Posted by EnySpree:

We got our first Met Fan! Welcome Jazz!

Didn't say lee, Nate and Craw were the best anything. Just said they were young guys wasting their prime years with the mismanagement.

Flipping the table wouldn't fire me up. In a baseball setting that would make me wanna break the managers jaw. Grown men don't need to be screamed on to motivate them. That's bull****. What the Mets do need is better help for their big 3 in Wright, reyes and beltran before they get too old to even bother. Wags needs help and starting pitching needs help as well.

Minaya, minaya, minaya,......

thank you, good to be back. different teams get motivation from different things. managers like those i am talking about do more than flipping the tables. it is an energy and passion that teams repond to. sometimes i felt willie doesn't care. he sits out there with the same face and expression even though everything is falling apart around him. it can work on some teams but this is not the team. we have energetic players like reyes and pedro and they need a sparkplug. you are right about needing better help for the big three. alou is too old, castillo is still inconsistent, and delgado is breaking down fast. minaya is at fault here too. but you start with manager and then if we still fail then omar should be gone. however, dj is right by saying that we are not out of the race yet and we are one run away from climbing to the upper echelon of the division. atlanta has major injury problems and both phillies and braves pitching is inconsistent. we all know that the phillies probably won't continue this run because of their pitching. marlins are the wild card because they have a history of defying odds. we HAVE to win series that we should win ( no more getting swept by the likes of the padres).

Randolph victim of Mets' circus

Tuesday, June 17, 2008 | Feedback | Print Entry

The personnel meetings the Mets hold are said by participants to run on for hours, the discussion often turning circular and pointless. And maybe that's when it starts to happen in their organization when they get to the point where the staff members are so beaten down emotionally and intellectually that they don't have the ability to stand up and scream: Are you people crazy? Are you serious? Because this is a really bad idea -- no, no, wait, let's go one step further: It's really just flat-out nuts.

They needed somebody to yell that in the days and hours leading up to the preposterous trades they made in July 2004, when they swapped a 20-year-old left-handed pitcher who could throw 95 mph for a journeyman right-hander who had shown signs of breaking down. When they made the Carlos Delgado deal, they needed a Bill Shatner to scream that they paid five-star prices in salary obligation for Delgado when they really could've made the deal for much less.

In the past month, and especially in the past 96 hours, they needed GM Omar Minaya to bluntly say to everyone in the room that what they proposed to do was embarrassing for the organization, beneath the dignity of any professional business. They needed Minaya to insist they come up with something else.

But instead, the circus played out fully, without the elephants or the tigers but with plenty of clowns lurking in the shadows. Minaya and his assistant, Tony Bernazard, walked around the lobby of the team hotel Monday "like grim reapers," in the eyes of a staff member. And after weeks of leak-fed speculation and boardroom backstabbing and indecision, they did their bidding, fired manager Willie Randolph, pitching coach Rick Peterson and first-base coach Tom Nieto.

Even the writers of "The Sopranos" could not have invented a more recklessly handled hit. The process really started after last season's collapse, when Minaya -- who came to the Mets having been promised full autonomy and, for more than a year, has had all the power of a marionette -- first regressed into lawyer-speak. "Willie is the manager," Minaya said over and over, as if repeating the phrase would somehow give the crafted but flimsy words backbone and fool anyone into thinking that Randolph wasn't one really bad day away from being fired.

When the Mets sputtered in April, the backstabbing began, with Randolph being undermined along the way. Words of Randolph's honest player evaluations in those staff meetings somehow made their way to the ears of players. That left the manager in a brutal position of trying to draw performance out of veterans who heard that behind closed doors the manager wasn't so sure if they had the right stuff anymore. Some on-field staff members doubted whether they could trust the front office.

And when the losing continued, the front-office leaks to the newspapers became rivers of rip-jobs, the leakers inoculated by the fact that they fired first. It's better to blame the manager and his coaches, after all, than to take responsibility. But even after Randolph's demise became a fait accompli, which was sometime in the last days of May, the decision-makers stopped focusing on the change itself and started becoming concerned about properly scripting his firing.

When the Mets finished a road trip with a loss in Colorado on May 25 and had a record of 23-25, the front office already had talked and talked for hours about managerial alternatives, and unenthusiastically decided that Jerry Manuel was likely to be Randolph's replacement. "Everybody is scared to death about this," said one front-office member at the time.

But rather than just firing the manager quickly, there was a very public meeting with Fred and Jeff Wilpon on Memorial Day. Friends of Randolph say he felt like the Wilpons were waiting for him to take himself down, with some impetuous or angry remark; if he wanted to quit, they wouldn't stand in the way. But the Mets wouldn't fire him -- not on a holiday because that wouldn't be the classy thing to do, firing a manager on a holiday. So Randolph walked out and sat side by side in a news conference with Minaya, who continued with the lawyer-speak. They had to pretend everything was good and settled, and that the organization was moving forward.

