Niemo bearing brunt of bullpen’s frustration

“So I got up in the eighth and after Feliciano got Cano I sat back down, and they told me in case something else happened and someone gets on base, I will be in there.”

Asked if it was difficult to do that, to keep warming up, Rodriguez said it was a matter of being smart.

“You have to save your bullets and not waste them back there and throw too much,” he said.

But sure enough, in the top of the ninth, Rodriguez was quickly warming up again after another reliever, Ryota Igarashi, gave up a walk and two hits. In came Rodriguez to get the final two outs, although it was not easy. Derek Jeter doubled, and after a groundout, Mark Teixeira reached on an infield single.

David Waldstein, N.Y. Times.

When I saw this story on the back page of the Daily News this morning, I figured it was just a slow news day and the News was mucking up a fuss for lack of anything else to print.

But the News’ story didn’t include the above details and didn’t mention that the spat between Frankie Rodriguez and bullpen coach Randy Niemann stemmed from a dispute over how the reliever has been used.

This is nothing new: Jerry Manuel’s quick hook severely taxes the arms in his bullpen, and his apparent insistence that every reliever warm up at some point in every game must get frustrating for a crew of already-overworked men. Relievers hate warming up without pitching — they call it “dry-humping” — and the decision to get them throwing represents one of the real, impactful managerial moves that are never represented in the box score.

Sure, it may look like Fernando Nieve sometimes goes a couple of games without pitching, but scour tapes of those games and you’ll note that Nieve is almost perpetually warming up in the bullpen. K-Rod reportedly threw 100 pitches in the bullpen before he entered the Mets’ 20-inning win over the Cardinals. I can’t say for certain, but I’d guess that’s the type of thing that will make you want to fight the bullpen coach.

The Daily News mentioned Rodriguez’s history of spats with Tony Bernazard and Brian Bruney, but this story shouldn’t be about the fiery closer. It should be about Manuel’s myopic bullpen management, and it’s unfortunate that Niemo should have to bear the brunt. I don’t know all the mechanics behind the decision to warm a guy up, but I’ve got a feeling the fault here falls on the man making the call, not the one receiving it.

Fogerty wha?

Andre Dawson played center field, John Fogerty sang “Centerfield,” and in an unusual twist, both will be honored at the baseball Hall of Fame induction ceremony July 25….

Noting he was born in California before baseball expanded west, Fogerty said his first team was the Yankees, but that he now roots for the Oakland A’s. His recording of “Centerfield” has been played at the Cooperstown induction for more than a decade.

David Hinckley, N.Y. Daily News.

Well that’s cool, I suppose. Granted, “Centerfield” is a pretty cheesy tune, and I could probably name a few… wait a minute, CALIFORNIA!? Fogerty, no! I can’t believe I’ve been misled all this time.

What he said

And with Francoeur making $5 million this year, it is hard to see the Mets accepting that he is a sunk cost when Beltran returns, either by putting Pagan in right or giving Beltran the right field job in the hope that it puts less stress on his knees….

The answer to Francoeur is Pagan/Beltran in those two outfield spots, but there is zero reason to expect that Beltran is going to return healthy. (Not zero reason to hope, but to expect it.) The Mets, unwilling to swallow even Gary Matthews’ remaining salary, seem like poor candidates to do the same with Francoeur.

Howard Megdal, SNY.tv.

Howard’s right, you know. The problem of what the Mets should do in the outfield once Carlos Beltran returns isn’t one I’ve tackled here, since it doesn’t seem too worthy of my tackling until its clear that Beltran will return. But if and when that happens, Pagan absolutely must retain a starting spot unless Francoeur has turned his season around in a big, big way.

During the offseason, I wrote that I didn’t agree with sabermetricians arguing that Francoeur’s uptick with the 2009 Mets was merely the product of a reversal of fortune. I still feel that way, but it’s become pretty clear that whatever was happening for Frenchy in the second half of last season has stopped happening, and that he has likely returned to being Jeff Francoeur. Check out Francoeur’s OPS+ lines over the past few years:

2008: 72
2009 (with Braves): 68
2009 (with Mets): 120
2010: 69

One of these things doesn’t belong here, one of these things isn’t the same, etc.

That’s not entirely fair, of course. Isolating just these two and a quarter seasons conveniently ignores the first two and a half seasons of Frenchy’s career, across which he posted a Major League average 100 OPS+.

But even with Francoeur’s strong defense, that’s not really good enough to be a starting corner outfielder in the big leagues. And his line this season, like his line with the Braves in 2008 and 2009, is bad enough to make him a sub-replacement level right fielder. That means a team should be able to find a better player in Triple-A or on the scrap heap. Chris Carter, for example.

