Why Terry is boycotting the Beijing Olympics

There are very few ways for a twenty-five year old American consumer to actively and effectively protest the treatment of the Tibetan people by the Chinese Government.

Walk into a store and try to boycott Chinese products, while getting the things you "need". In today's market, this just is not possible.

Here is a quick history lesson on the history of the conflict.

The People's Liberation Army (PLA) defeated the Tibetan army in a bloodless war at Chamdo on October 7 1950. This attack marked the beginning of Beijing’s campaign to incorporate Tibet into People's Republic of China

According to Samdhong Rinpoche and the 14th Dalai Lama, on January 1 1950 the PRC promised to "liberate" Tibet. The People's Liberation Army first entered eastern Tibet (Chamdo) on October 7 1950. The highly mobile units of the PLA quickly surrounded the outnumbered Tibetan forces, and by October 19 1950, 5,000 Tibetan troops had surrendered. After confiscating their weapons, the PLA soldiers gave their prisoners lectures on socialism, and a small amount of money, and allowed them to return to their homes.

The PLA then continued on to central Tibet, but halted its advance 200km to the east of Lhasa, at what China claimed was the de jure boundary of Tibet, where they stopped and demanded Tibet's "peaceful liberation."

The PLA, while possessing overwhelming military advantage, was also set on winning the hearts and minds of the Tibetan populace. At first, they treated the local populace very well, building roads, and paying locals for their labor.[2] According to Tenzin Gyatso, the current Dalai Lama, the PLA did not attack civilians: "The Chinese were very disciplined. They were like the British soldiers (in 1904). Even better than the British, because they distributed some money (to villagers and local leaders). So they carefully planned."

The PLA sent released prisoners (among them Ngapoi Ngawang Jigme, a captured governor) to Lhasa to negotiate with the Dalai Lama on the PLA's behalf. The PLA promised that if Tibet was "peacefully liberated", the Tibetan elites would keep their privileges and power. At the same time, Jigme and other released captives testified to their good treatment by the PLA. As the PLA had stopped and was asking for peaceful negotiations instead of entering Lhasa unimpeded, the United Nations unanimously dropped the issue from the agenda. The combination of military pressure, reports of good treatment from locals and released prisoners, and the lack of international support convinced the Tibetan representatives to enter negotiations with the PLA.

Several months later, in May 1951, the Tibetan representatives signed a seventeen-point agreement in Beijing with the PRC's Central People's Government affirming China's sovereignty over Tibet. The agreement was ratified in Lhasa a few months later. An article released by the Tibetan Government in Exile in 1996 states that the treaty was imposed on Tibet by force and it "was never validly concluded and was rejected by Tibetans." After a visit to determine human rights abuses in Tibet, UK parliament's Select Committee on Foreign Affairs' Seventh Report on Human Rights supported the Tibetan position.


Samdhong Rinpoche, the 14th Dalai Lama, and other Tibetans in exile have accused the PRC government of a campaign of terror which led to the destruction of monasteries and disappearance of up to 1.2 million Tibetans. By 1962 only 70 of the original 2,500 monasteries in the Tibet Autonomous Region were left and 93% of the monks were forced out. The "1.2 million" figure for deaths since 1950 dates to a figure from the Tibetan Government-in-exile which they break down to 433,000 through military action, 343,000 through famine, 173,000 through imprisonment, 157,000 through execution, 93,000 through torture and 9,000 through suicide.



In July 2001 a monument was established to commemorate the event. Beijing says that Tibet was under an uninterrupted series of Chinese governments that has ruled Tibet and China since Genghis Khan. In 2005 president Hu Jintao asserted Tibet has been an "inalienable part of Chinese territory" from the time of the Mongol conquest onward. This has been taught to Chinese students since 1912.


