It was a beautiful night in New York, clear and warm. There was a breeze and none of that clammy summertime thickness we’ll be walking through in a month or so. A good night, in short, to watch your hometown team not really show up at the ol’ ballpark.
So I did that. 7 Train to Shea Stadium, Kashrut-adherent hot dogs on the bun (why is there never a line at the Kosher food stand? People: a rabbi approved that hot dog), Oliver Perez (above) on the mound and leaping over the foul line. It sounds nice, and while I enjoyed sitting outside with my friends and drinking beer — and learned a valuable sentence in Spanish from Prof. Jose Reyes (“Non me gusta le pescado,” or something to that effect) — it would’ve been a lot cooler if the Mets hadn’t, you know, been awful. Facing Scott Baker, a startled-looking rookie with an ERA terrible enough to make Kip Wells feel a little bad, the Mets got hits, worked walks, and yet managed to score just two runs.
The good news for Mets fans was that Carlos Beltran stung the ball in each of his trips to the plate. The bad news is…legion. Suffice to say that, were weak-ass, I-just-got-fooled-by-Scott-Baker pop-ups actually doubles, the Mets would’ve scored 11 runs tonight. As astute readers and baseball fans already know, though, that is not the case. And so the Mets scored two runs. Torii Hunter hit a two-run homer for the visitors and Justin Morneau was given a triple by Shawn Green, who got a characteristically leisurely jump on a drive in the third inning. The Mets wound up losing 6-2, and the game barely seemed that close after the sixth. The boo birds were out in force, to the point at which Gerard heard them at the Round Rock game in Texas. I mean, he heard it over the radio, but still. Pretty loud. Other game notes:
-Mets fans are now pre-emptively booing Scott Schoeneweis. They’re not exactly wrong to do so. I just thought it worthy of note, considering that the team will be paying him for another two years.
-Whatever it is that Carlos Gomez is doing with his bat before reaching the plate — kissing it? talking to it? smelling it? — needs to be covered in one of the New York papers. These doofuses break into a righteous sweat just thinking about Lastings Milledge’s hairdo and no one has written about the fact that the current left-fielder basically gets to first base with a Louisville Slugger before every at-bat?
-Stadium peanuts are still your best ballpark sustenance value.
Opinions on the relative merits of Mets fans who look like the ecstasy dealers A.J. Soprano was rolling with at Rutgers and wear bumped-to-the-side Mets hats can be solicited via email. Or in the comments. Or, better yet, not at all. Look, I think they’re stupid, okay?