[This piece was first posted as a column on Flushing University on March 1, 2007. To see my latest Thursday column for Flushing University, on “Honoring Ralph Kiner,” please click on the Flushing University link on the right.]
I don’t remember a broadcast exhibition game in February, do you? Is this a first? Here it is. And SNY is ready for us. Or almost ready. There are people on a beach through a long zoom lens. There are guys with surfboards. There’s a classic under-the-palm trees shot. “Away from the cold of the Northeast,” we are told, spring baseball is ready to begin in Port St. Lucie. Old-timers like me remember what it was like to hear Bob Murphy’s voice, after so many months, broadcasting from St. Petersburg. We then get a computer montage with the Statue of Liberty and the Brooklyn Bridge and some clipart skyscrapers and some subway train signs ending with the 7 train and a highly abstract swirling Shea.
There are Ron, Gary, and Keith, looking a year older. Gary says that “We’ve got the whole gang back for you,” as Keith goes “Ha Ha.” The three of them are wearing poorly conceived black SNY t-shirts that really show off their middle-aged bellies. Their lips are a little bit ahead of the sounds that are coming out of them. Then we go to the “newest member of the broadcasting team” Kevin Burckhardt, who has trouble all afternoon figuring out how to turn his head when he interviews guys. He is inaudible as he begins to interview an extremely sweaty David Wright (put paper towels on the shopping list). SNY is not off to the greatest start. But it’s spring.
There are a couple of commercials including one about how if you buy a season ticket at Shea in 2007 or 2008 you will have priority in Citifield. That puts me in a bad mood. So does “Your Season Has Come.” Don’t Get Me Started. But I’m here. Am I not? There, on that baseball field, are the Mets.
Some of them are the real Mets, loose, if a little out-of-practice. You can see how much fun it would be to come to spring training when you know you have a job. It’s like a family reunion. A relaxed party in the sunshine. Some of them are the guys you’ve read about, who are trying to make the team. You see them for the very first time in three dimensions, with their current hair and sunglasses. You realize how nervous they must be and how not nervous they are trying to look. Some of them are the guys who don’t have much of a shot. They’re a little less nervous than the guys who have a shot. But there is a sadness that goes with their high uniform numbers and their unfamiliar names and faces. They look wistfully happy to be there because they are sort of in the big time. Sort of. They are like the people you don’t know in the landing parties on the old Star Trek who you realize are going to get killed by the aliens.
Ron, Keith, and Gary go over all the reasons why Oliver Perez can be thought to have had a lousy year last year. Boy, did he. This is a little jarring since the last thing you remember is him starting and pitching well in the most important game of the season. You forgot, almost, what shape our starting pitching was in in the Championship Series. But for months you’ve been thinking that Perez would be our number 3 or 4 starter because Willie likes him and you want so much to believe that he is on his way back. Perez is pretty awful in the first inning and he’s pretty awful in the second. Maybe he’s on his way back and maybe he’s not. For the first time in a few months you have new information to absorb. You find yourself inching away a little from your hopes for Perez. And then when Alay Soler has a decent couple of innings you find yourself wondering, along with the announcers, why he isn’t being given more of a chance to make the team. Soler looks real good. Now you’ve got him in the fight for 4th or 5th starter. Perez has dropped down into this mix. All because of a couple of innings? What kind of stupidity is this? Haven’t you ever watched a baseball season before? Don’t you know how little a couple of innings means? You know. But this is what you do. This is spring training.
You listen and you watch. You hear the new buzz. All of which could be gone tomorrow or it could be the beginning of something new. There’s a kid named Smith you hadn’t really noticed who threw a great curveball to Lastings Milledge in an intra-squad game yesterday. Wow. Maybe he could be our number 4 starter. The most interesting thing you learn in the course of the day’s patter is that the Mets are getting into chess. Pelfrey and Humber play chess all the time and Pelfrey says he’s a lot better than Humber. Ron Darling describes how Shawn Green brings his own chessboard and how sometimes four or five games are set up. This is great. Chess improves concentration. Who would have thought that the 2007 Mets would be the first great chess-playing baseball team? Already the new season is beginning to acquire a personality.
There is Moises Alou, our newest old guy. I remember how I acted out the 1962 World Series in my basement (I was eight). I listened to the radio pretending to be each player. I remember pretending to be Felipe Alou, imitating the facial expression he had on my baseball card. I can remember this and Moises Alou wasn’t even born yet.
Most of the game is crappy. Most of the crowd seems to be rooting for the Tigers. At the beginning of the inning they show you shots of the landscape beyond the stadium. It looks like Gilligan’s Island.
Delgado strokes a beautiful, balanced double. How wonderful to see his smooth, happy smile. The announcers praise the wonderful atmosphere on the team. Endy looks sharp. Milledge in his batting helmet looks like a child. Gary Cohen observes that he is now “like a different guy.”
I like the new guys. I like Newhan who is funny looking in a way that remnds me of George Theodore. He drives in two runs while making two outs. I like Ben Johnson’s hustle. And in the eighth, Milledge’s sharp little base hit makes me so happy and hopeful because I want him to do well and I want people to shut up about him because wouldn’t it be a dream come true to have a homegrown trio like Wright, Reyes, and Milledge to take us up through 2020?
Newhan drives in a second run and blows a bubble. Julio Franco becomes the oldest man ever to hit a two-run single in a spring exhibition game. After that, we hear “Lets Go Mets” for the first time in the afternoon. We should have heard it earlier in the inning, but the fans don’t have it together yet either.
I don’t like the new batting helmets with their funny-looking side vents. Is that to keep their heads from getting sweaty or is it just to make them look scary? Ben Johnson, who’s looked good all game, grounds into a game-ending double play. Which is the real Ben Johnson? Gary Cohen makes a joke about the Mets’ all-time February record being 0-1. Then the Mets start a series of strange little running drills which are the occasion of much mirth for the pot-bellied announcers. Finally, we go to a Verizon commercial and another one of those season tickets commercials that piss me off. There are more shots of the scraggy tropical foliage beyond the stadium. The final score is up on the field. We lost. Big deal. There is a final score. There has been a game.
I am very happy.