Nothing but rainbows and lollipops in Port St. Lucie

Kelvim Escobar's throwing timetable aside, the news out of the Mets spring training facility has been almost unrelentingly positive. Maybe it's just hope springing eternal, but there have been so many feel-good stories out of Port St. Lonesome that it would surpise no one if, during a fielding drill, a High School Musical-like dance routine spontaneously broke out.

Examples?

Henry Blanco and Rod Barajas: Two defensive-minded backstops (Blanco caught Johan Santana in his Cy Young season in Minnesota) have been getting all kinds of love for their reputations as guys who can really help a pitching staff and whip into shape those who may need some whipping (we're looking at you, Ollie and Big Pelf). That, and they couldn't have been had any cheaper. Nice work, Omar.

Jose Reyes: Holy cow, is it great seeing him on the field again. And now that he finally has custom-made shoes from UnderArmour, we can all breathe easy. As for Reyes batting third, if he's cool with it, why not? As Eric Karabell notes on ESPN, batting third won't necessarily mean a big drop in stolen bases. Even if it did, if the offense performed better as a whole, that's what really matters. And it would deepen the lineup. Hmmmmm.

Keith Hernandez working with Daniel Murphy and others at first base: I'm really looking forward to seeing what Murphy can do this year. Getting 15 HR, 40 2B, 70-80 RBI and a .270 average is certainly in the realm of possibility, and would be great considering where he'd be hitting in a lineup after Reyes, Wright, Bay, Beltran (eventually) and probably Francouer. And you know his defense will be better. Why? Because his teacher is Keith Hernandez, that's why.

Beltran's right on target: At least that's what he's saying, but hearing that he was pain-free the day after all the junk was taken out of his knee was heartening.

Pelfrey and Perez came in to camp in shape: Big Pelf is actually Not-Quite-as-Big Pelf, having lost 20 pounds or so, and though there were some differing tweets, by all accounts Ollie looks good. Here's hoping his off-season training regimen included regular visits with someone like Dr. Melfi. Luis Castillo also reported to camp in great shape, saying he was undaunted by the constant trade rumors.


Jason Bay's one hell of a guy (and ballplayer): Signing autographs immediately upon his arrival in St. Lucie, Bay only solidified his reputation as a solid clubhouse presence, which will go nicely alongside his offensive numbers.

There was much talk in the winter about "changing the culture" of the team, and think about who's gone. Carlos Delgado, who may have had too much presence and aloofness, and Gary Sheffield, replaced by Bay, Blanco and Barajas.

Sounds like an upgrade in character, too. Then again, that may just be the Kool-Aid talking.

Put out the hot stove, please! Spring training is here

Our long national nightmare is over. Spring training has finally begun!

Maybe nightmare is a little harsh, but this was a brutal off-season. Not because of what the Mets did or didn't do, but because it just seemed to go on and on and on. Mostly because there was so little activity overall, and so few exciting players to be had.

Now, if you listen to the media and the Mets fans who've lost all hope, the Mets performed horribly in the Hot Stove League. Awful. So many holes. Well, maybe it wasn't so bad.

There were three marquee free agents. The Mets landed one of them, Jason Bay, and that move filled a gaping hole in left field.

The rest of the free agents, particularly the pitchers? Meh. You really had to work yourself up to get excited about Joel Piniero, or Ben Sheets, or Doug Davis, or Randy Wolf. Decent? Sure. Worth the money? Not really.

I admit that I thought the biggest need the Mets had this winter was a No. 2 starter, but the pickins were slim. Especially after John Lackey signed with Boston, and even then, he got a ton of money given his injury history, and it didn't seem that he was willing to shop the Red Sox' offer after he got it. He just took it, and good for him.

I agree with Ted Berg's point that the Mets' primary goal this winter was to "first, do no harm." They kept all of their top minor league prospects and young players with a shot at making the big club in 2010, and didn't overpay for marginal talent (although they sure looked like they were willing to do just that with Bengie Molina).

But oh, the holes! And all those question marks! Really? I read somewhere that the Mets had question marks "at every position." I don't think so.

