Mets Game Recap (ST) 3/14

Mets 6, Twins 5

or

Leiter 0, Reyes' Hamstring -1

The game started off innocently enough, with gratuitous shots of the beautiful Floridian afternoon the producer was more than happy to beam up to cold, miserable Mets fans. We filed into our living rooms, flipped past the YES network and its incessant broadcasts of Lou Gehrig's "I Have a Dream" speech, and settled on WPIX, where we endured thousands of monotonously-voiced inducements to buy Mets ticket packages juxtaposed with ads for pills that caution us to seek immediate medical attention if we "catch the energy" for an absurd four hours.

But second-rate channels and painful exchanges between commentators Dave O'Brien and Tom Seaver aside ("That's you out there on that boat" "Would you look at that water, I got in a little fishing before the game"), all was forgiven when Leiter reared back and grunted like a female tennis player as he threw his first pitch. He looked pretty good in the first, too, lulling me into the false sense of complacent happiness especially dangerous to those living in a state of nature or Mets fans. The sun, the surf, the orange and blue all combined to inflate my optimism to a level you're familiar with if unlike me you read Kyle's posts. I wasn't even bothered when on a routine grounder to short, Joe McEwing decided to see if he could field the ball and then deposit it somewhere in his jock instead of throwing it to first. I chuckled and nodded when Seaver intoned, "Super Joe can play just about any position on the field" and didn't even silently tack on the requisite "horribly" to that statement.

Then the Amazin's came to bat and Reyes ruined everything.

Kaz Matsui led off. Our crack broadcast team showed a split-screen image of his swing alongside Ichiro's, and they look identical except for the slight difference in that Ichiro's bat connects with the baseball. I think one of the reasons it's taking Kaz so long to recover from his finger injury is that he's using his torn fingernail to personally cultivate his countryman's wispy, intricate facial hair. Combined with his Manic Panic near-mullet, his straggly beard is the worst Mets hair fiasco since Piazza decided that blonds just have more fun (and press conferences to discuss their sexuality), or when Rey Sanchez turned the dugout into SuperCuts. That there is more than one hair-related disaster in recent memory should evoke something, but I'm afraid I'm inured to recording embarrassing episode after episode.

After Kaz swung at the first pitch and grounded out, Reyes renewed my faith in our table-setters and worked a walk. He promptly bested the arm of prized Twins catching prospect and also their starting catcher Joe Mauer, and stole second easily. Then Cliff Floyd roped a single into right with such force that if I had been watching HDTV I suspect I would not be sitting here today writing this. Everyone is cheering, I'm psyched, and then I hear:

"Something is wrong with Reyes, he's limping into third. He's dropped his helmet. Looks like he's clutching his hamstring. Yes, that's definitely the hamstring. The same one that bothered him last year in the minors. Oh, this is no good for the Mets."

They replayed the injury about five or six times, and thankfully it was innocuous and nothing like Johnny Damon slamming his already bloated Neanderthal noggin into his teammate's. Reyes runs, suddenly pulls up, and grabs the back of his leg. He hobbles off the field on his own, if that's any comfort. (It isn't.)

The rest of the game is a blur. Can you blame me for not charting the awesome plays turned out by new Mets electrifying DP combo Joe McEwing and Danny Garcia? Shortly after the Reyes injury, Floyd drew a bead on a sinking liner to left and flung himself bodily at the ball as if his glove were an afterthought, sunglasses flapping onto the grass like a limb rendered useless by reckless play. Leiter blew up for five runs in the fourth, Cameron homered, Piazza crushed one of his own, and I didn't watch the end of the game but somehow we managed another meaningless Spring Training win.

Here's hoping Reyes is OK. Otherwise, I might have to forego a ticket package in favor of pills of another sort.