He Stole Their Souls

At first I was unsure if I really wanted to wade into this tragic story mainly because of how disgusted I am with the subject; however psychologists have often said that talking about something unsettling is the vehicle which provides a catharsis.  I’m not sure if it’s really a catharsis I seek since the only emotion I have about Jerry Sandusky is the all-encompassing satisfaction that I would feel from tossing him into a pit with death row convicts high on bath salts.  Here’s hoping the experts are right but more importantly here’s to hoping that his victims who desperately need some solace, can in some way find it.  

Jerry Sandusky was found guilty Friday night on 45 of 48 counts related to the sexual abuse of boys.  The verdict encapsulated what began with Sandusky’s arrest in November of last year which prompted the school to fire the iconic head football coach, Joe Paterno, stating that he exhibited a lack of leadership after fielding a report from assistant coach Mike McQuery who witnessed Sandusky in the Penn State locker room shower in 2001 raping a boy.  Yes, in 2001.  

Now ask yourself this question, if you or someone close to you suspected a colleague - a subordinate – of systematically abusing children and the very least you did was to simply report it to your boss, would you be alright with that especially if nothing materialized afterward?  To those who’ve defended Paterno tooth and nail to the end, did it ever occur to you that Paterno could have asked for Sandusky to step down as his assistant?  He never even demanded an answer from Sandusky, which we know of or even a plea that he receive counseling.  Paterno, himself a father and grandfather could have gone to the police with these allegations, as difficult as it would be considering Sandusky was a personal friend besides colleague.  But he chose not to.  Why?

Some have argued that Paterno didn’t have autonomy over personnel changes. That’s very possible but you can bet that he damn well had a significant say in it but chose to look the other way.  Deniability is so much simpler than the truth and it keeps one’s collegiate football program immune from bad publicity and flush financially. According to the Business of College Sports, the Penn State football program generated over $50 million dollars in the 2009-2010 school year.  Gee I wonder why anyone would even fathom the idea of covering up something as horrible as having a predator of children employed at a school, especially if that predator happens to be one of the gatekeepers to the money pot.

I remember when students of Penn State held a rally in support of Joe Paterno, when his integrity came into question when the scandal became public.  Paterno, like so many in positions of authority at Penn State, hid behind either ignorance or in Parterno’s case, administrative process – as he did inform his superiors at Penn regarding the allegations involving his assistant coach Sandusky – and left it at that.  Case closed.  He was one of many enablers.  His career and honor, which was sterling prior to this display of human depravity, came crumbling to an unfortunate end.  The moral here, just because you've done good in the past for many, it doesn't inoculate you from making the right decision when it matters most - no matter what the costs (financially) may be.  Inexcusable and to the students, where's the rally to support these victims?  

To me the greatest of those enablers was Jerry Sandusky’s wife Dottie, who sat by his side the entire trial and when she was called to testify told prosecutors that she never heard anything going on in their basement, as it was one of the places where Sandusky’s accusers said he was raped by the “Tickle Monster”, Sandusky’s self-given nickname.  I guess when you’re living a life or veritable luxury, you tend to hear what you want, see what you want and literally believe what you want, as long as it doesn’t interfere with your lifestyle.  I guess she didn’t hear anything when her adopted son Matt, who at the very end of the trial admitted that he too was abused by his father.    

To the enablers, Joe Paterno, passed away not too soon after he lost his job as head coach from Cancer, has to answer to a higher authority.  University President Grant Spanier was forced to step down and two Penn State administrators, Athletic Director Tim Curley and now retired vice-president Gary Schultz are facing criminal charges for failing to report suspected child abuse and perjury.  Both are fighting the allegations and awaiting trial.  Of course they are. 

Even NBC slithered its way into this story by once again adhering to its sterling journalistic standards, curiously edited the Bob Costas interview of Jerry Sandusky, removing this particular sound bite. The original audio had Sandusky saying

“I didn't go around seeking out every young person for sexual needs that I've helped," Sandusky told Costas in footage that never made the November airing.

Not every, just some.  Shame on you NBC and you really wonder why both MSNBC and NBC are losing viewers by the droves.  You can’t blame it all on Fox.  Take some damn responsibility. 

Arthur Aidala, a former prosecutor turned criminal defense attorney said it best the other night when he said that Sandusky, “Stole the souls of these boys.  Leaving them with years of trying to regain what was taken from them.”  Sadly, those 10 boys who are now men, will most likely never have what we would consider a normal life, how could they?  The only respite these victims can have is that the evil that embodied Jerry Sandusky will never see the light of day again. 

I want to say that something like this could never happen again but unfortunately as much as I question my own beliefs in a higher power, I’ve pretty much given up on humanity.  When the quest for greed trumps the safety of children, how can you find it easy to have faith?  


I have a feeling Matthew Sandusky asked himself that more than a few times.

HI57ORY

First off, hat tip to the 7Line.com for the title of this article, it was just too fitting not to use. Usually I watch the Mets play upstairs, in the bedroom.  I don’t mind it to be honest; it allots me some relaxation from my day. Even though my wife isn’t much of a baseball fan, she does tolerate my screaming at the television for reasons she has the slightest clue about.  Last night there was a strange yet calm silence directed towards my bedroom television and as a Met fan accustomed to the twisted ire of the Baseball Gods, I increasingly became concerned; can this really be finally happening?

The sixth inning came and went and something inside me said Joe, you need to take this downstairs to the big screen and get the baby.  This is different.  Trust me this is different.  So I go downstairs and my wife is sitting there watching Jerseylicious.  Now you know why I was upstairs.  My wife is addicted to reality television the way I’m addicted to watching the Amazins’, so I really can’t complain but she saw on my face that this was very different.  I literally said to her,  “History is going to be made tonight.”  I got a quick glance a, whatever you say dear.  She smiled and flipped me the remote.  It was pretty obvious that this wasn’t her first rodeo with the Amazins’ and me.

My nerves a wrecking havoc on my body as my mouth is so dry I’m tempted to grab my daughter’s sippy cup.  I pop open a can of Sprite Zero and gulp it as if I just traveled across the Sahara.  My wife noticing my pacing begins to see on Facebook what the whole commotion is about.  One of her girlfriends whose husband, also a die-hard, tells her he’s “about to pop a blood vessel”.  I totally relate.  As a child I can remember my dad introducing me to the legend of Jimmy Qualls and how he became as important a figure in Mets history as anyone.  I remember the exacerbated look on his face as he described every close call, every what if and could have been the Mets had over the years.  My dad’s explanations of the Mets failure to accomplish a no-hitter, instilled in me a true appreciation of what success really is.  And damn it made me wish for it even more so.

I had the extraordinary luck to have attended Tom Glavine’s one-hitter against the Colorado Rockies at Shea on May 23^rd 2004.  I also attended Jon Niese’s one-hitter against the San Diego Padres at Citi on June 10^th 2010.  While I may not get to many games it seems I’m fortunate to see the special ones.  And even though I wasn’t physically at last night’s game, I can say as most fans probably can today, that I felt I was there in spirit.  I remember the electricity in the air at the Glavine and Niese games; it was absolutely palpable.  I can’t even imagine what it must have felt like being there last night.  As fans we tend to put the game into a different perspective than those who play the game.  We live and die with each pitch.  Yet with every cut to the dugout, the SNY camera’s showed the emotion on the player’s faces.  This was no ordinary game. Last night was so very different even for them.

Yes Beltran’s line drive in the 6^th should have been a double.  Not tonight though.  Tonight was our night and Yul Brenner himself could have been heard saying from the grave, “So it was written, so it shall be done.”  Mike Baxter, the local boy who made good, the Whitestone Kid, cemented his name in the annals of Mets history alongside Johan Santana when in the 7^th inning he sacrificed his body, slamming into the left field wall robbing Yadier Molina with what would have been another notch in his Met killer belt.  Not tonight Yadier Molina.  Not tonight.  The 8^th inning comes and goes.  It’s as real as it’s ever been.  I’m in uncharted territory, a stranger in a strange land.  The tension is unlike anything I’ve ever felt with this team. 

