STARRING JEFF GOLDBLUM AS DR. IAN MALCOLM

Fred Wilpon: Thanks again for agreeing to meet with us, Doctor.
Dr. Ian Malcolm: Oh, yeah.
Omar Minaya: Like we told you in the letter we wrote, we feel we have a good team, but our bullpen is killing us, know what I'm sayin'? You read the stats we faxed you?
Dr.IM: That is one big pile of shit.
FW: Well, I don't know if I --
Dr.IM: You will remember to wash your hands before you eat anything?
OM: [stifles laugh]
FW: Now listen here, we have some live arms in that pen!
Dr.IM: The lack of humility before nature that's being displayed here, uh, staggers me.
FW: Omar I told you this was going to be a waste of time. Let's go visit John Kruk like I said.
Dr. IM: The worst idea in the long, sad history of bad ideas. And I'm gonna be there when you learn that.
FW: What?
OM: Guys guys come on. Doctor Malcolm is one of the smartest guys out there. We came here, let's see what he has to say at least, huh?
FW: Well....
OM: Okay, good. Now, we feel good about Wagner, other than he's hurt. But the guy who's really killing us is right now is Heilman.
Dr.IM: Oooh, ahhh, that's how it always starts. Then later there's running and screaming.
OM: Exactly. Now, what would you say to Manuel if he were about to call on Aaron in the eighth inning of a close game?
Dr.IM: I would have tied you to the bed.
FW: God Omar, this guy's a freak! Are you listening to him?
OM: You watching the same team I am? I think his answers are making more sense than anything the beat writers are coming up with!
FW: [Glares at Malcolm, glares at Minaya]
OM: All right. Doctor, another guy who's really let us down this year is Sanchez. Any thoughts?
Dr.IM: Must go faster.
OM: Right, right! See Fred? I told you he knows his mierda!
FW: [Stews]
OM: Now I wanted to bounce this off you. Some guys think the real problem is that our starters only go six innings a turn. You think Jerry's on to something with this talk of putting Maine or Ollie in the pen?
Dr.IM: Hang on, this is gonna be bad.
OM: Oh, really? I thought he was on to something. I mean we don't want to just make the same mistakes over and over again.
Dr.IM: No, you're making all new ones.
OM: Interesting. Well while we're on the subject, Perez is so inconsistent, he has this talent but he doesn't seem to put it together. What advice would you give him?
Dr.IM: I'll tell you what you need, a good anti-psychotic!
FW: That's it! I'm out of here! You can stay and listen to this bullshit all you want Omar but I'm leaving. Doctor my ass, this guy's a quack. [Wilpon and Minaya get up to leave]
Dr.IM: It's not your fault. They say talent skips a generation. I'm sure your kids will be smart as tacks.

Bad news, Met fans. My sources tell me that Jimmy Rollins is going to win the National League MVP award. From what Joe Morgan and Keith Hernandez tell me, he deserves it. Leadership? If he hadn't thrown down the gauntlet in spring training, the Phillies might have just been another second place team. Defense? He plays shortstop. And his consistency on offense can be measured by a single stat, as he closes in on the all-time single-season record for outs at bats.

You can hear the tortured screams cascade throughout the Tri-State. Nooo! Not Rollins! We hate that guy - he's the new Chipper Jones, and we haven't had time to come up with a "Larry" taunt for him. Please, please, anyone but Rollins!

True enough, Rollins would be a terrible pick. You'd hope the voters would pick a more likeable candidate - a Scott Olsen type, maybe. With his over-inflated counting stats and mediocre defense, Rollins would be a disgrace to the MVP award, which has always gone to the most deserving candidate in either league.

Huh. On closer reflection - and for "closer reflection" read "taking five seconds to recall who won in the past" - the MVP rarely goes to the most deserving candidate. Sure, for a while there, Barry Bonds and his amazing head made it an easy call, so easy a caveman sportswriter could do it. The rest of the time, the voters routinely display the same biases and retrograde thinking that are sure to push Met fans even further over the edge of insanity this year, and just in time for the Thanksgiving family reunion. Yum.

