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Monday, June 14, 2004

David Wright is Good and Other Punless Thoughts 

After staying up late Thursday night to watch the Mets get swept under the astro turf in extra innings by the Twins, I woke up Friday morning feeling groggy. I knew I had to shake the cob webs out though because I was heading down to Florida for a wild bachelor party weekend. The great majority of the guys I'd be meeting down there are not sophisticated and cultured (ha ha!) married guys like yours truly. And unlike me they go out partying just about every night. Needless to say, it was going to be a rough chore to keep up with these guys. But I'm a gamer so I think I can hang in there.

We would be having a "warm up" night in Orlando Friday and the actual bachelor party would start in O-Town Saturday night but a bus would be taking us to Tampa Bay for the actual festivities. Apparently, Orlando has some silly "six inch rule" for strip clubs where the ladies are not allowed within six inches of the patrons. I'm not much of a strip club guy but the rest of the crew was not down with this strict regulation so it was off to Tampa where the only rule in the strip clubs is that there are no rules. By the way, if you are ever in Tampa Bay do yourself a favor and stop into Mons Venus. Actually, do yourself a big favor and cash in your life savings for a boat load of singles, then go to Mons Venus. Mmmmmm, Mons Venus . . . . Oh, crap, where was I? Oh, right. I made it through Friday and after a Rooty Tooty Fresh and Fruity breakfast from IHOP Saturday afternoon when I woke up I was ready for the night.

After making our way through the myriad of strip clubs, dance clubs and bars it was a little after 3:00 a.m. and time to find the bus for the trip back to Orlando. I was feeling pretty proud of myself being as I hadn't lost my cookies yet and I was still standing. The walk back to the bus, however, felt like forever. Even though it was about 3:15 in the morning, it was still about 88 degrees out with the humidity at about 80%. I was struggling. Dehydrated. Hot. Stumbling. Need fluids. Finally, after about 15 minutes of this trek of death I noticed that my friend had an Avian bottle of water. I ask, "Hey, hook me up with that water I'm dying over here." "No problem" he responds. I take it and start guzzling it down. Wait, there's something not right. After six or seven big "gulps" I realize I'm not drinking water. I detach the bottle from my lips. My throat tightens. My stomach cringes. Through my watery eyes I see that my "friend" was laughing uncontrollably. In fact he was gathering up the rest of the guys so that they could all witness his little science experiment unfold. Yup, it wasn't water. It was straight vodka and I had just taken down about eight ounces of it. I thought of taking a swing at the prankster but my body had other plans for me.

What does this have to do with the Mets you ask. Well, not much. With the Mets playing the way they are I just don't feel like talking about them. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a fair weather blogger but I just need a break. So instead you get this. Okay okay let me see if I can tie the Mets into this entry some how? You see I woke up Sunday morning and felt like I had just gotten blind sided by a Mack truck or a Mo Vaughn. I managed to make it back to the airport and board the flight. As I sat crunched into the middle seat staring at the barf bag for two and a half hours, I didn't think things could get any worse. Then the Smokin' Hot Corner picked me up from the airport and I was treated to a 45 minute interrogation for the ride home. "What did you do . . . Where did you go . . . Etc... Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, I got home and checked out the Mets scores for the past few days. Yeah, my beloved Mets had dropped 5 in a row - 3 to the Twins and 2 to the last place Royals. Ugh. Kill me now.

My stomach started to lose its curdled milk-like feeling when I saw the Mets were about to at least pick up one win against the Royals. Then, as I surfed around the net a bit I saw that David Wright was finally promoted to AAA. Things were starting to look better. The local papers and the Internet were jammed pack with Wright related articles, "The Wright Stuff," "The Time is Wright" etc... It was great. Just a few months ago this waste of a sperm cell didn't even know who David Wright was! Wright's final AA numbers look like this: 223 ABs, 44 runs, 81 hits, 27 2B, 10 HRs, 40 RBI, 39 BB, 41 SO, 20 SB, 6 CS, .363 AVG, .467 OBP, .619 SLG. Wright ripped through AA pitching like that damn stealth vodka ripped through my stomach. Wright is constantly compared to Scott Rolen. Whether that comparison is accurate, or fair, remains to be seen but it's worth noting that Rolen, at about the same age as Wright and playing in the same AA league, had almost identical numbers: .361 AVG in 230 ABs, 83 hits, 22 2B, 9 HRs, 34 BB, 32 K, 8 SBs and 3 CS. Speaking about his promotion to Norfolk, Wright demonstrated why us fans are going gogga over him:
This will be like the beginning of a new season. But I can’t rest on laurels. Triple-A pitchers aren’t going to care what I did in Double-A and the guys in Double-A I went 3 for 4 against aren’t going to be getting called up.
Do the Mets have a PR person drafting his responses? Really, could this kid be any cooler? Wright is not resting on his laurels, as he picked up "Wright" (sorry, I could not help myself) where he left off in his first AAA start for Norfolk last night going 3 for 4 with a double. The Tides lost the game 13 to 6, however, thanks to Scott Erickson who gave up 8 runs in 5 inning raising his ERA to 8.00 in three re-hab starts for Norfolk. All-in-all, a pretty damn good night in southern Virginia. I'm feeling much better. It will be a long time before I drink vodka again though.
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