Ladies and gentlemen, here they are, your 2007 New York Mets!

Wait, what's that? You're sure? But I see...

...a pathetic lack of offense
...indifferent defense
...inefficient starting pitching
...scattershot relief
...mental mistakes
...can-do blather from authority figures
...no indication that anybody wearing the uniform is ready to stand up and say enough's enough.

I thought that extra-inning win against the Phillies had finally lanced this infection (don't listen, Schneider), with the first two games at the Ex-Vet letting the poison drain out. But I was wrong. By too many indications this is the same badly constructed, poorly led, sadly complacent team I came to thoroughly dislike last year. Last summer I found out something I pretty much knew anyway, and would happily have gone to my grave never having confirmed: It's no fun disliking your favorite team. It turns one of the nicest things in life into a trial, and the best part of the year into a sweaty version of winter. I'd really, really like never to feel that way again, or at least not to know that dreadful feeling more than once a generation or so. But these days and nights feel horribly familiar.

I know I don't want to feel that way again. I take it on faith that most of the guys in the clubhouse and running the team don't want to feel that way again. But I can't do anything about it except type while steam whistles out of my ears. Since that's not true of them, I have only one question: Which one of you is going to put your foot down and inform all concerned that it's not acceptable for this year to be like last year?