It’s still early in 2010, so there’s still hope that whatever magic or mechanical adjustment or attitude change turned Francoeur into a productive player for a half season in 2009 will again do its bidding on the Mets’ right fielder.

That just looks less likely to happen with every passing ofer.

Meanwhile Pagan, with his range in center, speed on the basepaths and reasonable plate discipline, has maintained (or even improved upon) the form that made him one of the Mets’ most valuable — and underrated — position players in 2009.

From the Wikipedia: Dreams

From the Wikipedia: Dreams.

The Wikipedia defines a dream as “a succession of thoughts, images, sounds or emotions which the mind experiences during sleep.”

No one is entirely sure why we dream. People theorize that we dream when we convert short-term memories to long-term ones, or maybe when we eliminate useless memories from our subconscious. Some say dreams are our way of sorting out the emotions we repress, others say dreams are a method of understanding or elucidating the emotions that are difficult to express rationally. Some maintain that dreams help us connect conscious thoughts, others claim they help us dissociate our irrational selves from reality.

We know for sure that we do dream, and we even know at what point in our sleep it happens — every night during R.E.M. sleep, even if we don’t remember it at all. No one is certain what part or parts of the brain initiate dreams. A couple of people had decent theories, but all they wound up with when they tried to test them were a bunch of dead monkeys.

The Wikipedia, and, I suppose, humanity, knows frighteningly little about dreams, considering how often they happen. They can be silly or sexual, stressful or happy. Some think dreams should be analyzed psychologically to root out their meanings, others argue they are themselves a method of internal, personal psychoanalysis.

When you think about it, though, dreams are incredible. Somehow, in sleep, we create a series of images, conversations, actions and decisions that can seem so damn real they’re almost cinematic. That’s nuts. It’s mind-boggling that we even have that capacity, especially since it serves no obvious evolutionary purpose.

I suppose I should say that I create those things. I can’t speak for you. Part of the problem with studying dreams is that we can never experience another person’s dream, so we can’t be sure what a dream is like for anyone else, kind of like colors and pain. I’ve recapped some of my stranger or more interesting dreams to people and had them tell me I was lying, and that nobody has dreams so silly or so weird or whatever.

Well I did, bub. Sorry if your dreams are lame.

A couple of months ago, for the first time in my life, I had a dream so funny I actually laughed myself awake. The details are so odd that I won’t explain them all here, but it culminated in some sort of goat-buffalo hybrid headbutting a pain-in-the-ass teenager down a mountain, and the comedic timing was impeccable. The next day I wished I could consciously come up with and film a situation so hilarious, since it would certainly make me a Hollywood legend.

I have some pretty mundane dreams, too, of course. A week ago I dreamed the Mets traded for Kevin Millwood.

My dog — the late, great T. Captain Dog — used to dream all the time. He’d enjoy what seemed to be happy dreams, based on the various thrilling dog noises he’d make throughout, but also what seemed like anxiety dreams, which were both pathetic and hilarious at the same time. What could be stressing you out, Captain? You just lay about all day, living the easiest life conceivable. Did you imagine that one day the food bowl just wasn’t there? That the local squirrels finally ganged up and started chasing you back?

I bring up dreams today because I’m still thinking about last night’s Lost finale. That show always struck me as dreamlike: Hey, we’re lost on an island, and there’s some black smoke that keeps killing people, oh and also there are other people here living in a quaint little village, and they won’t let us leave the island, and also almost everyone here is really hot.

And just like most dreams, the show failed to come to a satisfying, definitive conclusion. But I guess — as with dreams — the various plot holes, unexplained mysteries and unclear connections in the show don’t necessarily make the insights gained or emotions explored any less real.

In Rod We Trust

Rod Barajas is prominent among possible catchers whom the Rangers are scouting as spring moves into summer, and the July 31 Trade Deadline gets closer.

The Rangers had interest in Barajas in the offseason as a free agent, and industry sources said the club will have interest again if the Mets look to move him.

The Mets are not in a selling mode yet. But they are sitting in last place in the National League East, while Barajas is off to a strong start. He went into the weekend series with the Yankees hitting .276, with 10 home runs and 24 RBIs in his first 33 games.

T.R. Sullivan and Chris Cox, MLB.com.

I should mention before I get into this that watching Rod Barajas play baseball has been one of the most thrilling parts, for me, of being a Mets fan this season. And that’s not despite his relative inability to get on base, it’s in part because of it. Barajas takes lots of massive cuts, and when he squares one up, whoa nelly. That’s a spectacular thing to see, and it’s happening pretty damn frequently. More than half of Barajas’ hits have been for extra bases. Dude’s slugging .551. He has provided the Mets way, way more than they could have hoped for, and more than they could have hoped for from Bengie Molina for way less money.

