Thursday, May 24, 2007

Bat Girl retires

This has nothing to do with the Mets, but it has everything to do with this blog, and how and why I started writing a baseball blog. I stumbled onto Bat Girl a few years ago - back in 2004 - when she began the innovation known as “Legovision” - TBF having a soft spot in his heart for Legos, and add baseball - well, there you go.

She announced today that she is shutting the blog down, due to many circumstances, foremost of which is the birth of her son.

If you’ve never read her site before, now is the time. Her writing about baseball is everything I aspire to be, and everything I am not - yet.

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

INSERT LAME OLIVER PEREZ CLICHE HERE.

5th inning, after D. Wright’s home run, I slowly raised my arms above my head in an arc-like shape, and bounced up and down.
“What’s that?” TBF asked, carefully.
“The home run apple!”
“Um, okay.”
“Okay, you gotta compliment me, or mock me.”
“Honey, that’s pretty lame.”
“Oh, come on.”
“Ingenious, but lame.”

We started off the game tonight debating the lineup change. While we were both fine with moving Delgado, I still wasn’t sure I didn’t want Lo Duca batting second (and yes I saw the 2nd vs. 7th stats too, I just think that maybe Jose feels protected or confident knowing that Lo Duca will always come on to move him over). Conversations I couldn’t even think about having a year ago, TBF no longer bats an eye, instead cautions me that we need to figure out what we do when we start to have virulent disagreements, “Now that you know what you’re talking about.” It is likely only a matter of time until the first door-slamming, cat-hiding-under-the-bed baseball disagreement.

Oliver Perez! What’s not to like? He’s self-effacing, he isn’t cocky, he loves what he’s doing and he acts like he’s thrilled to be an ace. I would like to order myself an OP shirt, but TBF already did (I opted for CHAVEZ 10), and we try really hard to not acquire identical items of Mets-related clothing. As it is, we’re still not sure whether wearing our WRIGHT 5 jerseys (mine road black, his classic pinstripes) is cute or, well, g-h-e-y.

And Joe Smith! That inning was a joy to watch - strength, precision, power. BOOM! He’s the subject of adoration over at Billy’s blog today.

Coop and Zoe are trying to get me out of the house tomorrow for the SNY thing. We’ll see.

Monday, May 21, 2007

NEW YORK GROOVE.

So I didn’t go to Sunday night’s game. Both TBF and I got second chances from the Mets, and although we evaluated our ticket options, on Friday, we were all about “Let’s save that money for a game that really matters”.

Friday night, as I wrestled with 350+ photos from BP and the game, and tried to wrestle my words into something worthwhile, TBF announces that he thinks he wants to go to the game. Crankiness ensues. We sleep on it. He still wants to go. I tell him to go, and then relent. My reluctance was based on the need to start with a new employer on Monday morning, and knowing just how bright eyed and bushy tailed I am after a windy night in the upper deck watching an 8pm game.

Saturday night, we found two singles in adjoining upper boxes, and then I finally realize I just can’t do it and tell him to go. Crankily, I drive him to the 7 train. Crankily, I take up position on the couch with the cat. Crankily, I ordered chinese and endured ESPN commentary, while firing txt messages at TBF.  I had planned to turn off the TV around 10:30 and turn on Howie and Ed, and then we were near the end and I was already crankier, but knew it was probably better to just finish watching it.

All things considered, the game I wish I’d changed my last minute plans to see was Wednesday night’s game, finding myself out in Jackson Heights for Indian food at about 7:30, and TBF texting me to say, “Come on out! Rain delay until 9:15!” I didn’t go because I was tired and wearing work clothes, but should’ve said “fuck it,” bought a sweatshirt at the team store, and sat with TBF to watch midnight baseball. That’s a better memory than any Subway Series.

Saturday, May 19, 2007

BRINGING IT ALL BACK HOME. [5-18-07]

“What do you want to have happen tonight,” inquired William from row F. “Strong start, or big walk-off drama?”
It amazed me that I had an actual opinion. “I want them to come out and dominate right from the start. None of this ‘we’re the Mets and we play scrappy baseball’ like we’re some kind of underprivledged cousins.” (It equally amazed me that I used the word “dominate” in the sports context.)

Ah, the Subway Series. For once, Shea was only about 1/3 full of Yankees fans. BP wasn’t full of kids in Jeter jerseys stomping on you to get a random fly ball. Any Yankees chanting during the game was easily shouted down with a hearty “Let’s Go Mets”. There was none of the hesitancy I felt last year, we cheered the starting lineup and we booed the Yankees with gusto.

What a game! Knowing that Oliver would settle down eventually. Sheer glee when he did.

10-15-27 = Knowing that nothing would get lost in our outfield.

“We have Endy Chavez—and you don’t!” TBF’s favorite cackle at any opposing team.

It was beyond frigid. Every time I swear that I am taking the blanket and the hat and an extra fleece until July, and then I take it all back out of the bag. This time I mean it.
Luckily, Miriam & Julia loaned me their blanket, and this game was so quick that everyone kept asking us on the way home what the score was and what inning it was, and when we told them that the game was over, we were there, they looked at us in amazement.