Finally the 9^th inning arrives and I’m sweating as if I just ran wind sprints in the 90 degree August weather of Port St. Lucie.  My hands are pressed to my face, praying.  I know it’s silly, why would God care about such things.  However to me, he did last night and I wasn’t taking any chances if he didn’t.  The first out, a liner to Torres in center and I’m thinking, “This can’t really be happening, is it?” My daughter starts to hop on and off the couch and is reminding me that she wants to watch Bubble Guppies.  Not tonight my baby.  Not tonight. 

The second out, a sinking liner to left.  Shortstop Omar Quintanilla and left fielder Kirk Nieuwenhuis nearly collide.  Did the Baseball Gods have one last goof left for us after all?  Even my daughter stopped jumping up and down.  It was as surreal a moment as I ever experienced.   Nieuwenhuis dodges disaster and makes the catch.  We exhale slowly and I looked down and saw my daughter, smiled and reveled in the possibility that one day I’ll tell her about the history we experienced together.   

Santana was approaching 130 pitches, well above the 110 range Terry Collin’s had originally planned.  Considering the road he has been down the past two years it makes what’s happening even more unexplainable and amazing.  Having fully recovered from shoulder capsule surgery, I admit I was one of a few who thought the days of Johan Santana pitching for any team were over.  I’m thrilled to feast on this massive slice of humble pie.  If there was anyone who could make a comeback from such a devastating injury for a pitcher, it’s Johan Santana. Silly me.

David Freese, last year’s World Series Most Valuable Player and a St. Louis native, steps to the plate.  I can’t believe the Mets are one out away from a date with history.  Santana falls behind in the count immediately.  We’re exhausted.  I mean he’s exhausted.  I can’t imagine what must be going through his mind at this point.  I’m pacing, mumbling, totally in a zone of my own making at this point.  The count is now full.  He can’t go on much longer and Molina is coming up.  I yell at the screen, “YOU get him out now dammit!” Santana musters his very last ounce of guile.  My eyes are so welled with tears I can barely make out the picture in front of me.  I can hear Gary Cohen’s voice and barely make out the pitch.  Changeup.  Low.  Freese swings and misses! 

Time comes to a standstill as I was standing, hands clutching my face praying and at that moment, sobbing with tears pouring down my face.  There were so many images of my father and I talking about the Mets overwhelming me even as I write this.  It was as if a video montage of my life were playing before my mind’s eye.  I so wish he were here to see this finally happen.  Perhaps he was.  Is this how it’s supposed to feel?  For one brief moment, all the pain all the trials, both literally and figuratively that we as Mets fans have endured the last few years, were exorcised by the performance of Johan Santana.  Whatever happens from this point on, whatever road we take as fans with this team of ours, Johan Santana will forever hold a special if not the most special place in all Mets fans hearts.  Today I feel so, young.

Taryn Cooper Joins Team McGraw In The 2012 ING New York City Marathon Honoring Gary Carter

Sometimes it can be incredibly insidious; a stalking relentless beast that methodically operates on a timetable of its own choosing.  It has no regard to your wishes, desires or your plans.  You’re a number to it at best.  You go about your life indifferent to your own mortality – at least if you’re under 30 you do.   Ultimately, you have no real control over it.  Sure you can try to do the obvious.  Eat well.  Exercise.  Don’t smoke.  Don’t drink.  But really that’s advice for just about anyone who’s trying to maintain a healthy lifestyle.  However, it’s a far cry from being a panacea.  Hell it’s a far cry from being a foolproof model for prevention.  For this predator, in spite of all of our 21^st century medical advances, still has an unmovable vice grip on humanity.  James Rodgers, if he were here would agree.  Who’s James Rodgers?  He is and was my wife’s Uncle and last week Uncle Jimmy was laid to rest after battling cancer for two years until it finally metastasized to his brain.  He was 60 years old, still married to his high school sweetheart with whom he had three daughters. 

