Monday, May 26, 2008

IN OTHER NEWS.

You see, I could do what everyone else is doing, which is analyze everything that’s happened, but that to me is everything that has BEEN happening. None of it is new, except for the introduction of the manager’s job probably almost actually being on the line. None of it is new: the lack of stellar play, the irregulars contributing out of nowhere, the new hero who will be our story line until he starts to perform at a level more normal for him (at which point he will be sent packing), Delgado coming up with some burst of performance that will send the beat writers into fond reminiscences of Who Carlos Delgado Was (all of which is good and wonderful but he is not that Carlos Delgado any more and talking about it will not make it so). It is not new to sit and talk about how PEDRO is coming back and PEDRO will be taking his Rightful Place In The Rotation, only for Pedro to come back and be Pedro Martinez in 2008 (whatever that will be - it will however not be Pedro Martinez in any other year, which is what we want and need and he will do it for five minutes before something else goes wrong and he goes on the DL - whatever happened to the sensible routine of putting Pedro on the DL until after the All-Star break?)

It is not new, and it is tiring to write about, and it is depressing to go through. Because every game we sit down to watch we believe will be THE game that will get it started, that will break the malaise, that will extract the monkey’s claws from the collective backs of the 2008 Mets. Every hit, every home run, every stolen base, every positive sign we grasp onto.

From my vantage point, what I see is simple: I see teams that want to win, like the Rockies and the Marlins. I see teams that do all the little things right, that value hits and walks, that come out of the gate fighting. And then I see the Mets, who do none of those things, and I for one am not surprised that they are not winning and that they lose games they are winning and that they can’t win games they are losing. Tonight, for example, I find myself repeating the mantra of one of the Older Brothers from Row F: “It’s only three runs - it’s not impossible.” Except, for these Mets, it is impossible, as impossible as 12 runs.

So instead, I will tell you about my Saturday, and how my 9 year old niece came out front, where TBF was coaching my nephew in throwing and catching, and asked TBF if he would throw her some grounders for practice, which he gladly did. She has an excellent arm, and a lot of potential, but it is difficult to compete with dancing and dresses and High School Musical.  And then, out of the blue, she comes out of the house with a report she did about Sandy Koufax. My niece was very taken with the fact that Sandy Koufax would not play on Yom Kippur, and she gave an oral report where she dressed up as him and told the story of his life, not a bad achievement for an 8 year old. And then I listened as she told me about Jackie Robinson, and why Jackie Robinson was important, and I told her about how no one wears number 42 any more [shhhh. she’s NINE] and how in every baseball stadium in the country, even in Yankee Stadium and in Fenway Park (since she told me that her favorite team is the Red Sox - shhh, she is allowed to have her own favorite team at age NINE as long as it’s not That Team In The Bronx) and then I told her that her Poppa had seen Jackie Robinson play baseball, probably when he was as little as she was right now. And her eyes went big and she regarded my father, gently snoozing under a tree, with happy surprise. I cannot get Dodger memories out of him but maybe she can, and maybe it is more important for her to hear them than I. I believe it is important for him to tell them, and perhaps it simply requires a different listener.

So some things are very well when it comes to baseball. We shall see about the rest, tomorrow night, up in Section 12, where hopefully the thunderstorms will hold off enough to allow baseball to be played. We are at Shea this week more than usual, Tuesday, and Friday, and then Saturday again, for a meeting of the curmudgeons, and then Sunday night I am going with Coop, more out of a desire to spend some time with my friend than any real hope that the Mets can pick up the pace this week. And because it is summer and because there is baseball and there is still joy and solace out of the ritual of going to the baseball stadium, and going with Coop is different than going with TBF or even going with a group of people, and that this is mine to be claimed as much as ours.

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Post Script: If any readers out there would know anything about local college girls’ softball (and local means Jersey especially), so that I can make plans to take my niece to see the big girls play next year, please let me know.