Okay, so it’s the top of the 5th, and Milledge just botched Manny Ramirez’s pop up to take the score to 5-2 Sox. I’m about to pop open a bottle of white I’ve got chilling in my freezer (a publication gift) and hunker down to keep rooting for the team.
But blogging a giggle or two can’t hurt, right? Am I the only one who guffawed when the camera closed in on Johnny Pesky and one of the announcers asked: "Do you think he minds that there’s graffiti all over his pole?"
And it was nice to see Jim Rice on the field at the beginning of the game. Being Zoe Rice myself, you can imagine I see him at all the family picnics. Just kidding. My family doesn’t picnic.
Ba dum dum.
OH ****. REYES HURT.
In the world of baseball, the Red Sox and the Mets share a lot in common. Mainly, a certain (healthy?) aversion to a certain other team. An aversion that prompts me to vote Red Sox on the American League All -Star ballot. But also, we Mets and Red Sox fans understand that every winning team goes through peaks and valleys. Some long, deep valleys. But we stick around. Because we’re awesome.
Basically, we all want the Red Sox to win their division, right? Because otherwise, it’s those other buggers, right? So it will be odd tonight, rooting against them. I’m torn between excitement over watching two strong, leading teams in head-to-head battle and nerves over how my beloved team will fare on Red Sox turf.
Sure, I think they can sweep. I always think the Mets can sweep. We rock. But what if, say, we don’t? What if we do not perform as well in Boston as we should? I wonder what kind of mental effect that will have on the team. The chemistry of our boys, their confidence and strut–isn’t this part of their success? What kind of a blow would it be if the Mets (for whatever reason) take a bad hit? Especially when Pedro’s pitching? But you know what? I’m thinking our boys won’t let us find out.
Another thing I’m looking forward to over the next couple days? Julio Franco. Odds are he’ll DH at least once, don’tcha think? And good lordy heavens, the man’s a miracle! How the heck can he still get it done when he turns 48 in August!? I’ve watched the man warm up, and he’s definitely more flexible than I’ll ever be. He hits! He steals bases! He makes jumping, contortionist catches at first! And when he was first signed as an amateur free agent by the Phillies? I was 2 years old. I could barely string a sentence together, and Julio Franco was at the start of a nearly 30 year career.
I like how Red Sox Chick put it: "New York is a fine old place, the YANKEES are hated, NOT the city." Okay, sure I hope we win. But I’m also hoping (by way of another team’s losses) that Boston stays on top of their division!
After that catchy, sticks-in-your-head-forever song was done, Rob (the bf) said to me–and I think in all seriousness–"Do you think they’ve got that at karaoke?"
Stay tuned later for some musings on the start of an exciting series! ("Because the Mets are really socking the ball. Knocking those home runs over the wall…")
Our boys are feeling the love!! Have you voted your tush off yet?
And have you voted all 25 times per email address?
And then, maybe, used other email addresses? So that you spend your hours only voting for the All Star game?
Our boys need you!! Online voting alone will determine the outcome for Lo Duca, Jose Reyes, David Wright, and Carlos Beltran.
So what are you even doing reading this? Vote, people!
I admit. I’m not your typical baseball fan. I get my rocks off by writing chick lit and blogging about beauty products. And as far as my own athletic prowess goes? Let’s just say I don’t throw like a girl. I throw like an infant. When I play catch with dogs, they just look at me and bark, "Come on, honey. Try a little."
But nonetheless, I passionately love the Mets. In the past two seasons, so far I’ve been to 20 games at Shea, and the team’s won 17 of them. See? I’m a lucky charm. 85% winning percentage!
I’m a lifelong New Yorker: Brooklyn born-and-bred, now living in Manhattan. But against all odds, my super-fandom began when the Mets had nearly the worst record in baseball. Picture it. July, 2003. Art Howe’s first season. Piazza out with a groin injury. Jason Phillips just not producing. Pretty much the team having trouble producing. Except, it seemed, for my soon to be favorite player in any sport ever: Cliff Floyd.
Aw, Cliff, you had me at first limp. You could barely walk with that Achilles’ heel injury, and yet you seemed to be the only Met who knew how to hit a ball. It was my first game at Shea, and The Boyfriend had chosen a Brewers game because–duh–we had to be able to beat the Brewers, right?
Yeah, shut up. July 28, 2003. The Mets got 2 whole runs, one of them Cliff’s, and watching him play just touched me. On base, every time someone fouled, he’d have to run, and you could see how much it hurt him. When everyone else had returned to the dugout, Cliff would still be limping across the field. But man, he could hit. And even more impressive? He was there. When the team needed him, when their star, Piazza, was down for the count, Cliff said: Hey, I’m your man. The man’s got so much heart, there’s some to spare.
And Cliff? He spreads it around! He’s a lynch pin of the current team, mentoring the young stars, defining the team’s now famous comradery. As Ben Shpigel wrote in the New York Times, "Floyd rarely makes it from the clubhouse door to his locker without punching Jose Reyes on the shoulder or cackling at David Wright’s wardrobe." Sure he’s got his cocky moments, but always earned and always funny! Funny man you are, Cliff! You go and wear your big diamond earrings and crocodile loafers all you want. Even when Cliff slumps, he does it in style. Cracking jokes that he wasn’t on TV so much because "They check your stats before they put you on."
Alright. I know you’re sneering at me now. The girl’s all heart, no numbers. But come on. Cliff’s last season was a dream, and I know he’s coming back strong. Plus, when he’s not hitting, he gives some great defense–whether an outfield assist or a great catch. He’s there to help the team. Period.
And as for next year? With Milledge waiting to stride up to the plate? Let’s not talk about that yet. Cliff’s value to the team is immeasurable, both on the field and off, and I’m excited to see what he’s gonna do when he gets off the DL. The man puts his all into it. And his all can be pretty **** fantastic.
I’ve got a lot more to say about this awesome team–and the whole Shea experience. I hope you’ll stick around with me to see it.