"Well, fuck, we have to do this again."
"Again? Really? Can't we just reflexively rule against the Mets like we used to? It was a lot easier then."
"I know. It was a great umpiring tradition, one we were proud to uphold. Like wearing a chest protector."
"Remember when Chris Woodward had a home run called a triple in Wrigley a few years ago? It didn't much matter in the outcome, but the point was the Mets got screwed by bad or lazy umpiring. That was great sport."
"Those were the days. Me and Angel Hernandez laughed our asses off about it all over again during Spring Training. But now we have to actually be accountable for at least a few of our calls."
"I dunno, fellas, it's kind of nice to take a breather in the middle of the sixth inning."

"I know what you mean. Standing out there in the middle of a ballgame. Damn, it can get boring."
"That's why I try not to watch too closely, especially those fly balls. We're like a thousand feet away. It's just a guess to begin with."
"And it's not our fault they build ballparks where you can't tell right off."
"I know! I mean did this used to happen so much?"
"Well, it's not like they just built Fenway yesterday."
"Yeah, but who told them to suddenly stick seats on top of the fence?"
"Good point...hello, mission control? Yeah, we're ready, fire up the replays."

"First look...shit, I can't tell. Can you tell?"
"No man, I can't tell."
"Me neither."
"Nope, me neither, too."
"Hello, Manhattan? Give us another angle."
"That one's worse than the one before. Why don't they use more cameras for this?"
"Boy, it's unclear."
"I can't figure it out. The ball does a funny thing up there."
"But that could be the wind."
"The wind?"
"It does get windy here."
"Oh come on. It's not the wind."

"So you think it hit the sign?"
"I don't think anything. I'm just saying it gets windy here."
"Yeah, what's up with that? It gets windier here than it got at Shea. Why didn't they cut down on the wind as long as they were going to the trouble of building a new ballpark?"
"The wind fucking distracts me. Blows in that barbecue smell during the game. You try the ribs yet?"
"Damn, those are good ribs."
"I haven't had the ribs yet. They're really that good?"
"You're kidding. You haven't had the ribs?"
"Hey, is that the same as the pulled pork place?"
"Same one. You gotta try the ribs."

"Can you guys keep it the fuck down? I'm trying to get HQ on the phone...yeah, we're still here. We need another angle."
"OK, there's the ball, there's Dunn...I can't tell."
"I can't tell either. But why are they advertising Subway in this ballpark?"
"I know! They've got all that great food in the outfield, who the fuck wants to go to Subway?"
"Is that Subway Subway, like the sandwich shop, or is that like the New York City subway?"
"What are you, retarded?"
"I'm just asking. You don't have to be such a dick about it."
"C'mon fellas. Focus. It's Subway Subway like they've got everywhere else. And just because they have a sign for it doesn't mean they have a Subway in the ballpark. You think they buy and sell gold coins in the ballpark just because they have a sign for that, too?"
"I think they do."
"They buy and sell gold coins at Citi Field?"
"No, I mean the sandwiches."
"Is that like the tackiest scoreboard ad you've ever seen?"
"For Subway?"
"No, moron. The coins."
"It is, but I mean Subway. I think they sell Subway sandwiches here."
"They do? Really? What the fuck for?"
"Subway's pretty good. I like the BMT."
"Yeah, but here? With that rib place and all? That's pretty lame that someone would go to Subway when you can get ribs that smell that good when the wind is blowing in."
"What's lame is hanging a yellow sign over the field and asking us to track a white ball against it...hi, Manhattan, we need another angle."

"Can't tell. Can not fucking tell."
"Me neither. It really is easier watching from home."
"I agree. Last year I had a layover in the Kansas City airport on a Sunday night. I ran into Angel Hernandez, so we went to the bar and watched that Mets-Yankees game where Carlos Delgado got screwed. That was classic."
"I'll bet Angel loved that."
"He did. One of his favorites."
"Do any of you guys know what the deal is with those stands jutting out into right? Shouldn't that have been a simple fly ball?"
"It's supposed to be like Tiger Stadium was. The owner's son was taken there by his grandparents when he was a kid and it impressed him so much he wanted to build something just like it here."
"Really? That's so gay!"
"I know. What if they took him to a whorehouse instead? Imagine what would be out in right field."
"Fucking owners. Ruining baseball."
"Just like the fucking players."
"You said it. Thank god for us upholding the integrity of the game...hi, me again. Can you give us another angle?"