It’s not the first time Cancer has taken a member of my family.  My Grandfather battled with bladder Cancer and fought almost two years on hospice until he could fight no longer.  It ravaged a man who in his prime could walk entire New York boroughs barely breaking a sweat.  It took my wife’s mother, Arlene Rodgers, just a few years ago, she was only 54.  It’s taken the young, the elderly, the poor and the wealthy affording zero prejudice along the way.  Of all the medical advances we’ve made as a species, it kills me to think that we’re able to re-grow hair for balding men, lengthen women’s eyelashes with a cream, reverse the signs of aging using Botulism shots in the face and let’s not forget what that little blue pill can do for men. 

However when it comes to Cancer, we’ve barely scratched the surface on discovering a cure.  Hasn’t it’s time come, no? And only through research – painstaking and ultimately expensive research, will that day come when we can stop blindly shooting arrows at this cagy beast.   That’s one of the reasons when my fellow blogger at Metsmerizedonline, Taryn Cooper, also the driving force behind A Gal For All Seasons, approached me with writing this, I couldn’t help but feel both honored and proud of what she’s doing.

This coming November, as it has since it’s humble beginning in 1970 when a mere 127 runners paid a $1 entry fee, Taryn will be running in the ING New York City Marathon as a member of Team McGraw which benefits the Tug McGraw Foundation.  The Foundation seeks to improve the quality of life for children and adults affected by neurological conditions such as brain tumors, post-traumatic stress disorder and traumatic brain injury. As a part of Team McGraw, Coop is raising funds to support in this effort.  I’m not the only one to feel a sense of pride with what Taryn is doing.  I think her husband, Ed Leyro, sums it up best:

Think of how proud Mets fans are of the 1969 and 1986 World Championship teams. That level of pride doesn't even come close to what I feel for Taryn. I have difficulty running around the block without complaining. She's going to run around the entire city of New York! And she's doing it for a fantastic cause. It's impossible not to gush with pride when I think about her selfless act.

Brimming with pride for what Taryn is undertaking, the Leyro family are no strangers to the harsh reality that Cancer is as Ed told me:

Cancer has hit very close to home in my family. My mother is a two-time cancer survivor. She was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1979 and colon cancer in 1990. I'm happy to report that the year is now 2012, and my mother is still with us and cancer-free! Without all the money raised for cancer research over the years, I might not have been able to enjoy all these years with my mother.

It’s sobering when you think of it that according to the American Cancer Society one out of every two men will have some form of Cancer in their lifetime and one out of every three women will as well.  Think of that next time you’re at work or with your friends and family.  Cancer, if anything, is such a harsh reminder of our mortality.  I asked Taryn what drove her to attempt this incredible mental and physical challenge:

The NYC Marathon has been on my "bucket list" of things to do since I was probably a teenager. I just thought the event was something larger than myself, and I wanted to be part of it. The interest has waned over the years simply because the magnitude of running 26.2 miles just seemed too unrealistic. Until a few things changed. I live a few blocks from the finish line of the marathon, and every year on marathon Sunday, I see all the finishers walking through my neighborhood. And every year, I wonder if I'll do it myself. 
My friend Sharon Chapman ran the marathon in 2010, and she was the one who suggested that instead of relying on the lottery to enter the marathon, that I run for charity. Her charity was the Tug McGraw Foundation, which raises funds to assist in quality of life issues for brain cancer survivors and those living with neurological disorders.

To a Mets fan, the very concept of "Ya Gotta Believe" hits home and this was something Tug McGraw believed in until his untimely death, due to brain cancer. It made perfect sense, especially since my hero, Gary Carter, died of the affliction early this year. My friend Kara is also running the marathon for Team McGraw in honor of some family members who had brain cancer, and her father who suffers from a seizure disorder. Team McGraw just made sense for me. If I can run 26.2 miles, and bring awareness to a charity that does great work, then my job is pretty easy!

Those of you who know me know that I rarely if ever ask you to do something.  I would never tell you who to vote for or what to believe, for I personally believe that those ideas HAVE to come to you on your own.  YOU have to do the legwork for that, especially if it’s ever going to have some greater meaning for you.  This is one of those rare times when I ask all of you to imagine if every reader pledged a dollar to Taryn in the New York City Marathon – just a dollar.  The hundreds of thousands of dollars would be mind blowing and the good works that the Tug McGraw Foundation provides would be greatly effected and enhanced.  Taryn’s goal is to get to $3000 and so far she’s already raised more than half of that.  I say why stop there.  You Gotta Believe anything is possible. 

Please support Taryn and the Tug McGraw Foundation by heading here to donate

http://www.active.com/donate/teammcgrawnyc2012/NYCM12TCooper

The Tug McGraw Foundation is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit, tax-exempt organization designated by the Internal Revenue Code. Their tax identification number is 20-0586256.

Summer Movie Review - The Avengers

The year was 1975.  Yours truly was still in diapers here.  Gerald Ford replaced the disgraced Richard Nixon as President of the United States.  Disco was in its prime.  And a young director by the name of Steven Spielberg forever changed the film industry and ushered in what we’ve come to know as the summer movie blockbuster when his film Jaws premiered June 20^th, eventually earning over 2 billion dollars (inflation adjusted) worldwide. 

Everything from the iconic Star Wars to the utter failure of Waterworld, Hollywood saves its best and occasionally its worst and definitely their most expensive productions for the summer release.  With the kids out of school, it’s hard to question that strategy; in fact, this summer can easily be considered one of the most anticipated in recent time. 

Over the next few months audiences will be glued to their seats as Ridley Scott returns to the Alien franchise when his film Prometheus debuts on June 8^th.  The Fourth of July weekend will mark the big screen return of Peter Parker as Sony Pictures somehow deemed it necessary to reboot The Amazing Spider-Man. Christopher Nolan will complete his Batman trilogy on July 20^th with the release of The Dark Knight Rises.  And Marvel studios, after four years of preparing audiences with films such as Iron Man, The Incredible Hulk, Thor and Captain America, assigned writer/director Joss Whedon with the daunting task of assembling those main characters for The Avengers which hits theaters this weekend.

Let me be clear, this movie will summon the uber-geek out of anyone, including the most starched buttoned down personalities.  There was a time when Marvel really didn’t have all these ships in line but they’ve seriously moved on from that.  Whedon is a self-described fanboy who knows what he wants to achieve with these characters.  He totally understands the archetypes these characters represent and more importantly, he knows how to build upon them.  It’s definitely a great time to be comic geek as the visual technology has finally caught up to the imagination, making the ruminations of Stan Lee and Jack Kirby that much more of a reality. 

Admittedly I was always more of a DC fan than Marvel.  DC being the home of Superman, Batman and the Justice League were always viewed as having the more fanciful of characters whilst Marvel was lauded for being far more rooted in reality, having main characters with more relatable flaws.  One thing is certain, Marvel has been able to translate their vision onto the big screen with much greater success than anything DC has done so far even with the success of Nolan’s Batman films.  Ironically the Marvel vision hasn’t taken on the same dark tones as seen with Nolan’s Batman films, go figure. 

The Avengers is visually stunning, and that’s without seeing it in 3D, sorry I’m not a fan of that medium.  It begins on another planet where Loki and an unknown ally of his (you’ll find out later if you stay after the credits) are discussing enslaving Earth – yes I know shocking. If you’re going to enjoy these films you have to suspend disbelief at least for 2 hours. From there the team begins to assemble with each main character given their just-due screen time. 

At times it seems the script could have been tightened in the first Act, especially with the sub-plots each of the characters brings to the film.  Let’s face it; Scarlett Johannson’s Black Widow is visual eye candy here but Whedon does his best to give her character some justice.  Unfortunately I thought the various sub plots took away from the main conflict of the story which by the end of the second half kicks into high gear.

