Decade in Review: Five Lessons Learned

As the decade gasps out a few final breaths, presented here are five lessons learned these past 10 years.

Some thoughts on the aughts, if you will, in no particular order...

1. You can't buy a winner

At least if you're not the Yankees, who can buy anything.

But if Mets fans learned one thing this decade it's that dollars don't equal titles.

I don't have the figures in front of me, but chances are excellent that the Mets spent more money on player contracts this decade than any other team in the National League. I'd wager good money that we spent more than any team other than the Yankees and Red Sox, the latter of whom we may very well have outspent.

What do we have to show for it? One World Series run, one dominant regular season/crushing playoff loss, and eight other seasons that ran the gamut from encouraging (2005) to disappointing (2001, 2008), humiliating (2007) and completely unwatchable (2002-2004, 2009).

For all the people screaming their heads off this offseason saying we HAVE to sign Jason Bay or we HAVE to sign Matt Holliday... what team have you been watching all these years? What history are you paying attention to?

2. Famous in Japan = Futile in Queens

There's no good explanation for it, but Japanese players who come to the Mets uniformly suck.

Some of them are entertaining; I wouldn't have traded those two seasons of Tsuyoshi Shinjo (and his orange wristbands) for anything.

But most are just downright disappointing. Kaz Matsui is, of course, the poster child for the Lost in Translation-syndrome that afflicts all Japanese Mets, but there are others as well. Satoru Komiyama. Kaz Ishii. Shingo Takahashi. Disaster, disaster, disaster.

With the start of a new decade we turn our "East meets West" dreams to Ryota Igarashi, who was known as "Rocket Boy" in Japan before elbow surgery a couple years ago.

3. Mets blogosphere on swoll

It's hard to remember a world without instant media and at-your-fingertips access to all the information you could ever want, but in many respects that was the world before Y2K (the year 2000, that is).

The advent of the internet changed sports fandom. For Mets fans it meant a host of websites to provide a daily fix. Metsblog, Mets Geek, East Coast Agony (RIP), Metstradamus, Faith and Fear in Flushing, and closer to home, Yankees 2000: Promote the Curse.

In time the name of the site will change, now that the Curse is no more. But, for me, the need to write, the need for that creative outlet, has not diminished, so the site will continue into its second decade.

4. Season of the Decade: 2006

Seasons like 2006 don't come along very often; for the Glass Man, a year like 2006 may never come around again.

For the team on the field, everything just came up roses. Every night there was a different hero, didn't matter if your name was Carlos Beltran or Endy Chavez, David Wright or Jose Valentin. Every night they found a way to win. I'd never seen anything like it.

And for me, life off the field made it possible to follow that team like I'd never followed a team before. Every other year of my life I'd been in school, so the Mets had to compete with homework at night.

In 2006 I was out of college and in a job with ridiculously good hours; 9-6, essentially. I was home in time for the Mets each night. I'd hit the treadmill during the pregame show, shower up, and hit the couch in time for the first pitch. I watched virtually every game that season.

Whether or not the Mets are ever that good again, chances are I won't have another season like that where I get to follow them so closely (actually, I may have the chance in 2010 as my current hours are pretty boffo... one feels certain the team won't be anywhere near as good though). 

Seasons like that don't come around very often. On the field and off, everything just came together to make my Mets experience the greatest it's ever been. I can only hope someday it'll be like that again.

5. "I was thinking how nothing lasts, and what a shame that is"

Sure enough, Benjamin Button, the passing of time has many unfortunate aspects.

I turned 27 today. There's no way to play the numbers game so that 27 is anything other than "late twenties". When I started writing for this website I was a fresh-faced, look-out-world-here-I-come 22-year-old. I was a college student who happened to have graduated from college.

I'm not sure when you "become a man" exactly, and I do believe that it's an inexact science, that for each person the timing is different. Either way, I can say that some time in the past five years (probably the last three), I became a man.

Things are just different for me now. I used to live for those nights when me and my group of friends would carb up at some hole in the wall Italian place and then jaunt from one Lower East Side bar to the next.

