Month: April 2012

A Celebration of Mets History and Academia

Starting Thursday, April 26. until Saturday, April 28, Hofstra University is hosting the Mets 50th Anniversary conference, which our friend and Mets brother Dana Brand was putting together before he unexpectedly passed away last year.

I’m pleased to announce that I will be one of the panelists for the “Bullpen,” which is a roundtable of bloggers discussing Mets centric topics, and for the “Passion of the Blogger” roundtable on Saturday.

This panel on Saturday will be moderated by Greg Prince from Faith and Fear in Flushing, and I’m joining Steve Keane from Kranepool Society and John Coppinger from Metstradamus.  It’s funny, when I started as a “blog groupie,” these were the three main blogs I followed at first.  I’m honored and humbled at the same time.  Never in a million years did I think my fandom of this team would allow me to discuss them live with friends and “blolleagues.”

Tonight’s Gal For All Seasons podcast will be discussing the Hofstra conference, with my guests E.J. from The Happy Recap and Metstradamus himself.  ‘Damus and I might talk a bit of hockey.

If you have the time, definitely head out to Hofstra this weekend.  I didn’t want this to be an event that I looked back at and said, “Dang, I shoulda been there.”


For Your Viewing Pleasure

I’m too lazy to write anything about the Rangers today.  I’m drained, and it’s only the first round of playoffs.  It’s not even officially done yet, and I can’t even imagine how the players must feel.

So I’ll post some links to video, including yours truly, who had a Holy Sheepshit and Balls moment last night after the game.

Enjoy…by the way, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. First round, and we’re making comparisons to 1994? Let’s get through this round first…then we can talk.





Callahan’s Messier Moment

There’s only one Captain, someone told me. Actually, many have told me that.

But Mark Messier, as celebrated as he is within New York Ranger culture, is and was a mercenary. I know we hate to think of him that way but truth is, he was celebrated and a champion well before he ever came to the Rangers.

I don’t want to take anything away from what Messier brought to the Rangers those years, especially in 1994. I don’t think the Rangers win a goddamn thing without him. The Rangers were a storied franchise before he came to the team, yet he brought a certain something that brought them to the next level.

But for the love of Emile Francis, Ryan Callahan needs to have his Mark Messier moment. And he needed it yesterday.

On my pre-playoff podcast, I discussed with Kevin DeLury from NYRBlogs and Nick Montemagno from Ranger Tribune, that I expected a big series from Captain Cally.

It’s going to take a lot for Ranger fans to accept someone into that cherished Captain fold. It certainly wasn’t Kelly Kisio nor Chris Drury. As beloved as he is, Brian Leetch was never fully accepted into the captain mold. Leetch unfortunately had big shoes to fill. Because he was on the storied ’93-’94 run, it was almost like more was expected of him. Leetch = great player, not a captain.

Callahan is the heart and soul of this team. We point to how blue collar and the hard work ethic that he and John Tortorella have brought to this team. While mercenaries like Marian Gaborik and Brad Richards are supposed to add to the goal scoring capabilities of the team, we point to Henrik Lundqvist and his intensity, to guys like Brian Boyle and Brandon Prust for being young upstarts. But Callahan is Mr. Ranger, the guy you look to in these times, when the team heads back to Ottawa for a one game playoff and hope to get that one more win to have home ice that one last time. The reason, you know, for game sevens to exist.

I can’t say it’s happening.

So in the first round, I’m wondering if Cally will have to break out a page from the Book of Messier, where he said, “We will win tonight.”

Is that too dramatic? It may be. After all, some people may be happy with the way the season went and take the playoffs as rationalizing that whole “it’s about who gets hottest at the right time,” that the Rangers have laid the foundation for years to come and blah blah blah.

That’s just fucking bullshit, as far as I’m concerned.

I want all that but I want them to fucking grab the bull by the balls and kick the Senators’ ass all the way. They should have by now. They are not.

I’m saying that anything less than an Eastern Conference final visit is a failure for this season. They have the goods to do it. They just need to see Lundqvist can’t do it all on his own.

