Just want to say

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I noticed this on Deadspin and figured I’d weigh in with some personal insight:

The drummer in question is named Mark. We went to middle and high school together. In middle school we were among the very few students who precociously liked punk and ska, so we spent a lot of time fantasizing about starting bands together and less time actually jamming together.

Anyway, I have no idea why I feel the need to come to the guy’s defense from public mockery on Deadspin because I’m certain he can handle it. Plus he’s a rock star now, so I doubt he even cares. And though we were always friendly and are certainly cordial when we run into each other, it’s not like we’re close.

But I figured I’d chime in because Mark is, to this day, about the nicest guy you’ll ever meet, plus about as dedicated to punk and rock and metal as anyone I’ve ever met. If you catch Taking Back Sunday playing on MTV2, check out the drummer and you’ll notice he’s probably wearing a shirt of Hatebreed or Slayer or some band like that.

I don’t know anyone more deserving of rock stardom. And I spent plenty of time trying to be a rock star myself, so that’s high praise.

The consistency dilemma

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The word “consistent” gets thrown around way too often in baseball discussions, almost always as a stand in for “good.” Instead of saying a player is average or something less, we say, “he just needs to be more consistent.”

There’s enough random fluctuation in baseball that total scrubs can perform like Hall of Famers for a week. We’ve seen it countless times. And so then people say, “oh, if Jeff Francoeur could consistently hit like he did in April, he’d be an All-Star,” even though Jeff Francoeur is, in truth, about as consistent as the sun. He’s just not consistently good.

These Mets, you’ll read, are inconsistent. I mean hell, they haven’t hit in weeks. And if it isn’t one thing, it’s the other. When the pitching’s good, they don’t hit. When the hitting’s good, the bullpen melts down. When the bullpen holds it together, the defense lapses.

But I wonder if this is an instance of inconsistency or merely the way a consistently .500 ballclub appears when viewed under the microscope over the 162-game season. Sure, there have been ups and downs, hot streaks and rough stretches. More than there would be if I flipped a coin 117 times? I don’t know. I tend to doubt it.

And are these Mets not consistent with what we expected before the season? Maybe some of the individual performances aren’t, but few reasonable observers expected much more than a .500 season out of the team as a whole. I guessed 84 wins. By their Pythagorean winning percentage — based on runs scored and runs allowed — they’re on pace for 83. By their actual winning percentage they’re on pace for 80.

Sandwich of the Week: At the Park

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Now that Ryan’s not around to accuse me of shillery, I can say this without fear: Citi Field has the best ballpark food in the country. Of the 50-some Major and Minor League parks I’ve visited, at least.

Most stadiums have one or two good specialty items and then all the standard fare. Citi is really the only stadium I’ve ever attended where I struggle to settle on what to order. It’s usually the tacos, but I at least consider a pair of fine sandwiches: Mama’s Special from Mama’s of Corona, and this week’s sandwich of the week. Hat tip to Eric Simon for buying me one a couple weeks ago.

The sandwich: Pulled pork sandwich from Blue Smoke, multiple locations including two inside Citi Field.

Insider tip: Go to the Blue Smoke on the Promenade level of Citi Field, even if you’re sitting on the lower level. There’s almost never a wait up there.

Bonus tip: The actual Blue Smoke restaurant in Manhattan is worth a visit because the rest of the menu that’s not available at Citi Field is excellent. Try the mac and cheese. It will get you drunk with awesomeness. And their vast selection of bourbons will get you drunk with drunkenness.

The construction: Pulled pork in barbecue sauce with pickles on a brioche bun. I also added fresh jalapenos from the toppings station.

That is, I believe, one of the most underrated aspects of the food at Citi Field — unlimited free fresh jalapenos! You could make a meal of ’em, really. That might anger the Mets, but whatever. They’re still carrying Ollie Perez.

Important background information: I know embarrassingly little about pulled pork considering how much I know about ribs. I need to bone up (no pun intended). I know that there are multiple styles of pulled pork even within the state of North Carolina, and based on the flavor I’m pretty sure the Blue Smoke pulled pork is smoked over hickory.

In other words, expect a post in not too long involving me making some pulled pork. That’s a skill set I obviously need to hone.

What it looks like:


How it tastes: I hope you know already, but if not: Tremendous. Just… wow. And look, maybe expectations are tempered a bit because it’s inside a ballpark, and maybe this would be a little disappointing if I got it at the actual Blue Smoke and it had been sitting under a heat lamp like it was. But I don’t know. It didn’t taste dried out at all.

It tasted like an explosion of smoke and meatjuice and vinegar, with sweetness from the sauce and tartness from the pickles and spiciness from the jalapenos. Damn, that’s just a hell of a sandwich. Straight up.

