G-Fafif

The Mets needed a serviceable arm to throw them toward the end of the 2013 schedule and Aaron Harang's was just that. Didn't contribute as much as Aaron Heilman. Didn't do as much damage as Aaron Heilman. Probably not the most consequential of the Aaron H.'s who have graced Met pitching staffs.

Aaron Harang hangin' on via a minor Tribal deal.

New York and Jeter got better together, or some such muscle-pulling malarkey, via a member of Newsday's editorial board. So Derek Jeter is set to retire, and the testimonials have begun. A season of goodbyes awaits, much like last year's long farewell to teammate Mariano Rivera. This is not another paean to Jeter's athletic legacy, which is considerable and worthy of being remembered as long as baseball is played. Nor is it a lament for the gaping void he will leave at Yankee Stadium. I'd rather focus on a different aspect of Jeter, because I always have been fascinated by the mirror he held up to New York, what it reflected and what it did not. He arrived on the scene at an interesting time. And his rise as one of the sport's greats paralleled the rebirth of the city. Jeter had a cup of coffee with the Yankees in 1995 before joining the team full time in 1996. New York had been grappling with a litany of urban woes -- high crime, high unemployment and racial tension, among others -- and was beginning to emerge from some of them. Crime rates were plunging. Times Square was starting to shed its seedy past. Tourism was inching upward. Along came Jeter, who put together a Rookie of the Year season and helped lead the Yankees to their first World Series championship in 18 years. The victory energized the city and became part of its burgeoning feel-good vibe. The Yankees made it sexy to root for New York again, and no one epitomized that better than their young shortstop. He was what many New Yorkers wanted to be -- cool, classy and soon to be rich. He was someone you could depend on, someone who always did the right thing. His resiliency reflected the city's get-up-off-the-mat mentality. You always knew Jeter was going to figure it out and, whatever was needed, that's just what he was going to do. More than anything, Jeter was about the single-minded pursuit of winning. Everything else was subjugated to that one goal. That's what New York always has been about, too, for better and for worse. Finishing on top. Being the best. Having the most. Year after year, Jeter was the exemplar. In some ways, however, he was the antithesis of the city. He was not brassy or bold like Joe Namath or Walt Frazier. He didn't scream "look at me" like A-Rod or Reggie Jackson. He was intensely private and had no interest in seeing photos of him and his latest girlfriend splayed across the tabloids. He also seemed to have a healthy skepticism about his fame. A few days after the attacks of Sept. 11, Jeter and other Yankees visited an armory where families of the missing were waiting in agony for word of their loved ones. Jeter later expressed his discomfort, admitting he didn't know what to say at first. Like many of his teammates, he didn't think a baseball player would be much comfort to people in such distress. They discovered otherwise once they were there. Most of the people simply wanted to see him. Jeter said he was overwhelmed. And when rescue workers asked for his autograph, he said he felt like he should be asking for theirs because they were the real heroes. For most of the time since then, Jeter has been the Yankees' anchor, with a stature not often seen in New York. He's been his own kind of tourist attraction, a magnet drawing fans of all demographics to the South Bronx. It is no accident that the Yankees posted 17 of their top 20 season attendance figures with Jeter at shortstop. Just as the city was reborn during his tenure, so were the Yankees. A few years ago, they erected a fancy new ballpark. Its nickname tells the story: The House That Jeter Built.

Died overnight, son confirms.

metirish wrote: On SNY right now managing the Phillies in the Cone 19 SO game...... Broadcasting live from Lake Eerie!

Mike DiGiovanna, L.A. Angels beat reporter for L.A. Times who shared the news of Fregosi's death (he had it from Dennis Gilbert, Bobby Bo's agent way back when) on Twitter says, uh, never mind. Important clarification from Dennis Gilbert: Jim Fregosi was taken off life support in Miami hospital. Thought he had died. So sorry. Fregosi suffered multiple strokes but is still alive as of this evening. Did not die of a heart attack as was reported elsewhere.

Before we had any reason to think anything but, "All right, the All-Star shortstop we got from the Angels to play third." Like a few other Mets for whom the eventual results overwhelmed the initial reception, it's probably nicest at a time like this to think of him in his pristine Metsian state.

Jim Fregosi, 71, reported dead. ETA: Suffered multiple strokes, taken off life support. But contrary to reports, not dead.

Nice Art Shamsky recollection among the interviews collected here by WFUV. Bottom line: one day when they were doing a game together, Ralph misidentified both teams...including the Mets.

Applause for our beloved baseball team doing the absolute least stupid thing they could do!

Jon Weber of The Ballclub blogged his choice. Shea Stadium is a madhouse on Saturday night, October 30th, as the Mets, behind Al Leiter, close out the Yankees, who come out in a stupor, not having recovered from the shock of Piazza's blast. Robin Ventura hits a pair of Home Runs off Cone and John Olerud adds another, while Alfonzo knocks out 4 hits as the Mets roll to an 8-0 victory, winning the final game of the 20th Century and bringing home their 3rd World Series Championship. Afterward, Bobby Valentine proclaims the 1999 Mets "The Greatest Mets team ever assembled." Reserve Outfielder Shawon Dunston, tears streaming down his cheeks, gives his now-legendary "I am so proud to be a Met" speech. The quote is posted above the doors to the Mets Hall of Fame and Museum at Citi Field. Piazza, who played the entire month on fumes, is jubilant, saying "This is why I stayed here! Winning a World Series outdistances anything I've ever accomplished in my career." Many Mets fans agree with Valentine. The 1999 team lives forever in the hearts of Mets fans. Players like Turk Wendell and Dennis Cook are treated like folk heroes and Wendell continues to serve as a club ambassador. Melvin Mora goes on to take over as the starting Shortstop after Rey Ordonez's injury in 2000 and ultimately ends up Wally Pipp-ing him. The keystone combination of Mora and Edgardo Alfonzo becomes one of the league's best DP combos. Bobby Valentine is forever remembered as a master motivator who got the most out of his entire roster. Mike Piazza gets elected to the Hall of Fame on the first ballot in 2013, and the Mets retire his number 31 in celebration. The ceremony concludes with Piazza throwing out the game's first pitch to 1999's World Series MVP Edgardo Alfonzo, then announcing that the Mets will retire Fonzie's number 13 the following season as part of the celebration of the '99 Miracle Mets' 15th Anniversary. And in the Winter of 2007, I write a 14-part epic masterpiece detailing the '99 Mets magnificent October journey, "30 Days In October." Sound good? I like it too.

Actually, all Jeter did was announce he'd be out in the winter of 2014/15. So the hell with him.

Derek Jeter, MFY SS and Roy Oswalt news-usurper.

He wore 2, an accident of Pinstripe history. In reality, he was always 1. 1 in our hearts. 1 above all others on the field. The 1 to whom we all looked for guidance, inspiration and superlative-defying performance in life's clutch. And as the 1, he delivered time and time again. The only opponent he didn't choose to conquer was time itself, preferring instead to leave the universe in balance. The universe, on the other hand, weeps for the 1 who gave it its purpose. The universe hosted Derek Jeter. Derek Jeter defined the universe. Come season's end, the universe loses its sense of purpose. And so do the rest of us.

Whereas J. Wilpon gave Rivera the pitching rubber from his 500th save, I assume the official Mets gift to Jeter will be our guts he ripped out on repeated occasions.

His papal-style statement here.

Jeter announces 2014 will be it for the Jeterest player who ever lived.

