Bad postcard of the week: The Hall of Presidents and the lesser attractions at Walt Disney World

This bad postcard doesn't present the Hall of Presidents in its proper majesty.

OK, a lot has happened since we went on sabbatical.

We went back to the U.P., walked across the Mackinac Bridge, chaperoned marching band trips – including an awesome second-place, statewide finish at Ford Field -- volunteered on a campaign, met Chris Christie, planned college visits, celebrated being victorious on Election Day, celebrated Christmas, and celebrated Inauguration Day. Oh, and Mike Piazza got hosed, again.

We were dealing with a lot of heavy stuff!

The Inauguration was a fantastic celebration. And what do people do when they celebrate big victories? They head to Disney World!

And the best part of Disney World? That would be The Hall of Presidents, of course.

This week’s bad postcard just doesn’t do the attraction justice. The photographer’s attempt to get every president in the frame means we get lots of dead space on the top and bottom, and still only half of Andrew Jackson.

And that’s a shame, because the Hall of Presidents has all the thrills of Space Mountain without the motion sickness.

For those who are unaware, The Hall of Presidents is an attraction in the Magic Kingdom that includes a lesson about American history. The curtain pulls away to reveal moving figures of all 43 presidents.

Yes, Barack Obama is the 44^th president. Grover Cleveland, with his twice-counting, non-consecutive terms, only appears on stage once.

So I’ve been looking forward to this magnificent and educational display of patriotism since we started planning the trip.

Disney’s gone all high-tech, and you can download an ap that does all kinds of things, including telling us the wait time on rides in real-time. In the weeks leading up to the trip, Caroline and I would check the times people were standing in line to get on the Pirates of the Caribbean or Splash Mountain.

The Gnome of Victory and Celebration  came along.

I can’t explain this, but there was never a wait listed for the Hall of Presidents.

I assumed the ap was malfunctioning, because even It’s a Small World had wait times while people were apparently walking right in to the Hall of Presidents.

It the week between Christmas and New Year’s Day – the busiest week of the year at Disney – the ap listed three-hour waits for some rides. And yet, people were still just walking right in to the Hall of Presidents.

The big day finally arrived and Caroline was in charge of plotting our plan of attack on the Magic Kingdom.   We started with the Seven Drawfs Mine Ride, but it was shut down for technical issues.

So we hit The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh, Space Mountain – twice! – the Astro Orbiters, the Tomorrowland Transit and Buzz Lightyear’s Space Ranger Spin before heading through Cinderella’s Castle on our way to the Haunted Mansion.

And, as we walked through Liberty Square, there it was, shining like a beacon of goodness among the “Frozen” t-shirts -- The Hall of Presidents.

Once we enjoyed the frights, my wife said the magic words: “We might as well get it over with. At least it will be warm inside.”

For the unaware, the Hall of Presidents technically started, like Shea Stadium and so many other good things, at the New York World’s Fair in 1964-1965. It was just Abe Lincoln then.

The rest of the presidents came with opening of Walt Disney World, at least through Richard Nixon. The show expanded with the arrivals of Gerald Ford, Jimmy Carter, Ronald Reagan and George Bush.

Bill Clinton became the first sitting president to have a speaking role, a feature that has continued with George W. Bush and Barack Obama.

President Obama had a speaking role, Franklin Pierce said nothing.

The show was overhauled in 2008, closing on Oct. 31 and not reopening until July 1, 2009. Can you imagine eight months of people charging into the Magic Kingdom, stopping dead in their tracks to discover that the Hall of Presidents was closed? Did they get a refund? Were there signs on the way in alerting them that the magical experience wouldn’t be quite as magical that day?

Amazingly, the 700-seat theater was only about a third full when we entered, which allowed for a seat right in the middle.

The show is just as wonderful as when I last attended, with Morgan Freeman as a new narrator. After Lincoln spoke by himself, the curtains pulled back to reveal the rest of our heroes. They all moved – nodding, fidgeting, looking around, and making fun of William Henry Harrison – as they were introduced.

Some of the Audio-Animatronic figures look better than others. But they are good enough that I could probably name them without the introductions. George Washington spoke, as did Obama, without a TelePrompTer.

It was all pretty glorious and I’m sure I wasn’t the only who got a little weepy. (Then again, I was busted getting weepy when Elsa covered Cinderella's  Castle in ice later in the night. It was really cool.)

I suggested that we try to set the record for most consecutive viewings. My companions suggested that record would be set by remaining in the theater for a second viewing.

With that, we proceeded to ride the Big Thunder Mountain Railroad. On the bright side, I got to meet Tigger and he was really nice.