That means it’s time for Captain Callahan to wake the fuck up and slap these fuckers into reality.

It’s down to two games now. Let’s do it already.

Larry’s Fine

I leave town for a few days and the shit hits the fans with some of my teams doings in play and outside of the box.  The Mets made a kerfuffle though, when there was news that hit that they would honor Chipper Jones on his retirement tour.

I can’t really find anything sourcing it for sure (the announcement certainly didn’t come from the Mets directly), but the reaction to it was quite strong.  Mostly of the “let’s not do it” variety from the Mets fans population.

Let me tell you something.  I’ve spent a good amount of time in my Mets fandom dreading when Chipper Jones comes up to bat at a critical time against the Mets, and I cringe usually because the story seems to set itself.  Perhaps we dread him though being a Mets killer because we would see his team 18 times a year.  And let’s be fair, the Mets usually beat themselves at those times, not the other way around (Sorry to bring that up, but ’tis true).

But let me go on record to say how much this rumored honoring actually doesn’t bother me.

1.)  Larry Jones didn’t just kill the Mets.  Did you know he had better career numbers against the Phillies?  It’s just that when it counted, Larry would come up huge against the Mets.  But as I said before, those Mets teams generally beat themselves with shitty bullpens and bad thought processes.  Also, let’s be real the Braves were really really good in the 1990s.  I always felt that rivalry was more of a big brother/little brother variety, like “Why are you guys always picking on meeeeeee?”

2.) Cal Ripken and Tony Gwynn.  These guys were not only baseball legends while they played, but were lifers with one team.  Those guys are hard to find nowadays. When they retired, every single baseball park practically gave them a send off that would rival any of their own players I’m sure.  It’s a respect thing.  And Larry Jones is Hall of Fame material, with or without the Mets killing.

3.) It’s not like the Mets haven’t done shit like this before.  They’ve honored Bobby Cox with a bottle of GTS wine, and Craig Biggio with a video montage prior to his retirement.  It’s a respect thing.

4.) It’s a respect thing.  Hey, you don’t have to like Larry.  But you have to respect him.  Kind of like the Yankees.  Okay, maybe not.  The Rangers fan base still uses “Potvin Sucks” as a chant for a guy that hasn’t played in like 30 years.  It’s a RESPECT thing at this point.  But at least Larry didn’t use PEDs or steroids or anything like that.  He doesn’t beat his wife, use drugs or drive drunk.  He just likes H00ters waitresses and sex.  Nascar too probably.

5.) He gets it.  Larry gets the rivalry.  We talked about this on the podcast, and that there was some awards ceremony and Larry had to give a speech.  He thanked the New York fans for reminding him what his real name was.  Though I hated him for his “Put on their Yankee gear” quote in 1999, he came around and gave the fans here a nod in the rivalry.

6.) They’re not giving a statue, people.  If they do honor him, it will be a video clip montage and his GTS wine.  Some have pointed out that the Mets never properly honored Gary Carter, but they’d honor Larry.  I disagree.  The Mets have always done right by him.  They didn’t retire his number, so what?  He had two good years and helped win a championship.  I get that.  He also had admittedly better years outside of a Mets uniform.

Let’s be fair folks: maybe the Mets have a tough time honoring their history because some of the players just weren’t good enough.  I mean, who will we put on a pedestal?  Tom Seaver is the only player wearing a Mets cap in the Hall of Fame, and potentially Mike Piazza will be too.  I guarantee his number will be retired one day, so what’s the harm in waiting another year to officially do so?  My point is, we need to take a reality check here and realize that we’ve honored the players we could with our version of the ring of honor in the Mets Hall of Fame.  For me, that’s good enough for the players who were good enough as Mets but not Hall of Fame material.

I have done my fair share of Larry Jones mocking, but he gets the rivalry and realizes his place.  He’s comfortable with it.  I’m comfortable with some kind of send off.  Let’s be nice and give him his due, but also never let him forget his name again.


