Eleven to Go

I like how the Mets ended the season, kind of like hitting an ice patch and momentarily hitting the panic button before bringing your Corolla back under control. For the Mets it took the form of losing 10 of 13 before winning the final four games. (The Mets' 97 wins makes them the only NL team with 90+ wins and ties them with their cross town rivals for the MLB lead.) Then there was the news that Pedro is out until next summer and Steve Trachsel was in San Diego attending to undisclosed personal business. Meanwhile, there was the mildest of controversies (an anonymous note posted on the locker of Lastings Milledge--guys, if it will help smooth things over in the least, I'll take credit. My buddy, Otto, from work, knows the guy who handles the visiting team's locker room in Washington. He let me in. I'm still pissed at Milledge for, umm, those fly balls in Fenway. Yeah, that's it. What the hell, Lastings?) Nearly overlooked as the season came to a close was Willie Randolph's unorthordox approach to the last game in Washington. (Putting Cliff Floyd in the leadoff spot and pulling Oliver Perez after four innings, denying the poor guy a chance to earn the win. Who knew that Willie was, and perhaps still is, subtlely vying for the Crazy Like Caligula Putting Horses in the Senate Award?) Now the Mets charge into the playoffs behind game one starter El Duque, a pitcher rejected by the Yankees, White Sox, and Diamondbacks. The regular season has been a lot of fun. Bring on the Dodgers!