Whedon captures actions scenes in a way that should make Michael Bay green with Hulk envy.  Once the film hits its stride at about an hour in, prepare to envision Michael Bay peeing himself from both joy and utter shame as Joss Whedon flicks on the badass switch with Samuel L. Jackson-esque directorial swagger.  He’s able to do what Bay never seem to be able to do, which is to make you give a rat’s ass about his characters while creating visually jaw dropping action scenes.  Whedon brings his personal style of dialogue, which if you were ever a fan of Buffy, was witty bordering on smartass, a style I happen to love as it brings a real texture to these larger than life characters.  Sometimes it did get too convoluted and Banner's at times did seem a bit forced, as if he was shocked to be there.  Umm hello.

You’ll find Robert Downey Jr’s lines absolutely spot on.  Tony Stark is the antithesis to Chris Evans’ Captain America, who’s lines border on becoming too earnest.  But Joss Whedon makes it work.  Loki played by Tom Hiddleston, is just slimy enough without becoming a caricature.  You'll love how he meets his fate towards the end of the film and who brings it to him.  That was a gem. And even though technically he appears in the 3^rd Act when it all hits the fan, you will be shocked to know which character steals this movie in a – hint - smashing way.  All I can say is, Ed Norton you silly silly man you. What were you thinking?

Overall it’s hard not to enjoy this film.  It delivers on what Marvel Studios has had in mind over the span of over 4 movies and then some.  Hopefully the executives at DC are taking detailed notes on this and perhaps over the next few years we’ll be seeing the same treatment given to their franchise stars as well. Man of Steel, the latest Superman reboot from 300 director Zack Snyder, is due to hit theaters next summer.   

My few nit picking problems with the film were the inclusion of Loki’s army called the Chitauri.  Basically they were to the Avengers as what the Droid armies in the Star Wars prequels were.  Slightly annoying, undefined, and purposeless other than for something for the heroes to beat the ever-loving snot out of, these CGI creatures did little other than that.  It would have been nice to know what their motivation was.  But it’s a minor flaw in the grand scheme of things.  

Overall, The Avengers delivers on what a blockbuster summer action movie should be hands down.  I’ll try not to skip in the parking lot on the way back to the car.  Bad enough my wife is pretending she doesn’t know me tonight. 

The Sector gives The Avengers 3 out of 4 stars.

When You Bedazzle A Fish

Purdy.  Ain't it?

Some of you may find this odd but I’ve always had a special fondness for the Florida Marlins.  I remember their inaugural year of 1993 as if it were yesterday, partly because I lived in Florida at the time and was caught up in the fanfare of finally having a Major League Baseball team in my backyard.  Partly because it was the year my father passed away.  In fact we had planned on going to a few games that year, driving down to Miami which was just a few hours from where we lived in Orlando.  He had planned it to be part of my high school graduation gift. Dad and I never did get to see the Marlins together as he passed away that March, just over a week into Spring Training.    

I remember his excitement that we would finally be seeing a meaningful Mets game nearby.  One that wasn’t some meaningless match up in March, with players who had jersey numbers straight out of the NFL.  It was a moment that we shared that 19 years later I have never forgotten or wanted to, that is until I saw the monstrosity that Marlins owner Jeffrey Loria had assembled this past off-season in south Florida. 

Donned in their new tropical rainbow Skittled colored uniforms with hues of blue, red, orange, green and yellow and black are the new Marlins.  Even Ozzie Guillen, their loose lipped manager, implied on the current season of The Franchise which airs on Showtime, that the new uniforms looked terrible.  I swear if you look at those new uniforms long enough, they could trigger seizures, especially in small children and the elderly. On their opening day of the new stadium in Miami, the players were escorted onto the field by Brazilian showgirls.  I kid you not. It was the most ridiculous thing I’ve even seen done by a Major League Baseball team.  I was waiting for Rip Taylor to jump out of the dugout and start tossing confetti at everyone.  They even carted out former Heavyweight Boxing Champion Muhammad Ali to “throw” out the first pitch.  Yeah, you can’t make this stuff up.