Yes, I know there are other teams in the hockey playoffs…but it’s round one, we just finished the regular season, and I need some New York Ranger fix pronto!  If you don’t like it…join the chat room to heckle me and my guests.

I’ll be joined by Nick Montemagno from Ranger Tribune and Kevin DeLury from the NYR Blogs, two of the best Ranger blogs out there.

We’ll be going live at 7 pm ET tonight, join me at the Gal For All Seasons podcast on NDB Media at BlogTalkRadio!!

Topics include: regular season finish, John Tortorella, rivalries, predictions for Rangers and first round.

Amazin’ Tuesday

Every one of us, at one point or another, was probably told by someone else that the latter thinks of the former at a certain instance.

For me, and I’m sure many others, it’s when they see a Mets game or something related to the Mets.

I’m sure there are many more fans crazier than I, perhaps none more than my husband though, who went to work at 5 am to take an extended lunch break in an effort to meet me to go to see R.A. Dickey at a book signing, and then later to catch his hetero-life-Met in Edgardo Alfonzo.

Since both were doing their appearances in midtown (though Dickey was slightly more East), we figured, what the hey.

These two Mets are special and endearing to the fan base.  They represent what it means to wear the orange and blue: they’re hard-working, have a blue-collar ethic, fan-friendly, are underdogs (meaning: they’re certainly not the best players on their team but that makes you like them that much more), and just seem like regular good guys.  While Dickey hasn’t been on widely successful Mets teams, Fonzie was part of the scrappy 1999 and World Series-bound 2000 teams.  Fonzie is also an incredibly underrated Met.  That goes without saying with Dickey, an eccentric knuckleballer.

R.A. Dickey and I have more than just the Mets in common: we were both English lit majors in college.  Probably the only baseball player I can think of who can use the word “dichotomy” in a sentence and correctly, at that.  If you haven’t read his book yet, if you are a Mets fan and are a sympathetic individual, there is no reason why you wouldn’t enjoy his inspiring story.

Perhaps though no one is crazier (and by “crazy,” I mean “certifiable”) than I am when it comes to R.A. Dickey.  When I have Twitter exchanges with him, it’s about literature and not really about the team.  I even asked him, once, if he thought Shakespeare was as overrated as I thought he was (short answer: yes, long answer: he likes his sonnets, which I agree with).

So when he writes in his book about perhaps becoming an English professor one day, my eyes lit up.  I’d LOVE to take an English class with R.A. Dickey; so many of his mannerisms remind me of my journalism and Medieval lit professor, Dr. John Marlin (both have very dry and witty personalities).  I get the idea that they would be friends in real life (even Dickey played for Marlin’s fave Minnesota Twins).

Wanna know how crazy I am about R.A. Dickey though?  I had a dream after finishing his book that I was in a lecture hall as spoke about Faulkner.

Does this R.A. Chickey know how to party or what?????

So hubs leaves work, and we head over to the east side for our first stop: Dickey’s book signing.

It’s pretty uneventful.  We wait in a long line but it moves surprisingly quick, we probably waited no more than like 45 minutes.  We passed the time by chatting with other Mets fans, about what players were nice or mean to fans (Al Leiter was kind of douchey, and we all heard Tom Seaver is very arrogant).  We all agreed that we were prepared for Dickey to be a nice guy.  And he was.


It was pretty quick and painless.  We got him to sign the book “To Coop & Ed – GO METS!” with his signature and #43.

While posing for our pics though, I did tell him I had to be the only baseball fan who finished his book and wanted to hear him give a lecture on Faulkner.  To which he replied, laughing I might add, “Oh man, I’d LOVE to do that!”

We pretty much floated to our next stop, which was Citibank on 6th Avenue in midtown, where Mets alumni Edgardo Alfonzo was visiting.  We weren’t expecting as big of a turn out here as there was the Barnes & Noble, and we were correct.  There were still quite a few people there.

Fonzie was what the rumors said: very nice, humble and gracious to his fans.  Possibly no one loved Fonzie more than my husband who had his #13 Mets jersey inspired by him.


When you find out one of the guys who wears (or wore) the laundry for your team and you liked him enough, you find a way to attend their book signing or go to a bank you don’t even do business at to meet them and take pictures.  Or you know, you scream at them during warm ups till they acknowledge you.  Hi Jon!

It’s funny the lengths my husband and I go to for our teams.  We’ll follow them around the country, we’ll go to their home games, we’ll traipse in midtown Manhattan in the lunch hours to get some pictures and spend 30 seconds with a fan favorite.

Back in 2010, there would be a literary roundtable and speakers called “Amazin’ Tuesdays.”  We brought back our own Amazin’ Tuesday for one day at least.

Por El Amor De Pedro

I use a lot of catch phrases that some of you may be familiar with, some more than others.

“Holy Sheepshit and Balls” is one of them.

“Goddammit anyway.”

“Just forfeit.”

One of the biggies is “For the love of Pete” or shorthand “Love of Pete.” Sometimes I’ve been known to say “Love of FUCK.” But that’s neither here nor there.

Yet, when I start saying “Love of Pete” at baseball games, it means one thing.

That I’m back.

I had a tough time coming around on this season. Not that I’m incredibly pessimistic or anything like that, mostly because I’ve been distracted. The Rangers are actually pretty good and kept me occupied this offseason, and now it turns out that baseball, for once, is coming between me and hockey. It’s just something new to me. The last time the Rangers were this special in my life, I was a teenager, I certainly wasn’t blogging and the Mets also weren’t any good. So it was a no-brainer then. Rangers all the way. Now, though, I am inundated with social media updates and multiple methods of getting games without being near my television.  (Also, not to mention, the Rangers had already locked their playoff spot up and their regular season is now officially done, so we’re just waiting for the playoffs to begin this week).

Plus, I get a special dispensation for this weekend.  After all, it was opening weekend.

It was a summer family reunion for the books as Opening weekend came and went at CitiField.  It was a reunion of the family-we-choose and the family-we-have and a little bit of both.


Opening Day is almost stressful.  It’s the one day a year that everyone I pretty much know goes to the games, and we always try to get together.  Some happen.  Some don’t.  Yet, we need to get to the ballpark early so that we actually have time TO tailgate, and to make it into the park to see the opening ceremonies.  The parking lots are vast, and not everyone is parked by one another, so it’s tough to get to everyone.  We did a good job though.  We started off with the great Chapman tailgate, featuring the Housewives of CitiField edition (and the infamous margarita maker), visited Randy’s tailgate for Read the Apple (where we had a mini blogger summit featuring Media Goon from Mets Police, The Apple author himself, Dee from Metscellaneous, my husband from Studious Metsimus and yours truly), then onto Uncle Gene and Aunt Melissa’s, bringing me back to my childhood days when they would take their kids out of school to go to Opening Day at Shea.  (Of course, only ONE kid had to be taken out of school Thursday.  I’m old).

So we managed to get everything done that we wanted to prior to going into the park. Then came the actual finding of the area to take pics of the pregame, which included a tribute to my hero, Gary Carter. Now, we all know how much Coop loves Kid. We headed to the Promenade to get our shots of the entire field, and it ended up being a good idea until the Pastrachos incident.


See, some asshole not paying attention to the field ceremony decided that getting back to the seat before his pastrachos got cold distracted my husband from getting the first pitch and almost got Dee to miss her opportunity too. Because he wanted to sit.  And eat fucking nasty-ass pastrachos.

I know this is a first world problem. After all, we weren’t in seats that were our own, and if someone came to us as they were getting on the field, I would have gladly moved. That was the plan the whole time. But…not even fucking paying attention or paying respects to Kid’s family to eat your fucking PASTRACHOS????

That gets a big patented Coop middle finger.

The game goes on without incident.  I have to say, especially in the last few years, this has to be one of the most memorable if least stressful 1-0 Mets games I have ever attended.  If the Mets had lost 1-0, I’d have been all pissed off.  But they won, and the bullpen kept things together after Johan Santana made his pitch count quota for the day.  We did manage to have a Shea Bridge Blogger Summit Lite, since many of the blogging community representatives weren’t able to get Twitter during the game.  Or any social media type outlets.  More first world problems, but this is the fucking 21st goddamn century, and this happens every goddamn year with the Mets and CitiField.  Get us some wifi passwords or get better service.  THE END.

But hey, the bloggers I met up with are pretty goddamn fantastic.  Here’s me and Richie from Random Mets Thoughts toasting our first beer of the season, and Dee and Metstradamus joined us for more fun and excitement.

But the highlight of the day came after the game.  The post-game wrap up was being conducted outside CitiField for SNY.  So we hung around and figured, hey, maybe we’ll get on TV.

Does that answer your question?

By Saturday, things were somewhat back to normal.  Going to so many games, I kind of get jaded by going to so many games.  I generally get there about just a few minutes before first pitch.  While I like to watch the game from my seats, I’m not averse to getting up a few times during the games.  In fact, it’s almost essential because I need to charge my phone at some point and eat.  #FirstWorldProblems.

This time I was able to run into more bloggers for an impromptu blogger summit on the bridge.


Don’t be fooled: the two Coops of bloggers on the right are not twins (though we tried our best to fool people, with our matching sweatshirts and last names).

Anyhoo, few things of note besides a great R.A. Dickey start and another *yawn* Mets win on Saturday.

One was I found a new entrance to CitiField…sort of.  See, I have no idea what purpose it serves.  It seems like a secret handshake or password society door, between the Jackie Robinson Rotunda and Hodges entrances.  It’s the “Payson” entrance, presumably named after the Mets first owner and original Mets diva (and only woman honored in the Mets Hall of Fame and Museum), Joan Whitney Payson.  See, I wasn’t around when this woman was.  Let me tell you something: this is the type of owner I’d want.  Everyone had her respect.  To this day, Tom Seaver even calls her Mrs. Payson.  A Hall of Fame pitcher and World Champion with the Mets, and still refers to her with that title.  I think that’s awesome.

Anyway, I have no idea what purpose this entrance serves but if someone can find out, it would be cool to know.


Now what you see on the right of the Payson entrance is not an apparition.  It is not a mistake.  It is not a mirage.  It’s the Niese Chick with the Niese jersey.

Yes, I have found the only way to get anything remotely related to showing your fandom for Jonathon Joseph Niese, besides being his long-lost twin, is to actually get it customized.

But not to worry.  I didn’t actually buy it.  Sort of.  Well, I paid for it all right.  As a season ticket holder, the Mets have given you “Amazin’ Perks,” one of which is the “Super Fan Package” and your choice is the 50th anniversary customized jersey.  I wasn’t sure what I wanted.  I definitely wanted someone on this team.  By then, it was a foregone conclusion that Reyes wasn’t on the team.  I have a David Wright jersey (it was actually WORN by him at one point).  And I don’t know, who else?

Jon Niese – 49.

I have to practice what I preach.  Absolutely, because you cannot find a Niese shirt ANYWHERE.  ANYTIME.  Even at the Mets Clubhouse by Bryant Park.  Spare me the whole “Well, you can get whatever you want on”  The man has a contract extension, for fuck’s sake, let’s get some shirts made up in the Mets gift shops.  So I have set the trend.  (And after his performance on Sunday, I can tell you more people will want him items in stock, mark my words).

The beauty part was my sales rep met me during the game to give me my “goodie bag” including my brand new Niese jersey.  In time, though, because I was able to sport it on his first start of the season.

We got to the park early again, if only to meet up with some friends we really couldn’t see on Opening Day, but also to meet up with Mr DyHrdMet from Remembering Shea, who also had one thing on the agenda with Ed.

To take stalking photos of Jon Niese.

Well, okay.  I was down with that.



I took it a step further though.  I decided I was going to try to yell.  And get his attention.

And I did.


Hey, you know what, I can pretty much guarantee I’m one of the only people who do that besides someone with the last name NIESE.

He laughed, and kept doing his gallops in his stretching routine.


DyHrdMet was able to get the only shot of his reaction.

Photo credit to Jason Bornstein

He did smile and laughed at one point.  Go us.  Hopefully, he’ll hug his twin on the west coast.

So some special things happened on Niesester Sunday.  First, he had a shaky start then leveled out to no-hit the Braves for six-plus innings.  The Mets did manage to make the game interesting, a seven-run blow out to a nail-biting 7-5 in the 9th inning.

Yet, something else that shows me this ain’t yo’ mama’s Mets.  First, the bullpen has been without incident.  Save Manny Acosta giving up a home run, there hasn’t been much incident with the bullpen.  Hell, even Frank Francisco has been closing out fine.  Yet, when I see him out there, I don’t cringe, I don’t get palpitations.

What did give me palpitations was the no-hit bid.  When I’m in situations like that, I get flustered and to the point where I don’t even want to get up.  Same with my husband.  He said that it was nice to see that he married someone who “gets it.”  Oh, I get it all right.

I guess the good news was, I was able to try a burger from Keith’s Grill for the first time this year.  The “Mex Burger” to more precise: burger with cheddar and pepper jack cheeses, guacamole, jalapenos, bacon and chipotle aioli.  And yes, it was as delicious as it sounds.  Looking forward to eating it again.


Ballapeno was none too happy, though, with me eating a burger with his family members on it.

The most important part was that the Mets won.  The Mets won, for the love of Pete, the Mets won!  Let’s not get ahead of ourselves…they won a series against a Braves team that is still, for all intents and purposes, are reeling from a late-season collapse from 2011.  This ain’t yo’ mama’s Braves, either.

While I wait for the Stanley Cup playoffs to start, I’ll watch my baseball games and stalk the players and enjoy it while I can.  The Mets have put us through a lot these last few years, and while we may be suffering from post-traumatic Mets disorder, there was something interesting going on at CitiField.

It felt like we belonged there.  We belonged as fans, the Mets belong there.  It felt like a place I can look forward to watching games at for the next 40 or so years.

And hopefully, that asshole with the pastrachos will learn baseball etiquette by then.

The Shores of Tripoli

I guess in John’s world you can come into our building and start your tough guys, but we can’t do the same here…He’s either got short-term memory loss or he’s a hypocrite.” – Pete DeBoer, New Jersey Devils Coach (March 18, 2012)

“I figured he was just blowing up. I’m sure he’ll apologize today about it and everything will be forgotten.” – Sidney Crosby, Pittsburgh Penguins, in response to John Tortorella’s blowup post-game last night. (April 5, 2012)

What did I hear?


Gimme a break, you crybabies.  This is NATIONAL HOCKEY LEAGUE, not Big Boy Pants Day Camp.

Again, gimme a fucking break.

The first quote was in response to Tortorella starting a line of tough guys at the get go in the game last month against the Devils.  Now, this is pot meeting kettle over here.  DeBoer knew exactly what he was getting into, and when Torts played fire with fire, he got mad about it.  Especially when it worked in Torts’ favor.

Last night was the biggie.  Look, if this was a game that truly meant anything at all, playoff ranking implications, whatever, well, teams need to do what teams need to do to survive.  Reality was, the Rangers are locked in #1 seed in East, whereas Penguins are also in playoffs.  OOOOH do I suspect a little bit of **SHOCK HORROR** JEALOUSY from those igloo dwelling babies?

Look, I didn’t see the game last night as I was (shameless plug) on a baseball podcast and needed to prepare some notes for it.  Plus, I had posted (another shameless plug) on the Rangers getting top seed on YouTube two nights before.  I was riding high on a Mets win in Flushing, then I had to hear about this bullshit.  And it pissed me off.