I still love that kind of night, but they're few and far between now, and I'm an active agent in their infrequency. I take it easy more than I ever did before. These days, the idea of spending a Friday night cooking at home with my girlfriend and a bottle of red wine sounds just about perfect, and if there's a Mets game on, even better.

I don't mean to suggest I'm some domesticated bore; I still enjoy going crazy with my friends and all that. But that's not the only thing anymore is all. A change is afoot, and I'm aware of it.

Those aren't the only changes. I had my first legitimate health scare this year, when the concern was that I had intestinal metaplasia, which would have predisposed me to stomach cancer and generally have caused digestive problems for the rest of my life. Fortunately I'm OK.

Physically, my blond hair shows no sign of gray, which is a plus, but my face now bares the indents that are, charitably, a pair of laugh lines on the sides of my mouth leading to my nose; more realistically, though, they're wrinkles, and chances are there are more where they came from (update to come in 2019).

Button was right: Youth, beauty, and health don't last, and that is a shame.

* * * * *

But this decade, baseball (bless it) taught us that nothing lasts, and sometimes that's a complete pleasure. In 2004, after 86 years of frustration, New England celebrated as its beloved Red Sox captured their first World Series since 1918.

In 2005 it was Chicago's turn to celebrate as its White Sox won their first championship since 1917, ending an 88-year drought. Chicago is still waiting on its (decidedly more) beloved Cubbies to end their 101-year drought. Remember, Cubs fans, nothing lasts, and that's not always such a shame.

And remember that, too, Mets fans. With the calendar turning to 2010, it will soon be 24 years since the Mets won it all.

That's nothing compared to 86 years or 88 or 101, but to a fan it feels like a lifetime (and to many of you reading this, it probably is a lifetime).

I was 3 when the Mets won it all in '86, and I have no memory of that triumph besides what was passed down in the hallowed 1986 Mets Tape.

I'm still waiting for that first taste of champagne celebrating a World Series victory. I'm still waiting for that first phone call with Sip and Nails and all the others after the Mets win it all. I'm still waiting for that first ticker tape parade. A lot of Mets fans are, too.

Our wait won't last forever. Nothing lasts, and sometimes that's not a shame at all.

* * * * *

And that about does it.

I may write another post this week, but if not, best wishes to everyone on a happy and healthy (Mets players, take note!) new year.

- A.F.O.M.G.

One Question for Christmas Eve (and Beyond)

It's been 13 days since the Mets extended their 4-year ~$65mm offer to Jason Bay, and the prize remains unsigned.

The tabloids are restless, and they're going for the throat.

Look around, they implore, the Yankees are making moves, ditto the Red Sox, Phillies, and the Mariners, and my GOD, the Nationals!

What is wrong with Omar Minaya and company, they demand to know. Every day the chorus of dissent grows louder.

That's the question offered by the press; here's the one I want to offer: what does signing Jason Bay do for the prospects of this team?

Does adding Bay make the Mets favorites for the division in 2010? I don't think anyone seriously believes that, not with the holes in our rotation.

Does it position us better for 2011? Possible, but not likely. What's likely is that Bay's 30-35 home runs becomes more like 25-30 at Citi Field, and that his defense is exposed in our spacious outfield.

I realize you can play the "glass half empty" game to discount any potential free agent, but for some players it's different.

It was different for Carlos Beltran, a young, five-tool talent from whom we doled out a 7-year, $119mm contract, or $17mm per season. Is Jason Bay the same caliber of player? With a standing offer of $16.25mm per season, that's what we're paying him to be.

We've offered to pay him to be something he's not. He's NOT a difference maker. He'd be a nice addition, a nice piece; but at $16.25, he's not a piece, he's a centerpiece. That's an important distinction when you can only afford so many "centerpiece" type contracts.

Maybe I'm wrong about the team's finances. Maybe they can sign Bay and have the financial flexibility next offseason to sign the players they'll need.

And maybe I'm wrong about Bay; maybe he is the missing link, the guy who's going to push us over the top (though I suspect if you ask Mets fans, few would believe he is that player).

But I'm tired of the press painting this as some sort of referendum on the state of the Mets.

An old definition of insanity is the inclination to continue doing the same things over and over again in spite of past failures.

