Seriously guys?

Just when things got good, this crap? Walk-off balk? Come on. Get real.

I hate how this is going to allow the New York sports media (and actually, the national sports media as well) to perpetrate their "Mets suck and can't do anything right" narrative. One can only fathom what the Post will have as their headline tomorrow- "Balk This Way"?

ESPN Stats and Info on Twitter says this is the first time this has happened since 2008. It's pretty rare.

Either way, we're one under .500 and around 4 games out of the Wild Card. Also, it's June. And we took the series against the Braves anyway.

Next, it's the Unwieldy Place Name Angels and the Oakland A's at home. 

A Review of Non-Baseball Things from the Home Opener at Citi Field

Went to the home opener a week ago today at Citi Field. The Mets played the Nationals and lost, if you don't remember.

I'm going to give my opinions though on a bunch of things other than the game itself.

Let's start with Box Frites. Spectacular as usual. The Garlic-Parmesan Frites (new, I think, it seems like it replaced the poutine-type thing they had last year) were fantastic. As you probably could have guessed, they were the classic frites, with a garlicky seasoning and a smattering of warm grated Parmesan cheese. Only gripe was that the bottom of the box was greasy. Other than that, pretty damn good.

I discovered the food area (which has a specific name that is escaping me) located directly in the right field corner on the field level during this game as well. Besides some hot food, which I passed on, considering my earlier frite-eating, there was a serious selection of unorthodox ballpark snackery. I got a Butterfinger ice cream pop and a bag of pizza-flavored Combos. The cashiers are located outside, making it probably the easiest place ever to steal from (though I never would). Ringing up my order was a bit of a difficulty for the staff that day, and they pretty much had to guess what my items were priced at. Hopefully that changes in the future.

The dunk tank was open, even though it was freezing. I still don't understand who would willingly get soaked at a baseball game and sit soaked for the rest of the game. Just seems lame to me.

The team store was PACKED. Also, too many "specialty counters". A counter just for hats, one just for customized jerseys, stop teasing me and making me think I have all these short lines I can wait on to pay (in reality, I had to wait on line about 15 minutes to pay for a shirt I bought).

It still pisses me off when security/ballboys/whoever pops beach balls as they pass through the crowd.


And that's all I've got for now. Any questions, feel free to ask in the comments.

Mets Haiku Series: Mike Pelfrey

(Note: Just doing a little Mets haiku series to keep myself busy on here. Gonna try and reach every player on the active roster.)

Opening Day means
that Big Pelf is on the mound.
Here's to no more yips.

A Children's Treasury of Bad Microsoft Paint Works

I made all of these. Yes, I know they're bad. Bad MS Paints are regarded much more highly on Amazin Avenue than they are anywhere else on the Internet.

A look at RA Dickey's upcoming book

DJ Carrasco's new album

Mint Terry Crunch!

Duda the Explorer

Expos Hoarders

DICKEY FIGHT!

The Island of Misfit Catchers

The Un-Natural

Escape from the Mets

MLB "Dream Job"

http://mlb.mlb.com/dreamjob/

OMG guise this sounds so kewl and easy. I could get paid for watching baseball?

Read the fine print, man. "You will be charged with watching every single game of the 2011 baseball season".

Every. Single. Game.

Not "every single playoff game" or "every single Orioles game". Every single damn game that gets played.

Let's do a quick rundown (leaving out the postseason, since it's a crapshoot):

162 games times 15 (2 teams play in each game) = 2430 games per season, let's add the All-Star Game for 2,431.

Each game on average is, let's say: 2.5 hours (conservative estimate). 2,431 times 2.5= 6075 hours of baseball during the regular season.

The MLB regular season lasts from March 31st to September 28th this year, or 181 days. 

6075 hours total divided between the 181 days of the regular season equals an average of 33.56 hours a day of baseball. Wonderful.

A teaser. A book?

This is very very hypothetical at this point, but the idea of "Double Bobby Jones: The Book" continues to permeate my head. If this book indeed gets written, it'd likely be a collection of essays regarding my Mets fandom, with a slant towards the more recent. Also, if this book gets written, that would happen in the relatively distant future, if I had to estimate, early 2012.

Keep an eye on this site for any new information about this potential book project.

I miss baseball.

I miss it so much. The winter is so damn lonely. People tell me "watch football", it just doesn't compare though. Doesn't have the grace and beauty of our national pastime. Never has, never will- sorry folks. 

But, "grace and beauty", that just sounds like flowery nonsense I'm spouting. Is that really why I miss baseball and why nothing else rivals it? I'm not so sure. 

It's not the dumb cliche "I love the green grass" and all that garbage. I just miss the way I live during the baseball season. I miss staying up until 1 AM to watch games on the West Coast. I miss live look-ins on MLB Tonight. I miss bending over backwards at parties to keep up with games- running outside for cell service, huddling around TVs with members of the host's family- none of whom I had previously met (the latter was how I watched the All-Star Game last year). I miss blaming Beltran for everything. 

I miss bitching about when the Mets game would be on FOX or ESPN. I miss the constant compulsion to tell my friends the score. I miss all the anecdotes that get told in the SNY booth and I miss Ralph Kiner's occasional appearances. I miss going into my "hub" during games I'm watching at home- logging onto Twitter and onto an Amazin' Avenue game thread to comment on them. I miss researching new minor league callups. 

I miss friggin' going to games. I miss Box Frites and El Verano Taqueria and Shake Shack and the Home Run Apple and the Jackie Robinson Rotunda. I miss the excitement of arriving at Citi Field. I miss the damn good food at McFadden's. I miss looking through the Mets Hall of Fame, and the team store. I miss the between innings scoreboard antics- the Verizon Speed Text challenge (which I am a proud former winner of). I miss the T-shirt launch. I miss the wave and people bitching about people doing the wave. I miss Cow Bell Man. 

I miss getting hyped up about the Subway Series and the All-Star Game and defending myself when my lofty predictions fall flat on their face. I miss highlight reels at the end of every month. I miss checking the score of the Met game during school- and listening to the game on the way home even if it means begging the bus driver to turn on WFAN. I miss reading through the Media Guide intensely. I miss fleeting trips to first place, and long-term trips there. I miss questioning All-Star selections. I miss 11:30 AM pregame shows for the rare noon games. I miss turning on YES every once in a while to "see how the other side lives" (note: not well, Michael Kay sucks). On that note, I miss getting to talk about how much Michael Kay sucks, and getting to laugh at Yankee failures.

I miss preposterously long extra inning games. I miss rain delays, and laughing at how they get corporate sponsors. I miss scoffing at the idea of a designated hitter, feeling strange when we use it in interleague games in AL parks, but then feeling victorious when they come to Citi Field and have their pitchers bat. I miss asking how the hell he could've blown that call and why the hell we don't have full instant replay in baseball yet. I miss the #Keithism tag on Twitter. I miss guessing on the trivia question of the game, and voting on the text poll. I miss the feeling that I could turn on SportsCenter and maybe, just maybe, see a Mets highlight or two. I miss magic numbers and tragic numbers and September call-ups and August waiver pickups. 

I must say- I speak of these things as if they're never coming back. They are. They're coming back sooner than we know it. 

That doesn't mean I don't miss them though. I want them back sooner rather than later, because, well, I really do miss them!