The New York Mess

So I can get in a few games there in this, the final season for my beloved Shea Stadium, I have coordinated three New York trips over the span of the next five weeks. Because, indeed, for probably just a little while longer, I am a proud Saturday plan ticket holder for the New York Metropolitan Baseball Club.

Now I'm wondering what the hell I'll be seeing when I get there.

The Mets, who had apparently accepted the divine right of the next powerhouse baseball team two years ago, have evolved into an enigma. Big contracts with impressive stats and little else. Their late season collapse in 2007 is one for the baseball ages, perhaps one of the worst team performances ever. Not only did the Mets miss the playoffs, but they markedly contributed to the suicide rate in NY, as well as ruined Christmas for their fans. And, like the elephants that they are, the Met fans have not forgotten.

But, if you look beyond the disaster of last September, you will see that the Mess have been aptly named for a lot longer than just one measly month. If you look at the record for every game since last June 1, they are essentially a .500 ball club. Win one, lose one, win two, lose two. Over and over and over and over. If this is a powerhouse club, they are most assuredly in the energy conservation mode. In a room full of neon lights, the Mets are 30 watt bulbs. And it certainly doesn't help that those super-flimsy lights came with some pretty high prices.

Now the fans are clamoring for manager Willie Randolph's head...or whatever other body part they would accept. I stream WFAN on my computer and listen to "Sal from Bayonne" and you would think that Willie was seen in the background of the last taped message from Osama Bin Laden. Forget the fact that the Mets are really just one hot streak from being back in the thick of a playoff run. Randolph, a longtime lieutenant of the Yankees and Joe Torre, is viewed very much as a denizen of the edifice at 161st Street and River Avenue and probably should have stayed in the navy pinstripes. This is as ludicrous as Rosie O'Donnell's notion that George Bush secretly hid dynamite in One World Trade Center. But, nobody really listens. As far as the average Met fan goes, Willie should be toast, hold the jelly.

Unfair notions on all counts. Willie Randolph is doing the best he can do with the team he was given. It's like putting Ethan Allen furniture in a Bronx walk-up tenement. General Manager Omar Minaya, who has also batted .500 with the players he has brought to Flushing, has constructed a team without paying attention to age and team chemistry.

And, yes, folks, I will start this roll all over again. Ethnicity.

I've written previously (and with a bit of vitriole) the Met GM's penchant for engaging players who all have a "z" in their last name. I've been a proponent that a better ethnic mix is always needed for any team sport. Heck, I didn't make up that hypothesis. Countless sports writers have hinted to this psuedo-fact over the year. Latin ball players tend to be cliquey, lackadaisical, and very selfish in the clubhouse. And, now that Shea Stadium has apparently turned into the Flushing, New York branch of the San Juan Boys' Club, a tricky combination to begin with has been made even more challenging.

And, suddenly last night, I remembered something I once heard about Willie Randolph. And now I know why the rope is getting tighter and shorter for the Met manager.

A friend of mine in LA used to be very involved in the Yankee organization. And, as a result, he became a pretty good friend of Willie Randolph. Indeed, after Willie finally got his dream job as major league manager with the Mets, my friend was initially engaged to co-write a book with Randolph. Long story short, I would hear things come out of my friend's mouth that were direct quotes from Willie.

And Mr. Randolph had a lot to say about the composition of the Yankee clubhouse earlier this decade. At that time, there was an increasing Latin influence to that clubhouse. And there was plenty of friction that never ever got reported in the papers. And I just remembered this quote from Willie through my friend.

"You need a balance."

And now I hear and see all the frustration he is having now. And wonder how much he got to say about the current clubhouse composition of the Mets. And I read some of the misguided statements he blurts out to the press. And I think about that comment again.

"You need a balance."

Is Willie Randolph a good manager? Perhaps. He hasn't done it long enough for us to judge that definitively. Is he getting a raw deal from the Mets? You bet your boots.

The deck is stacked. But you just know that, at the end of the day or next week or next month, it won't be Carlos Beltran's fault. Or Jose Reyes' fault. Or Omar Minaya's fault.

I'll be there next Saturday to inexplicably add to my own personal mental torture when the Mets host the Dodgers at Shea. I wonder if Randolph will be there as well.

Right now, I'm probably the only sure thing.

Dinner last night: Penne with olive oil and garlic at Maria's Italian KItchen.