Baseball is Beautiful

Game One -- Mets 7, Braves 2

There’s no better place to start than the beginning. Kaz Matsui had not hit well this Spring, and what’s more, had looked bad doing it. You’ve likely seen his swing in split-screen slo-mo juxtaposed with Ichiro’s, but the results of our import’s slap hitting style hadn’t yet done the comparison justice. His propensity for missing the ball was perhaps the only aspect of his performance that lived up to his pre-Majors billing, and his strikeouts had given rise to speculation that he was not long for leading off.

Enter Russ Ortiz. The twenty-one game winner takes the hill for the Braves amidst the muted buzz of unrelated conversation that signals the start of the baseball season in Atlanta. Ortiz, no doubt aware of Matsui’s struggles, throws his first pitch with all the fearlessness of a first pitch, intending to groove one over, get ahead, get things started.

His objectives are quickly accomplished: Matsui grooves one over the center field wall, gets the Mets ahead, and initiates Kazmania with a perfect first at bat.

If homering in his first at bat is all Kaz does, his day is a success, but he goes on an absolute tear against Leo Mazzone’s crack team of cast offs.

Three at bats, three hits: his leadoff home run, and two neatly struck doubles. Strikeouts? Zero. Two walks, though; one intentional.

Kaz was brilliant against our most hated opponent, whether that meant anything to him or not. In fact, the only way it could’ve been sweeter is if he had been able to play champion of the new Mets against Maddux or Glavine. As it was, Glavine pitched well but not remarkably so, and we were treated to the next best thing.

Beyond an irresistible surge in confidence, what I took from the season opener was a sense of relief. Piazza homered, putting him one closer to the record for catchers and ending any nagging questions about his ability to hit for power. Glavine, with the aid of an improved and enthusiastic defense, defeated his former team and (temporarily at least) shut the mouths of Mets fandom. Mike Cameron encapsulated his career in a day, hitting .250 with a walk, a stolen base, and a couple of runs, and added solid and exciting play in the outfield (including leaping over the wall and coming close to robbing Marcus Giles of a home run early). Jason Phillips showed that his short season last year was no fluke, as if we needed more proof that he can rake and get on base. Ty Wigginton didn’t have a great day at the plate despite working a crucial walk and earning an RBI for his patience, but he took his time playing the field and made quality throws across the diamond. David Weathers looked very sharp in his first outing, throwing 91-92 MPH when he needed to and dominating his opponents. Braden Looper likewise showcased his trademark velocity, and his one inning stint was marked by bats exploding, jagged wood spinning out all over the infield, and him calmly handling his position with the composure under duress I find to be a refreshing attribute in a Mets closer. (Meanwhile, Armando Benitez recorded a classic Benitez-style save: a strikeout, a couple of hits, one of which was a home run. The Marlins have a better chance to repeat as champions than he does to throw a 1-2-3 inning.)

We didn’t just beat the Braves; we crushed them. I would say we embarrassed them, but there were plenty of shots of Andruw Jones grabbing his crotch and smiling to himself for no good reason, which reminded me that it’s difficult to embarrass someone who has no shame. Maybe having one’s hand down one’s pants is a gesture of submission in Jones’ native Curacao ("I’d rather play with myself than against you" is a popular island saying), but cultural absurdities aside, I was especially happy with him being held hitless. May the conciliatory hookers he and Larry Wayne purchased after the game give their illegitimate children horrible nicknames.

On any given day, any team can beat any other team. Look at the Devil Rays, capitalizing on the karma of Mike Mussina bashing the trip to Japan by defeating the Yankees twice. Or the Tigers, doing their damnedest to draw attention away from their miserable rotation by tearing the cover off the ball. I know Opening Day doesn’t mean a thing, but after sitting through last year’s "contest", I think it’s a good sign that we didn’t have a repeat. At the very least, it allowed me to put off writing a post titled "Things I Like About the Mets in 2004" followed by ten blank lines. I may have to bust that out tomorrow, but at least now it’ll be ten blank lines followed by a string of ellipses leading to a link to this post, and to the fearless prediction of my all-knowing, ever-loving gut that we’ll be...

...playing meaningful games in September.

(What? It’s one game. It’ll take at least one more trouncing of the Braves before I become highly irrational and start forecasting wild card contention.)