Monday, September 22, 2008

Assume the Position

I assume I know what it feels like. I assume, because I am pompous and arrogant and most of the time a dick. But I am a Jets fan, and I think being a Jets fan and a Mets fan right now is relevant, because I'm sure the excruciating pain of loving a bunch of fucking losers is pretty similar. So, like I said, I assume I know.

The Mets blew another one. And another one. Every time I turn on Sportscenter, I assume I clicked the DVR button, because when the picture appears it's one of the Bristol Nazi's broadcasters ranting and raving and making jokes that only deaf people find funny about another Mets bullpen collapse. But my assumption is wrong. I did not click the DVR button. It is just another collapse by a wilting team.

So what now? Does this team have the makeup to trudge on and make the postseason? Can they hold off the all-of-a-sudden resurgent Brewers? It's possible, because as I've declared in past-posts, The Brewers have a weaker bullpen then the IT department's softball team. And they're susceptible to collapse too, just like the Mets. Especially once the wheels fall of the Sabathia train, and I can hear them squeaking already.

But my biggest problem is - and always is - that the Mets bullpen does not have the necessary tools for a postseason run. Pedro Feliciano? Two years ago? Yes. Now? No, thanks. If he wasn't a lefty, (and I genuinely gave a shit about the Mets - which I do not) I'd call for him to be strung up on Queens Boulevard by his underachieving balls, because the Good Lord knows how I fancy a well-behaved lefty reliever. So, how about Scott Schoeneweis? If we were on our way to a Bar Mitzvah, and Scott was giving me a lesson on Jewish heritage and culture, he'd have my backing, but coming in to get a hold in the 7th/8th? Fuck no. Same goes for Aaron Heilman, who I wouldn't trust to watch my bar stool, let alone come through in a big game. Same goes Joe Smith, who suddenly turned into the righty version of "Giving up a Grand Slam is" Mike Myers. And I used to like Joe Smith. I did. Who doesn't respect a sub-mariner?

To reiterate, I feel your pain. And I assume you know this.

A week ago, a colleague (someone who has a better salary than me and a real office) of mine was ranting and raving about the possibility of John Maine returning and filling in as the closer, because he wants Maine to start. I almost smashed him across the head with his monitor. How could you not want a guy - who may not hold up as a starter - to come in and seal the deal for your team, if only for the season? A good closer shortens the game, and Maine would be that shortener, because he has the makeup and stuff of a closer. I say embrace this. I say hope for Maine to rehab and return and move to the pen. Putting him out there in the 9th changes the overall rating of the bullpen from putrid to bad, so you have that to look forward to.

Otherwise, I'll make room for you on the "My Team Missed the Playoffs" couch, because that's where I'll be, stuffing my face with Cool Ranch Doritos, assuming the Yankees will make a run next year, assuming they sign a handful of blue-chippers, assuming they don't make a managerial change, assuming...

No comments: