Early this week, the Mets announced that they had signed outfielders Corey Patterson and Mike Wilson to a minor league deal. I kind of brushed it off. I knew I had a weird connection to Corey Patterson, but I think it’s because I used to work with a man with the same name.
Maybe my post-traumatic Mets disorder blocked it out, because it turns out I should have had a vivid memory of Patterson…namely of him killing the Mets on Opening Day of 2003.
Lest I forget, Metstradamus certainly took time to remind us all about the trigger.
I also remember that that 3/31/03 game was the only major league game I ever left in the sixth inning. Why? Because the Cubs were winning 105-2, it was -49 degrees, and most importantly, there were three assholes in front of us that made the same dopey Mike Piazza/Sam Champion joke at the top of their lungs for three freaking innings. Leaving Shea Stadium was the only way to avoid a Metstradamus murder charge, because these three idiots deserved to die … and probably still do…So screw you, you asshole frat boys. And by association, screw you Corey Patterson … because you indirectly caused this with your seven RBI’s and your two home runs….
And screw you Tom Glavine. You know why.
~ Metstradamus, Oh I Remember
So there it goes. I had two ideas in the queue for this week’s PTMD post. Yet, it’s only appropriate that I talk about Tom Glavine’s less-than-distinguished time with the New York Mets, which ended in 2007 much like the way it started that -49 degree day back in March of 2003: getting shellacked at Shea Stadium.
Yes, T#m Gl@v!ne (as Greg from Faith and Fear calls him) came around full circle with the Mets. Just shows how unfortunate the once great Atlanta Brave turned into such shit for the Mets. From Opening Day 2003, to Questec, to turning it around, to 2006, to #300, to September 30, 2007, there is nothing but post-traumatic Mets disorder with Glavine.
Yet, at the same time, he pretty much represented our hopes and fears, being Mets fans.
I, too, was at that game on March 31, 2003. I had a coworker who was also a Mets fan. When the signing went down, he dropped the newspaper on my desk, thinking I’d be thrilled. I shrugged at the news. He asked why I wasn’t happy, this was a guy who always kicked our ass, blah blah. Meanwhile, I was pissed off that Edgardo Alfonzo was no longer a Met after that offseason, clearly one of my all-time faves. Glavine, I could take or leave.
I must have felt something was amiss. When has consorting with an enemy EVER worked out for the Mets? (See: Coleman, Vince)
There were times of course that Glavine came close to growing on us. Like the time he pitched that one-hitter. That was truly special. Otherwise, it was pretty much an un-noteworthy first two years with the Mets. Remember when he tried to blame Questec on his problems? See, smart pitchers who gave a shit would have learned to adjust. All we heard from Glavine was boo hoo, I want to go back to Atlanta. Maybe he didn’t explicitly say that, but we ALL know he thought it.
Come 2005, the Mets had changed managers, management and ultimately got a new ace on the staff, Pedro Martinez. Well, I use the word “ace” loosely. (Don’t worry, Petey will have his moment of PTMD). Anyway, it took Martinez to point out that it looked as though Glavine was tipping his pitches. Derp, derp, that would have been almost too easy to identify, right?
But 2005 was not just a renaissance for the Mets, with the emergence of Jose Reyes and David Wright, and the addition of Carlos Beltran, it was also a rebirth for Glavine. After this discovery, we had a flashes of brilliance once again of the old Glavine, part of the big three in Atlanta.
I predicted he would win 20 games in 2006. I was close…sort of. He did win 15. At the beginning of the season, I thought the Mets would be lucky to win a Wild Card. They proved me wrong, by winning the division and getting within a game of going to the World Series.
Retroactively, I was disappointed. For a team that was clearly in win-now mode, this was their chance. Yet, when Carlos Beltran took strike three looking, that actually hasn’t served as a source of post-traumatic Mets disorder for me.
What happened in 2007, yeah, that’s done quite a bit.
Tom Glavine, believe it or not, was a bright spot as he won his 300th game with the Mets, during the same Chicago trip that I saw them (though I didn’t see that particular game). At the time, I remember seeing it as a reward, for our own Tom (Seaver) who won his 300th game with the Chicago White Sox, when he clearly should have done that with the Mets.
Since 2005, Glavine had spent a lot of time building some goodwill with Mets fans. It seemed as though he should have been there, should the Mets go into the postseason, he would have been a big part of it.
And you know, as much as the last game of 2007 hurt, as much as I wanted to hate Tom Glavine for blowing it…the team had plenty of opportunities to win one, just ONE MORE FUCKING GAME in that month, let alone that season. And they didn’t.
Tom Glavine was, fairly or not, the whipping boy for that game. He didn’t give them a fighting chance, the reality was, it shouldn’t have even COME to that game.
It was fucking douchebags like Carlos Delgado saying things like they become too “bored” because they were so talented.
It was Baseball Intellectually Challenged “BIC” Willie (thanks to Blondies Jake for that one) talking about champagne and sweetness and comparing every victory to the Yankees.
It was Tom Glavine saying something about disappointment and devastation and shrugging off September 30, 2007, as just a routine loss.
Yeah, it was fucking Tom Glavine. His signing represented a change for the better, then grew with the Mets as they changed philosophies, then represented the denouement of the good time Mets.
As Greg Prince once upon a time said, “Fucking Brave can go fuck himself straight back to Fucklanta.”
Tom Glavine spent his time with the Braves beating on the Mets, not much different from his time on the Mets, allowing the Braves to not only beat on them, but allowing the likes of the Marlins to beat them in such horrific fashion. Who gives a shit that one game here or there in 2007 would have made a difference, that September 30, 2007, wouldn’t have even fucking mattered.
As soon as the season ended, he went right back to the arms of Atlanta. Though their fans hated him more than they loved Julio Franco. But his wife loved them, so that’s all that mattered. (Just ask Cliff Lee about wives liking a place).
Tom Glavine ended his career the way he started it: as an Atlanta Brave. His detour with the Mets started and ended the same way: in humiliating fashion that started out with such hope. And launching a thousand tears of post-traumatic Mets disorder, that he’ll never be devastated or disappointed about.