The UN General Assembly passed resolutions condemning China for "violations of fundamental human rights of the Tibetan people" in 1959, 1961 and 1965. German Federal Parliament held hearings on Tibet on June 19 1995, and passed a resolution on June 20 1996 stating they were "deeply concerned that this independent identity has been threatened by destruction since the Chinese action by brutal force of arms in 1950" and that China had deprived the Tibetans of self-determination. The US Congressional Human Rights Caucus in 1987 reviewed testimony from Tibetans who detailed human rights abuses, resulting in a congressional motion that condemned Chinese actions in Tibet. In 2006 a lawsuit was filed by the Madrid-based Committee to Support Tibet in a Spanish court. The group said that more than one million Tibetans had been killed or gone missing since China occupied Tibet in 1951.


I am doing my part. I would have to think long and hard about my support of Olympic games in this country as well.

Please take the time

And watch this. Find the 30 minutes. Of all the things I think about, worry about, care about....this is the most important.

"If you want to go quickly go alone. If you want to go far go together"

http://www.ted.com/talks/view/id/243

Mike Mikolaichik

I wrote this a while ago, for a friend. I think it deserves a spot here.





It was a warm day for that time of the year. It was one of those fall days where summer refuses to let go its grip. It was a damp day. The turf squished under my cleats as I stepped from the ply wood pathway covering the all-weather track onto the grass for the first time. I began my pre-game routine, which included a suppositious series of running and stretching drills. I slowly worked my way through my routine, preparing myself to play the same way I had for years. I was completely oblivious of what lay before me. I had no idea that this game would be unlike any I had ever played. This day would be unlike any I had ever experienced.


I saw him from a distance. His familiar shape stood out from the other players wearing black and orange. He had gotten bigger in the years since high school, he was however, easily recognizable. He was warming up, throwing with another quarterback. He was near mid-field which made it easy for me to get close enough to greet him. He had his back to me, I saw him before he saw me. I slowly made my way towards the fifty- yard line. I was nervous, I did not know how he was going to receive me. It had been over a year since I had seen him last, and given our current circumstances I did not know what to expect. I hung around mid-field long enough for him to see me. He turned slowly towards me, tears streaming down his face. He looked at me with eyes I had seen for years, standing in a huddle, being told what play we were going to run, or what we were going to do to win this game or that. He had always had a quite confidence. He could step into a huddle, and make every other young man feel that we were going to succeed. Those eyes that were so familiar, were crying. He looked at me and said: “Matt died this morning”.


We were never in the same classes in Elementary School. A football field became the first context in which I defined Mike. We practiced on the fields next to our elementary school. I hated football at first. To say I disliked the contact would be an understatement. I wanted to quit after a week. My father refused to let me quit. My parents had made an exception, allowing me to play a year earlier than they had let my brother. What came so naturally to Mike was a struggle for me. He was the quarterback from as far back as I can remember. I bounced from position to position. Not athletic enough for the skill positions, not big enough for a lineman. Mike looked like he was born to be a quarterback. He was tall and lean, with a strong arm and the head to handle the responsibilities of the position.

I grew to like the contact, with time I learned to relish it. By our freshman year of high school, Mike had spent years honing his skills at one position and I had finally settled into the role of a running back/fullback in what I pictured was the mold of former Tampa Bay Buccaneer, Mike Alstott. We had different core groups of friends in high school. We played different sports. Mike was an excellent basket ball and baseball player. I ran track in the spring, more to stay in shape than because I was particularly fast. The one thing that kept us united was football. Every summer we would work out at the school together, every August we would grind through double sessions. I bore witness as Mike developed into one of the best quarterbacks in the county.


I felt like the world had stopped spinning, the wind had stopped blowing, for I had stopped breathing. My words died in my chest. I looked into his eyes and felt his heartache. I stood, rooted on the spot. I have no memory of what happened then. My next recollection was back in the locker room. Our team would come together prior to taking the field. Our coach would give us a motivational talk followed by a prayer, and we would take the field. I did not hear a word he said. My head was swimming and I was a whirlwind of emotions. Football is a game that has to be played with a level of intensity not often found in other sports. To be able to throw your body at another human being as hard as one possibly can, you have to take yourself to a mental place that is not reached easily. I had spent the previous week visualizing myself hitting my friend as hard as I could. I had run through potential plays, and watched hours of video studying tendencies. I had spent the last nine years teaching myself to hate my opponents. I had trained my brain to forget logic and reason, to inflict as much punishment as possible, within the context of the game, on another player. Now I sat on one knee, tears streaming down my face, head in hands, forgetting all of that training, ignoring the honed instincts, all I wanted to do was hug my friend.


