G-Fafif

Ralph and Ron arguing (actually mildly contentious) over Willie removing Pelfrey in the ninth last night. Nice when Kiner is treated like one of the guys.

Ramon loves Eastern Time.

I visited the site of Braves Field, on the Boston University campus, last time I was in Boston. I definitely felt the ghosts of National League past. Thought of the '51 Giants playing their final scheduled series of the year in Boston and then receiving updates on the train back to New York of how the Dodgers were doing in Philadelphia. Four teams involved in settling the greatest of all pennant races, and before the decade was out, only the Phillies would still remain in the city where they started. Also thought of how the Dodgers clinched in Boston in 1941 and Larry MacPhail waited to board the victory train at 125th Street only to have Leo Durocher order the train to proceed directly to Grand Central so the team could greet its fans as one (or to hack off MacPhail). The Braves moved to Milwaukee after '52. New York National League teams wouldn't have regular road trips north by train ever again.

Today, it was scheduled to be Mets fans Bill and Jim Germanakos, "stars of NBC's The Biggest Loser". Billy Wagner wasn't available. Over at Oughta Be Shea, number 50 comes down in the middle of the fifth and it's also being handled by another Long Island Mets fan who is most recognizable from his appearances on NBC -- Jerry Seinfeld. In the pilot to what would become his groundbreaking sitcom, the very special fan we recognize today picked up a ringing telephone and told whomever was on the other end of the line not to tell him the score of that night's Mets game because he taped it and hadn't yet watched it. That's what he said instead of "hello," and we guess you could say he had us at hello. His series would be a showcase for references to Mets past and present and would include, hands down, the most memorable appearance by any Met on any television show this side of Kiner's Korner.

Sofrito, on 57th. It's where Carlos Beltran ages. Ages nicely.

Oddly, Trax no better than tied for third on flash thought: 1) Viola 2) Yoshii 3) Trachsel & Singleton 5) Chris Aguila

Marlons puts his game where his bizarre note is. Either way, it's 3-0.

Mets take it to Webb...literally.

Oh Foy!

Mets Guy in Mich. and I are tied at a Joe Foyish 1,587 posts apiece! At least we were 'til...now. Which is when the Mets get first and third and nobody out!

I liked how one of the "theories" Omar didn't label a misconception is that the Mets suck.

Oh please tell me he and everybody are resigning.

Beat Brandon Webb...just for the hell of it.

Occurs to me now: Instead of Lincoln Mercury's name on the sign, the Mets should have placed a different charity/cause's name above it each game and arranged to donate some percentage of the gate to that group, promote that group throughout the game and give fans every opportunity to donate as well. Shine a light on those organizations while keeping the numbers focused on Shea history (naked Shep Messing notwithstanding). In the context of the way they've done it, however, Starlight Starbright is one of their better choices.

From one of the NLDS press conferences in 2006: ]Q: Little off topic, you guys had such a great season, finished first. Is it enough of an advantage for a team to have that extra game at home? Should there be more of an advantage for a team that had such a good season? CLIFF FLOYD: That's way over my head, boss. I have a hunch it wasn't.

Shea in real life tonight: A representative from the Starlight Starbright Children's Foundation. Shea in Oughta Be: Number 51 is taken down in homage to the multipurpose nature of sports at Shea. Invited to do the honors are three men who had moments here: � Boxer Emile Griffith, who won the middleweight championship of the world at Shea in 1967. � Goalkeeper Shep Messing from the Cosmos team that won an NASL playoff match at Shea in 1976. � Quarterback Doug Williams, later a Super Bowl MVP, but in 1975 field general for Grambling University as the Tigers prevailed over Norfolk State in one of the several big-time college football games that took place at Shea in the '60s and '70s. Williams will do the peeling because he said "it was an honor to play at Shea" given that his idol growing up was Grambling alum Tommie Agee.

Losin' 9 to 5, what a way to make a living.

I think we also now know that the Arizona Diamondbacks bring with them an ill wind.

Shove over Dr. King...somebody's had a dream even more awesome than yours.

The shingles disappeared in 1980. I thought they were coming back. I guess they're not.

I'm thinking (hoping?) the Lincoln Mercury representative is a placeholder until a stray Met can be found strolling down Roosevelt Avenue and Shanghaied. "Jim Gosger? You're coming with us..." Or maybe it's part of the deal, one number per homestand (shudder). Anyway...back in the land of Countdown Like It Oughta Be, we are up to number 52, devoted to a subset as recognizable to the average fan as the average car dealer, but even still... Terrell Hansen and Billy Cotton, selected for being the two players called up to the Mets who never got into a game with the Mets or anybody else (as opposed to, say, Mac Suzuki or Jerry Moses who had tangible careers elsewhere). For players like Terrell and Billy (actually, for those players specifically), Shea Stadium was the pinnacle of their dream. They got there, they got to suit up, but they never got out on the field to ply their trade or get written down in the record books (except, of course, for vigilant sidebar treatment in MBTN). So this is our plan to salute them and everyone who's ever dreamed of just one shot at Shea: Billy and Terrell were here for such a brief time, they probably carried away nothing but a scant memory of Shea Stadium. Tonight, we want them to have more than that. Longtime equipment manager Charlie Samuels, who will be escorting our pair of almost-Mets down the right field line to remove number 52 from the wall, will first present each man with a uniform with his own originally issued number to commemorate the dreams of every kid who ever wanted to grow up to wear a Mets uniform. This also gives a moment in the sun to Mr. Samuels, the man who's handed out the uniforms for more than thirty years.

It's fascinating to read the blogs produced by the beat writers, particularly if they do in-game comments like John Delcos of the Journal-News does. They don't hide their feelings, they talk like fans, positive or negative (even if they aren't Mets fans). It's becoming harder and harder in this day and age for the "objective" face to be put on when everybody has an opinion and everybody has an avenue through which to offer it. Here are the reporters who theoretically know more than anybody else about the team yet they are, by custom, straitjacketed in their stories. Rubin's piece today was jarring, not because of what he wrote (which struck me as quite logical and clearheaded) but for the fact that he put it out there in the paper as he did. "Pedro, Carlos & Omar" was, after a saucy chapter reiterating the mess Omar came in to clean up, very, very dry (to put it kindly) and offered almost no biting analysis . Maybe this isn't all that different from sixty years ago when Jack Lang and pre-demonic Dick Young began calling out the powers that be, but it seems to represent a sea change for how modern baseball reportage is conducted. Knowing full well that their readers have become used to getting opinion, these guys can't simply hold back in the name of protecting sources or, more accurately, their relationships with sources. [Not unlike political reporters fretting that bloggers without "credentials" daring to report what politicians say in non-approved settings are cramping their style.] Three years ago, Adam Rubin (or any beat writer) might have worried more about getting the front office annoyed at him because down the road he would need them. Now he has to worry about being compelling and simply read. The world has changed a lot since "Pedro, Carlos & Omar".

="Willets Point"]When the Jets played at Shea: First image is a Photoshop special. That Bud ad didn't exist in the Jets' day, nor the neon figures, nor...well, you get the picture.

Franco holds on in the ninth, with Straw the last out. I often instinctively forget that the Mets Classic or DVD I'm watching is long decided, but rarely does my gut tighten up as I watch the end like it just did. This time, however, looking at Darryl and looking at Johnny, I'm not sure who I was doing the tighten-up for.

No amount of religion could have helped the Cleveland Indians of the '70s.