Ace? Johan. Closer? K-Rod. Outfield? Pretty set with Bay, Francouer and Beltran, and Pagan played great last season when Beltran was out. (Yes, Beltran's health is a concern, but there's every chance he comes back from surgery just fine).

Left side of the infield? Locked in with Wright (is anyone betting against him producing more this season?) and what looks to be a 100-percent Reyes. And say what you want about Castillo, his salary or his defensive range, but he hit .300 last season and he gets on base.

First base? OK, I admit I love me some Murphy. The guy knows how to hit, works hard and showed plenty of signs that he could be better than average defensively. Last season was his first full season above AA. He deserves a shot to play, and let Tatis play once a week against lefties.

I never thought catcher was such a huge need, given the pickup of the defensively solid Henry Blanco, who could have platooned with Omir Santos while Josh Thole continued to develop in AAA. And if it's true that Rod Barajas -- known for his glove and some pop -- signs a minor league deal for a measly million, wouldn't you say Omar Minaya played that situation as well as he could?

That's the thing that bothers me most about the criticism -- it was like the season was starting tomorrow. Spring training was a month away and the Mets were getting slammed for inactivity. But there's every chance that they continue to add players in the next 6 weeks. Maybe they sign Mike Sweeney to platoon at first base (please, let Mike Jacobs go). Maybe John Smoltz, or Braden Looper or Noah Lowry get picked up to compete for a spot in the rotation. There's still time.

(By the way, I know Chien-Ming Wang is going to go 4-0 against the Mets this season. You can feel it. He could have been a very big addition here).

To me, the biggest questions are the middle of the rotation, a backup shortstop who's better than Alex Cora, and the bridge to K-Rod (there is none). But at this point, I'm not going to slam the Mets for not adding players who weren't any better than who they already had.

The next off-season is going to be a much more fertile free agent field to plow. Better to save those dollars and choose instead to pick through the bargain bins as free agents get more and more desperate to sign somewhere, anywhere (Felipe Lopez, anyone?)

Then there's the issue of depth, or the Mets' lack of same. Adding Gary Matthews Jr., Frank Catalanotto, Shawn Riggans, Josh Fogg, Tatis, Jacobs and Jason Pridie give them a decent and experienced bench.

But the team's health is a huge question! They didn't have the depth last season to cover their losses!

Let's face it -- no amount of depth would have kept them in the race with all the injuries they had in 2009. Just for fun, let's say the Yankees lost their shortstop, center fielder, first baseman and two of their top four starters, like the Mets did. That's Jeter, Texeira, Cabrera, Pettite and Burnett. Then let's say they lost Sabathia at the end for good measure. How would they have done?

But what about this season? Isn't health a question? Guess what? It's no different than any other team. Anyone can get hit with injuries, and all teams go through it. The Mets had a particularly horrific rash of them last season, almost historically bad. Can it happen again? Maybe. Is it likely? No. We hope.

In any case, I'm glad the idle talk is over and there's actual baseball to pay attention to. And I'm happy if the media or the general public think the Mets are just another also-ran. I prefer to be the underdog, anyway.

At least as far as that's concerned, there are no questions.

Game Six - behind enemy lines

I'm in the middle of reading Faith and Fear in Flushing, Greg Price's book that shares the name of his excellent blog. His recollection of Game Six prompted me to dig up something that earned me two tickets to the only movie premiere I have ever attended.

Game 6 was an odd little film that came out in 2006. Shot on a shoestring budget with a screenplay by Don DeLillo, it starred Michael Keaton, Robert Downey Jr., Griffin Dunne, Bebe Neuwirth, Catherine O'Hara and Harris Yulin, or as my wife mistakenly remembed him as, Yulie Harris. (Now, whenever we see an actor but can't remember his name, we say, "You know, Yulie Harris.")

Directed by Michael Hoffman, the film is about a playwright (Keaton) who is a die-hard Red Sox fan living in New York City. The opening of his new play is scheduled for the same night as Game 6, and if that weren't bad enough, he anticipates his play being savaged by the mysterious theater critic played by Downey Jr.

Despite the considerable talent involved, it is an awful film. I knew going in that Game 6 was just the backdrop to the story, so I didn't go in thinking it was a baseball movie. That's not the problem. It's just a disjointed mess. Is it a comedy? A drama? It doesn't know. (Sure enough, its IMDB page lists it as both.)