Oh, and he comes to the plate to “Low Rider” and “California Love.” And when pressed for quotes, he provides some of the smartest baseball analysis you’ll ever hear from an active player. He’s the only person connected with the team that I’ve heard even suggest that Jenrry Mejia might need more than one pitch to succeed at the Major League level. I hope the Mets make Rod Barajas their manager someday. I really do.

Also, I don’t believe the Mets will become trade-deadline sellers if they’re even remotely near playoff contention. As long as the current front office is in place, I have my doubts that the team will ever cut bait on a season or trade their home-run leader to a more legitimate contender.

Nor does this administration appear likely to sell high on a player, ever. If anything, these Mets seem more apt to sign Barajas to an extension now, while his OPS+ is 22 points higher than it ever has been for a full season.

But trading Barajas now would indeed be selling high on a player who has never performed like this before, so, depending on the return, it could be a shrewd move. The Rangers are obviously too smart to give up the type of package a catcher with an .840 OPS should net, since I’m certain no one values Barajas as a catcher who can maintain an .840 OPS.

The Rangers have one of the league’s best Minor League systems and a ton of young pitching, though, and if the Mets could net even a halfway decent prospect or a useful player for the future for a 34-year-old catcher signed to a one-year deal playing way above his head, in a season in which they appear unlikely to contend, then, you know, duh.

I’d guess that the only way it would happen, though, is if Josh Thole forces the issue from Triple-A Buffalo. Thole appears to be getting about that, going 11-for-21 in his last six games with five doubles, a home run and three walks to raise his season line to .250/.314/.417. If Thole keeps hitting and Henry Blanco keeps playing well as the big-league backup, Barajas may seem a lot more expendable soon.

And then there was no more Lima Time

Word passed around on Sunday that Jose Lima died of a massive heart attack. He was not yet 38 years old. They had a moment of silence for him at the stadium in Kansas City, before the Royals-Rockies game, though I’m not sure that in this case that was quite right. It probably should have been a moment of music — Lima never cared for silence. They could struck up a mambo band — maybe played one of his most popular lyrics as relayed by Sports Illustrated’s Kostya Kennedy: “Parate a batear que te voy a alimar.”

Step up to the plate. I’m going to strike you out.

And I thought about that image of Jose Lima, smoking his cigar, smiling happily, telling stories, all in the aftermath of his own loss and the Royals’ 15th straight loss. Over time, most of the people around baseball came to understand that Jose Lima was just having fun. That’s all. Baseball was fun. Life was fun. As he would say to friends and strangers and kids who wanted autographs: “What time is it?” The correct answer was “Lima Time.”

Even if you lost, it was still Lima Time.

“Man, if I see a guy with his head down, I know I’ve got him,” he told me that day in the clubhouse. “We can’t put our heads down. We can hurt, man. But we’ve got to hurt on the inside.”

In my memory, then, he took one more puff of his cigar and blew out the smoke and smiled. In show biz, they say, “The show must go on.” In the clubhouse, Lima said: “That’s what baseball is, man. You hurt on the inside. On the outside, we’ve got to win some games.”

Joe Posnanski, JoePosnanski.com.

I was privately, snarkily wondering if Jose Lima’s obituaries would neglect to mention how Lima spent much of his career being one of the worst pitchers imaginable. All due respect and all, but I hated Lima when he came to the Mets. Lima Time in Flushing remains the only time I can ever remember being put off by a player’s on-field antics.

Lima, I was certain, hadn’t earned the right to dance in the dugout. He hadn’t even earned the right to be on the team. He came to the Mets with a 5.21 ERA and only managed to raise that in his four starts.

But Posnanski, as he often does, puts everything in perspective. Jose Lima’s badness felt closely tied to Jose Lima’s brief goodness, and Jose Lima’s apparent madness. And it seems somehow fitting, if still tragic, that a guy like Lima would die so young. Everything Jose Lima did was loud, obnoxious, extreme, and kind of awesome. Guys like that aren’t made to fade away.

So rest in peace, Jose Lima. Here’s hoping heaven has some poorly run franchises.

Head, meet desk

Acosta optioned to Buffalo to make room for Igarashi tomorrow. Guess Mejia’s staying in pen.

David Lennon, on Twitter.

Awesome. And by “awesome” I mean “not at all awesome.”

Acosta’s actually been better than Mejia out of the pen in small samples. And Acosta’s not a 20-year-old stud prospect who should be starting and needs work on his secondary pitches before he can help a decimated rotation.