I had a long-sleeve shirt on. I’m a bike rider. I had taken a long bike ride before I went to the meeting, a 55-mile bike ride.

What happens when you exercise like that? Your body starts relieving that heat. I took the shirt off because I was hot. As simple as that. Maybe I took it off in the middle of the meeting. You’re upset, you get hot. All that s—, what is that? What a crime! I took my shirt off. By the way, I always wear a t-shirt.

– Tony Bernazard, as told to FoxSports.com.

OK, first of all, this is hilarious. No matter how hot I get in meetings here at the office, I never feel comfortable taking my shirt off.

That said, I think Bernazard makes a few reasonable points in the interview. For years, long before Bernazard’s firing, I heard Mets fans in media, on talk-radio, in comments sections and on message boards claiming Bernazard was at the root of every single one of the team’s problems. Bernazard, it seemed, became some sort of great big bugaboo, the mysterious embodiment of all that was wrong with the Mets.

People even bandy about terms like “evil” and “bad.” About a vice president of player development that they’ve never met.

I don’t know that I even believe in outright evil so much as some sort of sliding, fluctuating grayscale of human decency, and I really have no idea where Tony Bernazard falls on that. Maybe he’s a pretty mean guy. Maybe he’s just a serious baseball man who tends to be bristly with the media, and so he’s portrayed negatively, and fans run wild with it.

What I am certain of is that Tony Bernazard was not, is not, and never will be the source of every single one of the Mets’ problems. Even if he was truly a terrible jackass filled only with horrible ideas — which, again, I doubt — he was one cog in a very big wheel, and teams should obviously have checks and balances in place to prevent one errant cog from spinning out of control.

If the Mets continue winning, and by some chance succeed in 2010, someone will certainly point to the absence of Bernazard as a catalyst for change. And that will be, to me, almost as hilarious as a grown-ass man taking his shirt off in a meeting.

Sometimes I accuse David Wright of never saying anything terribly exciting. Other times, I think he just understands baseball, and his measured responses reflect an appropriately measured approach to a long season.

On his 1000th hit: “It’s great. Baseball is a game of numbers. And I’m glad I could finally contribute to a win.”

On his struggles at the plate: “I’ve realized that there’s going to be some ups and downs over the course of a year. And I’ve been through one of the downs. Today was great, but we’ve got another game in a few hours.”

On taking advantage of the Dodgers’ defensive miscues: “Part of playing good baseball over an extended period of time is catching some breaks…. Baseball’s a funny game where, when you put into it what you’re supposed to, some of them will go your way.”

I’m bound for Citi Field to interview Don Mattingly, among others. I intend to ask him what’s up with not having a mustache anymore.

Then, two baseball games! Hooray.

For now, enjoy the rock stylings of Rocket from the Crypt:

Oliver Perez had many such interactions on his long walk. Mostly though, it was a solitary venture. When he had a revelation, he would pull out a baseball and throw it. Often it was the slider, sometimes the changeup, sometimes the fastball. When he needed nourishment he would reach into his other sack and pull out a young coconut. Often he would need his creativity as much as his strength to open it without losing the precious water inside. He would throw them, drop them, hit them with sticks- anything that worked. He subsisted largely on coconut water and meat for his sojourn. When he needed a little variety and a chair to sit on, he would stop somewhere such as the bar. He did not do this often, for the interactions he had were so often odd and distracting, but this was part of the journey as well.

– Owen Poindexter, Mets Fan Fiction.

There are a lot of strange and fascinating Mets blogs out there, but this might be the strangest and fascinatingest. Read the entries from earliest to most recent or else it’s a little like watching Memento.

Wilmer Flores extended his hitting streak to 10 games yesterday with an RBI single in the first inning in Savannah. Flores is now hitting .361 in his second season in the South Atlantic League with a .403 on-base percentage and a .569 slugging.

Cool. Flores took a perceived step backward last season when he posted unspectacular numbers as a 17-year-old in A ball, but of course it’s important to note he was a 17-year-old in A ball.

Toby Hyde’s offseason prospect rankings noted that, according to a Mets’ official, Flores had a “historically good” strikeout percentage for a teenager playing in the SAL.

Clicking around baseball-reference’s Sally League stats archive, it does appear Flores struck out particularly infrequently relative to his age. It’s hard to say, but I’d guess the Mets officially didn’t mean “historically good” so much as “good, historically.” And a big part of what makes it tough to compare is that so few players reach the Sally League at Flores’ age. Even now, in his second full season at the level, he’s the third-youngest player in the circuit.

In a small 77 plate-appearance sample this season, Flores has maintained — actually, lowered — his strikeout percentage. The 18-year-old has whiffed only six times. That’s got to be a good sign.

I’m no expert in analyzing Minor League stats, especially at so low a level, but based on the fact that Flores is neither striking out nor walking very frequently, I’d guess Sally League pitchers simply can’t get much past him. He’s hitting the ball in nearly every plate appearance, and based on his slugging percentage, it’s a safe bet he’s hitting it pretty hard.

So that’s cool. And it’s a meandering way of saying I’m excited to see it for myself on Thursday, when I’ll be in Savannah on the first leg of a baseball road trip.