But you know what made me happy?  Things aren’t that bad.  I mean, of course I hope that D-Step isn’t hurt from that dirty play by Brooks Orpik (look, no matter what side of the fence you are on, you see that move, and it was DICK MOVE no question).  But when I heard what Tortorella said after the game…made me love him even more.

He called them out on the Penguins double standard bullshit basically, calling them the most “arrogant team in the league,” and “whiners.”  You know what?  Every team, no matter what sport, has their crybabies.  I might root for a few of them in my lifetime.  But only look at what Sidney Crosby has to say in response (calling out Ryan Callahan, saying Tortorella spoke in the heat of the moment, dismissing what the real issue is here), let alone the “WAAAAAAAHHHH” mentality of their owner Mario Lemieux.

See, Lemieux makes some very good points, as illustrated last season, the Islanders got fined a shitload of money for disciplinary action against the Penguins.

But you know, he comes across as that kid who grew up across the street with you.  You remember him, right?  He was kind of a douche but he has a pool (inground!), a mom who bakes cookies and lot of cool toys.

Then comes the day when you realize that he uses this against you.  Like, if things aren’t going his way, he threatens to take all his toys with him back to his house or makes you go home because you aren’t letting him win.

Except substitute “one of the legends of hockey” for that bratty fucking kid down the street, and there’s Mario.  (And you’re talking to a chick who was ALL ABOUT Mario Lemieux back in the day).  You know the league isn’t going to do anything to DARE cross Prince Mario’s path.  Noooooooo.  Especially with this two fucking arrogant bastard players, Malkin and Crosby…the poster boys for double-standard practices in NHL.  I get it — they’re good.  And I always had a philosophy that if you dislike a player, it’s really because you secretly want them on your team because they are good.

Well enough is enough.  Even though those two weren’t involved in the hit (and I do think that Orpik should get disciplined, but that’s just me talkin’), they perpetuate the idea that they are above the law in the NHL and that somehow, the rules don’t apply to them.  Well, fuck that noise.

As for Torts, should he apologize?  Is RYAN CALLAHAN somehow as bad with the dirty plays (as Crosby alluded to) that the Penguins do, and then complain about in the next breath when it’s one of their players?  NO TO BOTH.

I’ll tell you why.  John Tortorella is the MAN.  I can’t say I was his biggest fan, I liked him enough, just was like – whatever – when it came to him.  Now, call me in the corner of Tortorella’s camp.

We’re about to go into battle with this guy calling the shots.  He’d take a bullet for his players, and they would do the same in return.  You gotta love that in a coach.  You really do.

Oh and for the record, fuck Sidney Crosby with a rusty nail.

Fine Line Between Pessimism and Low Expectations

I have unusually low expectations for the Mets in 2012.

Usually, I look forward to Opening Day with such giddy anticipation as a child would look forward to waking up on Christmas morning, going out of their bedroom and seeing their prized bicycle under a tree.

This year it’s weird.  There are things I am looking forward to, such as seeing the friends I haven’t seen since the last game of 2011, seeing friends I see all year round, eating lots of bad food (not “bad” food, but “bad-for-you” food), and drinking alcohol.  It’s mostly the camaraderie I am looking forward to.  The blogger summit on Shea Bridge that we’ve taken to most games.

And yes, to an extent I am looking forward to seeing baseball played again.

Yet, I don’t want to sound pessimistic.  I think Mets fans have been put through the wringer with this team in the past few years.  Okay, maybe me.  I’ll never stop loving them, but DAMN BABY!  Make it stop!

I’m not pessimistic.  I have optimism for certain parts of the team.  Like Ike Davis, Lucas Duda, seeing Daniel Murphy play a full season (or at least attempt to), see how Jason Bay reacts to the new walls, see Johan Santana return, and see our young stars develop.  Whether I think that will be moxie enough to keep me interested all season remains to be seen.

I can be excited and love the team and love baseball games, but until they start showing me some changes, I’m not expecting much.  And I guess that’s a good thing because it seems like each year when we have high expectations they just temper them to the extent that we just get angry.

I guess what I’m trying to say is…it can only get better from here.

I hope.