These aren't even the tougher questions on the LSATs the voters get wrong - we're talking easy ones here. Easy like "you got two first basemen, one guy is better with the bat and the glove and he plays for a first-place team" easy. Don't even bother trying to point out that Albert Pujols played in a tougher park last year; Ryan Howard had the voters as soon as they saw that RBI total. And that Justin Mourneau had a lot of RBI in 2006 - he must have been the most valuable player in the league, and on his team, too.

They get it wrong all the time. And even if they were reading this blog or that blog, where we painstakingly point out the concept of a "pitcher's park," they would still get it wrong. You want to talk about Rollins' zone rating? These guys barely have the concept of on-base percentage down. They're leery of anything Moneyball - it's suspiciously "out there," possibly unmanly. Try telling them David Wright has 32 Win Shares: "That doesn't sound like much. Why, Chase Utley already has 47 doubles!"

The mistakes are legion, obvious, and sad; it's like we fought in the SABR wars for nothing. It's a shame to see the prize go to an unworthy candidate. It's a shame, but it's also the way it's done, and not only in baseball. Anyone who thinks we have a golden meritocracy in this country need only refer to the anointed presidential candidates of either political party, going back as long as you can stand, for a sobering reality check.

The good news is that everyone* knows that the awards are about as cockeyed as the Oscars, and everyone forgets the winners just as quick. (Pop quiz: Best Picture, 2005 - no googling.) Knowing in advance that the award is almost guaranteed to go to the wrong man can at least spare you some grief. And at least it provides grist for the mill. We could have Neyer and James pick the winners every year - what fun would that be?

More good news. I was just kidding about Rollins winning the MVP. My contacts tell me it's actually going to be a more reasonable selection: Matt Holliday.

* Everyone who matters.

I have a confession to make: I voted for John Kerry in 2004. (Me and a few other guys.) At the time, I was pretty sanguine about it - I even signed up to cast my ballot a month early. I thought he presented experience, brains, sound judgment, and sensible policies, all in a telegenic, electable package. I was pretty wild about the guy - you could almost call me a fan.

So when Kerry conceded defeat, I should have been devastated, crushed like an Aaron Heilman change-up in the ninth inning of a certain game I can't quite remember. Sure enough, I did have that stomach punch feeling the day after. But the funny thing was, before long I started to feel relieved, almost giddy. Now that he wasn't in danger of winning anything, I could finally admit that he had a flaw or two thousand. I didn't have to make excuses for the veteran who, in retrospect, acted like he'd never run for office before in his life. I wasn't over the moon about the rival he lost to, but the fact that he butchered a golden opportunity to win - well, that was his lookout, not mine.

I think you know where I'm headed with this. Over the last week, the Mets have been self-destructing in a way that would make Mark Foley and Larry Craig blush. You half-expect to see Willie Randolph cruising around Shea in a tank, à la Michael Dukakis '88, while Omar Minaya calls up the FAN to explain that he actually voted for putting Philip Humber on the postseason roster before he voted against it. New York has seen its seven-game divisional lead dwindle to 2.5 in the wink of an eye, a historic choke job that should have fans like me kicking in television sets, tearing out their hair, losing sleep, and generally behaving like the guy who always takes the seat next to you on the bus.

Well, I don't have a television set, or hair, and I don't get to sleep until four or five at the best of times anyway, but the Mets' collapse just isn't bothering me like it's supposed to. If they were playing their best and losing by inches to the Braves like they did back when Bobby Valentine was in the disguise business, then sure, I'd be anguished. But giving it up to the Phillies and Nats five days in a row? That isn't heart breaking - it's hilarious.

Admit it: This flop is actually liberating. When the Mets are winning, or losing close ones, we have to support them unconditionally. That means we have to suffer the cognitive dissonance of explaining away some of Omar's ill-advised signings while hoping that Guillermo Mota can make it through the seventh inning unscathed. "Hey, c'mon, Schoeneweis has actually been pretty good the last few outings before this one... yeah, that's the ticket."

