Here we go:
Cold. I know people have strong opinions on this, but for a lobster roll I prefer lobster salad — the mayonnaisey kind. I think I’m not the best judge of lobster, though, because I am scarred in all sorts of ways from working a couple of summers in a wholesale/retail lobster market. Part of that job entailed dumping crates of lobsters into huge vats of boiling water, maybe 200 at a time, and I think hot lobster evokes more of the odd guilt that arises when I consider how many crustaceans I’ve massacred.
Also, I may have shared this before but I can’t remember: Working at a giant lobster market seems like a fun and funny summer job, but it is harder than you could even imagine to get the smell off you. I used to come home and shower with four different soaps and really scrub myself down. I remember one night I was going to the movies with a girl I liked, so I did absolutely everything I could to eradicate the stench of hot lobster and fish from my body. I’m talking showering for like a half hour, deodorant, a little cologne, everything. And then, putting popcorn into my mouth, I smelled it on my hands. Awful. I reeked all summer.
So my relationship with lobster is kind of complicated, I guess.
Too many to count. I think people assume that because I tend to be patient and perhaps a bit reflective on this blog that I’m the same way in real life, and it’s really not the case. I get fired up pretty easily, and when the Mets are losing most of my workdays begin with a several-minute-long profanity-laced rant to anyone who will even pretend to listen about things the Mets did the previous night. If someone comes and interrupts me I usually challenge him to a fight. It’s really only once I get that all out that I can take a breath, think things over and write mild-mannered posts about how there’s no way the Mets really suck this much.
Man, you’re asking the wrong guy. I’ve been to a Peoria Chiefs game in 105-degree heat, I’ve driven 200-plus miles to go see games at RFK Stadium, I went to Olympic Stadium in its last miserable days. The only justification I’ve ever needed to buy a ticket for a baseball game is that there’s a baseball game. Baseball is the thing I save up money for.
Of course, I realize I’m something of an outlier, and it’s easy for me to say now that I have a press pass that gets me in free. Obviously Mets fans have plenty of good reasons for not showing up lately: The economy stinks, just about every aspect of going to a game is pretty expensive, the weather has been bad. But mostly, I suspect, it’s the team.
The Mets are coming off two losing seasons and two miserable finishes before that. It’s a huge market and there are plenty of people, I suspect, who would shoulder the financial lode and pony up cash for tickets if they thought the team had a better-than-even-money chance of winning. It’s going to take time and a lot of wins for them to convince the masses that they do.


There were a ton of votes for a slew of guys, from Tsuyoshi Shinjo to Bobby Bonilla to Joe McEwing to George “the Stork” Theodore, all of which would be entertaining for certain.
Santana also has “El Gocho” embroidered in script on his glove.