Each offseason we do this exact same dance. We flirt with the top free agent on the market in what's portrayed as a do-or-die negotiation that will make or break the team's fortunes.

Every now and then it gets you to 2006; more often, though, it gets you to to 1992 or 2003 or 2007-2009. Some of those teams were disasters, others were near misses.

It's the near misses that interest me. To me, signing Bay is a one-way ticket to another near miss. We'd capitulate to the tabloids and the talk radio in December and suffer in September.

That's a trade we've made too many times.

It's time to change the way we do business, because the old way hasn't worked for much of the team's near 50 years of existence.

The only imperative is to field a team that can get you to the postseason. If adding Bay gives the Mets that team, they should sign him.

But if all adding Bay does is appease the crazies out there and land us in second place (at best), that's not good enough.

You'd think the fans would have figured that out by now. Let's just hope the front office has.

- A.F.O.M.G.

The Out of Town Scoreboard

Group think -- not a good thing.

It's as true in baseball as it is in anything else. One minute somebody's suggesting a crazy trade idea, the next someone else is seconding, around and around it goes and before you know it, you've just traded Scott Kazmir for Victor Zambrano. (Whether this process accurately recounts the discussion leading to the Kazmir-Zambrano swap is beyond me, but really, how far off could it be?).

In sports as in life, it's always important to break out of your bubble and understand how a given situation looks from outside the prism of your own perspective.

As regular readers are aware, I've been pretty down on the Mets all offseason. It's not because of the moves they have or haven't made, it's because I don't think there's any combination of moves that makes them a viable contender next season.

But as I read Jeff Schultz's column in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution (which originally appeared on December 11), it dawned on me. All that pessimism and negativity I have about the team, in a sense that's the group think of my perspective and about every other Mets blog/fan/media source out there.

To us the situation looks pretty grim, but with the Mets' pursuit of Jason Bay gathering steam, to Schultz the situation looks a lot rosier.

"The Mets have emerged as the top pursuer of free agent Jason Bay, the best hitter on the market," Schultz writes. "Think of this in New York: a starting outfield of Bay in left, Carlos Beltran in center and Jeff Francoeur in right."

!!

He's not being facetious here; he's actually kind of scared of a Mets team with that outfield. For all the talk about the ascendant Braves, a columnist in their hometown paper says the Braves have work to do if they're going to keep up with a Mets team with Bay (and a Phillies team with Roy Halladay).

I know nothing about Schultz; maybe he's a complete quack. But for those few shiny moments as I read his column, it occurred to me, for the first time in months (maybe years), that the Mets still have the capacity to "scare" teams. Their talent, so maligned and fraught with disappointing associations here, actually registers as good in other parts of the country.

In the end it doesn't mean a whole lot, but in an offseason where it's all too often felt like the Mets are going nowhere fast, it's... I don't know, encouraging maybe (?) to hear there are some who still view us as a team to be reckoned with.

Mets blogs/fans/media outlets haven't gotten the memo.

- A.F.O.M.G.

The Wisdom of Big Tom Callahan

To paraphrase Big Tom Callahan, in business you're either growing or you're dying, there isn't any third direction.

As their primary competitor grows and other big market teams make splashes left and right, right now the Mets appear to be looking desperately for that third direction.

In swapping Cliff Lee for Roy Halladay, the Phillies are a better team, but not a markedly better team, than they were yesterday morning.

Without knowing anything about the prospects involved, this appears to be a good move for the Phillies, as Halladay is, evidently, something of an upgrade over Lee, and they've signed him to a surprisingly modest 3-year extension.

* * * * *

That all said, as we look at 2010, the Phillies are still a markedly better team than the Mets. Their lineup is better, their rotation is better; maybe the Mets have an edge in the bullpen, but if there are three components of team construction you'd certainly take a good lineup and rotation over a good bullpen.

Meanwhile, the Mets have done very little to address their shortcomings. There's no new first baseman, no No. 2 starter (goodbye, John Lackey); they seem to have prioritized Jason Bay over Matt Holliday (who might get an 8-year deal? Crazy), but prioritizing isn't the same as signing, so so far, there isn't any new left fielder.

It's essentially the same team as last year with better catching depth and (hopefully) fewer injuries. Heading into 2009 a lot of us were confident the Mets would be a good, if flawed, team. It seems the Mets want us to maintain that same optimisim heading into 2010.

Here's the thing -- the 2009 team we hoped for wouldn't be a favorite over the 2010 Phillies; the Mets must know that on some level.

Once you recognize that your team is inferior, you need to start looking for ways to improve the product. I don't mind "losing" a season to rebuilding; what I mind is a situation where the team isn't looking to get better, either in the near-term or long-term.

Right now it looks like they're content to tread water this offseason, hoping that treading water is the same as finding the third direction. But Big Tom was right, there is no third direction.

Look closely at the moves the Phillies, Yankees, Braves, and Red Sox have made and it becomes clear fast: not only are the Mets not growing; ever so surely, they're dying.

- A.F.O.M.G.

The 'Anything Is Possible!!!' Mindset

I think the man Kevin Garnett said it best in his courtside interview after his Boston Celtics won the NBA championship a couple of years ago.

Everything around him was bedlam. Confetti fell from the ceiling as, everywhere, fans stood applauding or took the opportunity to soak in the moment. Players hugged each other as antsy members of the media vied for interviews; eventually, one of them caught up with Garnett.

"Man, I'm so, I'm so hyped right now... anything is possible," he said, before shouting at the top of his lungs, "ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE!!!"



It was a triumphant, euphoric moment, the beauty of which was that, unlike so many other athletes, KG didn't attempt to censor himself. He spoke from the heart, and the results were legendary.

I didn't quite win an NBA championship last night, but I did have my own "Anything is Possible" moment on the treadmill yesterday.

My whole life I've been a poor long distance runner. I've always been athletic, but I'm also a very big guy, and I'm accustomed to finishing the near the bottom of any competitive long-distance run. My asthma has also complicated things.

All of which is to say that there's a certain amount of psychological baggage I bring with me when I step on the treadmill. That often translated into a feeling that I "couldn't" run more than 30-35 minutes straight (for most of my life I've settled for 25 minutes), or "couldn't" do more than 4 miles.

More recently though I've been trying to adjust my mindset when I step on the treadmill. This is largely thanks to Little Miss Citi, whose participation in the Jack Rabbit club of New York City has led her on runs of 60 minutes or more.

I haven't quite reached that level, but yesterday I reached two milestones that I would have never thought I could acheive. Around lunch time I set a goal: 45 minutes, 5 miles. Why couldn't I?

It wasn't easy. I was sore from a 40-minute run on Tuesday, and again, there was the psychological component. But as 45 minutes dwindled away, I found the energy to near-sprint the final 3 minutes.

When I was done, as I did my cool down, another KG quote came to mind. It's too long to transcribe so I'll let the man say it himself:



Tired but fulfilled, it was like I'd just knocked that bully out. 

* * * * * 

It makes me think about the Mets. I wonder who on the Mets takes an "Anything is Possible!!!" approach to the game.

The one guy I feel certain plays like that is Johan Santana, but what about the rest of them?

Maybe it's just the past few years talking. Certainly, I wouldn't have questioned it after 2006. But this isn't "after 2006" anymore. This is after 2007, 2008, and 2009.

What we need is a team that believes it can accomplish anything, a team that isn't obsessed with a fear of failure. That starts with guys like Wright and Beltran and Reyes getting that hunger to "lay that bully's ass out". I'm not sure they've had that the past few years.

In 2010 and beyond, their "bully" is the cumulative failure that began with Game 7 of the 2006 NLCS. Let's hope someday they get to knock that bully out.

- A.F.O.M.G.

The Top Chef Finale Drinking Game

There's a lot to be excited about this time of year. There's the holidays and the promise of time away from the office or school. Without the nightly time commitment of baseball there's time to catch up on your Netflix list, post to your website more often, or devote more time to your personal passions / extracurricular activities.

Some would contend that there's also the excitement of the Hot Stove, and while I admit I have an extra bit of anticipation in my fingertips each time I start typing espn.com or metsblog.com, ultimately, this is a pretty uninspiring offseason for me.

Essentially, I don't think there's any combination of moves out there that makes this team better than the Phillies next season. That includes adding both John Lackey and Matt Holliday (let alone just one of them).