Mets ornament of the day: Mike Piazza, a really big star

Mike Piazza wasn't “The Franchise,” because there can be only one. But when we start compling a list of the best players to wear the Mets uniform, he's certainly near the top.

Note that such a list would have to be limited to guys who played for the Mets in their prime. There is absolutely no shame in boasting that Willie Mays, Warren Spahn, Duke Snider, Richie Ashburn and Yogi Berra all looked splendid in their classic Mets uniforms even though their performances were not up to their career highs.

Piazza was the face of the team during its resurgent Valentine era, probably better know as the Piazza era.

And despite his stellar performance, Piazza seemed to be forever dodging beanballs and bat shards from the likes of Roger Clemens.

And, as the biggest star, Piazza gets the biggest ornament on the Mets tree. This thing is huge. Too, huge, actually. It requires a tree branch seeminly as thick as Piazza's biceps to keep it hanging.

I'm pretty sure that this was a mold created for a bobble head and adapted for ornament use.

Alas, even though the designers had all that room to work with, the bobber-ornament has only a slight resemblance to our slugger. Nice detail on the shoes, though.

Last looks at Topps' rivals in Mets cards

The folks at Topps must have felt too threatened by the first couple Fleer and Donruss sets, but it didn’t take all that long for the rivals to get better. By the time Upper Deck and Score joined the field, Topps was the choice for loyalists, but not necessarily those who demanded quality above all else.

This is not to say that everything issued by the newcomers was first-rate. But there were some glorious moments of Mets on cardboard, as we wrap up our look at favorite non-Topps Mets.

1990 Donruss Dwight Gooden and Sid Fernandez

The 1990 Donruss set has no business being as good as it is. Splattered paint, bright red borders, the drabbest possible backs, “error cards” and massive over-production is not a recipe for a classic issue. But somehow it works. This is one of my favorite sets.



Donruss filled this with great action cards, like this Dwight Gooden, and nice portraits, like El Sid.
1998 Donruss Don Darling.

Not the best Donruss design, but I like this Darling portrait because we get a great view of the script New York the Mets wore on the road uniforms for only the 1987 season. Am I the only one who likes that uniform?

1998 Studio Dwight Gooden, 2003 Al Leiter and 2004 Mike Piazza







I wasn’t too keen on the idea of a black and white set when Studio made its debut, but some of those portraits are beautiful. And Donruss soon found different ways to showcase the portraits, with backgrounds of lockers, cap logos, patches, stadiums and cityscapes.

2004 Donruss Team Heroes Kaz Matsui


Remember how excited we all were when the Mets signed Matsui? Our own Ichiro! Well, that didn’t turn out as we hoped. But I like this card showing Kaz after his introduction press conference posing in Times Square.

1999 Fleer Turk Wendell



Fleer had some great designs. The 1999 set wasn’t one of them. But I love this portrait of Turk and his tooth and claw necklace. Certainly one of the more colorful Mets, Wendell was actually a pretty good reliever, too.

2001 Fleer Ultra Todd Zeile


Ultra was Fleer’s answer to Topps’ Stadium Club, and was usually a decent set. Everything seems to work in this action shot of Zeile, with the pinstripes, the foul line and lots of Pete Flynn’s manicured grass.

Upper Deck Vintage Tom Seaver


UD tried to tap into the Topps devoted fan base by aping some of the company’s best designs for its retro Vintage sets. This set copies the 1965 design, and it gets points for showing Seaver from the 1983 homecoming season, which can’t be saluted enough!

2001 Upper Deck Legends Tom Seaver


Sometimes UD even used one of its own designs for veteran players. I don’t think I’d seen this nice, relaxed Seaver portrait before this issue.

1992 Upper Deck John Franco


I used to argue that that Mets should retire Franco’s number. Now I’m not so sure, but he should most definitely be in the Mets Hall of Fame.

2001 Upper Deck and 2008 Upper Deck David Wright


Now, I do think David Wright will earn his way on to the wall with Casey, Gil, Tom and Jackie – and someday Mike. This posed portrait is a little odd because he’s wearing a jersey with a 2000 World Series patch, a series he didn’t play in. In fact, he was drafted with the pick the Mets earned for losing Mike Hampton, one of the stars of that postseason


I like that Upper Deck used this photo from the All-Star Game, snapped after Wright hit his home run.

Countdown of top Topps cards continues with No. 10 and Mike Piazza

The top 10 cards in the top Topps cards of all time require special consideration, so we're going to address them one at a time, starting with:

No. 10, 2003 Mike Piazza

There are quite possibly more cards of Mike Piazza than there are of any other Met. And most of them are pretty bland.

