We’ve got to get our All-Star showing up, folks. If not in selected players, at least in fan votes. Let’s get louder. We’ve got reason to.

I can’t imagine asking the Mets to do more than they’ve done the past couple weeks. Beside the pristine work of the team’s starting pitchers, David Wright’s a league-leader in RBIs, Jose Reyes is more Jose Reyesy than he’s been in ages, Jason Bay and Jeff Francoeur have fought their way out of slumps, Ike Davis and Angel Pagan continue to get the big hit at the right time, and Rod Barajas remains a solid pleasant surprise.

I just spent five minutes showing the team how much I appreciate what they’ve been doing. It’s a matter of fan pride. Why should our guys–who are playing their hearts out right now–be showing so poorly in the All-Star vote? Only David Wright has a chance to win the fan vote now, but he’s still firmly in second place, almost 200,000 votes behind the Phillies’ Placido Polanco. Argh. Are we really going to let the Phils fans eclipse our David?

But more, let’s just go and show our boys that we’re pulling for them. Our votes don’t have to get all of them to the All-Star game, but it feels like the right way to say “We’re with you, and we love what you’re doing.” Unfortunately Daniel Murphy and Carlos Beltran have taken the spots on the ballot that Ike Davis and Angel Pagan deserve, but I took turns writing Ike and Angel in as I registered my 25 allowable votes. How cool would it be if Mets fans mobilized in these final couple weeks to put Ike Davis ahead of other first basemen just as a write-in? And how good would Rod Barajas feel to see his vote tally rise in appreciation of the heart he’s shown? As long as Jeff Francoeur’s beard has hits in it, he’ll resemble ZZ Top before he shaves, so go cheer for streak beard. Jose Reyes missed some time, and he was slow getting back, but man has he been preternaturally good lately–let’s get him some votes to show for it.

If you didn’t click the link above, do so here for the All-Star ballot. To vote multiple times, you’ll have to enter separate authorization codes, but the ballot remembers your votes, so you’ll only have to click once for our Mets. Don’t forget to write in Ike Davis and Angel Pagan. This one’s for fan pride. Tell your team that you’re rooting for them. Let’s make a showing. Let’s get loud. And Let’s go Mets.

Although not an official GKR event, yesterday a bunch of hearty GKR revelers gathered in the bridge terrace cafe-style seats to watch Johan Santana pitch the day game. Of course we didn’t realize what a gem Niese would pitch later in the evening, and it was a shame the boys couldn’t pull off a phenomenal sweep, but we still had a blast in our cozy little private terrace.

Dana Brand and his daughter kept me lovely company in our choice seats directly above the Mets bullpen. I remained endlessly fascinated throughout the game by the rare, unhindered view from above. Although the pitcher threw from a spot hidden underneath the terrace, the catcher squatted just a stones-throw away, and if you’ve never seen–or heard!–a hard-pitched ball hit a catcher’s glove, I assure you it’s loud and impressive. When Mejia was warming up, the sound reverberated. You never hear about a catcher’s wrist problems, but man it looked like he’d have some.

We got to enjoy a Henry Blanco two-run dinger (home runs by our catchers–so routine! And yet still so awesome!), but for me the novelty of the day was watching the activity down below. Here’s a video of Blanco catching Johan while Warthen looks on, simulating a batter and nodding. You can also see in the video how eagerly the rest of the bullpen was watching Johan warm up.

http://www.dailymotion.com/swf/video/xdmsfa

And then Warthen moves to the other side of the plate.

http://www.dailymotion.com/swf/video/xdmzwg

Before each game, it seems, the bullpen forms its own high five line, which you can enjoy below along with Dana Brand and his daughter, me and GKR’s Lynn, and a somewhat sad shot of Frankie Rodriguez in what I’m assuming is his no-save-opportunity-for-me seat beside the bullpen.

I don’t boo my team. On rare occasions I do in my head–like for Aaron Heilman or Steve Trachsel. But I never have out loud. Booing won’t help the dude pitch any better. So on opening day this season when Oliver Perez was introduced to resounding boos, I clapped. “No, let’s give him a shot!” I yelled. “Come on, Ollie, let’s see what you got.”

Well Ollie? I HATE what you’ve got. I’m not alone, I know, but come on. Oliver Perez is being so ridiculous, so selfish, so dedicated to doing anything he can to help the team lose, that if I ever see him in person on the mound again, I am booing my head off. Hell, I’d even boo at the TV. Oliver Perez, you get a boo forevermore. BOOOOOO.

Here’s why I’m going to boo you, Ollie. It started with going to arbitration. What a greedy sonuvabitch, the fans thought. Milking whatever he can to get more money. He better friggin’ perform. And you did perform. Sometimes well, more often terribly. I would have been happy to see you go after ’08. Good riddance, you greedy, inconsistent jerk. Of course I say that now. Back then, I was willing to continue rooting for you. I wasn’t a fan of yours, but you were a Met. And I root like heck for my team.

Guess what, Ollie. It is now impossible to root for you. You have made it impossible for even the most devoted Mets fan to have your back. Partly, this is because you failed as a pitcher. But mostly it’s because now you’ve failed as a teammate and quite frankly as a man. You’re sitting in that bullpen as the bump that might upset this team’s barely balanced log. The Mets are now handicapped against every team they face because they’re one man down. You are unusable. Dead weight. A burden. Taking the spot of a reliever who could otherwise help the team win. 

How dare you not do the right thing, Oliver. How dare you not go to the minors for even a brief time to work on your mechanics. How dare you make it harder for your team to win. How dare you be both the problem and the obstacle to finding a solution. How dare you ignore what’s best for the other 24 members of your team.

You are crappy at your job. But now it’s personal. Turns out you’re just a crappy guy.

It can’t hurt to focus on the positive from last night’s first game of the year against the Yanks. Hold the vocal criticism–this is for kicks, not for American Idol 🙂

Taka. Taka-hashi!

http://www.dailymotion.com/swf/video/xdeij7

He’s on the mound

He’s c-coming out

For the orange and blue

Oh, his aim will be true

Arigato Japan

For giving us this steadfast man

His pitches he’ll mix

He’ll choose them from six

From fastball to curve

Or a slider with verve

Mixed velocity

From off-speed to ferocity

From the bullpen or to start…

I’m your biggest fan

I’ll follow through outs one to three

Taka-Taka-hashi

Baby you’re a superstar who gives us consistency

Taka-taka-hashi

Promise you’ll stay well

Without you our rotation goes to hell

Baby you’ll be famous

Someday even get the victory

Taka-taka-hashi…

First it was opening day. And it was glorious.

The field and fans were sun-drenched, and with D-Wright giving us a lead right off the bat, the energy was electric. Even when Johan passed the ball to Fernando Nieve, the path remained free and clear. A great game. A great day. Great Mets fans. Everything we hoped for.

Then the game ended. The wind picked up. And I headed to McFaddens. It was the opposite of glorious.

Right after the game, the McFadden’s line was so bad that I hung out with friends at their continuing tailgate for half an hour, thinking it would die down. Then I gave it a second go.

But no. While other friends were already inside, having left the ballpark in the 8th inning to watch the rest of the game at the bar, I was on line outside the makeshift entrance. Oh my God, that line. Worse than the most annoying NYC clubs. I even told the head security guy that I was here to review the establishment for my Mlblog. And when I asked politely, “Is there a manager I can talk to?” he literally said to me, “Who do you know?”

Half an hour later, I made it into McFaddens at Citi. Let me show you how empty most of the bar was–just so you know what it looked like while people were waiting for ages outside.