Why I Hate The Mets 2011 Season

I've been a Mets fan since the minute I started watching baseball. I guess it was easy in the beginning since I started watching around 1985. Back in those days the Yanks were suffering through some of the worst years of the franchise and the Mets were winning with a bunch of crazy drunks. The raw talent of a pitcher like Dwight Gooden was amazing, at least until the DWI's and the crack. It is sad to think that the Gooden may be the last great homegrown Mets pitcher.

I was out this weekend and a Yankee fan straight up asked me "Why are you a Mets fan?" I was able to come up with an answer but it took me five minutes to rationalize this decision. This year I'm fed up. I'm not going to give up on my team but I'm going to declare they have officially burned up all my patience. Now today we hear that Chris Young, who has been perhaps the best starting pitcher they have had so far this season, re-injured his shoulder and is likely out for the season. This comes right on the back of the news that their best pitching prospect, Jenry Mejia, needs Tommy John Surgery. What the hell is wrong with the Mets medical and training staff? This is not an isolated incident, the Mets players routinely fall apart (I'm looking at you Mr. Reyes).

This is all indicative of what is sure to be a long and torturous season where I have to listen to Yankee fans complain about Derek Jeter only hitting .275 and how Rafael Soriano is a terrible set-up man while they waltz into the post season. METS PLEASE WAKE UP AND GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER!!

PTU Dog House: Jared Jeffries

I think today is as good a day as ever to re-post this:

Jared Jeffries

A long, long time ago Dr. James Naismith nailed two peach baskets up about 10 feet from the floor and created the game of basket ball which would eventually evolve over the years into the sport we all know and love so much. About 90 years later, Jared Jeffries (seen above making his trademark face) was born and Dr. Naismith has been rolling over in his grave ever since, as a talentless waste of life would pervert his creation for years to come.

Jared is to basketball what Malaria is to Africa. When Jared shoots the ball, statues of the virgin Mary cry tears of blood. Jared has the game of an autistic dwarf and the looks of a gay giraffe with Down Syndrome. To call him a bum is offensive to homeless people.

To make matters even worse, coaches inexplicably love this poor excuse for an athlete. He's always said to be a great locker room guy, which I assume means he's really good at picking up towels and jockstraps since he surely is not anyone's idea of a good basketball player. Now in his second go-round ruining the Knicks, JJ has proven that he has not picked up a single skill in his 9 year reign of terror called an NBA career, besides standing in front of more talented athletes to draw charges and generally looking like a cross between Swizz Beatz and mushmouth. How he ever won Mr. Basketball as an Indiana high-schooler is beyond me, unless it was meant to be sarcastic. Averaging 1 point and 3 rebounds per game as a Knick this season, the perpetually slack-jawed Jeffries is well on his way to another kick in the groin of a season.

UPDATE: Jared nearly had the game of his life last night, somehow converting 5 field goals and the go-ahead basket in the final minute. Then he remembered he was Jared Jeffries and promptly fumbled the ball to Kevin Garnett ending the Knicks' chances for a miracle win in Boston. The world is in shock today at the unholy evil that is Jared Jeffries.

We might as well name the PTU Dog House after Jared Jeffries. Just take a look at the video evidence below.

Jared, go to hell.

PTU Dog House

Jared Jeffries

A long, long time ago Dr. James Naismith nailed two peach baskets up about 10 feet from the floor and created the game of basket ball which would eventually evolve over the years into the sport we all know and love so much. About 90 years later, Jared Jeffries (seen above making his trademark face) was born and Dr. Naismith has been rolling over in his grave ever since, as a talentless waste of life would pervert his creation for years to come.

Jared is to basketball what Malaria is to Africa. When Jared shoots the ball, statues of the virgin Mary cry tears of blood. Jared has the game of an autistic dwarf and the looks of a gay giraffe with Down Syndrome. To call him a bum is offensive to homeless people.

