The Alomar Impact

You might not be reading this had it not been for Robby Alomar.

I have to begrudgingly admit that Robby Alomar has had more of a positive impact on my life than I ever would admit before.  It’s not a stretch to say that I’m not a blogger had it not been for the fact that Alomar was traded to the Mets.  Now I’m sure a lot of you are saying to yourselves “This is a reason to celebrate, Metstradamus?  Well maybe for you but not for me.  You’ve wasted too many hours of mine and most likely took a couple of years off my life, so go to hell.” In response, I say blame Robby.

When the Mets traded for Alomar, a trade which included super prospect Alex Escobar who, for you 14-year-olds, was Fernando Martinez before Fernando Martinez, I was excited.  Here was a future Hall-of-Famer who was going to bring production to the top of the lineup, RBI opportunities for Mo Vaughn (please, please, contain your laughter), and stellar play in the middle of the diamond.

My excitement lasted less than 24 hours.

There are certain moments that don’t take place on a baseball field where a seed of doubt gets planted in your mind about a large acquisition.  It happened for me with Bobby Bonilla when a Pittsburgh writer wrote a column after the Mets signed him about how Bonilla didn’t want to be a leader, and how he can’t carry a team by himself and that the only reason he was successful was because he got Barry Bonds’ protection both in the lineup and in the clubhouse.  It’s that moment where you think to yourself “uh-oh.”The Alomar moment came the day after the December 2001 trade, when I was on my way to Roosevelt Field to Christmas shop.  I had my radio on WFAN to listen to reaction from Alomar himself about the trade.

Even if a player is disappointed about a trade, and even if he isn’t shy about expressing it, there’s usually one nugget among that expression that “yeah, I’m happy to be on this new team because we get to play my old team six or nine or 12 times a year”, for example.  But on the radio that day, there was absolutely nothing.  There was a lot of “I can’t believe the Indians traded me” and “I was screwed, lied to, and had my nuts placed in a vice by the Indians.”  Which is fine.  But when the questions started to point forward, all Alomar wanted to do was look back.  To paraphrase, the exchange went something like this:

“So what about going to the Mets, Robby?”

“Well, that’s just fine. But I can’t believe what the Indians did to me … “

Now you hear that and you think, “well, he must be emotional having just been traded, and I’m sure he got screwed royally so maybe this will subside.” But if I had heard one good word about New York, the Mets, or even Roger Cedeno, I would have felt better.  But there was nothing.  Absolutely nothing positive to say from Alomar.  And I was worried.  After all, the Mets gave up Jerrod Riggan for this guy, he had better be happy.  But then I told myself, well even if he isn’t happy, he’s going to hit .300 just by rolling out of bed.  He’s f***ing Roberto Alomar for heaven’s sake.  There’s no amount of sulking that can turn Roberto Alomar into Roberto Petagine.  Right?

Uh-oh.  Alomar went from .336/.415/.541 in 2001 all the way to .266/.331/.376 as a Met in 2002.  He frustrated the hell out of me with his fake drag bunts every second at-bat (I believe it was actualy 1 every 1.9875 at-bats), and his defense didn’t leave any indelible marks in my brain (hell, he didn’t even win a gold glove on repuation with the Mets).  But that bitter news gathering on WFAN did.  And how could I not think that his extreme disappointment at being traded contributed to this dive off the statistical cliff like he was Hans on The Price is Right?

This planted a seed for me to start this blog, where I go off on bitter rants about my favorite baseball team.  It wasn’t the only seed, mind you.  If I went into all the reasons I started this thing it would be a post onto itself, and nobody here is interested in reading a psychological profile.  But certainly, Robby Alomar’s statistical dive which coincided with putting on the Mets uniform is in this discussion.  It’s the reason that Alomar was a charter member of the original Metstradamus Hall of Hate.  How could I not put him in right off the bat?  It’s one thing if a Hall of Famer or a great player comes to the Mets and tanks, that happens all the time.  But when one does so after not being able to even pretend he’s happy to be a New York Met, how can that not put one into a seperate plateau?

Of course, you can question the merit of Alomar being enshrined into the Hall of Hate.  You could say that hey, it isn’t like Alomar went to the White Sox and became Robby Alomar again, he just simply got old.  It’s true.  The radio interview, looking back, probably had nothing to do with Alomar’s transformation from Hall of Fame caliber player to Augie Ojeda.  But when something sparks a movement, when something stirs emotion in you good or bad, you can’t help but immortalize it.  So even if Alomar’s induction into the Hall of Hate as a player might be in question, a case can be made that you put him in the builders category.

And now that Alomar becomes the first player to be a Hall of Hater and a Hall of Famer (and second person overall), I can’t let the day go by and thank Alomar for his efforts as a New York Met.  Not anything he did on the field, but for the passion and wide eyed enthusiasm he instilled in a young 31-year-old that if you commit yourself, you can do anything you want on this earth … even start a blog where you make snarky, unnecessary comments at the expense of Chris Capuano’s fastball.  Hell, had it not been for Alomar, the Mets would have never seen another player who sparked more bitterness on top of what Robby already gave me, and that’s Kaz Matsui.  Now that’s impact.

So thank you Robby, and congratulations.  Your contributions reach places you never new existed.  Like New York.