Anyway, part of the film's publicity was to ask people to write about what they were doing during Game Six. The best entries would receive tickets to the premiere in Manhattan. My story? I was a freshman at Boston University, so close to the heart of Red Sox nation that I could see Fenway Park from my dorm room.

Sure enough, I was one of the winners, and I took my extremely pregnant wife, Paula, to the film. All of the stars were there (except Downey Jr., which disappointed Paula), which was kind of cool. Then the director got up to say a few words, and I'll never forget that he told us, "If you feel like laughing, please laugh."

That wasn't a good sign.

After the movie, Paula and I went out for a nice dinner, so the evening wasn't a total loss. And we got to go to an actual movie premiere, albeit for a film that opened and closed within a week, its DVDs quickly finding its way to supermarket bargain bins. (By the way, I asked the PR folks to send me a free DVD, since the best entries were included on the DVD as part of the bonus features. They never did. Bastards.)

So to spare you from getting the DVD to read it, here's my winning entry:

---

I was a 17-year-old college freshman at Boston University, which many of us referred to as LIU-North because so many of the students were Long Islanders.

A Mets fan since birth -- my father was at Shea when they won in 1969, seven months after I was born -- I found myself surrounded by New Yorkers, Red Sox fans, and students who simply adopted the Sox as their team because they were going to college in Boston (pretty weak). Needless to say, it was an interesting place to be when the Mets and Sox faced off in the World Series.


The Mets dropped the first two games at Shea only to win the next two at Fenway. The Sox won game five to move within a win from taking the Series. Boston was in a state of frenzied anticipation. I couldn't imagine the Mets losing the Series with me in Boston. "I may have to transfer," I thought.


Only one kid on our floor had a television, and he knew nothing about baseball. So we took his TV to my friend Tim's room. Tim was a die-hard Sox fan, but a good guy nonetheless. About a dozen of us hunkered down to watch the game.


It was tense. The Sox took a 3-2 lead but the Mets tied it in the bottom of the eighth when Calvin Schiraldi came in to pitch. Schiraldi was an ex-Met, and I guarantee any Mets fan will tell you, once Schiraldi came in, we really liked our chances. Gary Carter's one-out, bases-loaded sac fly knotted the score.

Dave Henderson's homer in the tenth was a body blow. The Sox fans and the wanna-bes scattered, headed to Kenmore Square in anticipation of an armageddon-like celebration after Boston’s inevitable victory. Marty Barrett singled in another run. The only ones left in the room were me and Tim.


I'm staring at the screen, a shell. The Mets won 108 games that season, a powerhouse. But they struggled against the Astros and were about to lose to the Red Sox, with me at ground zero of Red Sox nation; I could see Fenway from my room on the 14th floor of Warren Towers, BU's massive freshman dorm.

Tim looked at me and sensed my pain. "I know this sucks, but you don't understand what it's like being a Sox fan," Tim said. "This is huge."


I do not respond. Tim doesn't expect me to.


So it's just the two of us as the Sox move to within an out of victory. Then Carter singled. Kevin Mitchell came up and rapped a pinch-hit single.


I began to hope when Ray Knight stepped in. He was clutch all year. So when he singled in Gary Carter, I began to believe again.


Then Bob Stanley came in.


Tim's immediate reaction was, "Oh, God, no, NOT STANLEY!" Once I heard that, I knew there was a real chance the Mets could come back and win.


Sure enough, Stanley bounces a pitch under Mookie Wilson's feet and past Rich Gedman. Mitchell scores and the game is tied, and Knight -- Mister Karma that season -- is on second.


I will fight to the death anyone who does not believe that Wilson would have beaten Buckner to the bag had Buckner fielded that ground ball. It's clear on the replays that as the ball passed under his glove, the gimpy Buckner was shuffling to his left and flat-footed. One second after the ball goes through, Wilson rounds first. So to me, Wilson would have reached anyway with an infield hit, which would not have scored Knight, but would have spared Buckner -- a hell of ballplayer for many years prior -- so much agony.


We know what happened next.


