Can't fight Citi gall
Hey Wilpons and Katz: Time for you to sell the Mets
AFTER the week the Mets have had, it may be time to ask a very simple question of Fred Wilpon, Jeff Wilpon and Saul Katz:
(Not that they’d answer, of course. Sometime in the past few years they became paragons of non-accountability, and seem defiantly proud of the description. They are UP HERE. You are DOWN THERE. Don’t like it? Become a lacrosse fan.)
If this is such a miserable thing, owning this baseball team, why don’t you do yourselves a favor and sell it? I mean … isn’t this supposed to be, you know, fun? Isn’t owning a sports franchise supposed to be the reward for a life of hard work and not the source of eternal angst? And the men who own the Mets aren’t just victims of angst. They are a breeding ground.
As Dr. Melnitz once told Felix Unger: “Unger, in the world of ulcers you’re what’s known as a carrier.”
The owners of the Mets are angst carriers. So why do it? Seriously. Why do it? From The Post’s Mike Puma this week:
“Fred Wilpon was ‘irate’ after learning of Giancarlo Stanton’s recent trade to the Yankees, according to an industry source, continuing a pattern of hand-wringing by the Mets co-owner following a splash by his crosstown rival.
“‘Fred is pissed every time the Yankees make a move,’ said a person who speaks to Wilpon regarding
baseball matters. ‘And he always seems surprised.’ ”
Seriously, what kind of madness is this? And you know something? We have to believe that this is 100 percent accurate because nobody named Wilpon or Katz has risen in anger to declare it false. And maybe now you know why that Troublesome Trio never bothers to field questions. Because here’s another one they might be asked: “You’re ‘pissed?’ ” “You’re ‘pissed?’ ” Then there is the conclusion drawn by those both inside and outside the organization, and summarized by The Post’s Joel
Sherman this week, which essentially describes the owners’ postseason strategy thusly:
1. We don’t think we have enough to win.
2. We won’t spend to help us win more.
3. But by all means, you should still buy tickets.
(And again, Fred, Jeff or Saul: If this is wrong, by all means tell us. You have our phone numbers and email addresses from the dozens of times we’ve reached out to you in vain. Tell us this is wrong. And none of us will hold our breath.)
If the Wilpons owned a bakery they’d be puzzled — and then, apparently, pissed — if their 3-day-old cinnamon rings didn’t sell at all while the bakery across the street had fresh and warm cinnamon rings flying off their shelves. There’s one difference. Nobody in their right mind would buy that failing Flushing bakery.
But in New York City, there is a deep list of fat cats and Wall Street players that would gladly pony up the $2 billion or so that it would require to take the Mets off their hands, to relieve them of all that annoying stress and worry and anxiety. Even the Wilpons couldn’t fritter away a $2 billion cash infusion, right? (At least not right away.)
Oh, was that a cheap shot, Jeff ?
Tell you what: Email me and tell me it was. And while you’re at it, tell me (and The Post’s readers) why your family endures the agonies of owning this team, why you openly detest and disdain your fans, (Remember that loyalty oath you sent out once upon a time? Who tests YOUR level of loyalty?) and how you could possibly think it makes good business sense to warn your fans that the wallet might be tightening up before you even do that, which sure seems like a spiteful way to run your bakery.
Er, baseball team.