The starting rotation has combined for a 6.20 ERA. They are averaging 5.1 innings per start. And they have made three quality starts in thirteen games. Chris Young has been the only good starter, and Dickey the only other mildly acceptable starter. The other three have found the fifth and sixth innings to be some sort of impenetrable barrier to be crossed only by an intrepid reliever.

The result is an overtaxed bullpen that leads the league in innings pitched — and thus is already running with eight relievers, which is turn is handicapping the bench — and offense that is constantly forced to climb out of holes, only to watch any lead it builds immediately slip away. It has not been entirely the pitcher’s fault, as the fielding has been clownish. But a lot of it has been the pitcher’s fault. They’ve walked a batter every other inning. It’s difficult for any team to win when it’s giving up 6 runs every game, and blaming anything else seems almost silly in comparison.

– Patrick Flood, PatrickFloodBlog.com.

Flood lays it down at his eponymous blog. Seems to me like a pretty accurate assessment of the Mets’ struggles so far.

Let’s all agree never to speak of that Rockies series ever again. Moving on:

With Jose Reyes off to a hot start, there’s understandably a lot of talk about his future with the Mets. I’ve touched on this before, I know, but I want to go through it again.

People seem certain that Reyes will be gone within the next year, either traded around the deadline or allowed to walk via free agency. And indeed, it’s not hard to envision a scenario in which Reyes plays for another team by 2012. But many of the most vehement voices insist that Reyes is undoubtedly a goner because  a) Sandy Alderson highly values on-base percentage and by leadoff hitter standards, Reyes does not have a very high OBP and b) The Mets’ owners have financial problems and Reyes will be very expensive to re-sign.

Let’s look at the first part first, because there’s actually a lot to unpack there.

There’s a often a weird, judgmental tone assumed when asserting that Alderson values OBP. That’s powerfully dumb. The ability to get on base is the most important offensive skill, and Alderson is absolutely right to value it in his players. Outs are a baseball team’s most precious commodity, and it behooves a team to find players who don’t give them away. Besides, hitters willing to take pitches and work deep in counts are more likely to see pitches they can drive. Plenty of people think otherwise, but it’s not really up for debate: OBP should be highly valued because OBP is highly valuable.

But the argument assumes that Reyes never gets on base, and that’s not really true. Many cite his underwhelming .335 career on-base percentage, but that number includes his first few seasons when he probably shouldn’t have even been in the Majors. Since 2006, Reyes has a .348 OBP, still not wonderful but well above the roughly .332 clip averaged by National League shortstops in that time.

Reyes is not Rickey Henderson, but no one is. Rickey Henderson was a unique player and the greatest leadoff hitter of all time. He also primarily played left field, an offensive position. Reyes plays shortstop, the most premium defense position.

That can’t be overstated. Saying that Alderson will not retain Reyes because Reyes doesn’t have an overwhelmingly high OBP not only massively oversimplifies the situation, but undercuts both Alderson and Reyes.

Presumably Alderson evaluates players on more than just OBP, and Reyes provides value beyond his ability to get on base — even in the eyes of a guy like Alderson who (rightfully) doesn’t put too much stock in the stolen base. Reyes plays good defense at the hardest position and provides more power than most shortstops. Those are valuable abilities. You have to figure Alderson knows, as you and I do, that you can’t just plug Daric Barton in at shortstop and reserve a spot in the playoffs because he gets on base a lot.

It’s worth noting before I move on that in 2010 Reyes endured his worst season in that stat since 2005. He missed most of Spring Training, recall, with thyroid issues and struggled with an oblique injury that led to — absurdly — the Mets deciding he should exclusively hit right-handed. Reyes has chalked up his drop in OBP to being overeager after missing so much time.

In a tiny sample of at-bats this year, Reyes can boast a batting-average fueled .349 OBP, and only two walks. Though it’s way too early to read much into this, he has seen 3.86 pitches per plate appearance in 2011, above his 3.68 career norm and a higher rate than he has in any single season. (If that seems like a very slight difference, it is, but consider that the full range of the stat for Major Leaguers is generally about 3.1-4.5.)

