Evil, blue-meanie Mets meet horrible, flowery end

While walking out of the press dining room last night at Shea, I literally bumped into Mr. Met - or, as I like to call him, Monsieur Met. He just pointed one of his big white fingers at me, which I took as an apology. Mr. Met is the last great, stupid mascot in sports. If they ever get rid of him, or shrink his head even a tiny bit, it will be a great disappointment. He would make a wonderful vice presidential candidate for either major party. I’m really tired of Blahg-ing, which I’m sure you can understand. So today, I will turn over much of this space to the musings of my four-year-old grandson, who has plenty to say about the upcoming Yankees-Mets series and demands to get it all off his chest. He is surprisingly uninformed about Alex Rodriguez’s availability, but there is great passion behind his words: “The Mets are evil. They are too scared to play in the rain. They are even scared of the flowers that grow in the grass. They are scared of the blue flowers that ... [link]