Dear CW11 executives,

Readers of this blog will attest, I hope, that I'm not a bluenose. My language is frequently terrible, I like my beer, and I'm not overly concerned with a certain level of bad behavior. And without getting political, I'm a firm believer that it's my job to raise my four-year-old son -- not the government's, his school's or the media's.

But my running interference between my kid and the parts of the world I don't want him to know about yet shouldn't have to extend to censoring Mets-Nationals day games. First there was an ad for "Halloween," with kids afraid of a certain house, knives brandished and people in terror. Now, a couple of innings later, "Death Sentence" -- with much of the same and a thug telling Kevin Bacon he's coming to kill the rest of his family. (Hey, and now as I write this here's "War." Thanks.)

Joshua understands there are scary movies and grown-up stories. So do I. But they have their time and place, and this isn't it. I'm trying to raise my kid as a Met fan, to appreciate things like El Duque bringing decades' worth of pitching guile, Carlos Beltran hitting a majestic home run and David Wright redeeming an error with a do-or-die barehand pickup. That shouldn't have to go hand in hand with trying to distract him from the idea that there are people who kill other people's children and then go after the rest of their family. Even in the realm of violent movies, that's a bit too close to home for a little boy.

If Joshua's up in the seventh inning of a night game and sees an ad for "Death Sentence," that's my fault. But it's not the seventh inning of a night game. It's Sunday afternoon, folks. My worries about what's going to come through the set during an afternoon game should be limited to beanballs and umpire-manager dust-ups.

I'm sure a lot of you have kids too, so I'm confident you understand what I'm saying. Somebody at your network is making a mistake that makes you look irresponsible. Let's please not have any more of this.

Regards,

Jason

Through Saturday night, according to Baseball-Reference.com, no active player had played in more games without getting to the postseason than Damion Easley. While "Win One For Easley!" hasn't exactly been my 2007 rallying cry, it's occurred to me a couple of times that this classiest of veterans making his first playoff appearance, helping us get there if in fact that's where we're headed, would be one of the nice sidebars to this year's overall story. We saw with Franco in '99 then Delgado and Lo Duca in '06 what it means to have a longtime player finally touch October as a beginning instead of an end.

Without diagnosing off a television screen, all we can do is cross our fingers that Easley gets the use of his left ankle back soon. Having watched too many Mets go down with too many miserable-looking leg injuries that heal on their own time, I'm not counting on Damion playing a part in securing a postseason berth let alone his participating in what might come after. Then again, I'm not a doctor and I don't play one in the blogosphere.

Nevertheless, damn. I'd say damn for anyone with a third-degree sprain who crumpled in nth-degree pain, but in strictly human terms, why Easley, why now? I don't particularly think he's the difference between maintaining a modest first-place cushion and plummeting through the safety net. I just feel bad for the guy. He's going to be 38 soon. He's played since 1992. He's always managed to be on the wrong team at the wrong time: the Angels when they choked; the Tigers when they tanked; the Devil Rays at all; the Marlins after they were champs, the Diamondbacks before they snaked back to life. I've heard him say that he was really looking forward to being on a winner this time around.

The Mets have a cache of guys like this. They don't spout that nauseating "I came here to get my ring" tripe, but they are vets who have played long and hard and were happy to land in a situation whose possibilities outweighed the drawbacks: Easley, Alou, Green, Anderson. None of them has had what you'd call an overly productive season, but they've each been part of the crazy quilt that's stitched together just enough quality spurts to keep this team aloft. Easley's big moments were early (the out-of-nowhere blast that tied Colorado in April, the smash sequel to put the Mets ahead of Arizona in May) and recent (regaining his power stroke at RFK). He picked up a good chunk of the second base slack between Valentin going out and Castillo coming over. He was playing first base in last night's win, for goodness sake. He's been all over the diamond. He's done whatever Willie Randolph has requested, even if Willie refers to him as "Damon Easily" in interviews.

I like guys like that. How can you not? Like the rest of his cohort, he's a shade above rank journeyman but clearly no longer star material. But they all know how to play the game. Sometimes they don't execute as we'd like but you can just feel their knowledge for the game shimmer off them as they work pitchers, take extra bases, position themselves a shade over to gain a step on the next hitter. When Reyes or Wright or Milledge comes through, it's exciting. When Damion Easley makes an impact, it's just so gratifying.

We've fluffed and folded that old chestnut about rooting for the laundry a lot of late. We've had to since so many of our more familiar laundry-wearers keep finding their way to the Disabled List. Somebody will come up and dress in a freshly pressed Mets uniform today because Damion Easley can't. We'll root for that fellow, too. And for Easley to overcome what befell him Saturday night. Whatever Damion's fate is where the Mets laundry is concerned, he's worn it well.