As for part b) above, the one that concludes the Mets will not be able to keep Reyes because the Mets have no money. Obviously I don’t have access to the Mets’ or the Wilpons’ financial books, but assuming that because the owners are in financial straits the team has no operating budget whatsoever seems like another vast oversimplification. Even when Citi Field is as empty as it has been, the Mets bring in a lot of money through a variety of sources, this network included. Just like any business, the club spends money on overhead and salaries, and must invest something to make sure the revenue keeps coming in.

Yes, it’s likely that the regardless of if the Wilpons find a partner, the Mets’ budget will tighten up a bit after the short-sighted extravagance of the Omar Minaya Era. But it’s silly to expect they’ll suddenly start spending like the Pirates. Jose Reyes will make $11 million this year, meaning on a per-year basis his next contract is unlikely to be much more than the difference of one Luis Castillo.

That doesn’t mean the Mets will re-sign him, of course. It’s up to Alderson to determine what Reyes is worth to the Mets and for how long, and it’s up to Reyes and his agents to weigh whether they should take the deal to stay with the Mets or try to cash in on the open market in the offseason. And the chance definitely exists that Alderson will conclude that the Mets can get the most possible value for Reyes by dealing him before the trade deadline.

But even if it does happen, don’t believe it’s solely because of Reyes’ on-base percentage and the team’s finances. These are nuanced decisions.

Back when I played in a band, we invested in a small fog machine for our shows. I played bass and rarely had to futz with effects pedals, so I got charged with fog responsibilities. I would set the thing on top of my amp, put the controller on the floor and operate it with my foot at the times I felt appropriate.

The fog machine was in the trunk of my car one weekend when I went down to DC for my buddy’s house party. The guy was about to leave the country for a couple years so he had in his mind this one last huge raging party he’d throw before he took off. Only once it got started, it wasn’t raging all that hard.

I knew what to do: I brought the fog machine in and just fogged the hell out of the place. You couldn’t see three feet in front of you, the fog was so dense. Walking around, occasionally someone would come within your tiny field of vision and you’d chat about how hilarious it was that there were a bunch of other people in the house and you couldn’t see any of them. The stakes in the darts game became much higher. At some point I stumbled past a couple making out in the privacy of the cloud.

Massive fire hazard, the whole thing. I probably would have had a huge lawsuit on my hands if anyone got hurt.

No one did, and — if I do say so myself — the party pretty much ruled. People needed to coordinate to find drinks and everything, and I like to think the fog sort of brought them together, forced people to communicate that otherwise wouldn’t. Good times, and I’m hardly a party guy.

I’ve been reminded of that party a few times in the last day. A dense fog settled on Citi Field last night, so thick that it was difficult to see the ball from the press box on long flies to center field. My mind feels foggy today, a byproduct of the short sleep and the medication I take Wednesday nights. And early-season baseball creates a sort of haze too.

The Mets lost the first game of their doubleheader today, their fourth loss in a row and seventh in eight games. R.A. Dickey was OK but not great. Bobby Parnell got hit hard again. The Rockies seemed to have no trouble with Citi Field’s dimensions. The Mets’ offense mounted a too-little too-late rally, leaving David Wright looking a little like Mighty Casey again, disappointing the crowd with a long fly ball with the bases loaded and two out in the ninth.

I started writing this with some point in mind, but it has since slipped away from me. I guess it’s a long-winded way to say it’s early — the same thing I keep writing over and over again. It’s masochistic fun to load up on self-loathing, to band together with fellow Mets fans on Twitter and shout about how the team sucks again and about how it sucks to be a Mets fan, even though the party’s all fogged up and we have no idea where we’re going.

Something like that, I think. It’s a bad metaphor because that party was sweet and this is not that.

But point is what it always is. Twelve games are only one more than eleven. The Mets keep falling by one-run margins and blowing leads, the type of losses that feel like they should even out over the course of the season. Eventually there’ll come a time when we do know something meaningful about the team, when we can declare its suckitude and even determine precisely why it sucks, should it suck. But that’s still far off. For now we only enjoy the ups and lament the downs, conscious of our limited vision and the way it impacts our emotions.

By we I mean me I guess. Whatever. Maybe you know for sure that the Mets are great or terrible and you don’t have anything else to see. I don’t know.

Man, that was a kick-ass party. The end.