Sunday, September 24, 2006

Who The Hell Is Endy Chavez?

All Hail Mr. Met
Originally uploaded by Gringcorp.
By the time I got my act together to go and visit Shea, the Mets had already won the National League East. That's right, three years of dutifully turning up to watch them get spanked, and as soon as they get good, I'm tootling around going to weddings and not getting on the 7 train out to Flushing.

By the time I make it out there, most of the stars are resting. So no Beltran, no Wright, and the heroically unreliable Trachsel is pitching. Instead theb outfield and the bullpen is full of characters with humorous names, including a young gentleman called, Humber, making his MLB debut, and getting quite the beating in the process.

The reason for this unfamiliarity with the lesser reaches of the Mets roster is my patchy record of support, I know. I'm glad I caught them at Shea, one last time. Because soon, the park where the Beatles turned their back on the pop demographic will be no more. And its not-actually-that-funky sand sweepers will have a new canvass.

Non-Funky Pitch Sweepers


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