Next time, try Dostoyevsky

Last weekend at a bar in the West Village, I managed to strike up a conversation with a gorgeous blonde from somewhere deep within the Soviet block.  From the start, I knew I was punching above my weight class, as she was clearly blessed with better genetics than her suitor - everything would have to break my way if I were to ensnare such an exotic temptress.  But despite my best efforts, the conversation fizzled as her limited mastery of English coupled with my less-than-stellar wooing technique sabatoged what could have been a promising romance.  Sensing that I was on the verge of losing my Kremlinite beauty forever, I made a desparate attempt to salvage the chemistry.

Me:  "You know, it's so funny that we met tonight.  I just started reading War and Peace."

Her:  "Oh really?"

Me:  "Yeah, I'm really enjoying it so far."

Her (looking away):  "Tolstoy is shit."  

Sadly, I did not secure a second date.    

"3:30 to 6" is the new "9 to 5"

When we last met our hero, his dignity and general psyche were left in tatters following anunfortunate incident involving self-defecation. But much can change within the course of a month, and though it is too early to say for certain, I believe that the earliest green sprouts of renewal may be sprouting out of the fertilizer streaked across my boxers.

Soon after that humbling day, I was hired (not through any merits of my own but through nepotism of the purest form) as a coach at a private school in Brooklyn. I've never been one to take any particular pride in titles, but just so we're clear: I am as of the 10th of April no longer a miserable layabout. I am, rather, the "Head Assistant Women's Varsity Softball Coach of the Packer Collegiate Institute." For simplicity's sake, I will forgo my right to re-name this blog accordingly, but I hope that the misleading nature of the title is dually noted.

Now to the point, which is brief and not in the least bit innovative. The commitments required by this new stead consist of showing up at a field for 2-3 hours a day, four days a week, excluding days of inclimate weather. All in all, a modest workload, even by my admittedly modest standards. However, the positive change in my self-worth brought about by such a meager undertaking has been nothing short of drastic. Organized around this brief period of obligation, my days have become more fruitful, my activities more useful, my sense of purpose more clearly defined and my appreciation for leisure sharper. In short, this 10 hour work week has satisfied all the intrinsic psychological benefits of labor without inflicting any of the psychological damage.

Meaning what? Meaning simply: my previous belief that I must find full time employment lest I go stark raving mad from boredom was completely misguided.... it was a bullshit conclusion that I'd convinced myself of based on a totally irresponsible study of myself paired with the naive views of those around me. I was comparing constant labor with NO labor whatsoever, which is like weighing the benefits of a dictatorship against those of anarchy without ever bothering to visit a democracy. The study was RIGGED from the start!

The unfortunate side to all this is of course that I have only accounted for one side of the work paradigm with this conclusion. The other side, the financial one, is infinitely more daunting, and solving it will no doubt take a combination of great resolve and even greater luck.

Still, I am gratified to pronounce with supreme confidence that psychologically, democracy is CLEARLY superior to the alternatives.

When is a man no longer a man?

A quick note on dignity and the loss of it.

This Saturday, following a particularly aggressive night of food and drink, I found myself in a friend's apartment discussing a serious issue that has caused me significant anxiety over the past weeks. At the conversation's conclusion, I attempted to infuse a well-timed touch of humor to lighten our collective mood - it so happened that I had been restraining a tremendous fart throughout the duration of our talk and judged this to be an opportune moment to allow for its triumphant release.

Unfortunately what was supposed to be a staccato exclamation point, proved far less tame, and when I released the valve, a seemingly endless, machine gun like series of perineal bursts shot out of my rectum. Clearly, had I accurately gauged either the toxins still in my system from the evening prior OR the dangerously high pressure level accumulated in my bowels, I would never have attempted such a high-wire prank.*  But hindsight is 20/20, the damage done... I had just shit my pants.

*Please note that to this day, I still believe whole heartedly in the premise of the gag. It was merely the execution that went a foul.

Now I don't want the imagery here to get out of hand, so let me note that we aren't talking about anything close to a full on dump here - it's not like I looked down and a semi-formed log had rolled out from beneath my pant leg. However, there was no denying that anal discharge occurred. Beyond that, the details are really irrelevant.

