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A mere 25 minutes before the Mets’ opening game against the Marlins, let’s take a moment to give thanks for another season of the Mets, and another season of Mets Update for Girls.

Look to it as your definitive guide on all things Mets. Today, Santana takes on Hendrickson in pitching and facial cuteness.

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Check out Selena Roberts’ piece on the Yankees dropping Torre. She describes the team’s management as “pinstriped nesting dolls of incompetence.” I knew the fans would be total irrational shitboxes regarding the Yankees’ loss to the Indians, but, like, the owners? They’re going to blame this all on Torre?

Money can buy talent, but it can’t buy spirit.

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Now that some time has passed and I’ve taken the proverbial gun out of my proverbial mouth, I’ve started to be able to once again find the good things in every day life. And even though the Mets handed themselves a historically unprecedented tushie-flop out of the playoffs over the last three weeks of the season, September baseball has provided Mets fans with a few things to smile about and a few reasons to continue believing that God, despite it all, continues to be a Mets fan.

I’ll start with the smaller of two miracles which God sent down to cheer up Mets fans in our worst time of mourning since the “let’s trade Scott Kazmir for Victor Zambrano” years. This minor miracle was the putrid, wretched, butt-hole flavored Philadelphia Phillies getting absolutely destroyed in the first round of the playoffs.

This is not really a miracle…the miraculous part is that their unsightly demise came at the hands of another blunder from the post-Bobby Valentine, pre-Omar Minaya era, Mets outcast Kaz Matsui (now the second baseman for the Colorado Rockies). Representing the first thing he’s ever given Mets fans to be happy about, Kaz buried the Phillies with a double, a triple and a GRAND SLAM…and that was all just in Game 2! Overall, he batted .412 with 6 RBIs in the 3-game series (in his career with the Mets he batted .256). Way to go, you adorable, over-priced jerk.

And then of course there’s our old cross-town rivals the Yankees. Now, I don’t hate the Yankees like some other Mets fans do (the “FUCK THE YANKEES” chants are one of my biggest Shea Stadium pet-peeves…but I’ll save my explanation for another off-season post). My interest in the Yankees’ post-season woes has more to do with the religious references I’ve been making.

For anyone who hasn’t heard, one of the reasons the Yankees lost their series against the Cleveland Indians, is that in their second game of the series, up by a score of 1-0 in the 8th inning with arguably their best pitcher (Joba Chamberlain) on the mound, the Yankees were attacked by a swarm of insects.

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WHAT?! Are you kidding me? How can that be real? With the exception of a dove flying in the path of a 100-mph Randy Johnson fastball and EXPLODING and a goose flying into Fabio’s face, I have never heard of a more outrageous animal-related baseball vs. universe freakout in my life (p.s. – I know Fabio’s not a baseball player, but come on, whose day doesn’t get a little brighter remembering that this happened?)

So, yes, apparently the Cleveland Indians and a few Mets and Red Sox fans spoke to a burning bush and, like the tyrannical Pharoah before them, the Yankees were swarmed by a plague of locusts (or something).

So that’s it. See ya later Joe Torre (you’re welcome to become Willie Randolph’s bench coach, in my book). Have a nice retirement, Roger Clemens. Enjoy your money-bin and transvestite prostitutes, A-Rod (what? Yes, I said it.)

The Mets’ season may have ended with a historic collapse, but at least it wasn’t Biblical. Yikes.

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Even though it was devastating to get kicked out of the post-season, the Mets got a little comeuppance this week when God himself rained fire and brimstone upon the Yankees.

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This game, it was insane to watch. Shortly after the flood lights turned on to illuminate a game I couldn’t possibly have cared less about, these disgusting little bugs – “Canadian Soldiers,” according to the announcer – invaded the field. There were millions of them. It looked like it was snowing. Joba Chamberlain, who I hear is generally unflappable, pretty much lost his mind while a layer of bugs landed and remained on his face, neck and hat. Sitting inside, watching on HD, my skin was crawling. Not even a Yankee deserves that.

But anyway, not that that game was related to the Mets at all, but I think that was just God’s way of expressing displeasure at the state of Major League Baseball in which the Mets could fail so miserably.

Undisputed winner: Off! Bug Repellent. I’ve never seen so much free advertising in my life.

Undisputed loser: The Yankees. But even though I hate them, they probably would have won without the bugs.

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This is part 2 in the Mets Update for Girls series. You can relive the magic of part 1 here.

Note: Regarding the title of this invaluable series, BrooklynSkeptic is not wedded (ha ha) to traditional gender roles. But there they are, nonetheless.

I love inspirational sports movies. LOVE them. It is my favorite genre after epic fantasyRudy, The Karate KidVarsity Blues, Bad News Bears, Cool Runnings, Hoosiers, Remember the Titans, Miracle, Mighty Ducks, D2, D3, et cetera. Please feel free to add your own fave inspirational sports movie.

Anyway, what makes watching Dawson Leary sweat and yell and scream his team into victory so much more exciting than Michael Turner tossing around the ole pigskin?

