Weekly Mail November 8, 2015

Hey:

        Saturday morning was Timmy's second to last soccer game of the fall season, and I damn near announced my retirement from the sport at it's conclusion.

          Things started off nicely enough. Tim didn't start, but came in as goalie and made a couple of nice saves, and didn't allow a goal. (again, not as if I was keeping stats) The trouble started when we put him in as a forward, and he pushed on kid and elbowed another. The head coach took him out of the game and had a chat with him. I thought that might be the end of it.

          About halfway through the second half, the coach of the other team came over hysterically yelling that "Number 12 keeps pushing my guys" Guess who numer 12 in your program (and number one in your heart) is?  I honestly didn't see it, (and neither did my coach, he admitted later) but based on previous experience, we had no choice put to pull him out.

          And I was pissed. Pissed at Timmy for not listening, pissed at their coach for being a baby, pissed at myself for not being able to convince my own kid to listen to me, when I'm trying to get the whole team to listen to me. This week was awful, from the Mets losing, right on through my work week, it was brutal. Soccer is supposed to be my escape. Instead it was a nightmare.

         I spent most of my time between the game and this writing brooding about it. And then something struck me odd. Thinking back over my undistinguished basketball career, several of my coaches, and most of my teammates (and y'all know who you are) have convinced me that I would have been a first ballot NBA Hall of Famer, if not for the fact that I was a complete and utter pu$$y when I played. I could run, I could jump, and if I was close enough to the basket, I could shoot. But for someone as tall as I was, I couldn't get enough rebounds. Part of the problem was that I was stick thin (as is Timmy) but also, I just wasn't aggressive enough.

          So in the "irony is so ironic" department, I was a failure at sports because I was too passive, and my kid had to ride the pine because he's too rough. Maybe I have to get him into basketball. That way he can use his skills as an enforcer to get to the pros. Hey, everyone wants their kids to be Michael Jordan, someone has to be Bill Laimbeer, right?

        And then we can all party hearty when they unveil Timmy's plaque in Springfield MA, about 40 years from now.


SPORTS: Last Licks on the World Series:

            So what provoked my outburst earlier this week was some of the $h-t I was taking on FB from those who wanted me to smile and be happy because we made it to the World Series, and others who thought it was bush league that I wasn't comparing the Royals to the 1927 Yankees.

           Having had a few days to reflect, yes, it was an accomplishment to get to the World Series. Nobody (except for a very brave few) thought they would make the playoffs, much less the World Series. I'll be honest, at one point, my goal for the Mets was to win 85 games or so, give the Nationals a good chase for the NL East, and play well enough to convince ownership to go out and bring in a solid shortstop and a legitimate outfield bat, to support the pitching. That the Nationals imploded and the Mets dominated August and early September was an absolute treat.

            Beating the Dodgers in 5 games was a tremendous accomplishment, given LA's pair of aces, and it was really beginning to look like the Cubs year before the Mets turned them away in the NLCS. I kept telling myself the rest of it was gravy. And maybe it was.

            I just can't get past the fact that they lost the World Series in 5 games. For a myriad of reasons that I'm not going to go through again, that's a big deal to me.  Maybe I'm being silly, but that's going to stick in my craw. And I would feel that way if they simply just got beat by a better team.

          But in three of the four losses, they held leads in the 9th inning. In two of the losses, simple fundamental fielding would have ended the game in their favor. In another loss, a simple catch of a fly ball may have made the difference. At the very least, the Mets should have been up 3-2 going back to Kansas City for a Game 6. So please accept my apologies for not crowning the Royals (no pun intended) the team of the century just yet.

          Another thing people keep telling me is that the future is so bright, that I shouldn't worry about what happened this year, that I should chalk it up as a learning experience and a stepping stone. And theoretically speaking, that may be true.

           Except that I've seen THIS movie before as well, and the ending, well, lets just say its not usually happy. For example, I was pretty convinced in 2006 that the left side of our infield was about to overtake the left side of the Yankee infield as the best in NYC. Three years later, we finished 20 games under .500. The Yankees were marching down the Canyon of Heroes.

           As a 13 year old in 1986, I thought the Mets were going to be a dynasty. Winners of 108 regular season games and a dramatic NLCS and World Series, several of their stars were 25 or under, with a bunch of hyped up prospects in the system. Two of our biggest stars, Darryl Strawberry and Dwight Gooden, ended up in Smithers Rehab Center for cocaine and booze. But this story has a happy ending. Doc and Darryl would win again       FOR THE YANKEES IN 1996!!!!!

        I know people will tell me that I'm not a true fan, and that is simply not correct. I am a true fan. I'm also a realist. I've watched too many games, seen too many seasons, watched too much losing. I've been a die-hard Met fan since 1982. (They lost 98 games that year). These opportunities come too few and far between. It's one thing when you get beat outright, another when you hand the other team the title. All the other feel good stuff, I'm not saying it isn't true.

It's just not the whole story.

HEALTH NEWS: Killer Bacon

           A report released by the World Health Organization (who?) a couple of weeks ago stated that processed meat, such as ham, bacon and sausage are main causes of cancer, and that red meat can also cause cancer. It was said by some that red meat was as dangerous to your health as cigarettes.

C'mon man, who's buying that?

        Red meat, may not be the healthiest food to eat, but it does contain nutrients, iron and protein that the body can use.  Cigarettes, contain nothing but tar and carcinogens that pollute your lungs, clog your heart and destroy your innards. There is absolutely no health benefit whatsoever from lighting up.

      Trust me, after my recent health scare, I've been laying off the breakfast sausage (I was never a big bacon or ham guy, but man do I miss my scrambled egg and sausage sandwich) and when I do indulge in the occasional cheeseburger, I make sure it's at least 90% lean. (A Donovan's Burger will be literally a once a year treat from now on) But there is no way I'm going to believe that a cheeseburger is as deadly as a cigarette. I mean every once in a while, we have to use our noodles here, people.

BTW- As a lead in to this story, I was going to use the "pork conversation" between John Travolta and Samuel L. Jackson from Pulp Fiction, but to support the NYPD, Weekly Mail is boycotting Quentin Tarrintino and his movies.I'm lucky enough to have several NYPD officers on my Facebook page, and I hope many of you are readers of the blog. Either way, thank you always for your service. 

The Rest of you guys Have a Great Week!