Best sign was carried by a 12 year old in the mezzanine:
“LET’S GO METS! Please win, because I’m surrounded by Yankees fans and it’ll be a long car ride home if you don’t.”

One of the best parts was on the B61 home, we walk on to find about four NYPD on the bus, and when everyone from the 7 train piled on, one of them announced, “Sorry, Yankees fans have to take another bus. We can arrange an escort back to the Bronx for you.”
The lone Yankees fan looked around to see who they were talking to.
“I’ll give you this hat so you can support a winning team,” TBF offered. I kicked him, gently.
I think he’s going Sunday night. I can’t go because of work the next day, and I’m a little cranky that he’s going to go without me. MMMpppph.

Click here for the flickr gallery from BP today and the game. Highlights below.

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

THE UNCLE FLOYD SHOW. [5-15-07]

Yes, I’m going to post a lot of photos of Cliff, because, quite honestly, otherwise absolutely nothing else happened at Shea tonight that is worth discussing. So feel free to skip this post if you don’t want to see the Uncle Floyd Show.

[more, including photos, after the jump]

5-14 PHOTO GALLERY.

Click here to view the entire set on flickr.

A small preview:

Monday, May 14, 2007

DEAR CHICAGO. [5-14-07]

PRE-GAME:
TBF and I eat Chicago-style hot dogs (minus celery salt and technicolor relishes) at the Diamond Club. (Amongst other things.)

SECOND INNING:

“This is how we lose baseball games to teams we shouldn’t lose to.”
--MG

ARE WE SURE THIS IS A GOOD IDEA?

First, a fan is banned from Shea from shining a flashlight into the opposing pitcher’s eyes…

...and then a week later, they hand out flashlights. ("No batteries,” TBF pointed out.)

In Arizona, we lose a home run because of a fan’s popcorn box, and now this:

Sunday, May 13, 2007

AHORA, TRES CARLOS.

When we were down at Spring Training this year, one morning, there was an animated conversation going on between one practice field and the other, between Jose Reyes and one of the minor leaguers. I had left my pocket Spanish dictionary in the car, but there was a lot of laughing and joking and even with zero knowledge of Spanish, it was clear that two friends were giving each other a hard time.
“I think that’s Carlos Gomez,” TBF said. “Jose says he’s even faster than he is.”
“How is that even possible?”

Saturday’s debacle involved me getting in the car to drive home around 3pm, turning on Howie and Ed, and sending TBF a text message at 3:46pm (while I was sitting in traffic on the Hutch) that read ‘OH THE HUMANITY’.
We kind of completely ignored baseball last night as a result, got home very very late, and slept in very very late. By the time we came home from a very very late breakfast, the game was well under way, and we both studiously avoided the internet so the game didn’t get spoiled. I was going to do some cleaning first, and then TBF said, “I think we need to watch the game. Carlos Gomez got called up.”
“But yesterday, they said that Pelfrey--”
“Yeah, I guess not.”

Wasn’t that outfield a pleasure to watch? Wasn’t Perez dynamite? What a fantastic, fantastic game. I like Gomez, and TBF is showing the kind of affection for OP that he previously reserved for Duaner. Reyes in the dugout, finally getting with the program (telling Ben Shpigel that he waited because he was filming a reggaeton video - WHICH ONE? inquiring minds beg to ask), rubbing heads with a newly-shorn Gomez in the dugout. Loving OP’s leaps, his unbridled enthusiasm, his tip of the cap in response to the well-deserved standing O as he left the field in the 9th. (I don’t know which I liked better, that applause or the one he got as he came up to bat in the 8th.) It was the kind of game that made me sorry we weren’t there after all, despite the chock full week o’ baseball we have ahead of us. It’s starting to be the kind of year that will make me say, ‘Yeah, we should go,’ when the impulse arises to see that extra game.

On that note, I have a day off on Thursday and Friday. Although I have my day planned and am totally happy with it, and will get to Shea early on Friday in time for BP, there is something that makes me want to find a really, really good ticket for Thursday afternoon and spend the day in the sun at Shea.

Friday, May 11, 2007

THANK YOU (FALETTINME BE MICE ELF AGIN) [5-11-07]

I *loved* tonight’s game.  I loved the excited hopping tiny adorable Little Leaguers lining the warning track before the anthem. I loved that it was Friday and the week was over and I got to meet TBF at 6:00 sharp and run down to the 7 train together. I loved that it wasn’t hot but it wasn’t cold and I didn’t need sweatshirts and wool hats and gloves and scarves and hand warmers. I loved “PLAY BALD” even if the joke is already old and tired. I loved that the stadium was respectably full, that there were no endless ‘YANKEES SUCK’ chants, and that only once did I have to yell at a moron with a cell phone to please not stand at the top of the tunnel while the Mets were up. I loved watching Delgado’s smile beam up at us in the mezzanine while Professor Reyes taught us how to ask for a napkin en español.

[MORE, and PHOTOS, after the jump. Click below to page 2!]