Here’s me talking with Juan Alicea, the Mets’ Spanish-language radio guy. He’s also the voice you hear if you choose the SAP option on your television during SNY’s broadcast.

What’s sad? I took six years of Spanish in school, and I needed help from my co-worker Roxana to prepare a decent question that wasn’t about how to get to the library. ¡Lo siento mucho, Sra. Kahn!

I can’t imagine there’s a single TedQuarters reader who hasn’t seen this video yet, but for posterity, here’s David Wright’s silly Vitamin Water commercial with The Situation.

I’ve said my piece about both Wright and The Situation already in the past few weeks, and the video does little to change my opinion on either:

A huge hat tip to Joe Budd at Amazin’ Avenue for pointing me to this blog post from Masters of WAR, evaluating statistically The Simpsons’ Waylon Smithers’ ability to put together the best possible company softball team given a massive amount of resources at his disposal.

Smithers, the post points out, failed pretty miserably, frequently opting for players who were past their primes, who were about to regress, or who were simply overrated. It almost looks as if Montgomery Burns’ interminable yes-man put together a team built to win in the realm of public perception, more than one built to win games over Shelbyville.

It still should have been enough to easily beat Shelbyville in the episode, of course, but the players on Springfield’s club fell victim to a series of weird injuries and unforeseen circumstances, and Smithers had lined up no reasonable roster depth beyond scrubs like Lenny and Carl.

The happy ending, of course, is that even despite the misappropriation of resources in compiling the roster, despite the loss of so many star players, and despite a bizarre managerial decision based on maximizing platoon splits where none likely existed, Springfield prevailed in the end.

Homer Simpson earned the glory — when he came to, of course — but certainly Smithers ultimately earned a contract extension for his efforts, however ineffective.

The streak is over.

If Jeff Francoeur had walked tonight, it would have represented a reasonably rare baseball event. By my count, Francoeur, in his 4 1/2-year career, has unintentionally walked in three consecutive games only five times — twice in 2007 and thrice in 2008.

So it has happened a little more than once per season across his career. In the game of baseball, Jeff Francoeur walking on three straight nights happens — very roughly — about as often as no-hitters. It’s not perfect-game rare or unassisted triple play rare, but it’s rare nonetheless.

And Frenchy thought he had it tonight, too. He looked at a pitch he was sure was ball four in the fourth inning, got a big grin on his face and started trotting down to first, only to be called back to bat by the home-plate umpire.

He ultimately doubled, driving in the Mets’ only run, so it was certainly better he didn’t take his base in this case — the novelty notwithstanding.

I’ve gotten a couple of Twitter messages and an email about Francoeur’s two-game season-opening walk streak. Nearly all of the notes are in jest, but I figured I’d address them because it makes for a neat example of how small sample sizes, taken in isolation, can be deceiving.

In his career, Frenchy has unintentionally walked, on average, 27 times per every 162 games. That’s exactly 1 in 6, which is amazingly convenient, and the reason I bothered with this.

It’s not a perfect analogy because Francoeur can — and has, in some instances — walk more than once per game. Plus he has walked more in some seasons than others.

But saying, for the sake of it, Francoeur walks once every six games, then the chance of him walking in a game is the same as a certain digit coming up on a dice roll — we’ll go with 4, in honor of the occasion — on consecutive rolls. Maybe you’d snicker if you rolled two fours on the first two of 162 rolls, but you certainly wouldn’t bat an eye if consecutive fours came up somewhere in the middle.

I certainly hope Francoeur’s walks are not random, and are an indication that he has finally made good on a career’s worth of promises to improve his plate discipline –weighting the dice, so to speak. Put me down for skeptical, though, especially since one of the walks came amidst Florida’s epic bullpen meltdown on Wednesday night.

He’s hitting, though, and that’s obviously what matters most. I’m sure being more selective helps.

Before you kill me, I realize that John Franco never pitched 100 innings in relief. I realized that when I asked, too. You know what I was getting at if you read here regularly, I suppose: