Opening Day

Different religions have their days.  Easter for Christians, Yom Kippur for Jews, Muslims even have the whole month of Ramadan.

Me?

I have Opening Day.

If you're reading this then you probably fit into one of two categories (or possibly both):

1) You know me personally and are doing me a favor
2) You are a Mets fan and understand the pain that goes along with it

Because let's face it, being a true Mets fan is a perpetual struggle.  It's amazing the sense of entitlement the majority of people have when it comes to talking about the Mets.  They might love baseball, hate baseball, or most commonly in my research, know absolutely NOTHING about baseball, but still feel good about themselves telling you that the Mets suck, usually with a little chuckle that sounds like someone touching a boob for the first time, while pre-maturely ejaculating...probably not for the first time:

Seriously, I wear my Mets shirt out and get shit from people.  I talk baseball at work, and get shit from people.  I post on facebook something Mets related, and I get shit from people.

Well you know what?

FUCK YOU FUCK YOU AND  FUCK YOU BECAUSE  IT'S OPENING DAY BITCHES.


Anything can happen.  I mean ANYTHING can happen.  Two days ago I was sitting at home in a Mets snuggie (thanks sis) watching Pelfrey actually look like a major league pitcher.  Twenty minutes prior to that Jason Bay actually had a base hit.  And both Byrdak and Torres played having recovered from injuries.  That's right, RECOVERED from injuries.  If that's not proof that anything can happen, then you can't be swayed.

Mets fans, it is possible that it will never be easier for you to be optimistic about your 2012 Mets than right now.  Let every other douche bag who wants to trash our team do that.  Let ESPN, who ranked the Mets has the 5th worst team in baseball, forget about Santana's return, Niese's curveball, Davis, Wright, and Murphy being healthy, Tejada's defensive brilliance, and the emergence of Lucas Duda.  Crazier things have happened (see Mets 1969 & 1973, Red Sox winning a world series, hell even Arizona making the post season last year.)

But all of this "Ya Gotta Believe" peppiness aside, any seasoned Mets fan needs to be prepared for the absolute worst.  Being one of the least socially adjusted people I know, I can appreciate any assistance to deal with anger, depression, and perpetual disappointment.  So for all of who you might benefit it, I present to you:

The Mets Rant 2012 Guide to Redirecting Your Anger

Because everyone else can eat a dick.

1) The Miami Marlins

There are several places to disperse your anger, but let's start with the obvious:

It's not even that he signed elsewhere.  I get that, and I think that most Mets fans can look beyond the depression of his leaving to understand it too.  But it's the comments that came afterwards.  The fact that he was so giddy that Miami called him at 12:01am.  The fact that the Marlins wanted him so badly.  The fact that he was so pissed off that the Mets never even made him an offer.

Are you fucking kidding me?


The Mets didn't WANT you?  Newsflash dipshit, the Mets wanted you when NO ONE ELSE DID.  They hand picked you out of poverty from the Dominican Republic, gave you a shit ton of money, and sent you to the Kingsport Mets even though you had the size and strength of Calista Flockhart after a hearty meal of rice cakes.

The Mets didn't want you?  No, the Mets didn't want bankruptcy.  The Mets didn't want any Bernie Madoff issues.  The Mets didn't want Major League Baseball to absorb their team like the Dodgers.  They didn't make you any offer because they couldn't match or beat the one from Miami.  And you knew that.  Just be a man and say "I wanted to go where I could make the most money."  We also would have accepted "Yo quería ir donde pude hacer la mayor cantidad de dinero."


The Mets didn't want you?  Really?  Is that why you saw this in the stands:

Everyone wanted you here.  Maybe even you to an extent.  Just not enough.

Now, as for the rest of these idiots:
1) I just can't possibly see how a clubhouse with Zambrano, Guillen, Ramirez, Logan Morrison, and Reyes doesn't implode within 4 months of playing together.  Between all of the ego and tempers, there isn't any balance in that clubhouse.  Can you imagine Heath "I slide into the pitchers mound" Bell trying to break up a fight between Ozzie and Carlos?  Please.

2) The fan base.  Can you even call it that?  No, we'll call them the posers in the stands, who are treating the new Miami Marlins like celebrities on the red carpet rather than their favorite baseball players.  Can you think of anyone less worthy of a new ball park and talented players?  It's like some rich douche bag taking Tiny Tim's crutch and beating a kitten with it.

In short, fuck everything and everyone to do with the Miami Marlins.


2) The Philadelphia Phillies

Here is what will happen with the Phillies, because they inexplicably refuse to address their actual problems.  Between Utley, Howard, and Polanco consistently hurt, and Rollins not getting any younger, their pitching will get them to the playoffs, and then they will enter in yet another offensive drought and they will get knocked out.  What does this mean for us?  Another 5 months of idiots replacing every "f" with a "ph", 5 months of the worst fans in professional sports flapping their mouths, 5 months of Shane Victorino giving everyone else with Down Syndrome a bad name.

So as your anger is directed here, I have a therapeutic technique that should help you:

Do the Peter Griffin "ssssssssssss....ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh............sssssssssssss..........ahhhhhhhhhhhh", while holding your Achilles heel.  We shall here in call this the "Ryan Howard"

(go to about 1:11)

3) The Taliban


Because at the end of the day it is only baseball.  And fuck the Taliban.


Baseball is back baby!  LET'S GO METS!

Number 8

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It's a sad day for baseball when this is taken away from us:

I was born in 1984, so I'm too young to remember him play.  Since the only substantial happiness I can get from watching the Mets involves me watching footage from over 25 years ago, I've grown accustomed to all of the highlights from that year.  The '86 roster has become like folk heroes for Mets fans of my age.  We lament on Doc's electric stuff, Orosco throwing the glove in the air, and of course game six, even though we were teething when all that happened.

So rationally it really makes no sense to be as upset as I am about Carter's death.  I mean there's the obvious sadness that anyone can understand.  57 is much too young, Cancer is a senseless death, he's leaving behind a wife and three kids, etc.  But I never saw him play, I never met him, there's no personal connection to the man (then again, when you think about how worked up we all get over sports, which in itself are essentially meaningless, rationality doesn't come into play here.)

For me though, I think I can rationalize it.  You would never know it from the offensive, profanity laden rants in this blog, but I'm a music teacher.  I write my posts the way I do because I need shock value and inappropriate rhetoric to be funny, I'm not good enough to write without it.  In real life when I'm not putting on a show for this blog, I'm a die hard Mets fan, but my true passion is education.  To quote the West Wing, education is the silver bullet to defeat poverty, ignorance, crime, hate, and all the evils that plague our planet.  I firmly believe that as soon as we figure out how to afford to turn our schools into palaces, our world will become a better place.

What does this have to do with Gary Carter?  It's relevant because I want my students to watch Gary Carter play. I want them to know about the man he was on and off of the field. I want them to know that on a team of drug addicts he maintained his integrity and was accepted because of it (frequently referred to as the "sweetness" of the Mets.)  I want them to know about his desire to teach and improve others around him, whether it was the young pitching staff he inherited in New York or the minor league clubs he managed.  I want them to know about his over $600,000 raised with the Gary Carter Foundation, and that over $350,000 went to schools.

I want them to know what a responsible, good man does with the fame and fortune he earned.


I am so sick of my kids coming into school with Michael Vick and Ben Roethlisberger jerseys.  Sick of Santonio Holmes, Pacman Jones, and any other athlete who has caused substantial harm to others.

I am sick of people like Chris Brown, and equally sick of people who cheer for Chris Brown and endorse his music.

I'm sick of athletes like Hanley Ramirez, who forgets that he plays baseball for a living and is earning more money than any of the rest of us will ever see in our lifetimes.

I'm sick of celebrities like the Kardashians who are inexplicably famous and do nothing with it.

I am sick of my kids looking up to these people who either through hard work or dumb luck have the world at their feet and are in position to do something about it, and don't do a fucking thing with it.

This world can be cold and cruel.  There are a lot of legitimately angry, vengeful, and selfish people out there that can make our lives exceptionally difficult.  At one point or another we all feel broken or down, and if you're anything like me, need the compassion of others to occasionally pick you back up.  I'd like to think that Gary Carter understood all of this, understood the extraordinary position he was in to help countless people with his celebrity, and honored that responsibility to the best of his ability on a daily basis.  It's the only explanation I can come up with as to why so many people only have fond memories of the man.

I am not only going to miss Gary Carter - the final piece of the puzzle for the Mets to win it all, but also Gary Carter - the personification of a good man.  I hope that his character is relayed to impressionable young fans with as much emphasis as his hall of fame career.

Rest In Peace Gary.