Nope

It’s just possible the real Jason Bay — the guy who hit all those home runs for the Pirates and Red Sox — is stashed somewhere in Charlie Samuels’ basement.

That is about as good an explanation as any for Bay’s continued invisibility in the Mets lineup as Samuels, the team’s former clubhouse manager, faces charges he swiped $2.3 million worth of trinkets from the club over the years.

Mike Puma, N.Y. Post.

No it’s not.

Better explanations, off the top of my head: Sample size, injuries, aging, park factor, massively diminished hr/fb rate, diminished strike-zone judgment.

Apropos of almost nothing

I am a creature of habit. Every day I leave my house at 8:04 a.m., walk to the deli, get a cup of tea and the Daily News, and proceed to the train station. The train comes at 8:16. I find a seat, read the paper, drink my tea, and try to map out my first couple of posts for this site.

For some reason today the train was more crowded than usual. I had to sit in one of the so-called stare seats, meaning I left myself open to sitting not only directly next to another passenger but also across from one. Two stops after mine, a couple of women about 50, wearing black pantsuits and sneakers, carrying alligator-leather handbags oversized near the point of absurdity, got on and sat down.

One sat in the seat across from me and one in the seat next to me, making it impossible for me to avoid their conversation or concentrate on anything else — namely thinking about what to write for this site.

These are some of the topics they discussed:

– Their mutual friend Connie, who has a great body for a woman her age because she is extremely wealthy and has the time and resources to work out constantly, and how, despite her flat stomach and toned arms, her face is irrevocably busted — the type of thing no personal trainer can ever repair.

– The son of the woman sitting next to me, a 25-year-old loser who still lives at home and will never find a woman to marry him.

– How every husband cheats on his wife.

– The price of handbags at Nieman Marcus and Saks Fifth Avenue.

– The ex-husband of the woman sitting across from me, who is remiss in paying some of the expenses of their children, in part because of the medical expenses he is accruing due to a brain tumor.

– The price of cocktail and formal dresses.

– How they hoped to be retired by now, and how the market picked an inconvenient time to tank.

– The price of apartments in Trump Tower White Plains, which don’t even come with a deck.

– The price of an apartment for the loser son, and whether that would cast him out of or deeper into loserdom.

There was more but I think I blocked it. Yes, I’m a judgmental jerk. And maybe I’ve had a dozen audible chats that have made me sound far worse. But if it weren’t for a few kind words about the smart daughter of the woman sitting across from me, this might have been the worst conversation of all time. Mostly because it distracted me. Should’ve put my headphones in and bagged the whole thinking plan, I guess.

Ike Davis flying to New York for tests: a good thing?

The cautious approach with Davis, as well as a number of injuries this season, shows a big shift in the way such things are handled by the new Mets’ front office. In past years, the team would drag its feet on such issues, resulting in longer recovery time and a short roster…

Whatever happens with Davis, today’s handling of his situation is a further indication that things have improved for the better.

David Lennon, Newsday.

Lennon makes a good point, and one I’ve brought up a number of times this season. If and when Davis lands on the DL, Mets fans are going to freak out with the here-we-go-again and woe-is-me stuff, but you’d much rather have the young first baseman on the DL for 15 days than watch the Mets play with a short roster for five games, then see Davis further injure his leg trying to rush back and wind up needing season-ending surgery or something.

There is no hex or jinx or curse on the Mets because those things do not exist. They are now quick to examine players and quick to put them on the disabled list because they are being cautious with their health, as they should be.

The TMNT pizza challenge

For some reason, possibly drugs, a group of humans decided to try all the weird pizzas Michelangelo ordered on the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles cartoons. Slightly related anecdote: My college roommate worked in a pizzeria that used one-letter codes for toppings, so the person would write down the letter corresponding to each topping then hand the slip to the person making pizzas. P was pepperoni, M was mushrooms, E was meatballs, N was pineapples, etc. He worked there so he knew the code. We used to prank the place by ordering pizzas that spelled funny things. But usually I’d start giggling or the woman would be like “wait a minute, who is this?” when she looked down at the slip and saw the beginning of something obscene.

