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DH found this on a Mets blog....its pretty funny
Just thought I would share...
9 Things We Would Do If We Were Fred Wilpon
1. Shitcan the Shea D.J.
As I watched Cliff Floyd corral the final out of Tuesday's game, thus
cementing the Mets' season long raping and pillaging of the admittedly
weak National League, I would be lying if I said that the song choice to
celebrate an 18 year divisional championship drought did not sully my
mood. As any one who has been to Shea this year can tell you, the Mets
inexplicably continue to play "Takin' Care of Business" after wins.
Awesome. Nothing screams "fun" like a religious Canadian rock band that
was popular in the '70s. I understand that there are certain stadium
classics that we will always have to hear, but hearing this song after a
big win is about as much fun as a wet fart.
The Mets have also added a fun new feature this season that takes place
in the latter innings of the game. The Shea announcer gets on the PA and
asks everyone to join in a sing along. Not an awful idea, but in true
Mets form, the execution falls flat. The two songs I have heard
repeatedly this year? "Sweet Caroline" and "Livin' on a Prayer." I'll
tell you, nothing gets me more juiced for the end of a Mets game than
hearing the respective theme songs of the Boston Red Sox and Jersey
meatheads getting ready to go out and paint Belmar red.
The Mets need to immediately hire someone born after 1975, preferably
black, to update the Shea playlist. The one thing I'll give them credit
for though is playing "Torn" after a loss. Something about equating a
Mets loss with a nude, emotionally destroyed woman feels delightfully
misogynistic.
2. Decent Championship Gear
I am pretty sure that this stuff comes directly from MLB and they just
slap a Mets logo on it, but the freshly released "NL East Champion"
apparel is downright heinous. The 3/4 sleeve shirt that you saw Heath
Bell's love handles bulging out of is actually made by Lee. As in Lee
dungarees. I thought the only people who still rocked this **** were
middle aged men fond of the cockpouch look. Not cool.
3. No More Japanese Players
I cannot stress this enough. This first came to head when I called into
the Schmooz during my sophomore year of college to rail against Satoru
Komiyama, aka The Japanese Greg Maddux. I was also one of the first
people in the Northeast to express outrage at the Kaz Matsui signing.
From Masato Yoshii to Tsuyoshi Shinjo (who, by the way, has returned to
Japan to pursue his true dream of releasing nude photos of himself) to
Hideo Nomo, the Mets and the Japanese just cannot get it right and
continue to give my dad reason to make the obligatory, "This must be
their way of geting back at us for Hiroshima" joke every time we go to
Shea.
Now, I am by no means a xenophobe, but for fucks sake, STOP SIGNING
JAPANESE PLAYERS. It's not that they are awful players (Kaz excluded)
but they have inflated stats from hitting against star pitchers such as,
oh, Masato Yoshii, and command outrageously expensive contracts when
they make the jump to America.
4. Retire Some Numbers
The Mets currently have three retired numbers: 14 (Gil Hodges), 37
(Casey Stengel) and 41 (Tom Seaver). It's time to retire some more. Or,
at the bare minimum, show a little respect to players like Gary Carter
and living legend Keith Hernandez, whose exploits inspired this blog,
and refrain from giving out their number. Keith has publicly vented his
frustration after his number 17 was given to Met legends such as Dae
Sung Koo and Jorge Julio. They do not need to retire all of the '86 Mets
numbers, but a few would be a nice gesture and would get a great
reaction from the fans. I can live with Wally Backman's number not being
hung up over the left field wall, but a little piece of me hurts every
time I see a picture of Joe Orsulak wearing it.
5. Kill Mr. Met
This is a very polarizing topic among my friends and I. Some people love
Mr. Met, some people thing that he does for Met fans what minstrel shows
do for black people. Personally, I would like to see him go, but not
just phased out. I would make a promotion out of it in which the
Diamondvision shows a video of Mr. Met falling in front of the 7 train,
followed by a funeral procession and burial in the patch of grass on the
hill along the left field line. That would be the tits.
6. Do Some Decent Promotions
Shea promotions have not always blown. I remember when they used to give
out Starting Lineup figures, towels with beer logos on them, bobbleheads
and entire sets of Mets baseball cards. In the 13 Saturday home games
that I've been to this year as part of my ticket package, I have
received a package of assorted cocoa butters, a sports bag that is
guaranteed to explode if I try to put so much as a pair of sneakers in
it and a visor that was almost certainly sewn together by the Malaysian
children who are not skilled enough to work at the local Nike plant. I
supposed it's a double edged sword these days, as the Mets are playing
so well that they no longer need to give out crappy prizes to get people
to the park. My suggestion is, next time the Wilpons are considering
putting a $21 million dollar contract in front of The Japanese Vlad
Guerrero, take it back and give out some badass t-shirts through out the
season. Get Copenhagen to sponsor a Billy Wagner spittoon event. Give
away those sweatbands that Pedro always has on in the dugout. Issue
everyone over the age of 65 a colostomy bag with a picture of Steve
Philips on it. Beats the **** out of Women's Totebag Night.
7. Bring Back Half Priced Sodas
After the Mets went to the World Series in 2000, two friends and I
bought the Mets Saturday Plan thinking that we would be getting in on
years of quality baseball. And then we got Mo Vaughn. What ensued were 4
years of dog **** baseball. One of the bonuses of this era however was
that the Mets felt so bad for trotting out a first baseman who had Bear
Claws thrown at him in Los Angeles that they began offering half price
sodas after the seventh inning of games that they were probably losing.
This was outstanding. I was usually spitting out my third pinch of Skoal
by this point in the game and a $2 Mountain Dew was ideal to keep me
hydrated on the drive back to Connecticut.
8. Institute Seat Downgrade Contest
About halfway through each game, the Mets Party Patrol finds some doofy
looking family in decent upper deck or mezzanine seats and gives them a
seat upgrade to field level. Gay. I mean, it's cool for them, but I want
something better than this or Cascarino's pizza truck races to keep me
entertained between innings. Here's what they need to do: in the fourth
inning, find a fan in the upper deck, preferably one who is drunk. Give
that fan a chance to answer a moderately hard trivia question. If he
gets it right, he and his drunk buddy get to go down to field level,
where their "Hey Chippuh, you suck!" cheers can be appreciated by
families and corporate assholes. If he loses, he is escorted to the
upper most seat in the top corner of the upper deck behind the left
field pole. Two Shea security guards will be assigned to him to make
sure he does not try to sneak back to his original seat. Every other
inning the party patrol can interview him on the Diamondvision to see
how ****** off he is getting. So much better than just an upgrade.
9. Get Rid Of Ricky ******* Ledee
For the love of Christ, just make this happen.
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