The New York Mess

Warning, folks: this is a baseball entry. If you don't care, come back tomorrow.

But, if you are a fan of the diamond sport, this will sing to you.   If you ever cared about the New York Mets in your life like I did, this is enough to make you consider an overdose of whatever is in your medicine cabinet.

I hate what has happened to this organization.   They have no money thanks to the dopey Wilpon ownership who bought the Brooklyn Bridge on time payments from Bernie Madoff.  As a result, they have had to nickel and dime it with mediocre hires for the front office, the medical staff, etc..   

Yet, somehow, they were able to make it to the 2015 World Series.  A lot of that hinged on a single play in the National League Division Series when a fatal defensive shift caused the Dodgers to lose the deciding game of the series.   But I digress...

This franchise is a disaster and I saw it coming about ten years ago when I was still a Met partial plan ticket holder and I had an issue that I took to the guy in charge, the ass wipe who is Jeff Wilpon.  Jeff's response to me was so rude and customer un-friendly that I essentially swore off the team that I had loved since I was 10 years old.

Subsequently, I have been told by people inside that all decisions there, regardless of what they involve, go through Jeff's slimy hands.  And the major focus on all decisions is how they will affect ticket sales.

Now this perfectly explains why the Mets keep parading out a conga line of injured players onto the field, when they clearly should be nursing injuries.   The joke has always been that the late catcher, Gary Carter, is probably still listed as "day-to-day."  This is the ballclub that, on Opening Day, finds its training staff getting the most boos when they are introduced to the fans.

But can you blame them when they are probably working under the heavy iron fist of the world's dumbest baseball owner Jeff Wilpon?

The latest snafu in this episode of M*A*S*H* occurred last Sunday when, despite the doctors telling him to get a MRI for his barking arm, ace Noah Syndergaard was sent out to start against the Washington Nationals.   His arm was hanging by a thread and he'll be out perhaps for the next decade.   

Of course, all the blame can't be placed here on the Met management, who should have forced the pitcher to have a MRI exam.   Syndergaard, who I hear is not the sharpest tool in the shed, refused.  His action is equivalent to what Madison Bumgarten did on his off day by dirt biking his way on the disabled list.   But where was the Mets front office edict in all of this?  They should have told him to get into that tube or relinquish a couple of weeks' pay.  

But perhaps Jeff Wilpon was thinking ahead to how many tickets he still needs to sell for Noah Syndergaard Hair Hat Night.

Whatever the case, this franchise is now at death's door with a depleted farm system and no money.   Certainly, they won't be getting any of mine unless the Dodgers are visiting Citi Field this August.  If Met fans feel the urge to boo, they should worry less about foisting their venom on Chase Utley.   They should light the brooms and march across the Shea Bridge to burn owner Jeff Wilpon at the stake.

Meanwhile, take a look at this young Met fan who has clearly had enough.
       
Of course, listening to this urchin prompts another question. Do his parents know what he is putting out on the Internet? Please insert soap into mouth ASAP. 

Dinner last night: Bacon wrapped Dodger Dog at the game.