I attended three recent games at Citi Field, including the doubleheader last Thursday. And I'm pretty sure I've figured out what the Mets are missing this year as they stumble through the early part of their season. It's not timely hitting or clutch pitching. It has nothing to do with what happens on the basepaths or in the clubhouse. It's pretty clear that Manager Terry Collins and General Manager Sandy Alderson don't see it. Or, more importantly, hear it. It's the song "Meet the Mets."

"Meet the Mets," the great battle song of the New York Metropolitans, may be played outside the stadium in instrumental form as Mets' [...]

A Nielsen survey is claiming that despite the non-endorsements of luminaries like President Obama, the New York Yankees are somehow not the most-hated team in baseball — that honor instead goes to the Cleveland Indians, who ranked a mere 0.9 on a -5 to 5 "sentiment scale" that the company derived from the use of specific keywords in Internet postings. Judging by the Tribe-blogger reaction to the Wall Street Journal's query about his team's triumph (which was basically the word "sigh" stretched out into 14 individual words) and the general annoyance the Yanks induce in me even today, I'm wondering if there should be a sort of [...]

It doesn't matter if you're one of the greatest pitchers in team history, nobody but nobody writes on the wall at Citi Field.

Journeyman righty and reggaeton singer José Lima passed away after suffering a massive heart attack on Sunday. Lima, who resurfaced on Friday announcing his intentions to open a youth baseball academy in his hometown of Los Angeles, was an effervescent on-field personality during his 12-year MLB career, calling the time he spent on the mound "Lima Time" and proving himself good at whipping up crowds — even when his pitching performances were, shall we say, not quite Cy Young material. He also has a fantasy-baseball drafting strategy named in his honor. Lima was 37.

Mets fans finally have something to cheer about regarding the team's worst start since the bad old days of 1992: The team's trainwreck performance will probably keep any of the early-oughts' lights of post-grunge from following in the footsteps of Creed singer Scott Stapp, who, fresh off shredding the national anthem at the Florida Marlins' Opening Day festivities, has penned a song in honor of the teal-suited team. It's called "Marlins Will Soar" and it has the same vague references to faith and being lifted up that his work with Creed did, only this time he manages to rhyme "triple play" with "playoff race." Artistic growth! [[...]

Something tells me that Lenny Dykstra's $3,200 Craigslist offer of a framed, signed magazine article and a "personal phone call" from the plucky ex-outfielder himself is not going to be as "once in a lifetime" as it currently claims. But maybe it will be! I just hope that whoever ponies up the cash doesn't get railroaded into a sales pitch from Nails Investments.

Snow, slush, odd moments where one wonders if the world is really ending: This winter has been getting a lot of people down. But here's a reason to believe that there's light at the end of the tunnel!