The answer is…..

Backstory! In a movie, you get to see their trials and tribulations as the new kid in school who just can’t fit in, or the hard luck coach who just can’t get it together, or the Jamaican bobsled team who’s never seen snow before!

At this point you may be saying to yourself yes yes I’m totally with you, but what does this have to do with the Mets?

The answer is that the Mets are the only pro sports team that I would want to see in a feature-length movie. And guess what? They wouldn’t even need to cast FPJ as the All-American wonder boy or SLJ as the wisened coach. The Mets has those positions, and more, already filled by the most charming and lovable and photogenic men around!

Adorable 2006 Mets

Look at those precious poonums!

It’s not only me that thinks so. The Metropolitan Men have been getting a lot of press lately, filled with references to how much more charming and lovable they are than the Yankees.

See first the Village Voice article on Jose Reyes, “the most exciting and most handsome player in baseball”! (note: items in italics added by editor)

He is kind and adorable and loves reggaeton. Also, when you go to the games at Shea right around the 3rd Inning if you direct your attention to the jumbo-tron you will get the best Spanish lesson of your life from Profesor Reyes. Learn to say dedos or la puerta and he will melt your corazon.

 See second the NY Mag article on David Wright, who is young and handsome and corn-fed. The article explores whether David Wright is possibly too perfect. The answer? No, not really.

Here they are together:

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There are many other talented and charming players on the team, and I encourage them to keep your eyes out for them, as I will.

So, in conclusion, when you think of the Mets in terms of inspirational sports movies it opens up a world of possibilities! When is the scene where Emilio Estevez drives out on the ice? How will we know when Rudy has finally gotten into Notre Dame? What about when, um, Kurt Russell, um, uh, uses his hatred of communism to win a hockey match? Yeah, what about that?!?

The answer is, of course, that you should to watch the Amazin’s and find out for yourself! And once you find that sweet spot, when Reyes’ every steal of a base steals your heart right along with it, then you’ve arrived and like Miss Joey Potter, you may be ready to move past that boy from the creek.

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After a pretty intensive happy hour last night, I went home to my busted-ass couch to watch my busted-ass TV that has no cable because T*** W***** is, as RK pointed out, fucking ridiculous. So right – I was obviously watching Fox’s Wednesday night bonanza of American Idol (total shitshow) and then the delightful surprise of “Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader?

For anyone who didn’t see this show (apparently 34 million people did see it), it works like “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?”, but the questions are all derived from elementary school textbooks and are not multiple choice. And they also have a band of five telegenic children who serve some kind of purpose I don’t really understand. They could just be there to shame the adults who have never heard the word “trapezoid” before. So the adults try to answer the questions and if they can’t, they have “life-line”-type options, like cheating off of a fifth grader. If the contestant gets a question wrong or cannot answer, the game is ended by Jeff Foxworthy (of all people) compelling the loser to say “I am not smarter than a fifth grader.” Literally, they must say those words.

I don’t really know how I feel about all this. It was like watching one of those dead baby jokes come to life. Yes, this is a good analogy. The show itself is grotesque – watching adults writhe over truly stupid questions like so many dead babies in a pile. And then Jeff Foxworthy mincing about on stage like he’s some kind of fucking super-genius ruling over the Kingdom of Incompetence is like that one live baby at the bottom. And then making them admit they’re not as smart as a 10-year-old? Ah, that’s the live baby going back for seconds.

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Jeff Foxworthy – the live baby 

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Baseball season has almost arrived and many of us here at Brooklyn Skeptic are already hot and bothered over the most adorable team in baseball: The Mets. While I’m sure any reputable Mets blog will give you all sorts of information about hitting and throwing stuff…and like, running after stuff…or whatever they do, we’re here to give you the hard-hitting cuteness updates all you Brooklyn girls are looking for.

Important information from the beginning of spring training:

  • “The Mets are coming together.” [Hott. – Ed.]
  • “They speak different languages. Most say hello with words. Others use different means. Reliever Scott Schoeneweis passes by the locker of second baseman Jose Valentin, extends his rigid left leg to the side and lightly taps the stool on which his onetime White Sox teammate sits. His greeting is little more than a nod. Valentin nods in response. Enough said.”
  • “Even during drills, pockets of players, based on ethnicity and language, form. But then there is Delgado lockering next to his longtime friend Shawn Green, the union of a Latino and a Jew.”
  • “Wright and fellow rising star Jose Reyes are hardly inseparable. But they know, like and trust each other. They can communicate by no more than a glance and a smile. [No need for a safety word. – Ed.] They laugh at the same things. And when either becomes more proficient in the other’s language, he will begin to complete the other’s sentences.”
  • “David Wright walks through the obstacle course of teammates, reporters, clubhouse workers, trash cans, laundry baskets and stools as if he is a one-man welcome wagon. He has hellos, handshakes, backslaps and embraces for everyone.” [Isn’t he just a cutie? – Ed.]
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