That’s not Piazza’s fault. His Mets tenure happened to coincide with card companies pandering to investment types, and issued dozens of small sets filled with insert, or “chase,” cards that were supposedly would fund everyone’s retirement.

The sets were typically around 90 cards, though there could be two or three times that number of inserts. If limited to 90 cards, the companies included only two or three players from each team, usually the biggest stars and rookies.

Since all the attention was on the inserts, it seemed to me that the base cards were treated an afterthought, with just about any old photo slapped on there.

Since Piazza was the biggest name on the Mets, he was included in just about every set.

Not that he wasn’t worthy, of course. A debate over who is the team’s best non-pitcher would likely come down to Piazza and Darryl Strawberry. Straw didn’t seem to match his potential, but Piazza was everything we had hoped for when he arrived in 1998.

He certainly was the most feared by opponents, especially Roger Clemens, who sought to injure Piazza with both ball and broken bat.

Seems like most Piazza cards show him batting, but I think his 2003 card from the main Topps set is his best.

The design recalls the outstanding 1983 and 1984 sets with the small headshot in the corner and a large action photo. The blue border works perfect for the Mets’ colors, and the shot shows Mike out of the crouch and chasing a ball, with a look of determination.

I like the 2004 card, too, showing Piazza being mobbed at home plate after a big hit surrounded by teammates and coaches, seeking fist-bumps and high-fives. Don Baylor, a coach at the time, makes what is likely his only appearance on a regular-set Mets card.


Piazza caught the last pitch at Shea and the first pitch at Citi Field, and the Mets haven't issued his No. 31 since his departure. I'm speculating that means he'll be joining his batterymate on those two occasions among the retired numbers on the left field wall after he joins him in Cooperstown.

Going green with the Mets on St. Patrick's Day

Kevin McReynolds and Jeff McKnight were among the Mets in green when I arrived at Dodgertown in 1994.

The Mets have had six Patricks in their 48 years.

Pat Tabler didn't drive in too many runs, much less snakes, in his short stint in 1990. We made the playoffs in both 1999 and 2000, the two years of Pat Mahomes' tenure.

And poor Pat Zachry was supposed to take the place of a Franchise when he arrived as part of the trade for Tom Seaver. I was too distraught to tell if he had any saintly powers.

And, as Chris O'Dorso points out below, Pat Howell, Pat Strange and current Met Pat Misch are also on the list, though I shamefully forgot them.

I caught the Mets on St. Patrick's Day twice, though one was a rain-shortened game in Melbourne.

The other, 1n 1994 at Vero Beach against the Dodgers, was more promising. At least it seemed so at the time.

The Mets were in transition. Dwight Gooden and Kevin McReynolds were still around. Todd Hundley and Bret Saberhagen were there. But so were folks like Mauro Gozzo and Ryan Thompson.

Dallas Green, second from the right, was at the helm.

After the disaster of 1993, when the team finished below the expasnion Marlins, the Mets were looking to rebound.

The team had pulled up to third place with a 55-58 record before the disaster that was the labor battle shut down the season.
Glenn Davis didn't make it north with the Mets, and took Mike Piazza a couple years to get there.

But they sure seemed to turn the corner, and even came back with the proper attire, dumping the big, fat tail that intruded under the team name on the front of the jersey.

And that was a reason to celebrate.

Baseball Place No. 10: Dodgertown

It’s hard to believe that there is no baseball being played in Dodgertown this spring. It is, hands down, the best spring training site I’ve ever been to.

Josh Pahigian thinks so, too, He named the Vero Beach complex stop No. 9 in his list of "101 Baseball Places to See Before You Strike Out."

The Dodgers converted the former naval base into a spring training site in 1949, and abandoned it this year to share a site in Arizona with the White Sox. The Orioles were expected to move in this year, but ESPN reports that talks broke down and the team is looking to move to Fort Meyers.



That would be horrible, because Dodgertown is perfect. No place else allows fans to get so close to players. It’s almost like watching major leaguers play in your neighborhood park.

There were adventures each time I went to Dodgertown. But the best one is here.

I thought it would be more fun to show photos from some of the other adventures.

Dodger players not in the game would hang out on the press box roof to watch.

That's future Met Hideo Nomo leaning on the ladder.

After the game, players walk back to the clubhouse through the fans. Brett Butler told fans to walk back with him, then get in a line and he'd be happy to sign autographs.

Mike Piazza counting the days until he is a Met.

There wasn't too much to the bullpens.

Here's the Mets dugout on St. Patrick's Day, 1994.

Glenn Davis was getting a tryout.


That's Kevin McReynolds in the middle.

There were sometimes Brooklyn Dodgers visiting. Here's Ralph Branca wandering over to the Mets bench. Visiting son-in-law Bobby Valentine?

Keith Hernandez was throwing a little batting practice.

Mookie was coaching at the time.

Mets win! But Carlos Baerga and Rey Ordonez are deep in conversation.

My Grandmother used to bring me to games at Shea, I was finally able to return the favor, bringing her to Dodgertown. Here she is getting Tommy Lasorda's autograph.

Ford to Jeter: Drop Dead

Well, not quite.

But that famous Daily News headline is on display at the Gerald R. Ford Presidential Museum and Capt. Hype was properly dismissed in a new exhibit.

The museum here in Grand Rapids does a phenomenal job combining my two areas of interest. For the second time in the past couple years, the presidential museum has hosted an exhibit about baseball.

Created in conjunction with the George Herbert Walker Bush Museum, “Born to Play Ball” is intended to inspire debate.

The exhibit lists what someone has determined to be the top 50 players – five for each position, plus right-handed and left-handed pitchers. Then, there is a secondary list called “Best of the Rest,” which is kind of cheating.

Naturally there are some problems here. Some of the lists didn’t even include Mets. Each section had a little bio plaque and an artifact for each player – some of which were amazingly awesome. There also were displays for the Negro Leagues and the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League.

But the coolest thing to me was a collection of signed baseballs – Richard Nixon and every president since, most of the first ladies, John McCain and Barack Obama and a host of world leaders. That’s something you just never see.

Using a coupon from the West Michigan Whitecaps program, I spent a lunch hour first paying respects to President Ford, then enjoying the exhibit. It’s here until January, which means there is time to make some, um, corrections.

OK, let’s get to the players:

Catchers: Yogi Berra, Johnny Bench, Mike Piazza, Roy Campanella and Ivan Rodriguez. Best of rest: Carlton Fisk, Mickey Cochrane.

Piazza and Berra are proud Mets, Campanella is kind of a pre-Met, at least according to our team owners and new ballpark. Bench swiped Jerry Koosman’s Rookie of the Year Award, but we like him anyway. Rodriguez is only a reluctant Yankee.

Yogi’s artifact, by the way, was a signed harmonica box. Phil Linz would be so proud.

Shortstop: Honus Wagner, Alex Rodriguez, Ernie Banks, Cal Ripken Jr. Robin Yount. Best of rest: Ozzie Smith and Arky Vaughn.

Yount is a clear Hall-of-Famer, but among the five best shortstops of all-time? And where’s Jose Reyes and Bud Harrelson? On the bright side, Derek F. Jeter is nowhere to be found, so I give them credit for recognizing the fraud that is the Jeter Hero Cult. But don't let Tom Verducci find out about this, or there will be a spleen-venting the likes of which we have never seen!

Left field: Ted Williams, Barry Bonds, Stan Musial, Pete Rose, Carl Yastrzemski. Best of rest: Joe Jackson, Rickey Henderson, Willie Stargell

Can’t argue with Teddy Ballgame or Stan the Man. Yaz is a good Long Islander. I was surprised to see Rose, given that he’s usually banned from such things. Then I saw Bonds, and I refused to read his bio plaque because all suspect that he doesn’t belong and that space can do to a more worthy player, like Cleon Jones or Endy Chavez.

Then things got even more problematic.

Right-handed pitcher: Cy Young, Walter Johnson, Grover Cleveland Alexander, Nolan Ryan, Roger Clemens. Best of the rest: Christy Mathewson, Tom Seaver , Bob Gibson

Ryan’s over-rated, but he was a Met so we cut him some slack. But to see Bat-chucker there in the top five and Tom Seaver delegated to also-ran status is just a travesty. Naturally, I got all weepy reading the Seaver bio plaque and had no interest in the Clemens puffery.

Left-handed pitcher: Warren Spahn, Sandy Koufax, Lefty Grove, Carl Hubbell, Steve Carlton. Best of the rest: Whitey Ford, Randy Johnson

Spahnnie’s a former Met. Koufax has enough Mets connections that he qualifies.

Right-fielders: Babe Ruth, Hank Aaron, Mel Ott, Frank Robinson, Roberto Clemente. Best of the rest: Tony Gwynn, Reggie Jackson, Paul Waner

It’s nice to see Mel Ott get the love, as he is usually overlooked, usually for a punk like Reggie Jackson. Clemente’s vest jersey was on display and just commands respect.