I'll expand on this in a post later this week, but more and more I'm coming to the conclusion that the best course of action is a 2003-2004 type offseason, filled with minor moves, no blockbuster signings, and general unexcitement.

That being the case, for the Glass Man this time of years gives me a chance to follow my favorite television shows more closely, including Top Chef, which has its finale tonight at 10pm.

It's been a great season of Top Chef. For one thing, the chefs seemed to be really strong this year, particularly compared to last season. In last year's finale there were three candidates, one of whom should have won, one of whom shouldn't have won but evidently had a chance, and another who had no business being there.

This year it's anyone's competition to win. Personally, I think Kevin deserves to win it, given that he's basically dominated the competition all season, but brothers Michael and Bryan Voltaggio are clearly very strong chefs. Each of them deserves to be there; each of them could win it all.

To ease the tension of the final hour of Top Chef, why not have some fun with it and make the action on screen a drinking game? Submitted for you here are a few rules to get you going.

I'm not sure how large a Top Chef-viewing audience we have here at Y2K, but if you have any other rules to suggest, please, submit them on the comment board. 

• 2 drinks: Each time Kevin's food is referred to as "simple"
• 4 drinks: Each time Michael refers to Kevin's cooking as "simple"
  
• 3 drinks: Each time Michael insults anyone else's cooking
• 5 drinks: Each time you get the sense that Michael completely loathes his brother
• 1 drink (for sake of maintaining, to the extent possible, everyone's sobriety): Each time it's mentioned or insinuated that Michael and Bryan have a "sibling rivalry"
• 1 drink: Each time you find yourself wondering why Padma went with bangs
• 1 drink: Each time you find yourself wondering how long it took Michael to give his hair that *perfect* level of spikiness
  
• 3 drinks: Each time Tom Colicchio looks some combination of bemused and offended by a contestant's answer to a question during Judges' Table
• 2 drinks: Each time Kevin thanks the judges or says anything sycophantic during Judges' Table
• 2 drinks: Each time Bryan mentions his kids
• 1 drink: Each time one of the contestants says they didn't have enough time during the challenge
  
• 2 drinks: Each time a contestant, at Judges' Table, defensively insists he wouldn't have done anything differently with his meal if he'd had extra time

So that's the list; I suggest watching tonight with your unhealthiest glass of eggnog. Happy drinking and let's go Kevin!

- A.F.O.M.G.

Darren Oliver and the Mets Dynasty That Wasn't

If the last four seasons of Mets baseball have proven anything, it's that winning takes 25 guys, a number that jumps to 35-40 over the course of a regular season.

To me, the single biggest difference between the 2006 team and the '07-'09 varieties was depth. Remember all the injuries to the pitching staff in 2006? Remember all the games Chad Bradford held for us in relief? How many games Endy Chavez won with a walk-off hit after Jose Valentin had tied it?

Sure, Beltran, Delgado, Wright, and Reyes all had monster years. There's no question that those guys were the driving force for that team. But around any "driving force" there's an edifice that chugs along with it; that edifice was strong top to bottom in 2006, and it's been seriously lacking ever since.

To me, a guy who epitomizes that distinction is Darren Oliver. Oliver was our long relief specialist in '06, racking up a 3.44 ERA in 81 innings across 45 games.

In one of the more puzzling moves of his tenure, Omar Minaya decided to let Oliver walk. Oliver signed with Anaheim, with whom he has posted a 15-3 record the past three seasons; in 2009 he sported a fancy 2.71 ERA, besting the 2.88 he set in 2008 (he had a 3.78 ERA in '07).

Meanwhile the Mets have had a string of altogether forgettable mop-up men since parting ways with Oliver. Aaron Sele was handed the job in '07. Jorge Sosa followed, for a time, in '08. This year it was Brian Stokes, I guess.

The decision to let Oliver walk has proven emblematic of the post-2006 Omar Minaya regime. He's done a great job reeling in the big ticket free agents, he's paid a lot of attention to guys 1-5 on the roster, but when it comes to guys 20-25, the same level of attention hasn't been paid.