But when the orange and blue wrecking crew makes a dozen errors in the span of a few days while the bullpen's giving up five runs a night? It's a get-out-of-purgatory-free card, like when the abusive husband gets jailed for his fourth DUI. You no longer have to make excuses for the glaring deficiencies, like Willie's curious lineups or Omar's construction of a bullpen from hell. You're free to admit that the team has some serious warts - and it's okay. It's not your fault, man. You can even laugh about it.

After all, comedy is tragedy plus time.

Back in 1988, the Mets reached the NLCS and the Dodgers, a team they'd beaten 11 times in 12 tries during the season. New York had Dwight Gooden, David Cone, Ron Darling, Darryl Strawberry, Keith Hernandez, Gary Carter - All-Star talent up and down the roster. Los Angeles had Orel Hershiser, Kirk Gibson, and Vin Scully. The Mets should have won it in five, but they ended up losing in seven. I've finally gotten over that one - but if New York is intent on blowing a sure thing in 2007, I'm not waiting 20 years to move on.

Home plate umpire Dan Iassogna ejected the Mets' pinch hitter Marlon Anderson for arguing a called third strike.

On June 17, 2005.

http://cbs.sportsline.com/mlb/gamecenter/recap/MLB_20050617_NYM@SEA

Two weeks ago, the Phillies finished up a four-game sweep of the Mets, putting them within two games of the division leaders. All of baseball rejoiced as the feisty underdog stuck it to the man, giving the bloated big-budget behemoth what for, and then some. Pundits left and right cheered on the insurgents' advance. Even Jim Rome took time off from his busy schedule of arbitrating jackoffs smackoffs to applaud the grit of Team Utley.

Since then, the Mets have gone 10-2, all but ending the race. By contrast, Philly's $90 million team has fizzled -- they just plain run outa grit. Naturelment, baseball observers duly gave credit to the orange and blue crew for getting off the canvas and showing the country that it also had guts, grits, and that old-fashioned stick-to-it-ive-ness you need when your backs are to the wall.

Chirp chirp. Cricket Cricket. Coyote Noise. Tumbleweed. Buffering... Buffering...

Hmmm. Somehow Jayson Stark et al. don't seem so eager to sing the Mets' praises. Well, there must be a rational reason for this seeming double standard; the media couldn't be biased, after all. Maybe it's just a fact of life that Mrs. Garrett is fat and that there's no incentive for media poobahs to focus on a well-financed favorite. After all, it's not like the Yankees get fawning treatment either.

Hmmm.

Oh I see. The media honchos know they have to cater to the biggest market -- that'd be New York. But, knowing that everyone west of Newark hates New York with a passion that would do a Wahabbi jihadist proud, they have to make an effort to appear fair and balanced. So they lead with Chapter 37 in the never-ending, always-fascinating false dichotomy of Democrats vs. Republicans Yankees vs. Red Sox. The Joba Rules! The Joba Rules! Memorize the Joba Rules! You can just see the Yankee fan at his next Texas hold 'em game: "Oh yeah -- I know the Joba Rules. I'm down. I have all the inside dirt. I even got a stock tip from Jim Cramer. I'll raise you five bucks."

And then, as a sop to the smaller markets, ESPN and company let the Mets play heel, delighting in every Mota meltdown, applauding the can-do spirit of the $90 million Cardinals. Did you know that Adam Wainwright makes less money than Carlos Beltran? I had no idea. Wainwright must be a better player. A better person, too. Those Mets are absorbing the ungodly values of Sodom and Gomorrah, but Tony LaRussa, he runs a clean operation out there under the arch. He's good people.

Well, big deal. If John Kruk wants to give MVP awards to 75% of the Philly infield, let him. If Joe Buck and Tim McCarver want to root against the orange and blue, let them. It can't do any harm in the end.

Maybe. But what if those Secret-reading, What the Bleep Do We Know-watching, Annie Savoy-quoting halfwits are half right? What if the 280 million people outside the tri-state area are all beaming their negative energy right at the heart of Shea Stadium next month? What if all that juju is affecting the team on some quantum physics cellular level that doesn't show up in the BABIP? If there's anything to this seeming mumbo jumbo, the media bias against the Mets could ruin the team's postseason hopes faster than an untimely injury to Orlando Hernandez. Hang on a sec -- could that be why he pulled up lame in 2006?

Omar, say goodbye to Jerry Manuel. I think I've found your new bench coach.

Last November the Mets traded a AAA shortstop to the Texas Rangers for a AAA second baseman. New York got about what you would expect; the guy played okay for about a month before losing his season to injury. The Rangers, on the other hand, found lightning in a bottle - their new shortstop played way beyond anyone's hopes and is now a serious candidate for rookie of the year. Still, because the Mets have shortstop pretty well covered, and because the trade only happened in the land of belabored hypotheticals, no one in New York is crying in their beer about the trade.

But there's been a lot of crying, gnashing of teeth, even pulling of hair over the trade that sent Brian Bannister to Kansas City in exchange for Ambiorix Burgos. Every time Bannister scatters nine hits to beat the Twins, the second-guessers emerge from the woodwork, putting in their two cents by dialing up the FAN, whining on a blog, or writing a column for Newsday. "Omar's an idiot!" "Bannister's the Mannister!" "I told you so!" And of course, "Oh, how the Mets miss could have used him this year!"

Please. Are these Monday Morning GMs for real, or are they auditioning for the role of bar-know-it-all Cliff Clavin in the hotly anticipated Broadway revival of Cheers? The New York rotation now features two Hall of Famers and three guys in the top 20 in ERA; their #6 is a first-round draft pick who was a bloop away from a no-hitter last week. The Mets didn't miss Bannister, the New Orleans Zephyrs did.

Of course, Mike Pelfrey wasn't exactly lights out in the first half of the year. He was faced and replaced by Jorge Sosa. Mijorge Pelsa combined to make 24 starts for New York, going 8-13 with a 4.92 ERA; in his 23 starts for K.C., Bannister is 12-7 with a 3.16 ERA. No wonder people want to call do-overs, reverse the trade, and award the Mets an extra 4.5 wins. But the Royals have given Bannister 4.7 runs a game to work with, a full run more than Pelfresosa's gotten. If you fired up the time machine, kept Bannister in orange and blue, and he got 3.6 runs a game to work with, he'd be, what, 11-9? At best his presence on the Mets would mean a three-game lift. With Atlanta and Philly on the mat, who cares?

We haven't even tickled the 800-pound gorilla in the room yet: Bannister's a fraud. His success this year is a fluke with a capital F. Broadcasters love the idea of a crafty finesse pitcher surviving on savvy and guile - because nobody in the booth has a 93 mph slider in their arsenal. But you can't make it in the show if you can't miss bats. Striking out four guys a night and putting the other 23 outs on the defense isn't a winning equation. It sure as hell doesn't equate to an ERA around 3 for very long, believe me.

Take any "control" pitcher you can name - anyone that Mel Stottlemyre would draft ahead of Dwight Gooden, for instance - and you'll see that by the time they reached Bannister's current age of 26, they'd demonstrated an ability to put guys away. When Greg Maddux was 26, he threw 268 innings, allowed 201 hits and struck out 199, a rate of 6.68 per 9 - in Wrigley Field. Tom Glavine struck out almost 200 when he was 25 - in the Fulton County launching pad. Jamie Moyer struck out 6.58 per 9 innings when he was 24 - in Wrigley. John Tudor had 6.72 K/9 when he was 28 - in Fenway. Etc., Etc.

The only guys who can survive with a K/9 rate anywhere near Brian's 4.37 are the sinkerballers who get three double plays a night. But Bannister's not a sinkerballer - his groundball / flyball ratio is just about even. You're looking at a guy who's hittable - he's given up more hits than Pelfrey and Sosa have in their starts, albeit with fewer walks - who doesn't get twin killings and doesn't strike anyone out. That ERA is about to regress to the mean faster than you can say "BABIP."