Loria this past off-season went on a spending spree, with guaranteed contracts given to Jose Reyes, Heath Bell, and Mark Buehrle totaling over $191 million dollars.   The last time the Marlins doled out that much cash, they won the World Series and like the great owner Loria is, he rewarded his Florida fan base by selling off his expensive players as if he were trafficking human body parts on the black market.  I shouldn’t be so hard on Loria; Wayne Huizenga did the very same thing in 1997 when he owned the Marlins who also ironically won the World Series that year. Those fickle Floridians; incidentally 57% of that original fanbase has passed away since then leaving time shares in Boca available. 

But that was then. Now Loria can boast his new tacky stadium with its fish tank backstop.  Again I kid you not.  And the piece de resistance, the sculpture…thing that was built in left center.  Designed by artist Red Grooms, this pyramid eyesore twirls and whirls pastel colored Marlins in a circular motion each time Jose Reyes flashes a smile or when the team hits a homerun.  Somewhere Abner Doubleday is flipping in his grave.

You mean I MAY not be here for my ENTIRE contract?

Look I get that the Marlins are a south Florida team, I’m not geographically challenged.  In fact when they debuted in 1993, and introduced the color teal to MLB, it was followed by many hems and haws from old school types.  I thought it was a fitting color considering the locale. But with this new incarnation of the Marlins, it seems they’ve adopted more of the South Beach club persona than anything else.  And speaking as a Met fan, as much as it was enjoyable to watch Jose Reyes play, let’s not try to make him out to be more than what he was.  He personified the fast, exciting, and energetic player but honestly not the smartest one ever to put on the uniform.  It seems quite appropriate for Reyes to have been lured into the shallow lifestyle that is South Beach.  Not that the Mets actually made him a real offer, but that’s an argument for another day. The good thing though for Reyes, he’ll never know just how big of a mistake he made leaving New York until he hangs up his cleats and finds out that in Miami, he’s just a really small fish in a huge pond.  Probably by then he’ll be touring with Pit Bull. 

Baseball just ain’t what it used to be.  Dad, you’re not missing anything although the Mets did sweep the Marlins in Reyes’ return to New York.  Gotta love the silver or teal or yellow or red or black lining.

Honor Thy Mets Family First

I’m old enough to recall when Chipper Jones was considered the Bryce Harper of his day. I remember seeing him on the cover of his first Beckett, an action shot of Jones turning a double play- he was a shortstop back then. Like most players from 1985 on, I had a cornucopia of his rookie cards. He was as hot of a commodity as a share of Google stock right before it went public. At the time I lived in Orlando, Florida and we didn’t have access to WWOR, the then flagship television station of the New York Mets. Satellite TV was somewhat in its infancy, not that we could have ever afforded such a luxury back then or the inclination to make the backyard look like the Arecibo listening post in Puerto Rico.

So I was essentially a Met fan living in the south and the only television channel that showed baseball was TBS, home of the Atlanta Braves. That might explain why I didn’t get deep into baseball again until around 1985. Sure we watched the Mets as they ventured to Fulton County stadium to take on Dale Murphy but it just wasn’t the same. The Braves were just plain horrible to watch. From the muted bluish hue of their uniforms to the laughable lack of talent on the field, we really watched just to see the opposing team. Of course as years went on, the Mets became synonymous not just as the team in New York but the nation; in spite of the annoying moniker the Braves self anointed themselves with as “America’s Team”.

But I admit as time went on, and as we were still without a way to follow the Mets, I did learn to appreciate what good baseball was, especially good pitching. As a Baseball fan I found myself fortunate enough to have seen the likes of Tom Glavine and John Smoltz in their early years before they earned their eventual places in Cooperstown. I remember my father telling me that Glavine would be a star one-day even though he was absolutely terrible at first. As the years progressed the Braves were finally piecing together a team that would eventually earn their franchise 14 consecutive division titles and my personal ire as a Met fan. When one of those pieces came along - one Larry Wayne “Chipper” Jones Jr. – I realized that as a Met fan, with a team that was in the midst of the Jeff Torborg era…that we were in trouble.

