An Open Letter to New York Mets Fans From Carlos Beltran’s Mole

By: Carlos Beltran’s Mole, as told to Roger Cormier

Dear Fans of the New York Metropolitans,

I’m sorry, okay?

Carlos and I didn’t plan on waiting until we were 36 years old to make it to our first World Series. The primes of our lives were with the Mets, and if you remember correctly we were the best player you had. Carlos would never admit that but I can. I’m drunk right now, thanks to that kid Wacha’s surprisingly poor aim at pouring champagne, so I’ll say it. Also, what are you going to do about it? Who’s going to believe your story?

I’m sorry.

Listen: we didn’t tell Ron Darling to mention the Adam Wainwright incident almost immediately after the final out of the pennant clinching game. I can direct you the box score to game seven of the 1986 World Series to see how Yale boy handled the pressure if you want. Feel better? I know I do. That fucker doesn’t even pronounce our last name correctly. Only Jon Miller does. Everybody else who pronounces it correctly sounds like they are doing it sarcastically to make fun of Jon Miller but that’s how you say it. Life isn’t easy for us. We have money, but money can’t buy respect. Money can buy Jonathan Niese a new nose, but not respect.

Remember when I bought Niese a new nose? How about that time I brought my pet monkey to spring training when I was with Kansas City? Of course not – I was with Kansas City. So what if everything else about us is boring? Our first date with the wife was on a Valentine’s Day, and yes, Carlos proposed to her over the phone during one season, and I am not helping am I? Okay yes, and Chipper Jones and Carlos and I share the same birthday, but come on you are not seriously suggesting we planned that too?!

Mole?

I’m sorry.

We played great for you. Even when we didn’t play great for you, you had to at least understand. When we signed that huge deal to join the Mets in 2005, that was a big deal. Kansas City, remember? And we failed a bit in the spotlight, since Jose Reyes and David Wright weren’t yet the all-stars they would become. Shitty year. .744 OPS. You guys get that all the time right? And remember who signed with the Mets right after I did? Pedro Martinez. Maybe you heard of him? We changed the culture of the organization overnight, like it was fucking Williamsburg in the late nineties. Then our BFF Delgado came along and that is how the Mets destroyed the competition and got to game seven of the 2006 NLCS. We did well that series, with a 1.054 OPS. Yeah I know. We tied Babe Ruth’s record for most postseason home runs during the series too. We also didn’t tell Endy Chavez to swing for the fences and blow our biggest chance of winning that game the half inning after his catch. We didn’t tell El Duque and Pedro Martinez to get hurt. Ditto Jason Isringhausen. That shit ex-Met got hurt so Wainwright took over as the closer. We hit Iggy well that year, including a walk-off home run in August of that year. You probably remember that because SNY replays that game every other day, even though it reminds you of Game 7.

Remember us for the good times: that catch on Tal’s Hill? You think that was easy? It was not, and you don’t even know about Jose Valentin keeping me up at night on the team bus insisting there was treasure buried under there, but that’s a whole other story for another open letter. Anyway, it doesn’t matter because we looked at that curveball. What kind of arrogant douche throws a 3-2 curve anyway? I think it was a 3-2 pitch? I haven’t exactly ever seen it again after that one time. In real life anyway. I heard Carlos say he sees it under his eyelids all the time. Sounds fucked up. And even when he lucidly dreamed that one time, he said he flailed and swung and missed instead, like that was truly any better. What’s sad is to you guys, it probably would have been a lot better.

 So when you’re ready to apologize, I’ll be over here, in the World Series.