What is happening to my Mets? After last season's tailspin finish which inspired me for the first time to use the word "flabbergasted" I was pleased to see the Mets shed one headache (Paul LoDuca) and added the best left-handed pitcher in baseball, Johan Santana. This would be the year the Mets couldn't coast (like 2006) or expect a World Series appearance to be handed to them (2007). I bought MLB.tv so I could furtively watch and listen to games in the office while writing about NAFTA or how McCain is so annoyingly McCainish. I've got plans to spend a weekend in Philly with the boys in April to catch the Mets first road trip to a legitimate I-95 Rival. I've even got some of the more imaginative Alyssa Milano-branded Mets gear in mind for my fiancée.

But Minaya's plan to surround Wright and Reyes with veterans is starting to unravel. My spring-training mellow is seriously being harshed. Yesterday, David Lennon reports on his blog that of the 12 of the 15 projected opening day position players are currently injured. Just look at that graphic from the Daily News above. Bunion! Seriously?

At least the injury report is entertaining. Brian Schneider isn't suffering from a concussion but rather had his "Bell rung in collision " Also, Endy Chavez is "allegedly close" to returning.

This is the one photo that could shock me out of my non-blogging state. Thank you Kyle Korver!

Yeah, so after promising to blog more, I write yet another overly personal and disquieting entry and stopped entirely for a few months. Sorry--sorta. I'm not sure how to please my audience of D.C. professionals, professional D.C. haters, stalkers, fashionistas, Mets fans, paleo-cons and traditional Catholics.

I've been writing some fiction in my spare time, and writing little pieces on sports for The American Spectator. My latest is on the murder of professional basketball in Seattle. Also, you'll be glad to know I'm still on my regular beat: the low I.Q. coteries found in hotel ballrooms. This time: CPAC 2008. I feel like Russell Crowe in Gladiator: Are you not entertained?!

You probably heard that my  friend, Bill Buckley died last week. My small contribution to the tributes is also at the Spectator. An old high school friend recently contacted me through Facebook. He was once a waiter at a restaurant Bill frequented. He writes

He was just about the most polite and well-spoken individual I have ever met and I was kind of in awe of him (although politically I can't say that I agree with him...) He would eat lunch with a bevy of ancient women and regal them for hours over several rum punches while his stretch limo waited outside for him. One time his wife dropped something, and I went to help him find it with a flashlight (the restaurant was very dimly lit) and he proceeded to take the flashlight from me and get down on his hands and knees and look for it himself. He also called me "Captain" all the time... and I liked that.

Instead of trying to please you all. I'll please myself on this blog. It will be as obcene as it sounds.

And yes, my Buckley tribute contains some news about my personal life. More on that soon.

As the MLB playoffs were getting started, Ross Douthat took note of the lame "There's Only One October" ad campaign which featured Dane Cook (Dane Cook!) hawking the Cleveland Indians to the masses. I thought it was dumb too, but it could never live up to the sheer inanity of the NHL's immediate post lockout campaign. The Sun Tzu quote, the bare-chested guy sitting in skates, his "spiritual mentor" dressing him, while wearing K-Mart's least risqué lingerie herself - those were the days. So, I'm not sure what to make of the new NBA campaign that I caught as I watched Kevin Durant's debut last night.

Of course I like using Jerry Sloan for "conversation" but I can't help but feel that the self-conscious classiness of these ads is meant to distract us from the circus this league became over the last year or so. I wonder if it wouldn't be better to highlight the big stories of the year: the sudden relevance of the Boston Celtics, the incredibly competitive Western Conference, the arrival of Kevin Durant, the development of Deron Williams, the struggle of Tracy McGrady, the criminal conduct of the New York Knicks. The talent level in the NBA is off the charts. The best it's been since the mid-90s. Slowly the play is improving as well - think of the Spurs, Suns, Jazz, Rockets and Mavericks all playing good fundamental basketball with different styles and tempos.

I spent a huge portion of my summer vacation reading the great literature of Boxing. Jack London, Joyce Carol Oates, George Plimpton - etc. This was mostly because I had started boxing myself. Writers are attracted to boxing more than any other sport. It's a rewarding subject. And that leads me to let you in on my favorite piece on the internet this week: Norman Mailer covering Evander Holyfield's recent, desperate bout with Sultan Ibragimov, in Moscow. Unlike his subject, Mailer still has something left.

Holyfield, slayer of Tyson and Holmes and Ruiz, he of the iconic missing ear tip, mustached creature of another decade, was seeking big belt number five in the slouching twilight of a career that should have ended in Atlantic City, in the TKO glow of a prone Hasim Rahman. But there was another, yet more dour follower of the Warrior Prophet in his future. The People's ex-Champion, Mr. Real Deal, born into the brick churches and bait shacks of Atmore, Alabama, was in Moscow to stand against and lean in on the Sultan Igrabimov, the undefeated hill kid champ with a blazing right paw from the badlands of Russia's Muslim underbelly of grazing goats and homemade gunshot.

 It's short, and the fight itself provided nothing spectacular in the way of content. But do read it.

I agree with the conclusion that Evander Holyfield needs to retire.

It was a decade ago when I regretted not accepting the bets of my fellow classmates - I was the only one betting on Holyfield over the recently released MIke Tyson. Holyfield had been fighting real competition while Tyson sparred with his demons. Tyson's arrest prevented us from seeing the two fight in 1991 - when Holyfield had just ripped the title from Douglas who had seemingly stolen it from the far better Tyson. Iron Mike unfairly lost his reputation as a boxer in his post-incarceration fights. People assumed that anyone who could withstand his initial flurry (Buster Douglas and Evander Holyfield) could eventually beat him.

But it is striking to see how disciplined and defensive Tyson could be in his early fights. Certainly his best chance was to use his blitzkrieg punching power. "I try to catch them right on the tip of his nose because I try to punch the bone into the brain," he famously said. But Tyson kept his gloves up high and his opponents far away if he could - so unlike Muhammad Ali, who deceptively let his arms swing wildly and hang low.

With Evander surely going, hopefully Oscar De La Hoya will also retire and the 90s can finally end.

I could see it coming and refused to believe it would happen. When I wrote the post, "You Gotta Bereave" I thought they would hang on and  the fail in about six games in the NLCS.

John Delcos, the sportswriter for my hometown paper, has ten suggestions for the Mets offseason. All of them totally debatable. Here's a controversial one.

Re-sign Tom Glavine: This isn't a popular choice given how he finished the season, but in 16 of his 34 starts Glavine gave up two or fewer runs and was the only starter in the rotation with 200 innings. That's not easily replaceable production, but they need this guy because of the durability questions surrounding Pedro Martinez and Orlando Hernandez, and the uncertainty of youngsters Mike Pelfrey and Phil Humber.

I couldn't agree more. I know some Mets fans taken to calling him "the Manchurian Brave" since his last terrible outing. But he was an extremely consistent pitcher throughout the past two and a half seasons. There is little downside in re-signing him and just waiting to see if their young prospects can develop into starting pitchers. I also just like seeing him pitch. He is a stock-character in baseball: the crafty, corner painting, struggling, aging and stoic veteran.

Unbelievably, Delcos doesn't suggest the Mets go after Johan Santana who is in a contract year and wants to stay in the NL and have a big stage as he hits his prime. The Mets starting rotation should be: Johan Santana, Pedro Martinez, Tom Glavine, John Maine, and Oliver Perez. Humber and Pelfrey ought to be trained as long-relief pitchers and used to fill in when the veterans on the team fail, or (as is likely) find themselves injured.

And remember, Glavine will be the last 300 game winner. As reported by the Onion,

"Make no mistake, after me, there will be no one else to win this many games as a pitcher. Ever," said Glavine in tones that froze the blood of all who heard it. "Randy Johnson will not recover from his injuries. [Mike] Mussina will not play, and perhaps not live, long enough. And C.C. Sabathia, I beg you—you are so young, with so much to live for. Do not dance with the devil by attempting to win 300 games now that Glavine has done so."

Do we really want this man to retire as a Cardinal, Red or (shudder) Brave? 

I'm not happy. I attended opening day at Shea in 2006. Tom Glavine pitched against Dontrelle Willis. A pitcher's duel. The Mets won it in the 9th. david Wright had a triple - I'd never seen that live before. I was impressed with Glavine, I was impressed with Duaner Sanchez and Billy Wagner. I hadn't been to a Mets game again until last Saturday. I was prepared for the Mets to end the Phillies playoff hopes. Instead, Carlos Beltran misjudged a ball lined into center. The Philly fans got rambunctious and several of them were tossed. This week, I atended two games in D.C. Willie Randolph let John Maine pitch way too long on Tuesday. On Wednesday the Mets won handily. Last night I sat at a bar in Fairfax watching the game with another local Mets fan. Oddly, he went to school with the NY Sun neo-conservative journalist Eli Lake - who recently called my magazine an anti-American publication. "Eli's as liberal as they come," my new friend said, "but he voted for Bush. He's all 'We can't fuck with this terrorism shit.' Ha ha. " 

Anyway - the Mets blew two three-run leads in the gams the Phillies made a tremendous comeback to defeat the Nationals in the last homestand for RFK stadium. The Phillies look confident all the time now, even when they play from behind. The Mets look nervous , even when they lead late. 

Who decided firing hitting coach Rick Downs would be a good idea? Reyes looks like he did in early 2005 - swinging wildly at balls that fall at his feet. The only difference is that he pops them up more and gets caught stealing more often. Also, why did we let our most reliable bullpen pieces go? We could use Chad Bradford. We could use Darren Oliver - the most underrated member of our excellent 2006 pen.

I still think we're going to pull this out. But every time Mota runs toward the mound I'm going to sink lower in my seat. Every time Reyes is up with an RBI oppurtunity I think I'm going to sarcastically say "pop-up." When Heilman cruises through the first two outs in the 8th with a two run lead, I'm going to expect him to throw a meatball that will land in the CitiField construction site. 2006 is over - now I remember what it's like to be a Mets fan.

Using the 1986 Mets as my springboard, I have a casual little piece in The American Spectator today about our current sports scandals. I have to say, the funniest part about this story is the waiting game I had to play last night, to make sure A-Rod and Bonds didn't smash their records and ruin a few of my sentences with them. After watching my Mets beat up on the Brewers, I had to keep Sportscenter on in the background until midnight safely rolled around.

I mentioned this sequence of plays the other day. It's not quite long enough. But in about the minute or two preceding this you just see it click for Stockton. It's unbelievable. He is just determined to win this game. Wow, I still feel like it was some kind of injustice that they didn't win the championship that year or the next. In fact, expect periodic whimpering about this until it's been ten years since their 1998 Finals loss as well.

Yeah, a few days after I complain about how interacting with the cultural products of GE, Disney and Vivendi is terrible, I find myself thrilled by an NBA game (the first time in a while). LeBron James' 48 point performance last night was the most incredible single player performance I have ever scene. It was better than Jordan's Flu Game - it was better than my favorite performance - Stockton's last five minutes in game 6 in Houston in 97, which ended with a buzzer beater. it was also better than Vince Young's Rose Bowl game.

What I find so fascinating about LeBron is that it is so obviously his physical makeup that gives him such an advantage. He's great because of his size, speed and agility. That's it. Another point to be made. Craig Sager asked him in the end: Did you ever know you could be this good. "No." James said with a smile. You could see that he was starting to enjoy himself.

Also, this is the first weekend in a while where I've been able to just relax - and I'm going to spend part of it watching "Knocked Up." Read the Times' Profile of Judd Apatow.

I caught the Jazz-Spurs game last night. Deron Williams is a very special player. He is very different from John Stockton (with whom Williams trained last summer). Stockton had court vision and the ability to read defenses very well,  making him seem both fundamentally sound and creative in the pick and roll offense. Williams has an amazing knack for getting his defenders off-balance by penetrating and alternating between a layup and a pull-up jumper. The thing they have most in common is a killer instinct and the will to take over a game when their teammates are fading.

Too bad the Jazz couldn't overcome Manu Ginobili's performance of 22 points, 18 flops, 6 rebounds 4 dives and 1 bald spot. A bravura performance. Is it prejudiced of me to assume that the refs must have been pretty bad not just by the huge disparity between free throws attempted but also because a mostly Mormon crowd began throwing things onto the court in protest? That's always been a lively crowd but I've never seen anything like that from them before.

You may have noticed there are going to be some changes around here. I've added social bookmarking links to each post. I use Ma.gnolia myself. I've also been updating and adding links. Be sure to check out great blogs by conservative Shawn Macomber, New York libertarian Todd Seavey, the transatlantic Alex Massie, and two young liberal bloggers that I really enjoy: Michael Corcoran who is working at The Nation right now and the irrepressible and prodigious Matt Zeitlin.

In the future we will be seeing less in the way of pictures here and more in the way of content. I've let concerns about visual uniformity between posts prevent me from writing this blog. That ends today.

I cannot wait to see this fight! Boxing has been suffering for lack of quality fights. You gotta give HBO a ton of credit for really promoting this fight. The "reality" series 24/7 that follows these fighters as they prepare for their match  The prodcuers of the show prepared us for the contrast in styles by showing their behavior at the press conference (pictured above) in which De La Hoya tried to conduct himself like a gentleman pugilist and Mayweather dressed in a track-suit acted like a total jackass - taunting De Lay Hoya and interrupting him constantly, "I'm gonna beat you till you call me 'pretty' Biatch." Mayweather wants to be the villain. The contrast was deepened as we see De Lay Hoya resting in his palatial kitchen in Puerto Rico, quietly watching Tiger Woods at the Masters with his father and son. Cut immediately to Mayweather in his Las Vegas home getting his hair cut and boasting at the camera. All of a sudden there appeareth 50 Cent riding a Segway!!! Gob Bluth-Style!!! Now that is a contrast. You're supposed to route for the classy ageing veteran. But Mayweather chooses to wear a black-hat so black that its deliciously tempting to route for him.

The profile of Mayweather in ESPN magazine is just fantastic.

