G-Fafif

Mr. Met will be appearing on the sleeves of the Mets alternate blue uniforms in 2014. http://news.sportslogos.net/2013/12/20/mr-met-added-to-new-york-mets-2014-uniforms/ (That really should be "alternative uniform", by the way.) They need to keep wearing the skyline logo on the road blues to intimidate the teams they visit when they deign to enter their puny Podunks. That impressive assemblage of edifices says in no uncertain terms, "Hey, ya hicks -- NEW YORK Mets here. See the patch on our sleeve? Yer not even gonna be a patch on our Empire State Building-size ASS when we're done with your tiny, tiny town." The logo hasn't had that effect on opponents yet, but any day now.

metsguyinmichigan wrote: So, people counting the ballots do what? Take the first 10? Toss his entire ballot? Tell him, "Look, dummy. These are easy instructions. If you can't count to 10, you don't deserve to vote." Guy should check around, see which of his colleagues is leaving a space (or more) blank and quietly ask, "if you're not already, do me a solid and vote for Martinez, and down the road, when I'm voting for fewer than 10 and you're overstuffed, I'll return the favor." I doubt Edgar Martinez's case means that much to him, but it's better than guaranteeing your ballot won't be counted in advance.

Edgy MD wrote: They've certainly pared their payroll down to nothing. He would probably be taking home more than half of their payday expenses. I wonder on how many casual dinners with teammates a Choo or (somebody else doing most of the getting paid) would feel compelled to pick up the tab. Even the minimum guys get ample meal money and make a pretty nice haul.

batmagadanleadoff wrote: G-Fafif wrote: But that's another story. You also went to that card show at Shea in '78? So did I. And this is the first time in all these years that I've heard or read anybody ever recount that show. I don't remember what I bought at that show, but I remember seeing someone wearing a real Houston Astros shooting star uni top. I think that was the first time I ever saw a civilian wearing a real game used jersey. I suppose if you have a Houston Astros shooting star uni top in the summer of 1978, you're damn well going to wear it every chance you get. Maybe even to see the Burt Reynolds vehicle Hooper, which I saw with said sister and future brother-in-law either that night or the night before. (Someone was wearing a Texas Rangers cap in that movie, which wasn't set in Texas, and that struck me as incredibly exotic.) Whatever Bill Price's complaint of the day is, the existence of a store that sells stuff with your team's name on it (if not exactly what we're looking for on a given trip), much like the idea of baseball cards being for sale inside a baseball stadium, is one of those things that surely blew (or Vida Blue) my mind when it first came to my attention. What a world, huh?

Larry Literal here. Bitter Bill may not be able to make it out to Queens in December (it is a little out of one's way if one doesn't already find oneself in the area), but for the record GRANDERSON 3 shirts are on sale in the Mets team store at Citi Field. No sign of Colon (or cologne). Duda's tees caught my eye since they're not usually displayed. I'd love to tell you whether or not the Ikes are still ensconsed in a place of honor or priced to move like ASG coffee mugs (two bucks!) but I was in the store not to shop but to get out of the cold/snow before the Mets would let me check in to cover their holiday party. But that's another story.

Memories of trying to remember Elvin Ramirez.

John Cougar Lunchbucket wrote: Elvin Ramirez is another guy who'd I'd completely forgotten even existed until I was straightening up old bloggy stuff the other night. Why didn't he resurface again in '13? I mean, other than all the walks. Because he was an Angel by then.

Elvin Ramirez is apparently a Pirate.

The Astros, for whom Fernando Martinez and Phil Humber were granted last chances, claimed Collin McHugh...which sounds a bit like claiming insanity.

Civil War bit topped 80 years later. [youtube:1z2ft7s7]eJBde7b41xI[/youtube:1z2ft7s7]

As individuals, they may be a scream. As a class, these guys generally hide their hilarity well, particularly when they try to show how much they have. No crime in that except maybe when you rub your hands together with glee before hitting the key that tells the world that -- get this! -- Bartolo Colon ate multiple doctors.

Edgy MD wrote: Anthony DiComo @AnthonyDiComo Bartolo Colon ate #Mets team doctors today, thereby passing his physical. He's officially a Met. Why not "passed a buffet today and as a result passed his physical"? Or "passed his physical and immediately went on the 15-day DL. He's officially a Met"? "Ate team doctors," even in the realm of stupid-ass nonsense is stupid-ass nonsense.

John Cougar Lunchbucket wrote: Greg will be here momentarily with total recall but I'm thinking it was '96 maybe. July 22, 1994, part of the 25th ann'y celebration of '69. Howie lobbied the Mets for quite a while and finally got them to act.

Less continuing than paused: Rox designate Collin McHugh for assignment. Perhaps they should assign him to post to the team blog. Dude writes better than he's pitched to date.

Cleveland signs Shaun Marcum to minor league deal. Shaun Marcum to find unflattering things to say about Cleveland in a matter of months.

Will has his talents, but serving as all-knowing sage of New York sports is not one of his strengths.

Fun to see Ralph, Tim and Steve before they had quite coalesced. They were on a pace slightly ahead of the 1983 Mets themselves.

Edgy MD wrote: I like how the opening montage, presumably culled exclusively from 1983 Spring Training footage, opens with a shot of a Met (Bailor?) being thrown out at first. If that does't wet your whistle for what's to come, what will? Welcome to Mets Baseball '83 -- don't get your hopes up just yet!

April 5, 1983... [youtube:2339y9nz]F7uTdRZjp00[/youtube:2339y9nz]

Brian Schneider to manage Class-A Jupiter in 2014. Seeing how big a planet it is, you'd think Jupiter would be at least Triple-A.

More recent than you might realize: John Buck and Brandon Lyon.

It's real and it shapes up as spectacular! Queens Baseball Convention coming to McFadden's Citi Field Saturday Jan. 18 -- a little FanFest, a little Comic Con, a little Hofstra, if you will. As presenter and attendee, I'm excited. Hope you'll be there, too.

Agee and Cleon?

Author's and protagonist's first meeting. Despite Seaver's weight lifting, there are certain parts of his physique that are noticeably undeveloped. His waist, for instance, is thick. It is a constant subject of kidding for his wife, Nancy, who will say, "He has an old man's waist. Really, he does. He is a lot like an old man, you know." This kidding does not bother Seaver, since he knows a tightly muscled waist will add nothing to his talent, and as with most things that do not add to his talent, he gives the matter little attention. (The perfect way to chill a relationship with Seaver is to make a slighting remark about his talent. No matter how much in jest that remark might be, he will grow silent as a stone while the laugh dies in the jester's throat.) Seaver is not a vain man. He could no more lift weights in front of a mirror to build an Adonis' physique than he could tell an obscene joke. He dresses neatly but without distinction in the clothes he receives from Sears, Roebuck and Co., with whom he has a contract. He seems to have no desire to call attention to himself, and if he is at all conscious of the image he presents in public, it is only up to, never beyond, the point when it offends his own sense of propriety. The only attention he seeks is on a pitcher's mound, and even there he does not demand it for himself, but for his superb and unquestioned skill.

Tom Seaver's Rules for Pitching, as methodical as a CPA. Another rule was: A pitcher should never get beat in a crisis situation with anything but his best pitch. Tom's best pitch was a 98-mph fastball that he could throw wherever he wanted to. Finally, a pitcher must always avoid his W.C.S. He told me, "I always tried to avoid my Worst Case Scenario, and if I couldn't, I had to have a plan on how to deal with it when it came up. This one game against the Giants, you can guess what my W.C.S. was." I said, "Willie McCovey, with the bases loaded." He said, "Thank you very much. So what do you think happens in the late innings?" I smiled. He said, "Thank you very much. Willie McCovey, up with the bases loaded. So I'm saying to myself, 'OK, big boy, you think you're so hot, a couple of Cy Youngs, what do you do now?'" There, by the side of a road between vineyards in Calistoga, 30 years later, he looked at me as if he were seeing that moment right now. Big Willie McCovey, waiting at the plate, the bat on his shoulder. Tom said, "This is my all-time favorite moment in baseball. I managed to get 3-2 on Willie, and all of a sudden, it came to me. I'm in my stretch, and I keep checking the runner on first. Now, everyone knows the runner can't go anywhere, the fucking bases are loaded, so what is Seaver doing? I keep checking him, refusing to make eye contact with Willie, throwing him a little birdseed, getting him to think, 'What the fuck is Seaver doing?' I wanted him to be anxious, confused." He stopped talking. I blurted out, "So what happened!" "I struck him out on a changeup. Twenty years later, we're at the Hall of Fame, and Willie says to me, 'Tom, why the hell did you throw me a changeup in that game?'" "Why did you?" I said. "You broke your own rule." "That's the point, big boy. Everyone knew how methodical I was. How this pitch had to be a fastball. I was Tom Seaver. So this time, I went on instinct." He looked at me with a grin. "Even Tom Seaver has to acknowledge mystery in life."