There is very little redeeming about this anecdote. And as for morals, they are no doubt absent. I think my intent here to generate a desperate self-motivational ploy more than anything else. Because to come to grips with Saturday's events means to look myself in the mirror and say, "George, I love you but you're a 26 year old man with no job, no dreams... and you just shit your pants. Please get your life in order."

Remember that experiment from 1st grade, where the teacher asks a volunteer to donate his recently lost tooth... then she places the tooth in a glass of Pepsi and the class watches as day-by-day, it slowly decays? Well over the past 6 months, my dignity has been like that tooth, quietly melting away into nothingness. Then Saturday, with one ill-fated decision in one disastrous moment, it's like someone pulled the last rotten core of tooth out of the soda-bath, placed it on the table and smashed it into pieces so tiny, that what's left is unrecognizable to the human eye. We are left with only the flat Pepsi.

Let's be honest, to search for a silver lining here is folly - today, there is nothing to be taken from this event but shame, both mine and that of anyone who knows me. However, I think what was intended initially to be lighthearted ends up being too gloomy if I don't make a quick addendum:

At the end of the day, you can't get much worse than shitting your pants... and half-intentionally shitting your pants at that. Most the people losing their homes to foreclosure across the country haven't shit their pants. Bernie Madoff probably hasn't shit his pants. In fact, I bet there are quite a few people who've allowed themselves to be sodomized in exchange for methamphetamines, but have never shit their pants.

"At least I never crapped myself for a cheap laugh."

When you think about it, there are very few places to dig lower than where I've dug. I'm staring into the abyss, and once you reach that point, it's probably about time to turn around and go the other way.

Down the road when I look back at this phase of my life, I bet I'll say, "Man, that whole pants shitting episode sure was critical to getting me to stand up, reclaim my self-worth and get my life on track."

Either that or I'll say, "Boy, that whole pants shitting episode really should have been a sign."

Wright place in the order?

Following up on the lineup talk from the other day...

I know David Wright hit some cleanup last year with mixed success, but I think the Mets have to figure out a way to get him back either to the 3 spot (ideal) or the 5 hole to maximize his production. There may be a perception that Wright can easily transition into more of a power hitting role, due to his strength and position. But putting him at 4 looks like a classic square peg in round hole situation from where I'm sitting.

Though he hit 33 dingers last year, David's at his best when he's driving line drives and going opposite field, rather than trying to pull the ball for power. In fact, the slumps David has gotten himself in over the past few years have in every case been a result of getting overeager to pull the ball resulting in a failure to stay back and drive it the other way. Asking for more power out of the guy is likely to exacerbate that issue.

David Wright gives you a lot offensively that many people don't realize. He hits to all fields, he moves runners over, he beats out double plays and he steals bases with great efficiency. In short, he's much better suited to a spot in the order that calls for a range of different situational skills, not one whose primary job is to swing for the fences. That role is more appropriate for Carlos Delgado, who's gonna give you more consistent power but far less consistent production in other departments.

But if it were just Wright hitting cleanup we were dealing with, I wouldn't be so concerned. The bigger picture problem here for me is that in Wright and Jose Reyes (slated to hit 3), the Mets are now set to have their best two players hitting outside their natural spots, and in Reyes' case, dramatically so. Throw in the idea coming out of camp that Carlos Beltran will hit 2nd and you've got the bulk of the Mets run production adjusting to uncomfortable roles.

I don't think I'm alone in being worried about the long-term ramifications - both on the field and off - of a decision to make your stars sacrifice for the good of your role players. Needless to say, that's not the way it normally works at the pro level of any team sport, let alone the most individually focused team sport.

We'll have to wait and see how this all plays out, but my guess is that the "turn everyone on their heads in the hope that we can squeeze a modicum of production out of Luis Castillo" experiment doesn't survive past Memorial Day.

Paging Benjamin Button to Second Base.

Given that the vast majority of big name free agents have landed in their respective new homes and Spring Training is well underway, I think it's fair to start talking a little baseball... or at least Mets baseball.

To me, its become increasingly evident that any serious playoff chances the Mets have in '09 rest on the rickety old legs of Luis Castillo.

