Ya gotta believe, Buster

I was going to follow up my highly objective look at the 2004 roster with some zany observations on the outfield, but thoughts of a Timo Perez/Roger Cedeno platoon, Cameron battling Kaz Matsui for the strikeout record, and Cliff Floyd asking Mo Vaughn for rehab tips made me feel like a pre-Boston Pokey Reese: out of options, miserable in every facet of existence yet hoping against hope that some sucker would hand me a contract -- er, that someone would give me some good news.

Luckily I could count on ESPN The Magazine writer Buster Olney, a man whose very name evokes images of a trustworthy, tough-as-nails reporter or a pitbull. As it is impossible to fathom a baseball executive lying to the face of a man named Buster Olney, I can only assume that my prayers have been answered: the Mets are finally in the Vladimir Guerrero sweepstakes.

If there's a player who can erase the painful memories of Steve Phillips' godawful mismanagement, he's Vlad. Now, I know well enough not to let such a report get my hopes up. Listening to Kyle "cowboy up" his psyche all last season warned me against such naivete. We're not going to get him. Wilpon is not going to spend because he's shell-shocked, partially at his own stupidity. The Orioles can outbid us, and should if they're going to convince their fans there'll be something in Camden Yards to watch other than Miguel Tejada weeping copiously when someone says darn in front of his kids, or Javy Lopez' 'unexpected' regression to mediocrity. Vlad would rather go down to Florida, where the dozens of fans that go to games speak his Spanish instead of French. I repeat, there's no chance in hell of us signing him, and thus no reason to even envision it happening.

All that logic should have stopped me from signing this, but, well, take it from Tug, rest his soul: sometimes, you just gotta believe. And send lots of spam.