While the Mets seemed obsessed with winning the back pages of the New York Post and the Daily News during that time, the Atlanta Braves were biding theirs, and collecting minor league talent along the way. Chipper Jones to any Met fan old enough to know is what Kryptonite is to Superman; as if we could actually try to compare the Mets of the late nineties to the iconic superhero. Over the span of his career Jones has hit 48 home runs off Met pitching and has driven in 154 runs. It’s the kind of domination that the eventual Hall-of-Famer will forever be remembered in Met history, for better or worse as it seems the team has decided to “acknowledge” his career sometime during the 2012 season, which is going to be Chipper Jones’ last.

Look I get it. As a fan of the game, Jones is one of the greatest and deserves to be inducted one day into the Hall. As a Met fan, who has also witnessed his rise from phenom to Met-sassin, I prefer the team not take part in some elaborate, on-field ceremony to honor a guy who routinely beat the ever-loving crap out of this team. Do I blame HIM for the way the Mets were run as a franchise during Chipper’s rise, absolutely not. In many ways I look at Jones and the success the Braves have had and realize that if the Mets had the proper leadership in the front office and an ownership that wasn’t hell bent on trying to keep up with the headline grabbing Yankees, then Met fans would be the ones doing the gloating right now with one of their homegrown, retiring stars being honored by the Atlanta Braves. But things didn’t pan out quite that way at least not during that span of Met history.

I don’t hate Chipper Jones as some fans are probably going to affirm with blind affinity to the Mets. I just don’t think it’s proper for the Mets to honor him other than with a quick montage, BETWEEN INNINGS, during a game at Citifield. For a team that has yet to retire Gary Carter’s or Keith Hernandez’ or even Mike Piazza’s number, it’s inexcusable to give Chipper Jones anything other than an acknowledgment. But lets face it; this is the same team that took three years to get Citifield finally up to standards. Everything from the overemphasis on the Brooklyn Dodgers (Jackie Robinson specifically) to the lack of an area that honored the METS team history (now represented by the Mets Hall Of Fame in the lower concourse). These were major oversights that fans have been very vocal about over the last three years, and rightfully so. I just hope the organization does the right thing here. Charity isn’t the only thing that begins at home. So does showing respect for your family first.

Viva the Schmuck!

You can file this article under the “it was bound to happen” category. Seems as if Ozzie Guillen, the new Miami Marlins manager, once again has contracted foot-in-mouth disease when he was quoted saying this about the Cuban dictator Fidel Castro:

“I respect Fidel Castro. You know why? A lot of people have wanted to kill Fidel Castro for the last 60 years, but that (expletive) is still here.”

Aye dios mio Ozzie. You sure didn’t waste any time did you? I always thought the inane things that Guillen would say were a well-designed ruse; intellectual bait to get reporters or fans off his player’s backs especially when things weren't going so well. But I’m starting to believe that perhaps I’ve given him way too much credit intellectually.

His recent linguistic faux-pas has had some people calling for some kind of disciplinary action to be levied against him. Guillen has already apologized for what he said but there will be a press conference tomorrow so he can once again show just how contrite of a clown he really is. And here you thought that monstrosity of a sculpture the Marlins have erected in centerfield in their sideshow of a stadium would be the only thing to cause seizures.

If loose lips sank ships then Guillen would be the captain of the Titanic, the Exxon Valdez and the Concordia. Ozzie can you do us all a favor and shut up please? Or at least wait until your tropical skittled uniformed, overpaid and overhyped team is barely doggie paddling over the .500 mark before you go off script. As much as I think what you said and what TOWN you said it in, deserves if anything, a trip to get a head CT scan, I’m not sure if you should be punished. I think you’ve done enough to yourself already.