To that point in my life as a sports fan I had experienced the Islanders winning four straight Stanley Cups and seen Team USA beat the Soviet Union. But nothing compared to the feeling after the Mets won game six. All the tension after being so close to losing was released, replaced by pure joy.


Outside, you could hear Mets fans in other rooms in Warren Towers screaming in delight, while Sox fans like Tim just slumped in dazed agony.


After yelling and running up and down the hall in celebration, I waited by the elevators for the pseudo-Sox fans to return from their ill-advised and premature trip to Kenmore Square.


A bell rang. The elevator doors opened. Incredibly -- I couldn't have scripted it any better – they were all in there together. And there was me, wearing my Mets cap and the biggest shit-eating grin I could muster.


I walked back to my room, where I called my buddies at home who were watching the game together at my friend Joe's house.


Two days later, I made another call. Joe’s dad answered and immediately put him on.


I said, "Listen to this," and put the receiver up to the open window of my dorm room. Someone in B tower had "We Are the Champions" cranked, and the sound of that song mixed in with the cheers and hollers of displaced Mets fans rang through the Boston night.


I got back on the phone. "Can you believe it?" I said. It was almost too good to be true.

Can't you feel a brand new day?

Yet another example of how easy it is to fall down the Internet rabbit-hole:

So I watched the SNY video of Jose Reyes running full-speed, and it filled me with pure joy. Yes, it was a tad overproduced, and Kevin Burkhardt veered a little too far into Chris Farley territory ("You looked pretty fast to me" ... I kept waiting for, "That was awesome") but the fact is that Mets fans have had so little to be excited about, and here was Reyes -- the key to the offense and one of the few players who bring some juice to the game -- looking 100 percent and ready to dominate.

It was like a ray of sunlight breaking through the dark clouds of pessimism that have hovered over this team all winter. And for some reason, the first thing that came to mind was a scene from The Wiz.

Hold on. I'll explain.

I haven't seen The Wiz in years, but it's one of those movies, for whatever reason, that I saw as a kid and has always stuck with me, like Bugsy Malone. For the uninitiated, The Wiz is basically the black Wizard of Oz, with Diana Ross as Dorothy, pre-surgical (and still black) Michael Jackson as the Scarecrow, Nipsey Russell as the Tin Man, Richard Pryor as The Wizard, some dude I never heard of as the Cowardly Lion and Lena Horne as Glenda the Good Witch. Impressive cast.  It was first on Broadway and then made into a movie, and it is a guilty pleasure.

Anyway, the joy of the Reyes clip brought to mind the scene where the Wicked Witch finally dies. It triggers a celebration scene where the beaten-down citizenry emerge from their gloom (literally) and celebrate with what looks like an Alvin Ailey dance number to the song "Brand New Day."


So I looked on YouTube and found the trailer for the Wiz, and sure enough, it includes the aforementioned scene (from 2:08 to 2:34), which is how the Reyes clip must make Mets fans, who are desperate for a positive omen, feel.

But hold on ... what was that at the 1:07 mark? The main characters are being chased (I think by the flying monkeys) through what looks like the bowels of Shea Stadium. It's only there for a second or two, but the excalators and ramps ... I think that's Shea! I guess I'll have to rent it to see for sure. I look forward to the look on the face of the Blockbuster clerk.

That led me to look up The Wiz on IMDB, where I discovered that the film was not only directed by the great Sidney Lumet (Network, 12 Angry Men, Serpico, Dog Day Afternoon), but that the screenwriter was Joel Schumacher, whose directorial career has its highs (Falling Down, Veronica Guerin) and lows (Batman and Robin, D.C. Cab).

I shouldn't be surprised about Lumet. The film makes great use of iconic New York locations like The World Trade Center, Coney Island, the South Bronx, the Subway and the Public Library, and the image of 5 Chrysler Building spires to represent the Emerald City is memorable.

Furthermore, I learn that Schumacher was originally a costume designer, who not only worked with Woody Allen on Sleeper (on my all-time top 10 movie list) and Interiors, but also worked on The Prisoner of Second Avenue with Jack Lemmon.

All that from watching Jose Reyes run. Now that's the mark of an MVP.

Just when I thought I was out...