After the Devils won their third Stanley Cup in nine seasons (1995, 2000, 2003), dynasty was thrown around quite a bit. Then there was "that's not a dynasty" backlash. WFAN's Jody McDonald and (I think) Sid Rosenberg sat on the air for three hours trying to come up with a word that would better describe what the Devils accomplished and came up empty. That could reflect their linguistic capabilities, but honestly, I don't have a word for it, either. The Steelers won 4 of 6 Super Bowls and are retroactively considered a dynasty. The 49ers won 4 of 9 Super Bowls and have been labeled a dynasty. Yet in the midst of those runs others won Super Bowls, including the hypermemorable '85 Bears, so I find it difficult to think of those great teams as dynasties because they didn't fully smother their respective eras. I appreciated Neyer including the '85-'88 Mets in his book, and I understood the impulse, but compared to the four consecutive Stanley Cups the Islanders won -- which is when I first heard "dynasty" mentioned on a going basis in contemporary sports (I may not have been listening closely when the Canadiens were doing the same thing just before) -- they're all pikers.

batmagadanleadoff wrote: Just to be clear, none of this dislodges 1969 or 1986. Everything you know about those two championship seasons stays exactly as is. It�s just that they now have a brother. And none of this necessarily affects 2014 and beyond.... [but] [y]ou�re welcome to your ripple effect in that you can speculate as to how the Mets winning in this other year altered history, that perhaps winning that one time led to a string of successes�or somehow backfired and brought on dark times. Or you could decide that everything is as it�s always been�except now instead of the franchise narrative reading, �The Mets won the World Series twice,� it will be thrice. ... albeit an unusual ripple of butterfly effect in that you can rewrite history all you want so long as the '69 and '86 WS crowns are preserved. Which I don't get because, for example, a '73 Mets WS crown, among other things, enhances the already legendary reputation of its undisputed star and leader, Tom Seaver, who has now twice led his very imperfect Mets to WS victories over two superior and heavily favored opponents. The Mets --- Tom Seaver's Mets -- are now their own dynasty, having won two World Series in five seasons. So maybe the Mets aren't so willing to trade him away four years later. Maybe the FO reaches some sort of compromise with its superstar, thus avoiding the acrimony of 1977. Of course, Seaver alone, won't be enough to transform the de Roulet Mets into contenders. But perhaps those alternate Mets, with Tom Seaver, aren't as bad as they actually were. And maybe the Mets don't get to draft the most coveted prospect of the 1980 amateur draft, Darryl Strawberry. And maybe the de Roulets get to hold on to the team a little bit longer. And Team Doubleday, including his crack GM Frank Cashen, doesn't come on board after the 1980 season, if ever at all. And maybe the Mets don't get to draft Dwight Gooden either, or the numerous other amateurs that would rapidly transform the Mets farm and ultimately, the Major League team, into baseball's best. So maybe, just maybe, a '73 WS crown means the Mets suck throughout the 1980's. I don't like the ripple effect. Be careful what you wish for, I cop to conscious inconsistency on preempting butterflies flapping wings in 1973 affecting the air currents in 1986. I took it into consideration but decided the 13-year gap was sufficient in Met terms to allow the exception to the rule in the name of clarity. My goal was to add a theoretical third championship, not mess with the second actual title. Also, deep down, though I laid out some "what if" scenarios, I don't think the one extra win in October 1973 would've rippled a whole lot differently in terms of later competitive outcomes. The Mets were rotting from within even then and the corrosive helmsmanship of M. Donald Grant was going to be in effect at the dawn of the less-encumbered player-movement era, ticker-tape or not. There are great reasons to want the 1973 Mets to be the "third" world champion, but my sense is changing the course of Metropolitan events isn't paramount among them

I thought about including 1985 in this exercise because, well, it's 1985 and that team was that team. But for the purposes of speculative history, three games behind the Cardinals plus seven more wins in postseason series they never entered is too many to neatly adjust for (if I could work magic, give me a better August and September of 1980 while we're at it and high school's a blast). The playoff teams came within one, five, six, five and three games, respectively, of winning it all. More manageable set of possibilities. Impetus behind the blog post from which this comes was, after recently banging my head against a Mets executive-shaped wall, wondering how much better 1973 would be treated organizationally in the 21st century if they'd won one more game...and how differently would the other years be looked at (by fans and franchise alike) had they had just a little more of a closing kick to them.

