The Game

“All great leaders since Moses have known that a feared enemy must be crushed completely” — Robert Greene, The 48 Laws of Power

The Mets edged the Braves 4-3 last night, blowing away any remaining smoke from the Atlanta postseason pipe dream. The S. S. Schuerholz started taking on water in earnest last month, the hitters unable to plug the leaks sprung by the pitching staff. They went down fighting with honor, but in the end, they went down — hard.

Captain John Smoltz went down with the ship, nasty to the bitter end. He escaped a pair of two-on none-out jams, smoking hard sliders past an overmatched Ruben Gotay twice in the first four innings. The Mets managed to scratch out a run in the third — Jose Reyes lined a single to right, stole second, took third on a wild pitch, and scored on a Carlos Beltran fly to short right. Reyes and Beltran manufacturing a run against a pitcher with shutout stuff — that could come in handy next month. 1-0 New York after three.

Equally encouraging, John Maine pitched well enough to make that run stand up. Maine’s ERA of 3.72 is deceptive; he’ll either be brilliant or bomb, but you’ll never see him go six innings and give up two earned runs. Last night he cruised through the first three, pounding the bottom of the zone with gas, nailing the outside corner with his slider, and even dashing the odd a change-up into the mix. When he’s on, he makes it look easy.

Too easy, decided someone upstairs. After he struck out the first two in the fourth, Mark Teixeira skied one to short center. Beltran could have had it easily, but for reasons known only to nobody, he deferred to Reyes, who couldn’t make the impossible over-the-shoulder catch. That kind of vapor lock never goes unpunished; Maine walked the next three hitters to force in the first Atlanta run. The official RBI went to home plate umpire Bruce Froemming, who squeezed Maine harder than Mr. Whipple with rigor mortis.

Credit Maine for not giving up a crooked number in a tight spot. And credit the Mets for getting up off the mat and fighting back like one of those low-budget scrappy underdog teams. First baseman Marlon Anderson [sic] launched a solo homer leading off the fifth, restoring the New York lead. In the seventh, Lastings Milledge ripped a triple off Ron Mahay and scored on a single from Reyes. Reyes is rejuvenated like Pootie Tang after his visit to Biggie Shorty’s farm. Mets up 3-1 with only six outs to go.

They got three the hard way. Aaron Heilman retired two in the eighth before allowing a walk and a single. Pedro Feliciano came in and walked Brian McCann on five pitches, most of them close. (We’re starting to take it personally, Froemming.) With the bases loaded, Guillermo Mota was brought in to face Jeff Francoeur for platoon reasons. Make that Platoon reasons — you get a free flashback to Vietnam whenever you see Mota on the hill. His 2-2 to Francoeur started outside and sailed back over the meat of the plate, which would be a great pitch in Bizarro World. Here it’s a meatball that Frenchy rips for a two-run single. Tie Game. Boo City.

In the bottom half, cheers. Beltran lined a single off Manny Acosta and stole second; the Braves’ teenage catcher didn’t have a prayer. Moises Alou grounded to third; Beltran waited for Yunel Escobar to throw to first and then scampered over to take the extra bag. Rather than walk Shawn Green to set up the double play, Acosta hung a slider, Green ripped it for the game-winning single, and then Paul Lo Duca hit into the inning-ending double play. Billy Wagner worked a 1-2-3 ninth to save the win for Maine Mota.

I love it when a plan comes together.

The Haiku

Green’s sweet New Year’s hit
Mota: shande for hitters
No Book of Life, Braves

The Boxscore

The Credits

Recap by David Simons
Haiku by Howard Megdal