One night in March, Mayweather had what amounts to an epiphany. He was sitting in his home theater watching a lower-rung boxing card and marveling at the disparity of fortune. The guys on the television, he surmised, were making $20,000 or $30,000 per fight, less than he had in his pockets at that very moment.

"Hell," he says. "I bet more at the sports book every night."

As he sat there looking at men who aspire to be him, he reflected on his fortune. This was not a there-but-for-the-grace-of-God-go-I moment; Mayweather's not built like that. Instead, he felt the weight of the cash in his pockets, considered his abundance of wealth and said to himself, "God love me, and I'm a hell of a fighter." It might as well serve as his mantra. - Tim Keown

 And below the fold, you'll find my second hero after Johnny Drama.

Click to read more ...

So, last season ended poorly for Mets fans. I was in a new city and without SNY. I would make my way to a local sports bar and ask them to dedicate one television to my beloved Amazins. But, because I was broke and combing my carpet on a weekly basis for enough dimes to buy the day's meal of Kraft macaroni and cheese, I didn't do that often. For important games the day's meal became a gin and tonic. It's fun to be young and broke. And honestly I was glad to be losing weight.

This year things are a bit different. I can check out a few games on the internet. I've even played with the idea of starting a D.C. based Mets-supporters club. (Let me know if you are interested.) Obviously the club name has to be Shea's Rebellion. I couldn't be more excited about this season and its largely because of John Maine who has so far gone 3-0 with a 1.71 ERA. He throws plenty of strikes and has some movement in the zone. "Nasty" is what the commentators call it.

 One note about the Mets this year. Are people outside of New York getting angry that almost every highlight of Jose Reyes on ESPN is accompanied by the rote words, "the most exciting player in baseball today?" I imagine that chafes many a Baseball Tonight-viewer. Just know that one of the best things about Jose Reyes is that he has enabled me to act like a jackanapes on the streets of Brooklyn. When I meet a Yankees fan, I try to work this line into the conversation:

(Consoling) Me: Oh yeah, I mean the Yanks might have a great year this year. After all you guys do have the second-best shortstop in New York.

Yankee Fan: (silence)

Me: (smiling so hard)  

So, no more baseball on Surfeited until next year.

The picture above contains perhaps the greatest catch in baseball history in a losing effort. When Endy pulled us from 3-1 back to 1-1 with that catch, I thought: We really are going to win. Also, note the ad words on the wall. If we had won I would want to trade everything I have to be 11 years old and have a giant poster of this on my bedroom wall.   

Anyway, after losing our top two starters, both of whom have killed their opponents in the playoffs, you had offered me the chance to have Beltran up to bat with the bases loaded and down by two runs in the bottom of the ninth inning in Game 7 of the NLCS - with Delgado on deck, I would take it everyday of the week.

Anyway, if you are cool - I'm getting a few people together this Friday night at Fado in the district. The most charming woman in the world will be there with me. Not to be missed. 

Home Cookin'The Mets don't make it easy on their fans. The odds are stacked up against us. The Mets have almost know history swinging against Wainwright, the Cards' rookie closer. The heart of our lineup rarely seems to get a rally going. How many inning have we seen the Mets get Jose Reyes and David Wright at bat in the same inning? Oh yeah, and the Cardinals ace is pitching against our rookie - and we have no clue who will pitch a potential Game 7.

But our rookie did get a complete game this year. And this is our first game six in Shea since that magical Game 6 in 1986. I want to be at a Mets bar in New York. I want two of my best friends from my hometown, also tremendous Mets fans by my side. I want to be able to jump out of my seat like any sane new York fan could during our big rally tonight and not get stares from the good people of Northern Virginia. I want John Maine to throw 7 brilliant innings tonight and force thousands of New Yorkers to buy his jersey in the off season. I believe in him. I believe Reyes will get his first steal of this series tonight. I believe our 3,4,5 hitters are going to get RBIs tonight. I believe Green is going to impress me with a great catch tonight - and I'll forgive him for looking a little slow in the outfield.

These are the Mets. We know they are supposed to lose. Reason says they will lose. The stats say they will lose. But I won't believe that until I see it. 

 

Back Cover of Daily NewsJust an update for all my readers. I plan on watching the Mets open the National League Division series tonight at a sports bar in the Metro DC area. Unless someone proposes a better location in the district in my comments section or through e-mail, I will stay in Fairfax and watch from Glory Days - an establishment that can reliably serve me chicken wings and other essential baseball-watching food. I may even be in the mood to chat about politics, fashion or gin-drinking - but I'm sure to bring up today's Slate article about Tom Glavine's Clutch pitching. I can't promise to be the perfect companion as I expect excited and/or depressed phone calls from my crew of Mets fan friends in New York at crucial moments during the action.

I expect  my e-mail and comments boxes to be overflowing with invitations. I promise, if I choose to meet with you - I will rudely decline all others in your favor unless we can meet at the same place.