BRONX, NY - Thanksgiving’s in the books, Hanukkah is almost over, and Christmas is coming up faster than a Metro North Train on Spuyten Duyvil, so I really don’t have a whole lot of time for this. Hold on a sec. I just picked up today’s mail and it seems I’ve received some sort of holiday card, a Mr Met Holiday Newsletter, from the Mets. I’m sure management won’t mind if I just cut and paste it. Here goes…
Warmest Holiday Greetings from Mr. Met and Family!
Dear Friends, Fans, and Assorted Creditors:
It’s hard to believe that it’s already December and the temperatures are as cold as the middle of the lineup’s bats in July. It sure has been a memorable year and we all have so much to be thankful for… mainly that we still have a few fans left. And, of course, Shake Shack. God knows if anyone would show up to games without Shake Shack. But I digress, let me catch you up on some of the fun goings on with us this year.
Way back in March, we were all so excited about the upcoming season. And who wouldn’t be with big boppers like Collin Cowgill and Jordany Valdespin set to make big contributions? And there was no way that Ike Davis was going to get off to another slow start. More good news came when Johan blew out his shoulder. Fred and Jeff invited me, Sandy, Terry and some other higher ups over to their suite at the St. Lucie Hampton Inn and we all got bombed on Mai Tais as the Wilpons stripped to the waist, chest-bumped multiple times, and urinated on a copy of what would have been Santana’s $25-million 2014 option. Good times.
The season got off to a great start as we took two out of three from a formidable Padres squad and the always dangerous Florida Marlins. Things were good and if we got a break here and there we may have even ended April with a winning record instead of a still-respectable 10-15. But who cared about our record when we had the hottest pitcher in baseball, Matt Harvey, taking the baseball every fifth day. The guy was unstoppable, except for when we didn’t score any runs for him, which was quite often. But, hey, he was selected to start the All Star Game right in our own hardly-used almost-like-new stadium. A bright future lay ahead and you could cut the optimism with Jonathan Niese’s schnoz.
After the break we hovered around 10 games under .500 for much of July and into August, but a 5 game losing streak late in the month kinda put our dreams of somewhat respectable mediocrity out of reach. It was at this point that Mrs. Met (you can still call her Lady Met) informed me that she was having her tubes tied, declaring: “I can’t in good conscience bring another Mets fan into this world!” I was a tad taken aback by this announcement and proceeded to go on a 72-hour bender with the Philly Phanatic. As I cried in my $9.00 Budweiser he consoled me by mentioning that he hasn’t had sex in going on three decades. I toyed with the idea of calling up Anna Benson only to find out that she was in jail. Maybe it was for the best. She’s circled the bases more than Rickey Henderson.
We finished the season with a 74-88 record and a request from Mrs. Met that I get a vasectomy, “just to be on the safe side.” But as we approach Christmas, hope springs eternal for 2014. Sandy has promised to dumpster dive for as long as it takes to find another Marlon Byrd in a pile of Travis Hafners. Sandy also met with Robinson Cano and Jay Z and promises to sit down with any other free agent who knows someone famous. Matt Harvey is out for 2014 after undergoing successful Tommy John surgery, which is sorta good news. Those who undergo unsuccessful Tommy John surgery come out pitching more like Mel Rojas. But even though our ace has joined the elf on a shelf, everyone here in Metsville is upbeat and very much in the holiday spirit. Don’t believe me? Watch this!
If that doesn’t get you in the Christmas spirit, nothing will. Have a great holiday everyone! Does anyone know if Anna B.’s outta the clink yet, we could use her for our holiday party?
That was easy enough. Come back tomorrow for the happy holiday stylings of West Coast Craig.
Filed in: Angry Ward