We took the field, went through our pre-game rituals and were ready for kick off. My dichotomy of emotions was overwhelming. At the time, Brockport had a very good team, and Buffalo State was no match physically. I watched with an increasingly heavy heart as my friend picked himself up off the turf, play after play. I bore witness as he would walk to the sideline series after unsuccessful series, sit on the bench crying until he had to go lead his offense back onto the field. The game quickly got out of hand. I begged my teammates, if they had to hit him, help the man back up. I had never in my life witnessed something so real, so brave, or so heart breaking. He would tell me later that he played because that is what he thought Matt would have wanted. I was speechless.


Our senior season ended disappointingly. We were not as good as either of us had hoped. I was injured in the first round of the playoffs, as was our starting fullback. Without his starting backfield, Mike did all he could, but it was not enough. In high school, we lived or died with the wins and losses, how little we knew. Mike and I both received All-County honors following the season. We were both asked to play in the Eddie Meath All-Star game. I was not surprised that Mike received this honor. I cannot say the same for myself. Mike and I lived around the corner from one another. We would drive to the practices together. We spent more time that week, just the two of us, than we ever had before. Mike and I had never been particularly close friends away from football. Our bond was forged on hot summer days, and wet and cold fall nights. It was cemented on nights like the one our homecoming game was played on. Our field was being dedicated to the previous Athletic Director. In a freezing driving rain, Mike handed the ball to me thirty-six times, we did not mishandle one exchange.


Mike was the unrecognized star of the Eddie Meath game. Among the pomp and circumstance surrounding that wonderful event was lost the fact that every drive that Mike led ended in a touchdown. That fact was not lost on me. Playing only defense in the game, I was able to watch him play from the sidelines for the first time. His calm and controlled attitude was palpable even from my vantage point. That night would be the last time I would share a field with Mike for three years.

As I stood, speechless, conflicted, and confused, I remembered that day, at Fauver Stadium, watching him control the game. I stood, hurting for my friend, as the game wore on. When the final horn sounded, I looked for Mike and I could not find him. I waited impatiently as our coach gave his post game speech. I ran back across the field as soon as I could hoping to catch him before I had to get on our bus. I found his head coach and explained to him who I was. He told me that he had left as soon as the game had ended. I felt out of place, I wanted to share with my friend how sorry I was. I wanted to hug him. I wanted to cry with him. I wanted him to know that I was there for him, that what ever he needed I would provide.


I boarded our bus and we headed back east on the Thru Way. There was a car accident along the way, and I had a moment of shear panic, fearing that he had gotten into and accident rushing to get home to his family. I had never felt so useless in my life. He did not need me, he needed his family.


I stood to the side at the funeral. I do not know if he saw me there. I did not know how to act or what to say. I felt like I had intruded on a personal moment. I felt that by being on the field that day, watching him struggle through such a terrible time, that I had somehow violated his privacy, like I had seen something he did not want anyone to see. I had witnessed the rawest of human emotions that day. I had stood, fifty-yards away as another human being, one I called my friend, had suffered. I did not watch as Matt’s body was lowered into the ground. I watched my friend’s face. I watched as something broke inside of him. Matt was more than his little brother, Matt was his best friend.

After that day, it was years until I saw him again. I had kept up with him from a distance. I knew he had become the quarterback for the Rochester Raiders. I knew that he had hurt his foot so bad that the doctors feared for his ability to walk again, let alone play football. I knew that his desire to play drove him to get healthy, to get back onto the field. I saw him at a wedding last fall. I had become a father the week before, but all I could talk about was him. He was smiling again. It was a smile I was afraid I would not see again. Mike Mikolachik was smiling, he had found someone to share his life with. Someone who made him laugh. I am going to take my daughter to see him play this spring. I want her to see her dad’s hero, doing that which always brought him so much joy. Doing that which Matt would have wanted him to do.