"Hey, did you see that? Definitive proof!"
"Where?"
"On the left. The ball just came straight down and...oh wait, that was just some jerkoff dropping his drink."
"Or throwing it. I can't tell that either."
"Fans are fucking ruining this game, too."
"Thank god for us."
"Thank god."
"Who tells them to put their shit on the ledge? There's a baseball game going on!"
"And what about the fucktards who catch a home run ball and throw it back?"
"Yeah, I don't get that. They fight over foul balls but when they get a fair one, they think they're being big heroes throwing it back because somebody on the other team hit it. I wanna say, 'Hey, fucktards, we don't take the run off the board just 'cause you throw it back!'"
"Oh, you should say that! I mean you should actually say that!"
"Fuck, I'd say it except I'd get fucking fined. First that stupid QuesTec, now this shit with the replays. I'm not taking any chances."

"Remember when umpiring was a sacred profession and you could screw the Mets with total impunity? God, as recently as last year Carlos Beltran hit a ball out of Dolphin Stadium that was ruled a double. Nobody changed that. They showed that on MLB Network over the winter. Angel Hernandez and I shared a good laugh when it ran. He texted me: 'LOL Mets!'"
"Angel's a sweetheart."
"He really is."
"Listen, fellas, I'm enjoying this break as much as the rest of youse, but I can't tell shit from these replays and HQ doesn't have any more angles. So what do we do?"
"I'm stumped."
"Me too."
"Me three."

"Our default directive is to rule against the Mets in these situations. We've been doing that going back to at least 1988 when Tim Teufel had a clear home run taken away at the Astrodome."
"Does it go back that far? I thought it started with that time in '95 when Chris Jones hit a fair ball that was called foul. That's another of Angel's favorites. He has a whole reel of them he shows at parties."
"Regardless, guys, that's an out-of-date directive. We can still use it for bullshit interference calls and the like, and we're still allowed to unconscionably squeeze Johan Santana..."
"Six walks? How ya think superstar likes them apples?"
"...but we're supposed to get these right."
"We are, aren't we? What did we call on the field again? It's been so long I forget."
"Um, shit, what was it?"
"We said it was a double. Murphy wound up on third, Sheffield was out at the plate."
"How could he not be out? He thought it was a homer."
"Mets baserunners are always doing that, aren't they?"
"Yeah, they suck that way."
"True. But the Nationals really suck."
"They do. They really do."
"So, whaddaya think?"

"Well, the Mets are going to blow things eventually. I mean, c'mon, that's their whole thing."
"Was last year. Was the year before."
"Yeah, but the Nationals? Are we really going to waste a favorable call on the Nationals?"
"You're right. What if they win tonight? They'll only be a hundred games out."
"Ha! That's funny! Boy do they suck."
"They do. What's the point of giving them a break?"
"Besides, you want these New York assholes giving us shit about it?"
"They are assholes. Do you see how they're always doing the wave here? Even in tight games?"
"I don't want them throwing their shit at me. I'm on vacation next week."
"Already? It's only May!"
"Screw you. I'm upholding the integrity of the game here."

"Fellas, focus! Home run?"
"Well, it's not conclusive, but shit yeah, anything to get us out of here alive."
"Besides, it's kind of cool when we come out and twirl the finger and people cheer us."
"Isn't it? That was way cool the other night. And you know we'll be on SportsCenter over and over. My kids love that."
"OK, agreed. Home run. Let's go be heroes."
"Think the rib place stays open after the game?"

Make the right call with Faith and Fear in Flushing: An Intense Personal History of the New York Mets, available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble or a bookstore near you. Keep in touch and join the discussion on Facebook. Some mostly nice words here from Mostly Mets.

It was one of my wife's more modest goals, but also apparently one of the harder-to-reach ones: See Johan Santana pitch.

Emily and her dad have had a seven- or 15-game plan for a couple of years, and their run of starting-pitcher luck has been spotty to say the least: Last year they got a surfeit of Mike Pelfrey (not so bad in the final reckoning, but not the kind of thing that makes you circle dates on calendars), and so far this year they'd seen a whole lot of Livan Hernandez. So I cringed when I heard how excited she was that Johan was in line for tonight's start. First of all, the weather forecast was iffy with a chance of sucky. Second, I was beginning the day in Denver, with my flight scheduled to arrive at 4:38 pm. At JFK.

Put the two together and you had the makings of a mess, but happily everything turned OK -- Emily got there in the top of the first, in cool but clear conditions, and there was Johan on the mound as promised.

But instead of JOHAN -- the burn-you-to-cinders-with-his-radiance version we've become blessedly used to -- my wife got johan, who surrendered a home run to Adam Dunn that might have caused NORAD to scramble F-16s and walked four guys in one inning. I'll amplify the point for future links and 2012's archive wanderings: Johan Santana walked four in one inning, not one month. And the four guys were Washington Nationals. Startling, I know, but every maestro has his off-night -- like Mozart didn't have a few nights in which he futzed around on the clavier, hit a couple of bum notes, said to hell with it and shuffled off to booze it and play cards. The joke is that Johan got a win -- ironic payback for all those nights in which he was brilliant and his supporting cast spent the night kicking balls around and striking out.

Of course it helps when you're playing the Nationals. It is not news that the Nationals play horrible baseball (OK, maybe it's news in the Sandwich Islands or something), but what doesn't seem to get discussed enough is that the Nationals play stupid baseball. They don't cover bunts, they can't direct traffic on infield pop-ups, they ... let's just be kind and say they have a long way to go. I've seen whole seasons of hapless, agonizingly stupid baseball, so I'm sympathetic -- but what I don't understand is how the Cult of Manny Acta remains open for business amid all this mess. The Nats' ownership should be scalded for running the team like they're still the vagabond Expos, and the GM's tenure was an actual, honest-to-goodness scandal, but the field management and coaching look slipshod too. It's hard to win when you've got a roster of guys who are too young paired with guys who are too old (and when your roster is seemingly about one-third first basemen and designated hitters), but it's a hell of a lot harder when you're giving away one or two runs a night on mental errors. The Nationals play like they've either tuned out their manager, aren't receiving sufficient adult supervision, or both, and yet I haven't heard a word of criticism aimed at Acta.

(Speaking of adult supervision, I'm wagering Fernando Martinez will feel the sting of those boos for a long time. That was one time in which the boos from a Met home crowd were completely justified -- and I say that in part because I'm sure F-Mart's first safety will be rapturously cheered. All as it should be.)

Anyway, a scuffling Johan, David Wright cooling the ballpark with swings of the bat, and understudies playing the roles of Reyes, Beltran and Delgado. (If anybody has "see umpires review a home run on video" on their bucket list, just head to Citi Field most any night.) Hard to say that was the game Emily wanted, but she did get an entertaining, goofy and just plain weird affair, one that ended with the Mets victorious, and back in first place. Which is pretty much all any Met fan needs.

***

Addendum: While in Denver I got to check out Coors Field, and it was like an alternate-reality Citi Field, with lots of brick and green seats and a glassed-in corner restaurant (in right, not left). The prices were a bit different, though: I paid $40 or so for a legitimate ticket from the Rockies, and wound up 11 rows behind home plate. (A good chunk of the topmost level was not just empty but actually chained off.)

Everything was perfectly nice, but if you think Citi Field is generic, go see Coors Field. The Rockies feel more celebrated on Blake Street than they do inside the park, and aside from center field's Rockpile and the line of purple seats at the mile-high elevation, there's very little that sticks in the memory. (The food was generic, too.) The Coors Field attraction I most wanted to see was that Bambi fantasia of pines and rocks and waterfalls beyond the center-field fence. It's every bit as ridiculous (in a kind of endearing way) live as it is on TV, but what I hadn't expected is that it's an extension of the visitor's bullpen. Shouldn't the right to commune with some simulacrum of nature before toeing the rubber belong to the home team?

Alas, one item in my report doesn't favor the Mets, and it's a big one. I was there early, so I hiked up to some of the cheapest seats in left field, right field and the Rockpile. (Which left me gasping like a 70-year-old chain smoker -- when I say Coors Field lacks atmosphere, I mean it literally.) The seats didn't feel like they were farther removed from the field than our own Promenade level, but the only view missing was a sliver of the left- or right-field corner. In Coors Field's cheap seats, the only way you could not see two outfielders at once would be if they snuck into foul territory to perform a normally private act. As SNY viewers found out tonight, in Citi Field, that view's missing from the broadcast booth.

I honestly love Citi Field, but the Mets' adventures in geometry continue to defy explanation.

The darkest corners of Mets fans' personal geometry (and some sunny ones) are explored in Faith and Fear in Flushing: An Intense Personal History of the New York Mets, available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble or a bookstore near you. Keep in touch and join the discussion on Facebook.