What it’s worth: Ten dollars is a lot for a sandwich anywhere. It doesn’t seem terribly unreasonable inside a ballpark, but I’m not going to argue that this is a ten-dollar sandwich. I mean, pulled-pork is generally expected to be inexpensive, after all, and one of the best pulled-pork sandwiches I ever ate — from a  place called Keith-A-Que off the road in Georgia — cost me a flat buck.

But still, I think relative to other ballpark food — in Citi Field or elsewhere — ten bucks isn’t a terrible deal for this sandwich. The best bargain is those tacos, of course, but the pulled-pork sandwich seems like a steal when you consider it costs about as much as two fountain sodas.

How it rates: Is this really a Hall of Fame sandwich? Hard to imagine at a ballpark, and again, I suspect my perception might be biased by lowered standards. But I have to give it a 90. As for baseball players — there just aren’t a lot of Hall of Famers from North Carolina. This can be Catfish Hunter, because I imagine this sandwich would have a sweet mustache, even if it isn’t made of Catfish and doesn’t require any hunting.

From the TedQuarters mailbag

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Bryan writes:

Hey Ted, you ever think about doing a mailbag feature? I know it’s kind of become a Bill Simmons trademark, but I feel like the TedQuarters mailbag would be hilarious. Maybe you could call it something else, put your own spin on it . . . I would be stoked to read such a post/series.

Well here you go. I thought about making this entire mailbag post consist of emails from readers requesting mailbag posts because a very high percentage of my reader emails do just that. I’m totally down — actually, I’ve done this once before. It’s just that I kind of space out and respond directly to most of my emails instead of posting responses here. My bad.

(And if I don’t respond ever, then that’s a double my-bad. I try to get to everything. Problem is I get a ton of emails — not because I’m special, just because I’m on a ton of silly distribution lists. So if I don’t reply it’s probably because your email came between a Red Bulls press release and a flurry of quote sheets from the Giants.)

There’s a contact form on the site now and a lot of you have been using that, so keep it up and I’ll do more of these. And please, feel free to send forth any random questions you’d like. I have opinions on nearly everything and I’m willing to formulate opinions on everything else. And tips to awesome stuff. I really appreciate tips to awesome stuff.

As for a name, I don’t know. I went with the above title because I couldn’t come up with anything more clever on a Friday afternoon. And as for my own spin, I’m not sure. My own spin is that I write it, I think. So it will most likely contain stuff about Taco Bell. Speaking of:

Catsmeat (who has a real name) writes:

I finally had my crack at the carnitas from Taco Bell.  Sorely disappointed and, frankly, a little grossed out.  It was a lot like the picture you posted on the blog — a nasty mess.  They even skipped out on the corn tortillas and left me with the regular flour tortilla, which was quite a travesty.  I’m also not impressed that I asked for carnitas and the girl looked at me and said: “Do you want the steak, pork or chicken carnitas?”  Sigh, Taco Bell.  Sigh.

Dude, our experiences could not have been more similar. Honestly, I’ve been mustering up the strength to write about the carnitas cantina taco for a couple weeks now, but it was just so underwhelming that I haven’t found the time.

Basically, it was exactly what Seth “Ted” Samuels described. Maybe worse. A pile of flavorless, unpleasant-smelling stringy pork in some sort of goo, overwhelmed by the onion salsa on top. Unlike Catsmeat, I got the appropriate corn tortillas, but they were dry, spongy and also flavorless.

And I also had trouble ordering! I figured it was because my local Taco Bell is the worst Taco Bell in the world, but Catsmeat has previously boasted a good local Taco Bell. Yikes. You’d think Taco Bell would have its employees adequately prepared to serve such a revolutionary new product. But the voice on the other end of the drive-thru menu acted like it had never even heard of the Carnitas Cantina Taco before. Also “Carnitas Cantina Taco” is very difficult to say.

Honestly, I didn’t even finish the thing. That is a terrible, terrible sign for a Taco Bell product. I even polished off the Pacific Shrimp Taco when I took it out for a test drive, even though it wasn’t exactly my thing. Plus — like always — the Volcano Taco I ordered came in a plain, yellow crunchy taco shell.

I really don’t even know what’s going on down there. I’m concerned that standards have slipped since the passing of Glen Bell.

Danny writes:

There’s some funky building in the works in Taiwan, with strange bulges in and out of it. And it’s called…TED!

Holy crap, what is that thing? I don’t know, but I know it’s awesome. The link within the link mentions that it’s “evocative of a mushroom,” and I’d say, ahh, which kind do you mean there, Mr. Huxley?

Also that ampitheater on top? Probably a badass place to take in a show, except that the renderings alone make my head hurt. Plus there’s almost no way that thing’s not going to leak. Whatever, that’s fine. Awesomeism in architecture never called for any sort of utilitarian design. It’s the opposite of that.

Wait a minute, hold on. Team Ted co-founder Ted Burke points out that this has to be some sort of practical joke: The design firm’s website is big.dk.