I am Really Trying

Not to talk about Baseball so much, but being the first week of the season it is really dominating my brain.

Not to mention, Aviendha was out with her mother last night and I had nothing better to do (no Mets game) than watch the Yankees/Blue Jays game.


So there I was (I love starting a story like that) watching the game, Yankees v. Bluejays on the YES network. And whose voice to I hear, raving about Yanks starter Phil Hughes, why it's Michael Kay, Terry's second least favorite Yankees broad caster (Sorry Mike, Suzan "oh my gawd, of all the dramtic things in the world, it's Rawger Clemens in George's booth" Waldman takes the cake).

So I was listening to Mike, and his abnormally large head, which he uses to store countless useless Yankees facts, as he was absolutely gushing about Hughes.

Now don't get me wrong. Phil Hughes is a very talented 21-year-old kid. But the next great young Major League Pitcher he is not. The Yankees and their broadcasters can talk the kid up all they like. Terry has used his powers of observation, and regarless of what comes out of Yankee land where it relates to Hughes, Phenom he is not.

Last night Hughes pitched effectively, using a well controlled 90-93 mph fastball and a very good curve to handle the Jays lineup.


The word "dominant" did not come to mind. I actually thought that he looked an awful lot like a right handed Jon Lester, the Red Sox rookie who was rated higher than Hughes prior to Lester being diagnosed with Lymphoma.

What was more, Hughes was opposed by 25 year old Dustin McGowan of the Jays. McGowan was clearly the most talented pitcher on the field last night (not to mention his sweet mutton chops).

McG. sports a 94-96 Mph fastball, a nasty slider and a good change.

Here are the lines from last night:

6.0IP 4H 2R 2ER 3BB 4K 0HR 3.00ERA
6.0IP 4H 2R 2ER 1BB 4K 0HR 3.00ERA

Now Guess whose line was whose? (hint:McGowan comes first and walked two more batters)

But to hear Kay talk about Hughes, you would have thought the Jays didn't even have a pitcher going last night. What I found so ironic was, not only did the Jays have a pitcher going, but it was a young kid with clearly better stuff that Hughes.

Which was a fact Kay was flat out ignoring. Hughes was "blowing people away" with his 91 mph fastball, while McGowan "Got Damon to strike with a defensive swing on a pitch out of the zone"

I really need to find something to do when Aviendha is gone, and there is no Mets game on.

Terry Loves a Head Case

If there is one fact about myself that is undoubtedly true, it is my love for a head case.

What I love more than anything else in the world is a head case pitcher.

I love that guy, you know him, the one that can throw the ball through a brick wall, if only he could hit the wall with any semblance of consistency.

I cannot help but cheer for that guy, I have tried, and I cannot help it.




I fell for him in the spring of 2003. I was playing way too much MVP baseball 2004 (as any real fan of PS2 baseball games can attest, this was the height of baseball games for the platform). I played, and played...and played some more. I created the ultimate franchise, capable of winning 120 games a year.

The fifth starter on that team was a little known left hander from the Pittsburgh Pirates: Oliver Perez.




Oliver's Head Case-iness was not showcased on the game. I had in fact never seen him pitch in real life. All I knew of him I had divined from his character on MVP 04, a fire balling sidearmer from Mexico.

It wasn't until the spring of 2005 that I got my first taste of what Oliver Perez had to offer in real life.

He was pitching for Mexico in the inaugural World Baseball Classic (which Terry is ridiculously excited for next Spring).

It was upon observing this awkward, slightly snaggle toothed lefty proudly displaying the green and red of his homeland, that I began to realize just how obsessed I was with the man I would come to know only as Ollie P.

Time passed, the '05 season came and went. I continued to know Oliver mostly through MVP baseball, which they stopped making in '05, meaning I had to keep playing the old version if I wanted to get my Oliver fix (which I did).


Then, in the summer of '06, disaster struck. Terry's other favorite head case pitcher got into a car accident in Miami. Duaner Sanchez had been the rock in the Mets Bullpen for the first four months of the season.

On the eve of the trading deadline, Duaner's taxi was t-boned while he was on the way back from a Mexican resturante. He hurt his pitching shoulder and would require surgery.

It seems the fates had aligned. Mets GM Omar Minaya pulled off a deadline deal for Pirates relief pitcher Roberto Hernandez, sending to Pittsburgh outfielder Xavier Nady.

Thrown into the deal was a disappointing left-handed pitcher toiling away in AAA with an ERA above 6.00, and a record that looks worse. His name: Oliver Perez.

Terry began telling anyone who would listen just how good of a deal this was for the Mets. How Pittsburgh didn't know what it had given up on. Oliver was set to AAA and was underwhelming in the few starts he did get in the regular season.

Then the playoffs came.

With no one else to turn to in the final game of the NLCS, the game that would decide who would represent the NL in the World Series, The Mets or the Cardinals, Oliver got the ball.

In the sixth inning Oliver gave up a hit to Jim Edmonds. Willie Randolph made a trip to the mound to see how Ollie felt about facing Scott Rolen who was coming to the plate. Ollie, in a terrifically head case-y moment, told Randolph that he could handle Rolen.

Rolen turned on a fastball, I cannot describe to you what that moment was like, let Gary Cohen, the voice of Mets baseball do if for me:

"Pérez deals. Fastball, hit in the air to leftfield - that's deep. Back goes Chávez, back near the wall.... leaping.... and.... HE MADE THE CATCH! He took a home run away from Rolen! Trying to get back to first, Edmonds; he's doubled off! And the inning is over! Endy Chávez saved the day! He reached high over the leftfield wall, right in front of the Mets' visitor's bullpen, and pulled back a two-run homer. He went to the apex of his leap, and caught it in the webbing of his glove - with his elbow up above the fence. A miraculous play, by Endy Chávez, and then Edmonds is doubled off first, and Oliver Pérez escapes the sixth inning. The play of the year, the play - maybe - of the franchise's history for Endy Chávez. The inning is over."




I screamed myself horse. Oliver Perez had delivered the most head casey moment in sports that I had ever witnessed.

Nothing could top this. Not the game that he walked 7 Phillies last April, not the game where he fanned 7 Braves last fall.

Nothing could top that moment, it was like watching my kid get on the bus for the first time, or score the winning touchdown, I felt like a proud father.

As history will show, the Mets ulimately lost the game. Oliver however had nothing to do with that (thank you Aaron Hielman, Guillermo Mota, Yadier Molina, Willie Randolph, Adam Wainwright, and Carlos Beltran).

Ollie is not the third starter in the NL's best rotation.

And just to prove a point to a Braves fan friend of mine, who like me believes that Ollie is poison to the Braves, here is his average line against Atlanta going back to 2003 when he was with the Padres:

7 IP 6H 2ER 6K

"Ollie P. what can you do for me?"

The Great Communicator

There are people who are great at speaking in public. If you put them on a stage with a podium in front of them, a bank of teleprompters to read from, and they are gracefully powerful.

There are people who can communicate on radio, using just their voice, and are able to project their message effectively, and speak as if to each individual listener like they are sitting in the room with them.

There are people who can sit on a stage, in a one-on-one interview, the stage surrounded by people watching, and can captivate both the live audience and those watching on TV.

There are people who can pack arenas, or coffee shops. They can bring a crowd to their feet, or reduce them to tears.

Some that can stand in front of a video camera and deliver the most important speech on race that this country has heard in forty years.

And then there is Barack Obama.

Who is able to be all of that, and more. I listened to him speak on the Ed Schultz show (www.edschultzshow.com) as he explained in a way that was both calm and passionate his plan on how to get our country out of the mess it is in now. From the war, to the economy, education and health care. He answered every one of Ed's questions. He spoke in a way that connected with my Twenty-five year old brain. He talked about the kind of issues that effect my life, and the lives of the people I care about.

And when he was done addressing how he plans to fix Dub's mess

He talked about the NCAA tournament, his bracket and how he sees the final four playing out. This may seem like a trivial thing for a Presidential candidate (and the presumptive Democratic candidate) to be talking about. It spoke however, to me. I want a President that has the capacity to talk about our crumbling economy, and Baseball's opening day.

I watched in disgust as W sat in the booth Sunday night in Washington, lounging in his chair, talking about when he almost bankrupt the Rangers franchise. He looked awkward and uncomfortable.

I could only picture sitting there Sunday night, B.O. and how well he would have handled sitting there in that booth with John and Joe talking about sports and politics, life and leisure.

I watched B.O on Hardball with Chris Matthews last night. Sitting on a stage with Chris, in the middle of a packed auditorium, he might as well have been sitting in his living room. Barack was calm and cool. He was funny and serious. He handled Chris's toughest questions (it is Hardball).

He put Chris on the spot for keeping the Pastor Wright story in the fore-front. After five minutes of questions concerning Barack's former pastor, Obama pointed out that it was five minutes not spent talking about 4,000 dead Americans, 5 years of a mistake of a war, or the state of our economy, to which Chris had no answer.

I turned off the TV following the show and realized I felt something that I have never felt before. I was too young to appreciate the Clinton Presidency, and knowing what I know now about it, I would like to think that I would have not approved of many of the facts.

I felt, like Michelle Obama said, Proud of my country for the first time.

I love this country. I love the freedoms that I enjoy. I love that my Daughter will grow up with a world of possibilities at her fingertips (maybe someday she will be the 5th or 6th woman president).

I don't however love many of the decisions that our Government has made, not only in my lifetime, but in the entire existence of our Republic. I, unlike nationalistic Conservatives, can love my country for what it is, and hate parts of our history.

Barack Obama is not perfect. I am not a mindless follower that will explain away every bad vote, campaign contribution from a special interest, or miss-statement.

He does however represent all that is good about American politics and society.

The man that can stand in front of 20,000 or 20 and effectively communicate his message.

The man that can inspire real change.

Joba the Mutt

If you are a baseball fan (like Terry), and have watched any games involving the Yankees since the middle of last summer, you have most likely already been introduced to the newest mythical creature in pinstripes.

Joba Chamberlain






Of course if you were watching the games, you might not recognize our portly friend from this picture because is is most likely making an ass out of himself yelling and screaming after recording an out


..as he was last night, which brings me to my point.



I am a hypocrite and I know it.



I know this because I will sit and cheer as Jonathan Papelbon yells his river dancing head off (once again I moonlight as a Red Sox fan)






But can't stand watching Joba the Mutt do the same thing. I find myself watching Yankee games often. Which is exactly where I was last night. In the eight inning Joba entered a one run game trying to hold the lead for the Yanks.



To hear Michael Kay (whom Terry cannot stand) gush about this mythical creature drives me to the brink of homicide. You would think there never was a pitcher, in the history of baseball who could throw hard, throw a good breaking ball, had a funny name, and took the league by storm in his first year.


Unfortunately for Michael Kay, Terry watches a ton of baseball and remembers when a teenage Francisco (K-Rod) Rodriquez took the league by storm, knocked the Yanks out of the playoffs en route to helping the Angels to the championship in his first half-year in the league. using a wicked breaking ball, and an over-powering fastball..









Unfortunately for Joba, like Achilles and his heal,











Gollum and his greed,






or Xerxes and his hubris,






he too has a critical downfall....





Bugs!

HRC and Inevitability

Hillary Clinton has begun comparing herself to Rocky Balboa. Saying things on the campaign trail such as "what would have happened if Rocky had stopped half way up the art museum steps".


How ironic, that the "inevitable candidate" now compares herself to the most iconic underdog in American pop-culture history.

Terry, being one of the only people he knows that owns all five "Rocky" movies on VHS does not see Rocky when he looks at HRC. The arrogance with which the Clinton campaign has conducted themselves, the lack of fiscal responsibility, the lack of preparation in post-super Tuesdays primaries, does not lend itself to comparisons to the forgotten, downtrodden, hired muscle from Philly.

It does however smack of another character from "Rocky".

Apollo Creed, the arrogant inevitable champion who shrugs off his trainer, Tony when he tells Apollo after watching Rocky beating the shit out of some meat in a freezer, that he needs to take Rocky seriously.

The arrogance with which HRC has run her campaign, the way she shrugged off Obama as a mere annoyance, a stepping stone to her inevitable candidacy, a warm up for the real fight with John McCain, is far more reminiscent of Apollo.

Aside from how ridiculous this comparison is on so many levels. Did Mr. Wolfson, or Mr. Penn fail to mention to HRC that, you know, Rocky lost.

I Was Just Doing Some Thinking

This is not meant to be a Baseball only Blog, but it is the first week of the season so there will be a lot more baseball posts. Not to mention Hillary Clinton hasnt grossly over exaggerated any foreign policy experience today.

So I was thinking about the state of the Philles Bullpen, and how they will be once closer Brad Lidge returns from injury and relieves Tom Gordon of the role he is clearly not capable of holding anymore (see yesterday's results).

I was thinking about this, and doing some reading, and I came across this little tid-bit...

Man am I glad I am a Mets fan this year.

Opening Day Observations

The first Real day of baseball has come and gone and Terry has done some reflecting. Here's a look back at yesterday's highlights.

NL


Johan Santana is as good as advertised. Pitching into the 8th inning and striking out 8. The New York Mets got off to the kind of start that help erase some of the hang-over from last years collapse. David Wright started the season hot going 2/4 with a pair of doubles and 3 RBI to lead the Mets offensively in thier 7-2 victory over whats left of the Marlins.

Speaking of the Marlins, they debuted their new cheerleading squad yesterday, the Manatees. The team consists of overweight men whose payment for dancing during the game is admission to the games they dance at, and food.

Elsewhere around the NL...The Newest Cub, Japaneese star Kosuke Fukudome did all he could to send the Wrigley fans home happy drilling a 3-1 fastball over the right-center field wall off Eric Gagne with two outs in the ninth inning to tie the game at three. Unfortunately for the Cubs, they are still the Cubs, and they promptly lost the game in extra innings.

The Nats beat up on Phillies closer Tom Gordon and beat Philadelphia 11-6.

The Braves Bullpen proved for the second night in a row why Terry picked them to finish third in the division regarless of what Buster Olney thinks.

Jake Peavey was Jake Peavey as the Pads shut down the Astros 4-0.

Brad Penny did what Brad Penny always does before the Allstar break, which is win games in a dominating way. The problem for Penny is not the starts from April to July, its those pesky starts from July to September that are a real stumbling block (one of Terry's least favorite Major Leaguers). The Dodgers shut down the Giants 5-0, Barry Zito is looking more and more like the worst investment in baseball history (7 years, 136 million dollars).

AL

Not so many dominating pitching performances in the AL, as C.C. Sabathia and Mark Buehrle were both smacked around. The Indians pulled out a 10-7 victory.
(Grady Sizemore hit his first home run of the season, Terry's fantasy team hopes there are many more where that came from.)

Detroit's bullpen showed (like Atlanta) why Terry did not pick them to win the division, regardless of how good the offense is. Blowing the lead in the 7th and eventually losing in extra innings. I dont care how good that offense is, you cannot win in that divison without a bullpen. (look for Detroit to make a move for an established middle reliever, I cannot be the only person who realizes they cannot win with the arms they have).

In Minnesota, Torii Hunter returned wearing Anahiem Angeles of Los Angeles California, United States, North America, Western Hemisphere, Earth, The Solar System, The Galaxy, The Universe, Red. Carlos Gomez (former Met, I will let Omar off the hook for this one, seeing as he got Santana in return), Proved he is more than just speed, going 2/3 with a double, an RBI, 2 Runs, and 2 Stolen Bases.

Tampa Bay knocked off Baltimore (which will happen often this year).

And Seattle beat Texas.

There is nothing better in the world than laying on the floor with your Daughter as she cruises around the living room, watching three baseball games all at once.

Tonight Mets fans get a look at the rejuvinated Pedro Martinez.