To make matters even worse, coaches inexplicably love this poor excuse for an athlete. He's always said to be a great locker room guy, which I assume means he's really good at picking up towels and jockstraps since he surely is not anyone's idea of a good basketball player. Now in his second go-round ruining the Knicks, JJ has proven that he has not picked up a single skill in his 9 year reign of terror called an NBA career, besides standing in front of more talented athletes to draw charges and generally looking like a cross between Swizz Beatz and mushmouth. How he ever won Mr. Basketball as an Indiana high-schooler is beyond me, unless it was meant to be sarcastic. Averaging 1 point and 3 rebounds per game as a Knick this season, the perpetually slack-jawed Jeffries is well on his way to another kick in the groin of a season.

We might as well name the PTU Dog House after Jared Jeffries. Just take a look at the video evidence below.

Jared, go to hell.

PTU Dog House

Eddy Curry

Where to start with Fat Ed? How about the fact that he was a walking embodiment of the Isiah Thomas era? A fat, sweaty, lazy, walking (he never really ran any where very hard) symbol of the overpaid, underperforming yet talented players that the snake loved so much. If Marbury was the face of the spoiled, underachieving Isiah era then Eddy was the constant reminder of Zeke's incompetence as team president wearing an expensive suit at the end of the bench every night for the past 4 years.

Going straight to the pros from Thornwood high in Illinois, Curry was the 4th pick of his hometown Bulls. Everyone could see he was ridiculously talented but he had a possible congenital heart defect that gave the team pause. No one would want to give the guy an extended contract because of it.... Except Isiah who promptly traded every draft pick the Knicks had for the next 20 years for the round mound of no rebounds, along with some other bums, sinking the Knicks into salary cap hell before Donnie Walsh eventually cleaned things up. Unsurprisingly, Eddy showed flashes of what he could be, occasionally putting up huge scoring numbers (although he makes Amare look like Moses Malone on the glass), but would eventually derail his career by repeatedly showing up to training camps out of shape. When you're a professional athlete who runs up and down a court for a living and are given the best trainers and personal chefs money can buy, how much of a fat slob must you be to continue to gain weight?

All of this is enough to land you in the PTU dog house for life, so we won't dwell on the alleged "gay sexual harassment" suit. Let's just say "Come and touch it, Dave" are words that will go down in Knicks history along with "Are you gonna get in the truck?". Dark days.

Welcome to the dog house, Eddy. You fat fuck.

PTU Dog House

One of the great things about sports is the way that it can showcase man kinds' talents and physical capabilities that we had no idea existed. Professional athletes can amaze us with their ability to do what seems impossible.

Then there are these assholes.

The PTU dog house is reserved for the lowest of the lows, the players who make us want to throw up every time we see an old highlight of theirs, the ones who drove you to curse at television sets and question the sanity of coaches who continued to play them night after night despite how awful they were. And the ones who just plain sucked on NY's big stage.

We're not going to focus on the guys who came here at the tail end of their careers (Penny, Steve Francis, Pudge Rodriguez). They have an excuse for struggling. Those who gain entry to the PTU dog house are the players and coaches who we love to hate because they might have made it anywhere but they just couldn't make it here.

So, the inaugural member of the PTU dog house is none other than:
CARL PAVANO


Pavano is a prime example of the athlete who can thrive in a small market but was terrible in New York. One of Steinbrenner's "If you can't beat 'em, buy 'em" acquisitions, following Carl's stellar performance against the Yanks in the '03 series (then an 18-8 season the next year) he signed a hefty $39.95 mil contract with the pinstripes. Big things were expected of Carl, but the dreams of his becoming an ace in NY were short-lived. Injury after injury shelved the righthander including the infamous Porsche crash in 06. If there weren't already enough reasons for New York sports fans to think of Carl as a free-loading bum, then injuring yourself while driving your Maxim model girlfriend in your Porsche sealed the deal.

It got so bad for Pavano, that even mild-mannered Mike Mussina called him out as a bad teammate and questioned his desire to be a Yankee. Joe Torre also spent a good deal of his controversial book basically calling Pavano a cancer in the locker room.

Eventually, Carl "15-day" Pavano found his way to the small market Twins and has since become what the Yankees hoped he could have been for them, winning 18 games and showing that he actually has good stuff. However, his utter awfulness in New York has landed him in the PTU dog house forever.

Carl, you suck.