Wednesday, November 17, 2004

No love for Sammy

Sammy, we need to talk.

Try to understand. It's nothing personal against you, Dominican Daddy. It's just that, well... we aren't right for each other. You see, we've been hurt before.

We haven't been on speaking terms with Mo Vaughn and Steve Philips for a while now, after the way they wrecked our 2000 World Series team. Tom Glavine is in the dog house, too. And Cliff Floyd. Don't even mention Robbie Alomar. Lately, we've been investing a lot of time and energy in guys like you, and we've been rewarded with three straight sub-.500 seasons. Love hurts.

So when another aging, oft-injured, big-money player promising us the moon and stars comes a-knocking on our door, you'll have to forgive us if we look the other way. You see, we're Mets fans. We've learned to expect the worst. Besides, bringing you into our lives wouldn't be fair to you when we've really got our eyes on someone else.

His name is Carlos. He's young, talented, charming. Gold Glove fielder, power-hitter, base-stealer. He's really quite perfect. We're trying not to let ourselves believe he could really be ours, but we're hoping. And as long as we've got him in our heads, we can't be loving and faithful towards you.

Sammy, now is not the time for us. There may have once been a time where we were good for each other, but that time is past. Wouldn't you be much better off with someone else, anyway? I mean, you've still got some spark. Explore your options, see what's out there, you never know.

In the meantime, tell the Cubs to stop calling. We aren't interested. Let's just move on and pretend this whole affair never happened.

E-mail Mike Casey:
Stay updated on the latest Mets news: