Go Mets

The season is over.  Seventy-nine wins, which is five or so better than last year but seventeen worse than what the Nationals managed to squeeze out.  So there's still room for improvement.

My boy Lucas Duda got hot in the last two games and ended his season with thirty home runs and ninety-two runs batted in.  Rib-eye steaks, as Keith Hernandez likes to call RBIs.  And he's just getting started.  A ten percent improvement next year and he's knocking on the door of the clubhouse marked Stars Only.  God bless the boy.

And we finished tied for second in the division with Atlanta.  Which is amusing on several levels.

Note to Sandy Alderson:  First, find a game-changing hitter and pay him whatever it takes to get him to Flushing.  Or, alternatively, take him to lunch in Queens Chinatown -- it's just one more stop on the Number Seven -- and he'll be begging you to hire him.

Second, move the right field fence in twelve feet.  Do this soon, so the vision of a dozen would-be home runs settling into the gloves of opposing outfielders doesn't lodge itself in Curtis Granderson's cranium the way the Great Wall of Flushing did to David Wright.

Third, hire whatever Molina brother isn't currently playing to teach Travis d'Arnaud how to play his position defensively.

Finally, take whoever came up with the original dimensions of the New Shea out back and shoot him.

Me?  I can't wait for April.