Not that I'm hoping Bannister collapses just to prove me right. I already know I'm right. He can win 20 games a year forever for all I care, as long as he keeps doing it in Kansas City. I hope they name a street after him. This weekend in particular, I wish him all the luck in the world.

But that's exactly what's behind Bannister's run this year: luck, something you tend to run out of. Ambiorix Burgos has had wicked luck so far, but he also owns a skill: He can throw a ball harder than 99.99% of the planet. That skill gives him a good chance to help the team when he comes back in 2009, when he'll still only be 26.

I still like the trade.

This week in Philly we saw the game of baseball disgraced, tainted by the corruption we like to think is restrained to other sports. Umpire C.B. Bucknor clearly had it in for the Mets in this series; working the home plate in the opener, he rang up David Wright three times on pitches that were borderline, i.e., you'd be borderline insane to think they were strikes. In the third game, he made a rare interference call when Marlon Anderson busted up a double play ball in the ninth inning, ending the game and handing the Phillies a win. Circumstantial evidence suggests that Bucknor is on the take.

And that the Mets are the ones bribing him.

Oh, we're through the looking glass here people. We're following the money, cherchez-ing la femme, dropping cui on the bono. While the Phillies are the ones getting the short-term benefit, it's all to New York's advantage in the long run. And the long run isn't even that long - just the remaining month of the regular season, in fact.

Think about it. If the Mets had swept the series, Philly'd be 10 games back. With Atlanta on the ropes, New York would be playing (yes) meaningless games in September. The final week's games against the Nats and Marlins would be a pretty tough sell at that point. But if it looks like the Phillies are still within spitting distance long about 9/15 ? Sell-out city, sucker.

And let's face it, the Phillies need some help to stay in the race. These guys are pretenders. Right, right, the best offense in the league, sure; at home, anyway, where their OPS is almost 50 points higher than it is on the road. Their pitching can run but it can't hide; it's abominable at home, and even on the road they give up close to five runs a game. The only team their rotation has solved is the Mets. Wink.

Ryan Howard, MVP? I don't think so. He's an RBI machine because he's come up with more than 400 runners on already this year; it's not because he's the man. If anything, he seems to have more of a pass-the-buck attitude. I'm down with the Moneyball / SABR gospel, don't get me wrong; as a general rule, walking's good, free swinging's bad. But a hit is as good as a walk, after all, and when you're the supposed stud of the team and you come up with two men on, you should be looking for a pitch to drive before you're looking for the free pass. He did hit some big home runs this week - against the Mets. Hint, hint.

This isn't the first time the Mets have taken a late-season dive in the Keystone State in a calculated bid to boost ticket sales. Last September, the Pittsburgh Pirates swept a three-game series from New York, the victories going to legendary hurlers Maholm, Capps, and Duke. The Mets returned home and drew 46,729 fans to watch them clinch the division at Shea; the race locked up, attendance dropped by 4,000 in each of the next two nights. Sell an extra 4,000 tickets at $25 apiece in each of those last seven games, you've just paid for Pedro Feliciano - who's given up two homers this year, both to you-know-who. That's right, he's in on it too.

A fortnight ago here at AA, I threw the high-flying Atlanta Braves under the bus, saying they didn't scare me with or without Mark Teixeira. Since then, they've shown their true colors - yellow - falling from 3.5 games back to 6 back. It just doesn't pay to bet against me, folks - I'm never wrong.

Striving to offend as many time zones as possible, then, I figure it's time to take some cheap shots at the visiting Padres. Now, I can't pretend they're overhyped; they're right up there with the Mets when you look at their run differential, and Young-Peavy-Maddux is a three-headed beast I'd just as soon avoid come October.

But then I take a breath and remember why the Padres can't win it all. It's not just that the West Coast is always going to be the candle to the New York spotlight. It's not just that San Diego in particular is the hole in the Golden State doughnut. It's that the Padres are laboring under a lethal but little-known hex:

The Curse of Steve Garvey.

That's right, "The Senator" is still pissed off at the team that cut him almost 20 years ago. He went so far as to sue MLB in the 1990s, claiming that he was terminated not because he was old and in the way, but because the owners colluded against him. Personally, I think he should focus his anger more directly on the Sklar brothers, who seemed jealous they weren't invited to his boondoggle vacations.

You kids out there with your iPods and your social lives may not remember Mr. Perfect. But if you have a little sabermatrician in you, this guy is your public enemy #1. King of the counting stats, allergic to the walk, an error-free defender with the range of a piano, what does that spell? That's right - overrated.

But a legend in his own mind. Starting his career in L.A. and leading the league in self-promotion, he scored endorsements from Thom McCann, Jockey, Gillette, Playboy... dude made Gary Carter look camera-shy. He famously became the first starter named to the All-Star Game as a write-in candidate. How? Turns out, he stuffed the ballot box harder than a Chicago pol in the sixties. That's right -

"[Sam Romano] convinced somebody at Dodger Stadium to give him whole cartons of ballots. He took them back to our house and we set up an assembly line. For the next month or so, we filled out All-Star ballots. Thousands and thousands of them. For hours and hours...We made sure that his name was written different ways, with different pens."

That quote is from The Secret Life of Cyndy Garvey, a must-read tell-all second only to Ball Four. In addition to giving a play-by-play of Garvey's peccadilloes, the first Mrs. Garvey details his positively weird behavior:

"He was getting deeper and deeper into his public image. One evening I discovered him in front of the bedroom mirror practicing facial expressions. Sincere. Attentive. Happy. Modest. Bold. `Practicing being an all-American, Steve?'"

Steve divorced Cyndy, a blonde daytime chat-show anchorditz from SoCal, and married Candy, a blonde daytime chat-show anchorditz from SoCal. If there's a blondie Condi working for some kind of "Good Morning Malibu" show, warn her ASAP.

But don't warn the Mets about Sandy Eggo. The Curse is alive, the Padres' postseason hopes are dead. As Thomas Boswell ever so wisely said, "Every season it's predicted that the Padres are about to go somewhere. And every year it turns out to be the beach."

So Lastings Milledge is getting the nod over Shawn Green. Finally. Keen fans like us have been singing (rapping?) Lastings' praises all year, but you know how Omar Randolph loves to stay with the veterans. Maybe the Green benching means there's hope for another young buck to win his job back from a boring, mediocre veteran. Of course, I refer to the underrated Scott Boras client, the $3.5 million bonus baby, Mike Pelfrey.

Pelfrey - remember him? You'd like to forget his games, since the Mets have lost the last nine of them, sticking him with a record of 0-7. But take a closer look and you'll see he's gotten rotten support. The Mets have only scored 2.81 runs a start for him, lower than the more famously unlucky Matt Cain, for instance. Thus, Pelfrey is the greatest pitcher in the league and should start game one of the playoffs. Q.E.D.

Oh wait, almost forgot - he sucks. Well, his ERA's pretty bad at 5.92, and that WHIP of 1.66 looks downright satanic. But remember that the Mets, not content to shirk their duty at the plate for this guy, also reward him with Keystone Kops defense. His start in Philly last month was typical. In one inning alone, David Wright threw away a tapper, Jose Reyes fell down fielding an infield "single," and Jose Valentin got in touch with his inner Gotay, flubbing an easy DP. Miraculously, Pelfrey escaped the inning allowing only two runs; Oliver Perez would have given up a five-spot and thrown away a pickoff attempt for good measure.

Funny thing is, even with the NY infield bringing their 'Z' game on the days he pitches, Pelfrey's numbers have been looking up. His ERA in July was 4.91 - not quite Brandon Webb, but not bad in a month when the rest of the league was at 4.44. Did he remember how to pitch after being sent down in May? His peripherals show a completely different pitcher: a K/BB ratio of 14/7 in July, up from a wrong-way 13/17 earlier. And how about a groundball / flyball ratio of 30/12 for the month - that's 2.50, or one infield single away from the likes of Chien-Ming Wang (2.57).

And in the other corner, we have Brian Lawrence. Who? Why? Lawrence isn't just beneath contempt, he's beneath paying attention to. Ignore him. He's never going to be on a New York postseason roster - at least not any roster that I want to see - so who cares what he shows you in August? As for his making a difference in the pennant race, he can only make nine more starts this season - three if Pedro Martinez comes back on time and uses his magic powers to keep the rest of the staff off the DL. You could start Schoeneweis three times and it wouldn't kill you.

I know, I know - Lawrence is "out of options," he "can't be sent down," and "we're stuck with seeing him and his Chipper Jones goatee for now." That's fine, if you want to get all practical on me. I'll just go back to my Santeria drawing board and see if I can open up a spot in the rotation, Jose Valentin style. (Or the bullpen - don't go walkin' under any ladders, Mr. Mota.) Then they'll have to call up Pelfrey, the groundball machine who still sports the lowest HR rate in the rotation. He'll make the decision to play the veteran Luis Castillo downright tolerable.

The Braves came a-callin' this week, putting a little fear and loathing into the hearts of easily scared Met fans. Maybe it's my infamous rose-colored glasses at work again, but I just can't get scared by this team. Eight reasons why I still feel brave (I worked overtime on that one) staring down Atlanta for the next seven weeks.

1. They've got nothing on the slab. Their lineup is sick, no doubt, but their rotation is Hudson and Smoltz and pray for thunderbolts. Winning 8-6 three times a week won't get you the pennant. Ask the Yankees.

2. Jeff Francoeur: They'll never win the pennant with this guy on the roster. It's not his OBP, his VORP, his FRAA -- it's his GRIN. Seriously, what's wrong with this guy? Stop with the grimace, dude! This can't be good in the clubhouse:

Chipper: That was a tough loss out there.
Frenchy [grinning]: Oh, yeah, brutal!
Chipper: You think this is funny?
Frenchy [grins wider, eyes bulging]: No, I'm devastated!
Chipper: You makin' fun of me?
Frenchy [grinning, sweating]: I would never do that, you're like the team captain!
[Brawl broken up by McCann, several shoulders dislocated in the process]

3. Roger McDowell: Agent Provocateur.

4. John Schuerholz? Lame. I got a copy of Built to Win at a Salvation Army a while back. I have a lot of time on my hands (obviously) but even I couldn't finish this turkey. In addition to favoring us with his embarrassing Hallmark Card poetry ("Why won't their super egos trust, / The use of words like We and Us?") he brags about getting $30,000 of wine from too-big-for-field-level-seats Rush Limbaugh. Ooooooooh, you're so cool! Meet me and Glenn Beck at Jean Georges later, it's gonna be the bomb!

5. The race is not to the racist. Uh, hello? Braves? Are we still okay with this? They retired Chief Noc-A-Homa and Princess Win-A-Lotta, but they still have the chop. Naming your team after a race just isn't cool -- the Pittsburgh Negroes, the L.A. Chinamen, it's not right. God agrees with me on this one; he never lets these guys win it all. The only time the Braves won the Series, who did they face? The Indians.

5a. Georgia actually ranks near the bottom of U.S. states if you're measuring Native American population -- or anything else for that matter. The Atlanta Crackers would be a more suitable name. Baseball is a little too mentally taxing for the guys born on the wrong side of the Mason-Dixon line, as the Braves' postseason attendance records make plain. Face it, the South hasn't produced a winner since Faulkner died. (Two words for any would-be apologists: Paula Deen.)

6. Bobby Cox: Can't win the big one. Outsmarted by a hick from Kansas City in the 1985 ALCS. Postseason blunders too numerous to mention. Lives in Marietta, so he probably voted for Newt Gingrich a couple of times. Nothing to be afraid of here.

7. Their best hitter and best pitcher can't stop with the catfights. The blogger who had the scoop on the "Race War" brewing in the Met dugout might need to take the pulse of team chemistry down under.

8. Lastings!