My Meeting with Fred Wilpon

The meeting had been on the schedule for weeks. I knew the when and where. I had about 50 reminders set up in my calendar at work.

Last Friday, Fred Wilpon came to meet with a representative from my company. Knowing he was coming (see above), I asked an assistant if it would be just terribly unprofessional if I were to find myself loitering around the reception area around the time of his arrival? A baseball fan herself, she said why don't I go out and escort Mr. Wilpon from the elevator bank?

She didn't have to ask twice. I accepted immediately and bounded out toward the elevators. His trip up to our floor took longer than expected, and I paced as I waited, wondering what I should say. I knew my time would be brief, but if there was one thing I could say to the owner of my beloved New York Mets, what would it be?

I resolved to compliment him on the brain trust he and Sandy Alderson had been putting together. I figured that was as unambiguously positive a thing as I could say, and that he'd probably appreciate the sentiment.

The elevator buzzed and out walked, spryly, an older gentleman in a crisp suit with a familiar face. There was no mistaking him.

"Mr. Wilpon?"

"Yes," he said energetically.

"I'm [A.F.O.M.G.], I'll escort you back to your meeting," I said as we shook hands.

"I'm sorry, one more time, your name?"

"[A.F.O.M.G.]," I said was we continued our handshake. As we turned back toward the office, I decided to go there:

"So they let me escort you back as I'm the resident Mets fanatic."

"Oh that's great. You know, this is a magnificent building."

"Oh yeah, it's great, we've been here about a year now. Hey, you know I really wanted to compliment you on the braintru..."

"Wow would you look at that!" he said as he approached a vista window showing the Hudson River and Jersey City. It was a beautiful, Indian Summer kind of day and the view was clear as could be.

"Yeah. Great view, isn't it?"

"It's just spectacular, this whole building is really something."

By this point two things were clear. One, he didn't particularly want to talk about the Mets; two, he was really taken with my company's new building.

I suppose it was all fair enough. I'm sure the last thing he needs is another random person telling him his opinion about the Mets, particularly when so many of those opinions must be unfavorable.

Moreover, the guy's business today and even before the Mets was real estate. Our building was a natural thing for him to want to talk about.

Our time was drawing short. We exchanged pleasantries until I showed him to the office where his meeting would take place. We shook hands and parted ways. All-in, I had maybe 3 minutes with the guy. From the perspective of me wanting to talk about the Mets and him wanting to talk about real estate, I got completely steamrolled.

Oh well, I still got to meet the owner of the Mets. You can't say that every day.

- A.F.O.M.G.

Warts and All

So I've got a bit of an overshare for you all today, but I promise there's a baseball component. You see, in the past 48 hours I've developed a new-found respect for pitchers who complain about blisters.

It always kind of struck me as a suck-it-up kind of injury. A pitcher would complain about blisters on his hand and all of a sudden he'd have to come out of the game. "Really?!" I'd want to ask, "he had to come out for that?"

Well, I've had a baptism by fire in the world of finger blisters the past 48 hours, owing to the "removal" of two warts on my right hand. I put "removal" in scare quotes because the warts are still very much there, they just now come accompanied by two extremely painful blisters.

There are two ways, it seems, to remove a wart. The first way they try is to freeze them off. Freezing the spot of the wart creates a blister that causes it to scab over, allowing the owner of the wart to pick it off just as you'd pick off a scab (in theory at least, nothing's scabbed over for me yet). If the freeze/scab technique doesn't work, I want to say the next approach involves electrocution... let's avoid that if we can. 

In any event, it's the kind of procedure that gives little in the way of short-term gratification. I hadn't had warts since I was very young, and I seem to have forgotten that these things don't just disappear overnight.

In my mind I was going to be wart-free immediately after the procedure... not the case. I'm still waiting for any sign of progress, but as I wait I have a regular reminder of the process any time I touch anything with my thumb or middle finger.

Time will tell if these blisters actually lead to the intended result. But I suppose that if nothing else, they've given me an appreciation for the perils of hand blisters that I'll remember the next time one of our guys has to come out of a game because of one.

Overshare? Sorry.

- A.F.O.M.G.

Goodbye, Baseball

So I'm about three days late in articulating this, but I wanted to write a quick post about some thoughts that went through my head during Game 5 the other night.

First off, I'm happy for the San Francisco Giants. Tim Lincecum is eminently unhateable as far as I'm concerned, and he's easily the closest thing that team has to a "star" (unfair description: a two-time Cy Young winner, he's one of the brightest stars in the game).

Aside from that, as you've no doubt heard ad nauseam by now, the Giants were a team of "misfits" and "cast-offs," the kind of team that didn't have any business going all the way.

It would be enough to give you hope for the Mets in 2011, only the Mets' pitching isn't out of this world good. More than any quixotic notion that this was a matter of 25 guys coalescing into a no-I-in-team success story, the Giants' championship run was predicated on their pitching staff, which was brilliant in the postseason.

Is there a model for the Mets to replicate here? Not really. I mean, I want to think that someday they'll draft the next Lincecum and actually have the patience to let him develop, but more often than not that's not how the game is played in New York.

We'll see. We've got a shiny new GM, a guy who actually inspires confidence. In snapping up J.P. Ricciardi, Alderson already looks like a genius, if only because Ricciardi had a standing offer to join the Red Sox' front office, an organization we'd be lucky to be like when we grow up. He also re-upped with Mr. Glass, which needless to say made me happy.

But back to Game 5. Looking at aerial shots of the Ballpark in Arlington, it occurred to me that Sunday might be the last time I'd watch competitive baseball for another 6 months or so, and sure enough, it was.

I've written it many times, the end of the baseball season sucks no matter how it ends. I actually was able to watch and enjoy the final out of the World Series this year (first time since 2007), but as strike three came home Buster Posey's glove, it struck me almost instantly that that was it: goodbye, baseball.

There's football, yes, and even basketball, kind of, now that we have Amar'e Is Real. Still, it's small consolation.

And so we focus on the Hot Stove season. Is there any avoiding another tiresome season of mediocrity? Is there any relief from the burdens of Oliver Perez, Luis Castillo, and so many others? Stay tuned, Mets fans, stay tuned.

- A.F.O.M.G.