The Gutless, Heartless Team That Call Themselves "The Mets"

Message to the Mets (and their fans):

Since you failed to show up at Citi Field for your weekend series against the Braves, I expect you to refuse to show up for your weekend series at Citizens Bank Park this weekend.  After all, if you didn't have the guts to play spoiler in the NL East race this past weekend, you forfeit the right to exhibit any guts against the Phils this coming weekend.  So, keep playing the way you did against the Braves, mailing it in and reserving your tee times.

It's quite obvious that you have no heart.  The Collapse of 2007 was supposed to be an anomaly, a fluke, not really representative of the great Met "tradition" (of some of the luckiest plays ever in World Series history).  But what about 2008, when you saw the Phightins in the rear view and folded like a tent?  Or 2009, when a few key injuries sank your season before it every started?  Or the team that mailed in 2010 from Spring Training?

So, please, don't start caring about the season now.  Don't bother worrying about "playing for pride" ... you had that chance this past weekend and passed on it like I pass on rice cakes or whole wheat bread.  Don't suddenly realize that you can play spoiler now.  Just keep on playing your Wiis or X-Box 360s in the clubhouse to take your mind off how absolutely horrible your club is, and what a bunch of gutless, heartless players you all are.

And if you should get the idea that you should get up off your knees and start playing baseball, don't.  Your heads are no place for ideas.  Just keep on collecting your paychecks and mailing in your results.

Changing, ever so slightly, what Marcellus Wallace said to Butch in "Pulp Fiction", I say to the Mets:

"You leave town.  Tonight, right now.  And when you're gone, you stay gone, or you be gone.  You lost all your Philly privileges."