The Departed, Part I

In these tough economic times, we all unhappily find ourselves more accustomed to the concept of overturn. Friends lose their jobs, colleagues are let go. It's a damn depressing cycle. The bad news almost universally commands our empathy.

There is one great exception, however, and that's ballplayers who used to call Shea home. The memories of these people command an array of emotions, some positive, others negative.

Amid all the excitement of the upcoming season and the new additions to the team, I wanted to take a moment to reflect on the players we've let go, and speculate as to how they will be received by the fans when they make their returns to Shea Stadium (or Citi Field I guess).

So in alphabetical order, and without further ado...

Moises Alou

Ah, Moises. We hardly knew ye. In two injury-plagued seasons in New York, Moises played in a grand total of 102 games (including 15 last year) and registered 377 at-bats. To his credit, Moises was mostly nasty when he was playing, hitting to a .342 average and generally solidifying our lineup.

On March 5, 2009, Alou announced he would retire after the conclusion of the 2009 World Baseball Classic, so Mets fans will never have the opportunity to greet or jeer him at their new digs.

If he were still playing, my guess is Alou would have inspired indifference more than anything else. I think most people supported signing him for the 2007 season. Signing him for 2008 was a bit of a calculated risk and clearly it didn't work out, but he was felled by injury, not lack of heart or anything else.

Sometimes things just don't work out. Mets fans, bless us, understand that well.

Luis Ayala

As a general proposition, any member of the 2008 Mets bullpen is liable to get the shit booed out of him, and rightly so. But amid the universe of departed relievers, Luis Ayala actually stands a chance of receiving a somewhat cordial reception.

This is largely becuase Ayala, who spent the first part of the year with Washington, did nothing to create the terrible situation, he simply inherited it and did the best he could.

Now, yes, he did little other than perpetuate the cycle of despair that had become the calling card of our relief corps, but I think we can appreciate that he was dealt a bad hand and that we had no right asking him to be a savior.

He'll probably get booed when he returns, but it's mostly guilt by association. Like Sean Maguire once said, Luis, all this, all this shit, it's not your fault.

Mike Carp

A darling of the Mets blogosphere, Mike Carp will be missed by the same crowd that used to crow that Jorge Toca was The Answer at first base.

Maybe that's overly dismissive. Either way, on those rare occasions that the Seattle Mariners make their way to New York for National League games, you can count on a very small, very vocal segment of the crowd (i.e., maybe one guy in your general vicinity) standing and applauding when Carp comes to bat, while everyone else looks at him in confusion.

Endy Chavez

It's hard to imagine a fourth outfielder / defensive replacement having a better legacy than Endy Chavez's. Endy always seemed to be in the middle of things in 2006 when the Mets were scraping together late inning wins or what have you; he was a critical role player than year.

But of course, with Endy, it all comes back to The Catch. In a season chock full of hopeful and awe-inspiring moments, Endy provided the most hopeful and awe-inspiring moment of them all when he leapt over the wall to rob a 2-run home run in Game 7 of the NLCS. As I've written, in that glorious, transcendent moment, Endy made you believe that anything was possible.

That catch, unfortunately, was about the last such hopeful, awe-inspiring moment the Mets have had in all the time from then until now, but in terms of Endy's legacy, that's no matter. When Mets fans think of Endy Chavez, they'll think of the exhilaration of that moment, and that inescapable feeling, so alien to the normal psyche of a Mets fan, that the longed-for outcome was not impossible, in fact, that it was likely.

Bless you, Endy. There's a standing ovation coming to you the next time you come to New York.

Aaron Heilman

Ooooh, doggie this one will not be pretty. The fans already loved to hate Heilman while he was with the Mets. Between that and his direct association with the failure in 2006, the collapse in 2007, and the comprehensive bullpen meltdown of 2008, Heilman occupies an uncommonly hateable space.

In a sense, Heilman deserves better. He was actually a really good reliever in 2006 and 2007, but his involvement in so many high profile failures (Game 7 of 2006, 2007 and 2008) and his constant bitching about being a reliever make him seem like an ineffective, me-first, team-second whiner.

As Julian Casablancas once said, "man, redemption, I hope it's in his future." Well, it wasn't in his future, not with the Mets anyway. To Mets fans he'll always be a symbol of the failures in 2006, 2007, and 2008; as such, I expect he'll get the shit booed out of him when he does return.

* * * * *

That's all for Part I. We'll be back with Part II later in the week, including takes on Pedro, Joe Smith, and, my god I can hardly wait, Scott Schoeneweis.

In the meantime, if I was unfair to any of the names above or if you have a different take, I invite you to sound off on the comment board.

- A.F.O.M.G.