Saturday, July 14, 2007

“YOU HAVE TO GO TO THE BACK.”

The Mets owe me a goddamn baseball hat.

A few months ago, TBF and were wandering from the Lower East Side towards Washington Square Park when I said, “Oh, let’s go to the hat store.”
“The hat store?”
The Hat Store is the New Era store on E. 4th Street, made infamous now by the commercial. I had found it on my own a few months before that day, which I hadn’t shared with TBF. This time, we went into the store, and I took him to the back and showed him this lovely tricked-out black and grey paisley-and-sparkle, velvet cutout, Mets hat. More as a joke than anything, I tried it on.
“What do you think?”
TBF got that weird expression on his face. The one he gets when we walk by the Coach store and I see something new. The one right before his wallet comes out of his pocket.
I took the hat off quickly. “We’re going NOW,” I said.
“But I want to buy you the hat.”
“No.”
“If the Mets sweep this weekend, I’ll buy you the hat.”
For Mr. Purist, I-only-wear-blue-with-orange-button-fitted-hat to agree to buy me a non-regulation hat, it had to have looked pretty adorable.
I was in love. I wanted that hat.

The Mets, however, have not cooperated.

Which brings us to where we are now. The Mets have not swept anybody, but I am going to Chicago (and Milwaukee) in August to see the Mets, and TBF wants to buy me The Hat for the occasion, referring to it as my “Cliff Floyd ‘big pimpin’’ hat.” We each had errands in the neighborhood and around downtown today, so we agreed to meet at the hat store at 3:30.

We entered the store in search of the hat, only to discover a slight problem.
They don’t make that hat any more.
The paisley-and-sparkles, pseudo-velvet cutout Mets hat. It’s gone.

TBF is undeterred. He wants to buy me a hat. He starts perusing hats up and down the store. Every time he finds a model that would be suitable, we discover that they only have it for The Other New York Team, but not the Mets (but also for Atlanta, LA, the Orioles, Boston - wtf? Can I see this demographic data?)

After trying on and rejecting a hat I would later learn had a $80 price tag, I settled on this adorable number:

But am still cranky that the Mets cost me my paisley hat.

(Don’t worry. There’s plenty of other things the Mets are making me cranky over.)

Friday, July 13, 2007

IN 1977/I HOPE I GO TO HEAVEN.

Shea Stadium went dark at approximately 9:30 p.m., in the bottom of the sixth inning, with Lenny Randle at bat. The New York Mets were losing 2-1 against the Chicago Cubs. Jane Jarvis, Shea’s Organist and “Queen of Melody”, played Jingle Bells and White Christmas. The game was completed on September 16, with the Cubs winning 5-2.

[thanks, Ray]

FRIDAY PHOTO. [LA WOMAN]

MetsGrrl reader on the West Coast, Andrew Lasky, graciously sent these FANTASTIC photos along from the 6-11-07 Dodgers series. Be sure to enjoy the entire slideshow. Thanks, Andrew!!

MEMO TO SNY.

WHEN A MET HITS A HOME RUN, WE DO NOT WANT TO SEE FANS HOLDING UP THEIR LAME SIGNS IN THE STANDS. WE WANT TO SEE THE DUGOUT DANCING. REPEAT: DUGOUT DANCING GOOD, UNORIGINAL SIGNS BAD.

kthxbye

xo,
MG

Thursday, July 12, 2007

PEOPLE GET READY.

METS PART WAY WITH FRANCO.

Any other joke I would make would likely offend someone. And I don’t want to offend anyone.

I just don’t ever want to see Julio Franco called as the PH at the top of the 9th when we’re behind and have runners in scoring position ever, ever again.

That might make me belie—

nevermind.

On a serious note, what I said to TBF last night about Rick Downs’ dismissal and Rickey’s elevation, is that Omar can’t buy anyone or anything right now, so they’ve got to get creative if they want someone or something to make an impact in the second half. Omar isn’t going to do something stupid (e.g., 99.9% of the trades suggested on your local sports talk radio show), so he’s going to get creative.

They’re getting sufficiently creative for me.

WHY, INDEED?

Why does Jeanne Zelasko get to be snotty about Barry Bonds? But let me not be sexist; why do so many tedious unworthy men get to be snotty about Barry Bonds? Still, at times like that I find myself thinking: Why hasn’t feminism produced a woman paid by sports networks who’s worth listening to about baseball? Why hasn’t baseball?

—Baseball fan and San Franciscan Joan Walsh in Salon on the All Star Game

[FWIW, Joan *is* a woman who’s worth listening to about baseball; regrettably she doesn’t write about it that often these days.]

[I was heartened to learn that the Portwalk at AT&T Park was open, and free, during the festivities.]

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

THE MID-SUMMER CLASSIC, 2007.

METSGRRL’S ALL-STAR GAME HATE LIST

1. Tony LaRussa
2. Albert Pujols
3. Chase Utley
4. The Entire Fox TV On-Air Staff, except Eric Byrnes and his Dog*
7. Jeanne Zelasko’s Outfit
8. Anyone who had a ticket to a seat and wasn’t using it (and wasn’t in the outfield trying to catch a ball)
9. The guy directly behind home plate that alternately waved while on his cell phone and did the ‘i’m going to distract the pitcher by moving my arms in a rolling motion’ thing
10. The entire press corps that let LaRussa off entirely too easy

[the rest after the jump.]

ALL-STAR GAME.

Super-tired, early day tomorrow. Special bonus post tomorrow night.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

HABLA ESPANOL?

“It’s going to be great, man,” Reyes said. “People like it at Shea. When I walk in the street, they all call me, ‘Profesor.’ It’s exciting. Albert Pujols likes it. Andruw Jones likes it. Every guy tells me they can’t wait to go to Shea Stadium to see ‘Profesor Reyes.’”

[via]

HOME RUN DERBY.

So this All Star thing is still New To Me. In 2005, completely off my radar. In 2006, I kind of sort of got it, but not really. I knew there was No Baseball and that the Mets were picked for the team, but the Home Run Derby? And then I had a friend visiting from overseas and she needed to go to JFK, so we drove her. This was pre-DVR, so TBF had to set up the VCR to tape the Derby. Even then, when we came home from the airport, it was more along the lines of “Well, let’s just see what’s going on” and we turned on the TV and—
“DAVID WRIGHT HAS 25 HOME RUNS?!!?”

This year is different. This year is me bitching when TBF calls me at lunch because has a last-minute dinner date with his father, and thus I would have a delay in getting my Home Run Derby fix on. He gets home by 8:45 and we immediately start watching the taped proceedings. I love San Francisco. I miss the West Coast, just a little bit. I can’t wait to go there to see a baseball game.

The sight of Adam Duritz and Counting Crows with smoke and fireworks going off behind them is hysterical. If there is a band that could possibly be less smoke and fireworks, it is Counting Crows - who I do not like very much, but respect greatly, and at least they don’t suck. Their band is on a tour of minor league baseball parks this summer. And, at least they are very, very local.

The band finishes, and now we are treated to shots of the crowd entering the ballpark. I see a little girl walk through the turnstiles with a pink baseball glove.  I am suddenly seized with a desire I did not know I had.
“I want a pink glove.”
“I didn’t know if you wanted a glove. We could get you one, we could play catch.”
“I want a PINK glove. Do you think they make them in my size??”
“We’ll get you a glove.”

[I realize this may seem slightly hypocritical, but as Whitman said, “Do I contradict myself? Well, then, I contradict myself. I am large, I contain multitudes.”]