Beltran selfishly punishing Digital Domain scoreboard

Thought you’d like to know [WFAN host Mark] Malusis just actually said on air that the only reason Beltran is moving to RF is to have a better offensive year for his next contract and it could be looked at as a selfish act.

Jared, via email.

I’m not out to pick on Malusis here; he’s a nice dude and it’s a well-known fact that the last question of every WFAN employment interview is: “How selfish is Carlos Beltran?” And if the prospective talk-radio host says, “unselfish,” he is ushered out the door, even if he has the voice of Casey Kasem with the knowledge of Ken Jennings and the charisma of Winston Churchill.

I’m sick of arguing about Beltran’s supposed selfishness with other people who do not know Beltran personally (as I don’t); it is a frustrating and pointless exercise. I can point to the way he has mentored Angel Pagan, and how Lucas Duda specifically named Beltran as the guy who helped him when he came up and struggled, and, of course, how Beltran just moved to right field yesterday to make Terry Collins’ life easier and the team better.

But you can just counter that Beltran is consciously building his reputation as a good clubhouse guy and (as Malusis did) switching to right field to improve his chances of getting a big contract this offseason. And then we can debate whether there’s really even such a thing as an unselfish act, since anything we do that could be viewed as unselfish we really do because it makes us feel better about ourselves, and so it is maybe in some way also selfish.

Here’s the good news about baseball: Being selfish helps.

Concerning yourself with bettering your own numbers in the NBA or the NFL means you’re very likely trying to take opportunities away from your teammates. Concerning yourself with bettering your own numbers in baseball means you’re very likely giving your teammates more opportunities — because you’re getting on-base more and driving in more runs — and, more importantly, those numbers you’re compiling are helping your team win games.

If Carlos Beltran wants to get as many at-bats as he can and make the most of every single one, yeah, ahh, maybe that makes him selfish. How that distinguishes him from any other player in baseball, I do not know.

If there were any real evidence from the clubhouse that Beltran’s supposedly selfish behavior or aloof demeanor bothered his teammates, there might be some way to justify the endless bluster aimed at him. But what he does is the opposite of that. I just watched him and Pagan take batting practice in a group of Mets outfielders. They took the field together, then sat together while the other guys hit, chattering the whole time. Then they walked together to the back fields for baserunning practice. They are like Batman and Robin. Did anyone ever accuse Batman of being selfish?

He doesn’t care about Gotham; he just wants to see his symbol in the sky and his name in the papers.

OK, I’m arguing now with people who have already made up their minds and don’t want to hear it, so I’ll stop.

But about the batting practice: Beltran is crushing the ball. Again, I’m not a scout or a coach or any sort of professional talent evaluator, but I can count, and it wasn’t hard to see how many more home runs Beltran was hitting than the rest of the lot — a group that included Pagan, Jason Bay and Scott Hairston, and later Daniel Murphy and Nick Evans.

I only saw Beltran batting right-handed today — I’m not sure if he hit lefty before I got there or took the day off from that side. At one point, Beltran hit four out of five pitches out of park in one turn. His homers battered the scoreboard here at Digital Domain Park multiple times. He looked great.

Of course, it’s only batting practice in Spring Training, so it doesn’t count twice over. As for running the bases: Beltran didn’t look overwhelmingly Beltran-ish. He clearly was not going all-out, though, and there was no noticeable limp or anything. For the millionth time, I’m not really qualified to make these evaluations; he wasn’t running as fast as Hairston or Pagan, that I can promise.

Brief conversations about equipment, Part 4

Milling about the Mets’ locker room, I’ve noticed that very, very few of the players have ash bats in their lockers — it’s almost exclusively maple. The only two ash bats I’ve seen belong to Nick Evans and Lucas Duda, so I interrupted Evans’ crossword-puzzle work this morning to ask him about it.

He said there are a few more guys on the team who will use ash in games, but that most everyone uses maple for batting practice because they don’t splinter and wear down as quickly as ash bats do.

I mentioned Major League Baseball’s new restrictions on maple bats, and Evans chuckled a little. “It’s dangerous, but no one’s about to tell Albert Pujols he can’t swing a maple bat,” he said.

He added that players know that a) the best place to hit a maple bat is still on the tight part of the grain, not the softer flat part where they are less likely to shatter and b) the league forced maple-bat companies to move the labels on the bat to encourage players to hit with the softer part.

Hitters normally try to strike the ball with the label facing straight up or straight down, because the label is traditionally on the flat-grain part of the bat and the edge-grain (where the lines of the grain are tighter together) is the best place to make contact. Evans suggested that, since it’s no secret the labels on maple bats have been moved, everyone will just turn the label to account for the difference.

As for his choice of ash over maple, Evans said he thinks ash has a larger sweet spot and compared it to the difference between cavity-back irons and blade irons in golf: A maple bat might drive the ball further if struck perfectly, but ash is more forgiving. “And I need that,” he said.

The Mets are off to Viera to face the Nationals again, but I am staying behind in Port St. Lucie. It’s really quiet here with half the team and nearly all of the media out of town, so it’s a good opportunity to get some work done and talk with the players that didn’t travel.

 

Brief conversations about space travel

Tim Byrdak also drove up to the Space Coast to witness Discovery’s launch. Either because he planned in advance or because Major Leaguers just have way more access to cool stuff than most of us do, he got to watch it from about 3.5 miles away, about as close as you can be if you’re not yourself lifting off. Plus he got to ride on a bus with astronauts and talk about robots and stuff.

Byrdak confirmed that the space shuttle launch was awesome. Apparently from that close, you can feel the rumbling of ignition and everything. Josh Stinson overheard us and said he caught a launch last year from a golf course here in Port St. Lucie. He said he went out to a Par-5 and laid down on the fairway. Not a bad plan.

It’s important, you know

Joe Janish at Mets Today passes along a Peter, Paul and Mary performance in honor of Carlos Beltran’s move to right field. I knew the song, but only from the following ad. My friends and I thought this was hilarious when we were of Little League age. Anyone remember on which early-90s VHS tape this commercial was embedded in before the main feature? I do, but I’m quizzing you.

Sandwich of last Week

If you like driving — not driving to see stuff, just driving for the sake of driving — Florida is a nice place to be. Lots of flat, straight highways. I read about this sandwich in the excellent book Roadfood, so I took the hour-some trip down to West Palm Beach to enjoy it.

The sandwich: Media Noche from Havana Restaurant, West Palm Beach, FL

The construction: Roast pork, ham, swiss cheese, pickles and mustard on sweet bread — not like the brains or whatever, like bread that is sweet.

Important background information: It is the bread that distinguishes the Media Noche from the classic Cuban — a Cuban is served on Cuban bread, and I believe this bread is of Portuguese origin. Havana also serves a Cuban sandwich, and Cuban communities also enjoy Medianoche sandwiches. They are so named because they are popular in nightclubs around midnight. Havana Restaurant has a walk-up window that’s open 24 hours. I was there for an early dinner, around 5:30 p.m.

The pickles and mustard were both optional, but I took ’em both, because duh. I ordered it with a side of fried plantains, which will come into play later.

What it looks like:

How it tastes: Delectable. The pork was tender, the ham hammy, the cheese gooey and melted. The pickles and mustard added tons of vinegary goodness, and the bread was amazing — soft, sweet, eggy, kind of like Challah I suppose, but longer. And it withstood the pressures and greases of the meat, a very important quality for good sandwich bread.

But while the saltiness of the pork and ham and the various vinegar flavors played well together, I found myself wanting a little something more in the flavor department — not that it wasn’t really good as constructed, only that it could have been downright great with like one more taste or texture in there. The Swiss cheese got overpowered a bit by the pickles and pork and, since the pickles were a little soggy and the bread was so soft, it didn’t offer a great variety of textures.

So after my first half sandwich I started tinkering. I dashed on a little Tabasco since it was on the table. Didn’t do anything crazy —  just tasted like this sandwich and also Tabasco, not like the Tabasco was doing anything to amplify the flavors in the sandwich.

Then I looked to my fried plantains. They came, I should note now, with something Havana calls “Mojo sauce,” which was basically olive oil with some herbs and an absolute ton of minced garlic — enough to make it almost spicy, but spicy of garlic. Amazing tasting, provided you’re over 1000 miles from your wife and not planning on making out with anyone. Actually, this would be amazing tasting even if you were planning on making out with someone, it just wouldn’t be advised.

Maybe this is somehow cheating, but I threw a couple of the fried plantains atop the Media Noche and spooned on a little of the Mojo sauce. And holy hell, did this sandwich sing.

The plaintains, fried crispy like potato chips but hearty enough to stay extremely crunchy while holding the oil, added the texture I longed for. And the Mojo sauce, though it added oil to an already-greasy sandwich, gave the whole thing this outstanding kick, a burst of pungent garlicky awesome to counter the vinegar and follow all that pork. Outrageous.

What it’s worth: Oh yeah, that’s the other thing. The Media Noche cost $5.89. I sat down, had a glass of sangria* and the plantains, so the whole thing wound up costing me $20 with tip, but you’re not obligated to do any of those things at the pick-up window.

How it rates: I feel obligated to rate the sandwich as constructed — adding anything more than condiments to a sandwich makes it a new sandwich, and the fried plantains count as more than a condiment. So this puppy gets a still-respectable 84 out of 100.

One of my No. 1 all-time good-weather songs:

*- Why is it that I feel so much more comfortable eating a meal and having a drink alone in a restaurant in tropical locales?

Photo of me and Carlos Beltran

Not sure where Cerrone got this photograph for MetsBlog, but that’s my hand and our microphone indicated by the red arrow:

I’m prone to mild claustrophobia so I usually just sort of stand in the back and listen during these things, but in this case I needed Beltran miked up because we’re working on the video bit. I pulled the SNY mic flag off because Kevin Burkhardt was sitting right there and we thought it would look dumb on video if there were two SNY mics coming at Beltran from different directions.

But the main thing — and you can’t really tell this from the photo — is that my hand and microphone were extended out directly over and about ten inches above Beltran’s troublesome right knee.

It’s tight in that scrum and I had to strain in all sorts of odd ways to avoid being in the camera shot, plus I have the MS, which makes my hands a little numb and prone to dropping things. I stood there white-knuckling the mic, absolutely terrified that I would drop it and hit Beltran’s knee in just the right spot to knock him out for the season.

I didn’t, so all’s clear.

Well there it is

Every human in Port St. Lucie might have been in the scrum around Beltran, Angel Pagan and Terry Collins, so I won’t bog you down with quotes you’ll inevitably read elsewhere. Plus we’ve got a very Beltran-heavy video diary on the way. The main takeaway from what all three of them said: Carlos Beltran is totally awesome and cool. Collins stressed Beltran’s professionalism, Beltran stressed how he’s doing what’s best for the team (and himself, selfishly), and Pagan stressed how excited he is to be playing adjacent to Beltran in the outfield so he can pick his brain.