CHAMPAIGN, IL—Been too nice for too long. Rage has been piling up like back issues of Mad Magazine. Something’s gotta give. It’s time for a little anger spring cleaning.

Item One: Meet the new Mets, same as the old Mets. The season is a little older than one week and already the Mets looks like the same streaky, inconsistent bunch that we’ve witnessed the past two years. This is a team that will routinely follow up an 8-run outburst with a game in which they can only scratch out a couple of hits. The same can be said for the pitching, where solid outings are followed by complete duds. Also, aside from Johan Santana (or until someone proves differently), there doesn’t seem to be a single clutch player on the club. The Honeymoon is over for Wright and Reyes too. These guys are long removed from their rookie seasons and need to start acting like team leaders and come up with some big hits.

Item Two: Hollywood is a joke. Judd Apatow is not a genius, he just keeps making the same movie over and over again. Today’s actresses are not even one quarter as hot as the ones you’ll find on Turner Classic Movies on any given night. Seth Rogen is in a new film every other week. They have already shot a remake of “The Taking of Pelham One, Two, Three” which looks absolutely awful, and there unsubstantiated rumors that “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” may get an update with names like Cruise and Travolta or Damon and Affleck attached. If this happens I am moving somewhere like Bolivia.

Item Three: Yanks for the memories. The Yankees are a shell of their former, steroid-bloated, world series-winning selves. They are off to their usual slow start but one wonders whether their payroll will translate into anything better than a third place finish. This team isn’t even capable of grabbing any headlines unless A-Rod is around. Still, they’ll play to packed houses for the entire summer, but so what? Didn’t rubes fill the Wintergarden Theater for years to see “Cats?”

Item Four: Redheaded stepchild. Bronson Arroyo is still pitching for the Reds and still looks like a goober.

Item Five: Night and the Citi. I hated the fact that the Mets home opener this year was a night game. A perfectly nice day was wasted so that ESPN could show the game during primetime hours. It really took away from the “playing hooky” feel you get taking off of work and going to that first game of the year. Also, as I hinted at yesterday, I am not sold on this new stadium. The public address system, at least where I was sitting, was awful. The exit ramps were a complete bottleneck of fans, and I hate to make this guarantee, but someone is going to fall out of the upper deck going for a foul ball as the guardrails don’t even come up to your hip.

Item Six: Brevity is the soul of wit. The word counts on some of my recent posts have been simply ridiculous. I need an editor. No one wants to read a thousand words on why Joe Girardi has similar people skills to Mr. Roper from “Three’s Company” or why cilantro is a vile weed. The season is in full swing and there’s plenty of baseball to discuss.

With this in mind, see you next week.

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About Angry Ward 743 Articles
Angry Ward, who has admirers at the New York Times, is the quintessential angry sports fan but for one exception... he's flat-out funny. And the angrier he gets, the more amusing his work becomes. Psychiatrists say, "Angry Ward's 'anger' is a direct result of "Bronx/Mets syndrome: growing up in the Bronx as a Mets fan." As if that weren't enough, his Minnesota North Stars abandoned him for Dallas, forcing him to embrace The Wild the way Nancy Pelosi embraces Mitch McConnell at charity events. And while his Vikings only tease him with success, his Golden State Warriors actually win these days. A-Dubya is MTM's longest-tenured indentured servant, its Larry David and quite simply, "The Franchise." (Junoir Blaber disputes this). Vent, curse and giggle with him on Angry Ward Wednesdays.