If that scares you.... it should. After all, since his acquisition back in July of 2007 from Minnesota, Luis has given us mas-o-menos 20 games worth of major league caliber play. But despite looking downright ancient down the stretch that year, the hometeam rewarded him with a 4 year contract extension. To this day, I believe that's been one of the single most deranged moments of the Minaya era in Queens - almost Isaiah-esque. Luis rewarded Mets fans last year by spending most of his time on the DL, then making sporadic surprise cameos in which he absolutely stunk up the joint. And though the numbers were awful (.245 batting average, 11 TOTAL extra base hits), they don't begin to describe how painful it was to watch this guy gimp around like a washed up corporate league softball player. To describe this guy as decrepit at age 32 would have been charitable.

However, with a stubbornness that has become characteristic of this front office (*see their refusal to come to grips with the bullpen's terminal prognosis for a solid 2 years), the Mets are intent on squeezing some semblance of ROI out of this guy. There were other quality second basemen available on the market this year at relatively modest prices - Orlando Hudson being the most attractive - but Minaya and Co. didn't bite, instead forcing Jerry Manuel to get creative with what has been a human black hole in his everyday lineup.

And creativity is exactly what J-Man's given them, announcing at the start of Spring Training that he would experiment with a lineup featuring Castillo at the top and Jose Reyes in the 3 spot. Yes, that Jose Reyes. Arguably the best lead off hitter in baseball Jose Reyes. Willie Mays Hayes Reyes. I stole 80 bases hitting lead off in '07 Jose Reyes.

Give Manuel some credit here. This is a BALLSY move, and he knows it. This is not a move that he would have made, had he not thought it absolutely necessary. He's basically risking totally fucking up the psyche of most valuable (apologies to #5) player. Reyes is a prototypical lead off guy, and despite his youth, his charisma at the top of the Mets' order has really shaped the style and personality of this team over the past 3 years. Putting him at 3, where he is an awkward fit at best on paper, rightfully raises eyebrows among those that understand the unique demands of a #3 hitter compared with a #1 hitter.

Additionally, even at his most productive, Luis was a far different kind of lead-off guy than Jose. Though his speed wasn't terrible, he never was a big base stealer. And he certainly never went for a lot of 2+ baggers. He's pretty much been a singles guy his entire career, which puts a ton of pressure on the guys behind, namely Carlos Beltran and yep.... Jose Reyes.

Manuel is extremely popular in the clubhouse, so I don't foresee him having too big a problem pitching this shakeup to the players initially. The real risk is how Jose responds mentally to the transition. I don't think it's a stretch to say that this move seriously risks derailing Jose's progress as a superstar in the big leagues, both physically and psychologically. (Remember when Omar Epps starts trying to hit for power at the beginning of Major League 2?)

If it works, Manuel is a genius. If not, the fans and media are going to go crazier than that rabid chimp from Stamford. Right now, it's clear that he's not afraid to play the mad scientist. The question is whether that scientist went to MIT or ITT Tech. And all this just to find a way to keep Luis Castillo from completely sapping the team's run-manufacturing capabilities. It's indicative of just how awful Luis has been that J-Man would feel it necessary to take this kind of risk.

Now ALLEGEDLY, Luis looks healthier this year than he has since he came to New York. He's dropped almost 20 lbs and his knees have responded well to the extended R&R of that long, playoffs-free off season. J-Man is singing his praises for how spry he looks in the early going - like the Luis Castillo of yesteryear. But I'm inclined to believe that all that positivity is more likely part of an effort to buy Castillo some time over the first few months, rather than a reflection of genuine confidence on the part of the manager. If J-Man was confidence, Jose Reyes wouldn't be hitting 3.

So we're all just gonna have to hold our breaths and wait until we can see for our own eyes what type of player Castillo really is this year. If he can regain a semblance of his late-20s, Marlins/Twins form, when he hit .300 and could reach base consistently with bunts and slap hits, then I think the Mets lineup looks pretty functional - certainly functional enough to give the Phillies a run given our significant bullpen upgrades. But if the knees start wearing out again and he fails to give us anything offensively, then I have serious concerns, given the lack of punch from our corner outfielders, and the roller coaster production that Carlos Delgado brings.

I hope the former comes to pass, but given the track record, I think it's fair to be very nervous.