There is little as gleefully satisfying as waking up in the morning and realizing that the Mets are still the Mets.
It looked a little hairy there for a bit. New York’s senior circuit club looked to be on a track that could yield an 80- or 90-win season in the next year or two, with their big-money, bad-idea investments on the way out. After the season, they locked up their third-baseman David Wright, a homegrown talent who seems to be a good guy and is happy to be the face of this team, of all teams. They even switched back to their classic uniforms of blue hats and pinstriped jerseys without the trendy black accents that were all the rage in 1997.
Finally, their travelling knuckleballer, R.A. Dickey, decided to win 20 games and a Cy Young Award while he wasn’t climbing Mount Kilemanjaro, writing a painful, confessional memoir or working tirelessly for charity. These are all things that real baseball teams get to have, if they’re brilliant and lucky at once.
Thankfully, though, the Mets are never brilliant or lucky. And to prove the point, they’re shipping their good-will earning, award-winning pitcher off to Canada after he had the gall to ask for the kind of money that Josh Beckett will probably earn in 2015 as an aging hurler looking at the back end of a career. Continue reading