Wow

After years of drug use — and time in jail and a halfway house — Leah Bennett suffered a stroke April 26 and fell into a coma. At the hospital, her son, a baseball star at Holyoke High, felt an array of emotions — anger, guilt, confusion. Bennett died the next day. She was 35.

What happened next was impossibly improbable.

Two days later, in the first game of a doubleheader at Wray that Holyoke had to win, Jaydin pitched a no-hitter.

In the second game, he switched to shortstop and hit four home runs. Four.

Benjamin Hochman, Denver Post.

Wow.

Houstonites urged to stop doing hot-dog dance, acquiring pants to enjoy free sandwiches

Via Joe Budd at Amazin’ Avenue comes news that Minute Maid Park is giving away free sandwiches today and tomorrow.

Problem is, I just can’t think of a way it’s worth it to travel to Houston for a sandwich, even if the sandwich is free, price of gas being what it is. Too bad though, because the sandwiches sound pretty good:

1. Hill Country Pork Hoagie: Slow Roasted Pulled Pork with Garlic, Red Pepper & Herbs, Spicy Chiptole Aioli, Sweet Vinegar Slaw on a Sourdough Hoagie with a side of Kettle Chips and a pickle spear.

2. Texas Tom Turkey Sandwich: Roasted Turkey Breast, Pepper Jack Cheese, Spicy Chipotle Aioli, Lettuce, Corn Salsa on a Jalapeno-Cheddar Kaiser with a side of Kettle Chips and a pickle.

Why we can’t have nice things: Josh Thole quits Twitter

Word leaked out last night that Josh Thole shut down his Twitter account. Thole was not a particularly active or interesting Twitterer, and, to be honest, I’m not sure I can remember a single thing he Tweeted. But he was notable as one of the few Mets who Tweeted in a language I can read (though I know enough Spanish to figure out that this means Johan Santana saw Fast Five, which is awesome).

Anyway, Thole told reporters he grew sick of seeing his inbox flooded with “ruthless” comments from Mets fans after bad games. He said he received at least one actual death wish, and he just didn’t want to deal with it anymore.

Now you might expect Twitter would take Thole’s departure as a cue for some quiet introspection, a moment to look in the mirror and consider the perpetual 140-character negativity. You’d be wrong though:

Yes, it has long been theorized that maintaining a Twitter account requires a good deal of mental toughness, what with macho handles like “OG” and “the Bull” and all. And indeed, after Thole let reporters know about his decision, tweets questioning the catcher’s backbone flooded timelines everywhere.

But inquisitive journalist and social-media guru that I am, I endeavored some very scientific research on the matter. I surveyed a significant sample of humanity on its Twitter habits as well as a litany of things that indicate mental toughness. Check out this graph:

As so often happens, science disproves popular belief. It turns out for the large majority of humanity, there is no relationship between Twitter usage and mental toughness. There are a bunch of mentally weak people using Twitter and a bunch of mentally weak people not using Twitter. The only time you see any change is when you get to the very extreme end of the mental toughness spectrum. Really ridiculously tough people don’t use Twitter because they need their hands to do things like wrestle bears and defuse bombs, and many of them don’t have smartphones.

Sometimes Josh Thole has 95 mile-an-hour fastballs fouled off his facemask. Then he leans back in to to do it again. If you want to call that guy mentally weak because he doesn’t want to put up with a bunch of b.s. from fans on Twitter, go to town, bro, but smart money says he doesn’t really care much one way or the other.

It’s classic self-important talk-radio Benigno thinking to latch on to any example you can find of a player reacting in some small way to outside pressure and cite it as evidence that he can’t handle the city or the media, when in truth — if I had to guess, at least — if the player is paying any attention whatsoever he sees it only as some sort of macabre sideshow.

Baseball players have tons of stuff to occupy their attention, what with the scouting meetings and the traveling and the charity work and the actually playing baseball games and everything else. In Spring Training, Thole found a little extra time and decided to try out Twitter. People, as they so often do, behaved like animals, so he bailed. All that means about his character is he’s reasonable.

Oh, speaking of reasonable: If you’re on Twitter and you’re interested in maintaining the ability to directly interact with baseball players — the great value of Twitter — I suggest you follow our man Glenn’s lead and say nice things to Justin Turner.