Worth pointing out (and it's expanded upon in the FAFIF post from which this question is extracted) is the parameters of this exercise have the Mets doing all it takes to win the WS in whichever postseason it took place. So to win the Series in 1988, they'd not only beat the Dodgers, but the A's. In 2006, they'd not only beat the Cardinals, but the Tigers. And in 1999, just to be clear, they'd not only beat the Braves, but the Yankees. I mention that just in case that's an overriding motivator in your deciding.

You can turn one near-miss postseason disappointment into an all-the-way postseason triumph. By doing so, you have made the Mets three-time world champions. Which one do you choose? Full exploration of the topic here.

Ian O'Connor praises F. Wilpon for doing right by Ralph. But as the franchise overlord, Wilpon, was the guy who kept Kiner in the game, and kept him there on Kiner's rules. If Ralph showed up at Shea Stadium or at Citi Field on an assigned night of work, and suddenly didn't feel up to calling a few innings of the game, it was his call. It was always Ralph's call. Wilpon set the organizational tone when it came to one of the Mets' few real treasures, and Kiner responded to that support. Even in a state of decline he remained a workaholic, an announcer who took his craft as seriously as any. Every January he'd call Jay Horwitz, the Mets' longtime publicist, and ask if Horwitz would finally send him the proofs for the media guide so he could get an early jump on his prep work. "Ralph was always very serious about his job and never took anything for granted, and ownership understood that," Horwitz said. "Ralph kept notebooks on stuff that happened 40 years ago, and he was looking forward to working again this year. "In 1980, when I was a young kid out of Fairleigh Dickinson, Ralph took me around to meet different managers, made suggestions about my press notes, just helped me any way he could. He never let on that he was a Hall of Famer. I mean, I don't know anyone who's ever said a cross word about him." The same cannot be said of his longtime employer. Wilpon has been rightfully ripped up, down and sideways in this market for his failure to consistently field a winning club, for failing to spend on free agents at a Steinbrennerian rate, and for all but making Bernie Madoff his de facto GM. But in Ralph Kiner, institution, Wilpon showed strength and humanity as a leader. He knew that "Kiner's Korner" was baseball's answer to "The Tonight Show," and that Ralph was equal parts Johnny Carson and Ed McMahon. He suspected that, on some level, the game and the booth and the fans were keeping Kiner going. Keeping him motivated. Maybe even keeping him alive. So Wilpon never engraved Kiner a gold watch, never ordered up an official farewell banquet, and never told everyone's favorite grandfather that it was time for him to watch all 162 games at home on TV. And that's why Kiner was planning another one of his part-time comebacks in 2014 before he died in his California home. A little common decency can go a long way. No, Fred Wilpon hasn't always been a good owner. He was a good man here.

Stephen Drew spent 2013 in RED socks. For most of the 20th century, America fought a red menace. After our brave military fought long and hard to tear down a wall, Stephen Drew was more than happy to play his games in the shadow of another foreboding wall...a MONSTER of a wall. Stephen Drew. Cold war nightmares. Why would we ever want to go back?

I believe there's the raw material for a negative advertising campaign here. V/O If Stephen Drew wants to be a Met, why is he so anxious to leave the team after only one year? If Stephen Drew is such a terrific shortstop, why isn't he signed to a contract yet? What is Stephen Drew hiding? And why does he want to keep hiding it from 30 prospective employers? CANDIDATE I'm Ruben Tejada, and you know I'll be in Port St. Lucie this week. Where will Stephen Drew be? I haven't seen him. Have you? Paid for by the Committee to Retain Ruben; Jeff Wilpon, chairman