As I'm sure you've already heard

Well, steroids are a funny thing these days.

Guys, obvious users, like Barry Bonds and Jason Giambi, still refuse to own up to using the stuff in public.

Guillermo Mota, your master of serving up two run doubles to tie games in the Mets' playoff run, has been suspended for 50 games under MLB's drug policy.

And I thought it was all the devastating changeup.

In other news, Mota will change his entry music from that song "I like to move it move it" to Afroman's "Because I Got High."

Mota fully owned up to his drug use, releasing a statement saying, "I used extremely poor judgment and deserve to be held accountable, To my teammates and the entire Mets organization, I am sorry. I truly regret what I did and hope that you can forgive me. To baseball fans everywhere, I understand that you are disappointed in me, and I don't blame you," he added. "I feel terrible and I promise this is the first and last time that this will happen."

I guess that should change all of our minds about whether or not it makes sense to resign him.

Speaking of re-signing, though, the Mets are reportedly (according to your New York Daily News) close to a 2-year, $25MM extension with Thomas Michael Glavine. Not too much to complain about there.

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In other news:
-Rangers/Ducks, 10 PM out here on the East Coast. I'm gonna pass on this one, I think. If you're giving up four goals to the Kings, including two to Brent Sopel, you probably shouldn't be an NHL team.

-Knicks/Grizz season opener tonight. Your Knicks over/under for wins this season: 33.

-Everyone's talking about Daisuke Matsuzaka. I have a few opinions on this guy, and I'll happily voice them when breaking down the free-agent pitching market.

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A Morning Roundup

Just when you thought things couldn't get any worse...
they do.

After your New York Jetropolitans dropped a heartbreaker to Cleveland (a winnable game where Chadwick stunk it up), your Broadway Blueshirts were pounded into submission by the LA Kings.

Although I have already touched on my fears for this Rangers season, I can't really say that the routing of Phoenix late Saturday night put me all that much at ease. Jagr has not been Jagr, and Lundqvist's play has been spotty, clearly not his wonderful work of yesteryear.

But the Jets are the topic du jour. This team, which started the season as the worst team money could buy, has now become an upstart underdog... until of course they lost to Cleveland. This game will probably keep the Jets from winning a wild card spot, which was a pretty realistic aspiration until now. Don't fret... we'll have a bye week.

And two pretty easy games after that: New England and Chicago.

These Jets will regrettably be four and six soon enough, and the failure in the past game is squarely on the shoulders of key cogs Pennington and Mangini. Sure the run defense was terrible, but it has been that way all year. The Jets were incapable of running a three-four, personnel-wise, and the 3-4 isn't always the best way of stopping the run.

Oh, well.

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At least we have baseball... right?

Adam Kennedy wants to be a Met.

Sure, Kennedy's not a terrible option as a utility man, but I'll pass on him and his lack of power at second. Other names mentioned in connection with the second base vacancy include Rich Aurilia, Jose Valentin, and Julio Lugo.

I won't put too much stock in rumors this offseason, but suffice it to say that Omar Minaya is hunting for a splash to make.

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Oh... and I think basketball season starts. Can't really work up too much interest in that.

The Knicks waived Jalen Rose and reached a pact with Larry Brown. Huzzah.

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We Have A Little Problem

The Rangers are in trouble. Not just little trouble, like we saw at spots during last season.

Through the first nine games of the season, your Broadway Blueshirts are lagging in fourth place out of five in the Atlantic Division, with the only team below them at 1-6 having dismissed head coach and GM. True to form, they are trailing the Islanders, Penguins, Devils, sitting at 13th in the Eastern Conference.

Remember, these are Larry Brooks' Stanley Cup favorite Rangers. These are the Rangers who were supposed to vie with the Hurricanes and Sabres for Eastern Conference supremacy. These were the Rangers who were supposed to face the Anaheim Mighty Ducks in the finals.

It's scary, man. Really scary. And there are lots of things to blame for it- the defense has not been playing up to its standards of yesteryear. King Henrik is nowadays looking more like unstable Lord Protector Henrik and the defense playing in front of him has looked incapable.

The problem is... the offense and special teams aren't so hot either. And with good reason, the focus comes back to the shoulder of our superstar: Jaromir F'in Jagr. Although Jaro has notched a nearly league-leading 12 assists, he has failed to register anything in the goals department, netting only two lamplighters that came nearly two weeks ago.

Shanahan has been nice and Nylander is playing up to his standards from last year. But the Rangers have lacked that pizzazz- the ability to score a little bit, but to score enough when it counts. And that responsibility falls on the shoulders (pardon the pun) of Jaro, who hasn't been making the team (and the power play) go like he was expected to.

And what hurts most is that Jagr's sustaining pain is compounded in Ranger failure by turnovers and inability to finish on offense. It is also becoming increasingly apparent that the team's defense is bloated. Loaded with contracts of professional bums like Sandis and Darius Kasparaitis, the Rangers are stuck with high-priced players who aren't carrying the load.

I will give this team some time, but after having finished more than one-tenth of the season, color me unimpressed and wary of the false hope that inundated us last year.

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Oh, well...

It's hard to collect my thoughts so quickly after the disappointment last night.

Accordingly, I will be going on a brief hiatus (presumably a week and change) and then I will come back, sans co-blogger, and develop a better notion of what lies ahead for the Mets and for Crosstown Rivals.

But now, I can't really think. There's too much to comprehend. But at a time like this, I have to agree with the rest of the community's general consensus.

The Mets didn't hit in Game 7. That's not how they won the division.

The setup corps blew at least two leads during this series. That's not how they won the division.

Tom Glavine lost his second start this series, going only four innings. Steve Trachsel lost his only start. That's not how the Mets got here, and it wasn't going to propel us to the World Series.

Forget you not that we still have the crisp back fields of Spring Training to look forward to, and the Hot Stove and Winter Meetings before that. We can go back to discussing every little exploit of Firstings Milledge, or talking about why exactly Julio Franco was signed to a two-year contract.

We will discuss next year's lineup, bench, rotation and bullpen alignment. And with Minaya aggressively helming the Mets, nothing is set in stone.

Many Mets aren't locks for next year's roster: guys like Glavine (who was incredibly non-committal last night about returning next year), Duque, and Bradford all have expiring contracts. And ahead of us we have the inevitable courtship that is the Winter Meetings, where Jose Valentin's looming contract demands will cause the Mets to aggressively pursue Alfonso Soriano. In my nightmares.

We'll have Mets Weekly, with Julie Donaldson and Siafa Lewis. Even if we do secretly miss Fran Healy's blurry-imaged Hot Stove Report. There will be baseball video games, where we can experiment with the Mets regardless of whether or not there's actually grass anywhere in the Northeast.

And I'll still be here, a little bit heavier in the heart, but always following my teams vigorously. We'll have the Jets and Rangers, not to mention maybe little notes about some of our other tri-state area teams. But first and foremost I am a baseball blogger, and we'll still have every little nugget about who's getting traded where.

So now is not the time to fret, because this blog is excited about its future. And the future of the New York Metropolitans.

See you in a bit.

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aw, fuck.

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Game 7

It's time.

I'm not going to use hyperbolical language, because that's not really what this game is about.

Tonight is about tonight. But last night andtonight in some way encompasses what the Mets didn't face in 2006: an imminent threat of their demise.

Tonight, Oliver Perez, a headcase-y disappointing veteran of two other organizations, takes the hill. And raise your hand if you thought going into this season that Oliver Perez and John Maine would be counted on for the two most important starts of the season to date.

Ollie, this is your time. Mets, this is your time.

The Mets will be facing the Supp Nazi tonight, a man universally known as a bum. He has pitched well against the Mets, with a 2.27 ERA against them in his career, his impressive game 3 start notwithstanding.

But I don't care about Jeff Suppan and you shouldn't either.

Tonight is about seizing the moment. Keeping the faith. Winning one for the Gipper. Winning one for every Met who did so much and never struck paydirt.

It's your time, Reyes, Beltran, Wright, and Delgado. This is your chance to vault the Mets into a World Series for the first time since 2000, where they will face a team who they can beat.

Pack your bags, gentlemen. The plane for Detroit leaves tonight, fueled by bargain basement Mums.

Ya gotta believe.

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Ya Gotta Believe

Today's omen from a handful of M&M's I took from a friend. This was selected at random. No joke.

Let's go Mets.

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Oh No!

Despite the fact that the Mets offered the human rain delay as their starting pitcher tonight, despite the lack of momentum, I figured that good things were in our futures.

After all, the Cardinals were starting Jeff Suppan tonight. He had been just as bad as Trachsel this year.

And even when Trachsel came out looking stale and devoid of control against a pretty tough team, I didn't get worried.

But then it became harder not to worry. Our opponents were mashing the veteran righty, while the Supp Nazi was making like Pedro in his prime. (just a quick question: who does Mr. Martinez pitch for these days anyway?)

Time passed during the game. At-bats became innings and soon enough it was practically over.

And now I'm worried about Sunday... with good reason.

Oliver "Nutjob" Pay-Rezz is on the hill, with this game either tying the series or allowing St. Louis to clinch on Monday at home.

Ladies and Gentlemen, pray for Perez today.

Amen.

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Don't get me started about the Jets or Rangers either.

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a little rain never hurt anybody

Let's get this Weaver guy.

Do it for Cory.

your first pitch is 8:19 PM.

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Two for the Price of One

I was prepared to see the Yankees knocked out today. No, really, I was. I knew what would come in the morning: tales of Joe Torre on the hot seat and A-Rod on the first plane out of town.

And sure, I knew they'd somehow find a way to praise Jeter unrelentlessly (and, in all fairness, he did have a good series at the plate).

Yes, also, if you read my post yesterday, you'd notice that I also nailed Trachsel's performance about right and I had the Mets winning the game.

But I'll be damned if Greg Maddux didn't come up a bigger goat last night than A-Rod has. Nobody's going to talk about it, but Mad Dog, the man universally known as still a great pitcher by baseball anaysts too foolish to turn on a TV set, came up microscopic last night.

In the first three innings, Maddux gave up four runs. He was pinch-hit for during the fourth. Now, in that situation, "the book" necessitated pinch-hitting for Maddux. But it's funny how this man, given two hundred times the credit of Steve Trachsel, pitched a clearly inferior game.

Trachsel was okay. It was upsetting to see him lose it on the hill after a few innings of solid work, and I'm not sure if I agree with Willie's decision to go with Darren Oliver to replace Trax. If you didn't notice, Oliver's ERA over August and September was an even 7.00.

It might have made more sense to go to Royce Ring or Bert Hernandez in that situation, given hindsight showing that Oliver was only one lucky catch away from getting hammered. And three runs in 1.1 innings of work ain't exactly Bob Gibsonesque.

The Mets bullpen got a little spooky early on, as Chad Bradford let two men reach base without recording an out and Pedro Feliciano walked in a run.

But after that, they settled down. Mota, Heilman, and Wagner did their job and combined for four scoreless relief innings, with the ball finally winding up in Shawn Green's glove after what seemed like an endless at-bat from Ramon Martinez.

The offense was good; Cliff might be hurt, so what?

I see some damn brooms. And these brooms are magic. The Mets can ride to the top.

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