Well Deserved Abuse for a Mets Fan

I have a friend who happens to be a rabid Phillies fan. Last year, as the Mets began their historic late season collapse, this friend began a tradition of taunting Mets fans by writing snarky baseball haiku. We Mets fans would send our own anti-Phillies haiku back, but in the end, his had more meaning as his team, well, you know, won.

This friend, who I’ll call Joe, because that’s his name, had been strangely silent this year. Until today. Until the exact moment the Mets now trademarked late season collapse was once again complete. (I know history repeats itself, but this is ridiculous!) At the exact moment the game ended – 5:10 p.m. today – Joe unleashed a torrent of tortuous haiku. I post them here for your reading pleasure, or agony. In any case, he’s earned the right. I hate him, but he’s earned the right.

P.S. – The last haiku, which relates to this blog, is inspired.
P.P.S. – The knucklehead in the Mets marketing department who scheduled the “Shea Goodbye” ceremonies for after, rather than before, today’s game should be fired.

HAIKU POEMS FOR THE METS by JOE [NAME REDACTED TO PROTECT JOE’S SAFETY]

BLUE SHIRT SOILED AND TORN
ORANGES BLIGHTED BY FROST
WORTHLESS AS THE METS!

JOHAN AND CARLOS
TWO SANTANAS THAT EXCEL
ONE WILL PLAY THROUGH FALL

BILLY WAGNER PINCHED
AND WHERE DID THAT GET THE METS?
LEAVE BRAD LIDGE ALONE

AUTUMN IN NEW YORK
TREES IN CRIMSON, GOLD, AND BROWN
METS GO TUMBLING DOWN

CENTRAL PARK BENCHES
THE HOME TEAM DUGOUT AT SHEA
BOTH CROWDED WITH BUMS

BRIGHT ORANGE AND BLUE
IT’S THE NEW SIGN FOR CHOKING
IT’S THE NEW YORK METS

MY BASEBALL DIET?
CHEESESTEAKS, BEER, NO BIG APPLES
SO EAT IT METS FANS!

STADIUMS IMPLODE
HOUSE THAT RUTH BUILT AND SHEA FALL
NEW YORK TEAMS COLLAPSE

YOU SPENT BIG MONEY
YOU BRAGGED ABOUT THE NAMES
SO HOW’S THAT WORKIN’?

MAYBE THEY’RE CONFUSED
WITH OFF-SEASON GAMES – IN GOLF
THE LOWEST SCORE WINS

THE METS ARE NEW YORK
YELLOW CABS AND STRANDED MEN
HACK LICENSE ANYONE?

JAMIE MOYER THROWS
FASTBALLS SO SLOW THAT THEY SWING
THREE TIMES ON EACH PITCH

YOUR BULL PEN IS BAD
BATS SILENT AFTER THE SIXTH
TEE BALL NEXT SEASON?

OUR PHANATIC WOULD
KICK THE ASS OF MISTER MET –
NO BODY, ALL HEAD

And one very special poem for The FTF

PITY YOUNG [FTS]
DON’T RAISE HIM AS A METS FAN
THAT’S CHILD ABUSE

The FTF is Back....

The FTF is Back…

Pop quiz time, kids.

The FTF has been missing from the blogosphere because:

1. He was abducted by aliens and suffered a series of physical indignities that cannot be recounted on a family blog.
   
2. He joined the Peace Corps and has been performing emergency appendectomies on the good people of Tuvalu, who, for some reason, have genetically weak appendixes.
   
3. He put his money where his mouth is and moved to Virginia for two months to go door-to-door for Barack Obama.
   
4. He’s a lazy doofus who simply can’t be trusted with the responsibility of a blog.
   

If you guessed anything other than 4, well, then, you’re not too bright. Like all of you, I have been busy the past couple of months, but that’s no excuse. I’ve neglected the sacred blogging duty entrusted to me by me, and for that I am contrite.

So, what’s been going on in the world of the FTF for the last 45 days? Here’s a summary of what you’ve missed:

• The FTM and I took the FTS on his first vacation, to Lake Champlain. He slept in the car all the way up, spent three days being passed around (from one eager aunt to the next) like a joint at a Grateful Dead show, and slept all the way back. All in all, a great trip.
  
  
• The very next day, the FTS started daycare full time. A few minor bumps along the way, but it’s been a mostly positive experience…Except, of course, for this week’s battle with conjunctivitis. (The name of which sounds more like a chronic inability to link words and phrases than a gooey eye condition, which is precisely what it is.)
  
  
• I had my first post-daycare business trip, and the instant I left the FTM took sick – 103 degree fever – while she was the sole caregiver for the FTS. My sister (the FTA) came over to help, but I still felt like a rat for being away.
  
  
• 
  The FTF won a “Post of the Day” Award from Rising Blogger. Hey, thanks, Rising Blogger, and thanks Always Home & Uncool for nominating me! Now I need to pay it forward and nominate one of my favorite blogs….Hmmm…. I have to think on that one for a day or two.
  

Milestones in these 45 days include much stronger neck muscles; an interest in and (almost) ability to hold and use the pacifier on his own; a steady stream of drool and grunting, signifying, we think, early onset teething; rolling over, sometimes…when he feels like it; a bigger, longer body; and even more I just can’t remember right now. (It’s 4 a.m…. The boy often now sleeps better than his dad.)

Of course, all of this has been taking place against the backdrop of an increasingly alarming presidential race (when did John McCain become such a creep? I used to kind of like him, even if I didn’t agree with his policies); an economy in complete free fall; and the most frustrating and heart-wrenching end to a baseball season since…well…last year. (But it ain’t over yet.) With the world seeming like it's imploding, how can I worry about things like Pink Eye?

This is how: Life goes on. It’s still the little things – the Pink Eye, the teething, the FTS’s seemingly ceaseless ability to smile and laugh, the daily visual improvement in motor skills – that make all the difference. The rest of it matters, but not nearly as much. It’s window dressing.

(That said, before I go, here’s a piece of window dressing you might enjoy. A friend and I conceived and wrote this anti-Palin ad, and I slapped it together.)