You want to know why that Mets dynasty never materialized after 2006? A big part of the reason is that our top guys had to be the ones winning us the games; guys like Marlon Anderson simply couldn't do it. When our starter had an off-day, there was no Darren Oliver to hold the deficit where it was and give us a chance to come back.

* * * * *

I wrote last year that it takes a village to win a championship. Maybe moves like signing Henry Blanco and Chris Coste signal a rededication to the back end of the roster. My concern is that there's not enough dollars or players to fill all the team's holes in one offseason, and even if there were, do I trust Minaya has sufficient interest in this element of team construction?

Darren Oliver is an interesting proposition for the Mets. The Angels didn't offer him arbitration, so there should be a lot of competition for him. Based on his track record there's no reason to think he can't be a productive player again in 2010.

I'm not saying he's the answer. But in this offseason of Holliday, Halladay, Bay, and Lackey, it's worth remembering that those aren't the only guys who will be on the Mets next year. A little of those guys goes a long way; but a little of guys like Oliver and Bradford, even if it never wins you a backpage, can end up winning you a lot of ballgames.

It's too late for the mid-'00s dynasty; that ship has sailed. When the next would-be dynasty comes around though, I suspect it will be built both on superstars and talented role players in equal measure.

- A.F.O.M.G.

Hope and Doubt in New Orleans

What I love about this time of year is the tradition, and it all begins with the Thanksgiving holiday.

My family's got a whole host of traditions for Thanksgiving Day itself and then, later, Christmas. But these past two years I've added two new traditions that really dress up the Thanksgiving weekend.

First is a big group outing with my high school friends the night before Thanksgiving. Started in 2008, this year we went to this all you can eat/drink sushi joint on the lower west.

After dinner was through, two of my friends rock, paper, scissored it to decide the next spot, which ended up being Sway. Normally I'm as anti-Sway as they come, but I was feeling up for anything so I didn't protest.

When we got there the music was loud, the conversation nearly impossible, and the drinks incredibly overpriced, but we were among friends. Sip and Nails came by. The Fat Jew was in attendance. The Sham Wow guy, too... random.

It was a good night. After another great Thanksgiving my second new tradition began Friday afternoon with a trip down to New Orleans, home of Little Miss Citi. It was another great trip to the Big Easy, filled with good people, good food (the beignets... my god, the beignets), and good times.

But amid all the tradition there was a complete and total first for the Glass Man. Monday night I went to my first pro football game, Saints-Patriots at the Superdome.

To say the atmosphere in the dome was electric is a complete understatement. For those who don't follow football, the Saints were 10-0 for the first time in team history going into Monday night. This isn't like the Colts or some other perennial powerhouse going 10-0, this is like the Jets going 10-0.

It's the kind of dream season we all hope the Mets will have someday; the kind of season where the team just finds ways to win each time out. The Saints are having it right now, and the town hardly knows what do with itself.

The noise in the Superdome was loud from the outset, but any time the Pats had a 3rd down or the Saints found themselves in the end zone (which they did repeatedly in a thorough dismantling of New England), the place erupted. By the end of the night the Saints were 11-0. I'm not sure New Orleans believes it.

Seated in front of us, an older fan turned to the man seated next to him and said in complete disbelief, "11-0? I know 0-11. I know 1-10, 2-9. But 11-0? Incredible."

On the way back to Little Miss Citi's parents' place, I found myself thinking back to 2006, the first time a Mets team I'd watched looked as dominant and full of promise as the Saints do right now.

All the talk now in New Orleans is about the playoffs and who they'll play and what if they make the Superbowl and forget that what if they win the Superbowl but wait a second is that even possible this is the Saints we're talking about?

They're the types of questions, as a fan, you dream of asking yourself. They're the questions that come up when you walk that line between hope and doubt. The hope is the sudden success all around you. The doubt is all the seasons that have come before, your entire lifetime of watching the team.

Mets fans get reacquainted with that feeling every so often when they field a team like they did in '06. Right now we'd all kill for that feeling again, though it feels a long way off.

For now I'll just have to be happy for the Saints, for the city of New Orleans, and for Little Miss Citi. Seasons like this, they and we know all too well, aren't as routine as holiday traditions.

- A.F.O.M.G.