That wasn't true, of course; Randolph remained just one losing streak away from getting dumped, and the losing streak came last week. Along the way, the Mets' front-office whisperers generated the same kind of leaks that came before Steve Phillips was fired, before Art Howe was fired, before Jim Duquette was shoved aside -- the same kind of leaks that came after the Scott Kazmir trade went bad. Not since the days of the vintage Steinbrenner Yankees has any team leaked the way the Mets leak. By Friday night, the papers reported that Randolph was out, and by Saturday night, the papers reported that Peterson and Nieto were going to be fired.

There was just one last vexing problem: Telling the news to Randolph, Peterson and Nieto directly. The Mets' front office could've done that Saturday, as they sat for hours through a rain delay. Or they could've done the job Sunday. But somehow, the Mets' front office seemed to shrink from the idea of firing Randolph on Father's Day.

By Sunday morning, Randolph -- who might or might not be a great manager but is unquestionably a man of dignity -- almost seemed to be laughing at the absurdity of the situation. He chuckled as he told reporters that, sure, he thought about the possibility he might be packing for a West Coast road trip that he might not last all the way through.

The Mets won the second game of the doubleheader Sunday, just as they had won on Friday, and then Randolph boarded a plane to the West Coast with his coaching staff and flew all the way to California. The Mets won again Monday, their third win in four games -- and that's when Minaya and Bernazard made their move, capping the employment of Randolph and two coaches after midnight. As if nobody would notice.

The announcement came shortly after 3 a.m. ET, but I'd bet that Randolph probably hadn't stopped laughing by then. It's not his problem anymore. The Mets' circus will go on, until somebody stands up and tells them that you cannot possibly do business this way -- and until somebody actually listens.

This was an act of cowardice, Mike Vaccaro writes. The way it was handled was cowardly, Jim Baumbach writes. Step right up and see the saddest show in town, Bill Rhoden writes. One of the players said he was in shock.

Omar needs to get fired and half the team needs to be dealt as well.

class...

Willie Randolph opens up after his recent firing as Mets manager

BY WILLIE RANDOLPH
SPECIAL TO THE NEWS

Friday, June 20th 2008, 4:00 AM
Giancarli for News

Three and a half years and 555 games after it began, my dream of bringing a championship to the New York Mets officially expired a few minutes after midnight in Suite 1602 of the Westin Hotel in Costa Mesa, Calif.

You've heard of Black Friday? Well, this was my Black Tuesday.

Call me naive if you want, but I never saw it coming. I was sitting on a sofa across from Omar Minaya, the Mets' general manager and the man who hired me.

Omar was baseball's first Hispanic GM, and on Nov. 4, 2004, he made me the first African-American manager in New York baseball history. The kid from Queens and the kid from Brooklyn doing some pioneering together, hoping to lead the team they grew up rooting for back to glory.

It was a sweet, storybook day. It's too bad there wasn't a storybook ending. I remember how upbeat and excited Omar sounded when he hired me; he could barely get out any words at all.

That was then. Now, on Black Tuesday, we'd just beaten the tough Los Angeles Angels, playing one of our best games of the season. Mets VP Tony Bernazard came into my office.

"Omar wants to see you in his room when you get back to the hotel," he said.

"Okay," I replied. There had been a slew of stories in recent days that a couple of my coaches, Rick Peterson and Tom Nieto, were about to be fired. All the stories were leaked by "Met front-office sources."

It got to the point over the last month or so that whenever I saw the word "sources" in a story, I knew either me or someone on my staff was going to be declared on the verge of unemployment.

Anyway, when I walked into the room Omar asked me to sit down. He sat right across from me. He started talking about how the team was underperforming, how it needed to turn around.

He said it was time to make some changes, and I waited for him to talk about whacking Rick and Tommy, but he just kept talking, for a minute or two, maybe longer, about how the team was better than it was playing, about all the stories that were out there and the cloud hovering over the team.

As Omar went on and on, looking very uncomfortable, this weird chill started to course through by body. I could feel myself going cold. He kept talking, almost stammering, and the chill got worse.

Suddenly, it occurred to me that maybe he was talking about me. Maybe I was the one about to get whacked.

Finally, I stopped him. I looked right at him.

"Omar, are you firing me?" I asked. He looked away for a minute and then met my eyes. "Yeah, I'm going to make a move," he said. "It's a hard decision, but I have to make it."

We started going back and forth a little about everything, but this wasn't a time for any heated postmortems.

"You don't have to say anything more, Omar," I said. "I came here to win, and if you don't feel I'm the guy to get that done, then it's your right to make a change. I'm eternally grateful for the opportunity you gave me. I want you to know that."

I stood up and shook his hand, told him I wished him and the team well. Then he handed me an envelope, a little parting gift, and told me to make sure I reviewed it with my agent, Ron Shapiro.

It was a copy of my Met contract that basically says I better not say anything detrimental about the team, or I might jeopardize the rest of the money I have coming to me.

Rick and Tom were next on the firing line. I went back to my room and spoke with them, and then called my wife, Gretchen, and told her the news.

As I spoke the words - "I just got fired" - I still felt completely numb, just stunned. Of course there had been lots of rumors about my firing, but my gut feeling was that, with the team playing better and winning three out of four, the mood was a little more positive.

I thought I'd at least get to the next Yankee series, or the All-Star break maybe.

Heck, just Sunday night, before we left to fly to California, Omar and I had a heart-to-heart near the trainer's room.

I said to him, "Listen, I know you are under a lot of pressure, that there's stuff going on. If you feel you want to do this now, go ahead and do it.

"But don't make me get on the plane if I'm not the guy you want."

OMAR GRABBED my hand and told me not to think like that; things were still being evaluated. I gave him every opening, but for whatever reason he didn't want to take it.

Maybe he just hadn't decided, I don't know. But when I got on the plane, there was no way I was thinking that I was one game away from termination.

Look, nobody needs to tell me that the Mets have been maddeningly inconsistent for the last year and a half. If I want to take the credit for 2006 - when I felt we were the best team in baseball and our season ended one hit short of the World Series - then I have to take the hit for what happened since - the collapse last September, and the ups and downs of this year.

And you know what's also on me? The dumb, and horribly timed, remarks I made to a New Jersey reporter after we took two straight from the Yankees last month, when what I thought were private remarks became very public.

The bottom line is that by suggesting that the color of my skin had something to do with how I was judged, I did nothing but sow the seeds of my demise. I kick myself about that every day. It makes me angry - and really sad.

I won't lie to you. I don't like the way the Mets handled my firing. I think it was pretty weak. I think I would've deserved better if my record had been 0-555, not 302-253.

But I don't for a second think Omar did it that way on purpose, or to be malicious. It just wasn't handled well. The Mets have taken a lot of shots this week, and there have been a number of ugly stories about back-room machinations, but I don't even want to go there.

In the infamous words of Brian McNamee, it is what it is. What I said before is absolutely the truth. As hurt as I am right now, Omar and Fred and Jeff Wilpon gave me a chance to be a big-league manager, and I won't ever forget that.

I cleaned out my office at Shea Stadium Thursday afternoon. My name was already off the door. I packed up all my keepsakes and photos of Jackie Robinson and Josh Gibson and other Negro League stars, boxed them up, and then my son, Andre, and I hauled it all into my car.

While I was doing this, Jerry Manuel called. He asked me what I was doing.

I laughed. "I'm clearing out room for you," I said.

It was strange and sad to walk down the long hallway beneath the right-field stands, to say goodbye to the clubhouse kids, the security guards, to Ethan Wilson, a great young guy who works in public relations.

Whoever expected my time as Met manager to end this way? Not me, that's for sure. The only ending I envisioned was with the Mets' third World Series banner getting hoisted.

I drove over the Triborough Bridge and the George Washington, to my home in New Jersey, still in disbelief, still not quite accepting that my dream of winning with the Mets was over.

I'm dealing with it, I really am. Being around Gretchen and our four kids - feeling their unconditional love - just gives me so much nourishment and strength.

It took me more than 10 years to get a big-league managing job, and I hope and pray there will be another such opportunity in my future.

I've been a part of six championship teams as a player and a coach, and believe I know a lot about what it takes to win. Even with all the bumps in the road with the Mets, I am proud of my body of my work with the Mets.

I started dreaming of the big leagues when I was a little kid running around the Tilden Houses, the project we lived in in Brownsville.

Plenty of people told me to forget it, told me I'd never make it. I never paid them any mind. I preferred to listen to my mother, Minnie Randolph, who always told us we could be whatever we wanted to be, if we worked hard and persevered and didn't give in to discouragement.

They were wise words then, and just as wise now.

thanks for posting that dj... Willie sounds really hurt & bitter here... i can't say as i blame him but he had to know it was coming... sometimes Willie's words portray more than what he's trying to let on... he says he's not angry at Omar & the Mets but from what he's saying here he obviously is... i love the part about Omar handing him an enveloped "present" w/a copy of his contract inside... that was classic.

i'm sure Willie will land another job in baseball somewhere soon... if Clueless Joe got hired in the Bronx after continued failure & ended up managing a dynasty, there's definitely gonna be a chance for Willie... he's a guy that perseveres... sometimes tho Willie fails to think about what he's about to say before he says it... i think that's been his main flaw since he became a MGR... he needs to learn how to be more PC about his comments & not wear his heart out on his sleeve, cuz sometimes that can get you into trouble.