Edgy MD

This 4-0 hole is my fault. Stupid thread title. Confused Tyson and Cody Ross. This is all on me.

Nice stretch by Tejada on that bunt play. Terrible slide by Rivera, whose lead foot looked like it reached the bag ahead of the throw, but went over it without touching it.

Jose Valentin coaching for the Padrinos. No mustache.

Grendel 1, Mets 0

By the way, look at Terry running out the same lineup twice in a row.

FOX? Ah, shit.

I wouldn't describe it as tanking. I'd describe it as a team dealing off their All Star closer for future parts just before the game. This necessarily makes them a poorer team, resource-wise, for the present time, unless they somehow manage to bring up a guy from AAA who is superior to the All Star.

Dillon Gee meets Tyson Ross where the turf meets the surf. Only one will remain standing at the end. [youtube:45q8r1yw]uT9MITGrcFk[/youtube:45q8r1yw]

Bring back Omar Minaya!!

It's really nice when a team playing poorly deliberately makes themselves worse by dealing off their All Star closer for future parts just before the game. And then the Mets end up winning the game against his replacement.

Mets radio booth joking that they can spot Walheim in the Padres booth and that he's looking anxious to leave because the inning has gone long and he's out of material.

NASA astronaut Rex Walheim in the Padres booth.

I somehow have the Mets radio broadcast and the Padres TV feed almost perfectly synced.

Nine-pitch first inning for Bartololo. I say this phrase approximately no times per year.

God bless the two-run flare when it works for my team.

Maybe Terry is looking to give Nieuwie a real look here.

The radio booth is saying Omar Minaya is the de facto GM with San Diego. He's not a candidate for the big chair, but apparently he's going to be trusted to do some dismantling here. Duquette being very gracious with his memories of Omar Minaya. Mets take the leadovich.

Some serious Metting about to happen. Oh, blessed sight upon my eyes.

Anybubs want to report on the starting pitchers? The bullpen? The benchwarmers? Manager Bud Black and the state of his job security? Hey, whatever happened to Khalil Greene? Is he surfing and recording blank verse poetry over acid jazz now?

Wow, we never did one of these apparently. Never too late to start. At least it isn't until 2015, I would guess. And so we break into your regularly scheduled programming to announce that... Dan Uggla has been unconditionally released by the Atlanta Braves. Many of you might well feel privileged to have witnessed his last appearance in a Braves uniform --- and possibly any MLB uniform --- when he struck out on a full-count pitch last Tuesday evening, pinch-hitting against Jacob deGrom. He shouldn't feel embarrassed, at least, not with regard to that particular trip to the plate, as he was one of 11 Jacobian victims in the 8-3 Mets victory. All told, the Braves got -1.2 WAR out of Uggla in return for a $61,146,942 investment, including what they will be paying him to fish, hunt, and golf next season. An absolutely Bayvian return. I'm outa here!

That's an interesting table, but who among us does not feel random incoherent violent thoughts upon encountering the term "Diaper Dandies"?

Ceetar wrote: I took 30 and see I'm the only one going that low so far. Where is all of the second half improvement going to come from? Wright, d'Arnaud, Wheeler, Syndergaard, LF trade/promotion, some run differential regression Pitchers hitting, if only hitting like pitchers, on average, instead of like wind machines. A performance at short that, even if Tejada doesn't maintain his current pace, won't include his sluggish start or anything from Quintanilla. A performance from Granderson that also does not include any extension of his mudslogged start. The glorious promotion of a man called Reynolds. Familia and Mejia and Black turning the last three innings into a dark, lifeless room that opponents dread being locked in, and do not emerge from. A heretofore unheard-of fight song rising seemingly spontaneously from the zeitgeist that gives zeal to the fans and wings to the players' heels. Terry Collins, tasting second-half competitiveness for the first time as Met manager, reverting to the fiery maniac that led his teams to rousing initial success in the American league, before becoming tiresome and burning them out in year three. Terry Collins, spirited commander and strategic genius. Spontaneous fan clubs rising up in a Yankee-weary world. Manhattan, Kansas? Met fans. Canberra, Australia? Met fans. Quito? Phnom Penh? Dakar? Suddenly crawling with screaming Mets fans. Many of them dancing to a remix of that fight song I was telling you about, too. You, you, you, you, and me. Believing.

Never knew Bartolo was Dominican.

Well, that was brief, and delightfully surreal. "Firstbasemano"? Anybody for seconds of pleasure?

Well, this is most likenable to Gallipoli --- sweaty men struggling to somehow retain their humanity in unthinkably dehumanizing circumstances. Lacks Gallipoli's poetic script and narrative development, though. Farrell is here in a turn that follows similar early career moves by Russell Crowe and Brad Pitt --- playing a brutish and malignant oaf that's pure id, not necessarily meant as a role to stand out on it's own, but to show he has it in him to lend nuance and menace and gravity to any later protagonist roles he gets. There's also some symbolism here that's delivered more clumsily than you might expect Weir to deliver it.