene in my story about the trip for the Bridgeport Post.

“People say a lot of bad things about this stadium, but they’re wrong,” he said, drumstick in hand, waiting for the next Tribe hit.

“First of all, there are plenty of great seats. This place seats more than 70,000, so I know I’ll never have any trouble getting a ticket.

“Now I know a lot of people say, ‘Yeah, but there are columns that block the view,’” he said, pointing the drumstick at the upper deck. “But that’s bull and I’ll tell you why. Let’s say there are 10,000 seats that in some way block a portion of the field. Even better, for the sake of argument, let’s say there are 20,000. That still leaves 50,000 seats with an unobstructed view. And 50,000 seats are more than Wrigley Field has in the entire ballpark.”

Adams was cut off when Indians star Joe Carter, one of our favorite non-Mets, launched a two-run homer, sending Adams into a drum-pounding frenzy.

The game was a good one, with Mark McGwire and Dave Henderson – another of our favorite non-Mets – starting for Oakland, and Rickey Henderson delivering a broken-bat pinch single to drive in the winning runs.

Adams sold me on the park. It was comfortable, and a great contrast from our previous day at the brand new SkyDome. It became one of my favorites.

The Indians moved to their new park, Jacobs Field, in 1994 and the Browns left for Baltimore after the 1995 season.

That left the massive stadium without a tenant and a date with the wrecking ball. Pieces of the stadium were dumped into Lake Erie to form a reef for fishermen.

Not every piece. Will was living in Columbus at the time, and called with some news. The Indians were selling seats for a reasonable price. He was making the trip to Cleveland to get one, and wanted to know if I wanted one, too. Actually, he knew I wanted one. That was a rhetorical question.

He said workers directed him to drive right into the stadium, where they loaded two yellow seats into his car. Andrew and I made the trip down soon after, a wonderful reunion. And today, the seat from Cleveland Stadium is one of the centerpieces of the basement baseball room.