In The Tipping Point, Malcolm Gladwell (who in a baseball cap would look a lot like Bake McBride), writes about the 'epidemic' of teen smoking and points out that addiction to nicotine isn't the same for everyone. Which is one reason why some people can give up smoking soon after starting, others smoke less frequently, and others kill themselves with three packs a day.

Which is to say, if the Mets were cigarettes, I'd have a hole in my trachea by now.

For several years I was the primary writer for Mets Fan Club, a site very near and dear to my heart. But after enduring the NLCS Game 7 loss and the called third strike in 2006, the collapse of 2007 and the World's Most Dangerous Bullpen in 2008, I couldn't find the strength to write about the Mets in 2009. I did a season preview, but a few weeks in, I was done. Spent. Toast. So I took the season off.

Good call.

It was refreshing to just be a fan and not have to post about every win or loss, or speculate about why the Mets were getting injured so often, or why Mets fans in general were getting more and more defeatist and annoying. And with the way last season went, I would have been lucky to have not had a breakdown by the Fourth of July.

Now it's 2010. The hot stove period is all but over and pitchers and catchers report in a little more than two weeks. The Mets added a power bat in left field with Jason Bay, but haven't yet added a starting pitcher. Carlos Delgado is thankfully gone, Luis Castillo is still here, and with any luck Daniel Murphy will be given a real chance to play at first base.

I could have continued to be just another fan. But the call of the blog is a strong one, and of the pro teams I root for (Jets, Mets and Islanders -- yikes), the Mets are the team that I think about, worry about and enjoy talking about the most.

Maybe it's because my first real sports memory was of playing baseball in the street at age six in 1975 and thinking that a third-place finish for the Mets wasn't so bad. (Little did I know what the next few years would bring). Maybe it's all the games of Strat-O-Matic I played where the Mets always were much better than they were in real life. Maybe it's because baseball's season is so long, there's always plenty to think and talk about.

But there's another reason I got back into the blogging game. I try my best to be positive, without drinking the Kool-Aid. I was also a reporter and editor for many years, so I've learned to look at things objectively, the opposite of a fan.

Of course, it's been tough to remain optimistic or even objective about the Mets given the last three-plus years, but Mets-bashing has become a little too popular for my taste. And while I can almost forgive the media from piling on, what gets me is how many Mets fans are so quick to lay the blame or drive the next nail into the coffin.

Believe me, I understand the frustration. I feel the pain. I was there when Endy Chavez made The Catch, and Yadier Molina homered, and Carlos Beltran struck out. The collapse was sheer water torture. But had the Mets' bullpen been able to avoid just a couple of its mind-boggling 29 blown saves (and had Brad Lidge not been friggin' perfect), the Mets would have won the division in '08. And while everyone loves to say "injuries aren't an excuse," when your starters and their backups also get hurt, there's no way to compete. No one's bench is that deep and talented. Not even the Yankees.

Yes, the Mets have issues in 2010. I admit I'm not completely confident in the front office.
But while patience is in short supply surrounding this team, I'll do my best to retain mine.

(And just a note on Citi Field. If I am at a Mets game, wearing my Mets gear, surrounded by thousands of other fans wearing their Mets colors and cheering for the Mets, who are on the field below me, I do not need to see Mets logos and colors everywhere I turn to remind me that I am, in fact, at a Mets game. I don't care what color the outfield wall is.)

So, somewhere between sanity and insanity is Metsanity. An island of calm in a roiling sea of blather and bombast.

Where we recall Jon Matlack, Bruce Boisclair and Doug Flynn as fondly as Nails, Backman, Keith, Straw or Doc.

Where we remember the Grand Slam single (and still hear the ringing in our ears) -- but never did see the ball clear the wall from our seats in the Mezzanine.

Where Mike Piazza's No. 31 and Keith Hernandez' No. 17 are retired on our outfield wall and a statue of Tom Seaver stands proudly before the rotunda, its right arm cocked and right knee scraping dirt off a bronze mound.

Where we enjoy a pulled pork sandwich from Blue Smoke and shed no tears for Shea.

Where The Curly Shuffle and Luna Mezzo Mare are the only songs allowed to be played during the seventh inning stretch.

Where I'll be for the rest of the year and maybe longer, depending on how my nerves and my heart hold out.