Third base: Mike Schmidt, Eddie Mathews, Brooks Robinson, George Brett, Pie Traynor Best of the rest: Ken Boyer, Wade Boggs, Ron Santo

OK, clearly David Wright, Edgardo Alfonzo and Wayne Garrett should be here. But check out the “Best of the Rest.” Neither Boyer nor Santo have been in enshrined in Cooperstown. So the sixth- and eighth-best third-basemen of all-time aren’t worthy? The museum gets it right, the baseball writers who vote on the Hall of Fame did not.

Second base: Rogers Hornsby, Eddie Collins, Joe Morgan, Jackie Robinson, Roberto Alomar. Best of the Rest: Ryne Sandberg, Nap Lajoie, Rod Carew, Bill Mazeroski

Alomar’s a former Met, Hornsby’s a former Mets coach and our new stadium is a Robinson tribute, so he counts.

But wait! Is that Joe Morgan the ESPN broadcaster? Joe played the game? You’d think he’d mention that once or twice or a hundred times during each edition of Sunday Night Baseball.

Centerfield: Willie Mays, Ty Cobb, Mickey Mantle, Joe DiMaggio, Ken Griffey Jr. Best of the Rest: Tris Speaker

Willie obviously waves the Mets flag here. I’m stunned that they list only one player in the “Best of the Rest.” Former Met Duke Snider doesn’t even merit a mention?

First base: Lou Gehrig, Jimmy Foxx, Eddie Murray, Harmon Killebrew and Willie McCovey. Best of the rest: Mark McGwire, Johnny Mize

Murray’s our Met here, but where in the heck is Keith Hernandez? It’s another glaring and stunning omission.

Now, I don’t hold McGwire in the same contempt that I do Bonds and Clemens, so I started reading his bio. And I was stunned to see a reference to him performing under suspicion of steroid use.

I thought, “They’re gonna out McGwire, yet let not call Bonds and Bat-chucker on the carpet for laundry list of alleged sins?”

So I scurried back over to the pitchers’ section and scanned the Clemens bio. Sure enough, there was a big note at the bottom saying that the exhibit was put together just after the Mitchell report had become public, and that Clemens was implicated.

Then I walked over to Bonds, and, again, a large portion of his bio covered the cloud of ‘roids suspicion.

Walking away, I was pretty impressed. While the Mets didn’t quite get as much love as they deserve, there was no Jeter to be found, and Bat-chucker was held accountable for his alleged cheating.

Then I went down to the museum store, which is usually well-stocked with cool things. There was a nice assortment of baseball books and ties and some Hall of Fame postcards.

Then I saw those Uno decks with the boxes in the shape of team jerseys. Staring right at me was the white Mets jersey version and the black jersey version.

And get this – the Mets were the only team represented! Do you know how long I’ve been looking for one of these for the basement baseball shrine?

Now I have no idea why they would only have Mets versions. Sometimes it’s best not to ask questions, at least not until finishing the “Yes-yes!” dance.

So let’s review: Piazza praised, Jeter denied, Clemens dissed, president-signed baseballs displayed and long-sought souvenir needs fulfilled.

It was a good day.

Let Mike Piazza retire properly -- as a Met

Let’s review the Mets catching situation as spring training hits the home stretch.

Brian Schneider: Gimpy.

Ramon Castro: Gimpier.

Friends, clearly these guys are incapable to bellying up to the post-game spread without straining a hamstring. They are injury prone and one of them seems to be making plans to open the season on the disabled list.

Luckily, I have found a solution. And his name is Mike Piazza.

I know, I know. Mikey didn’t even pack a catcher’s mitt when he played in Oakland last year. And his hitting wasn’t all that spectacular, sporting a .275 average with 44 runs batted in and 8 homers in a mere 83 games.

But it’s not like we’re asking him to be our starting catcher for the whole season. We just need a back-up catcher while out two guys recover from a couple months in Port St. Lucie, apparently the most dangerous place on the planet.

All he needs to do is perform the basic duties of the back-up catcher. And those being taking warm-up tosses from the pitcher while the starting catcher gets his pads back on after batting and starting the rare April day game after a night game.

Plus, I want him to make an occasional pinch-hitting appearance.

Look, Clemens is out of the game. He won’t be able to drill Mikey in the dome. He’ll be safe.

Piazza deserves better than what he got. Legends deserve to go out on their own terms.

Look at Willie Mays. He got to leave the game as a Met, which is pretty special right there. But his last appearance was Game 3 of the 1973 World Series – at Shea, before fans who loved him.

Piazza, in contrast, went 1 for 4 in a meaningless game for an American League team that was a game out of last place, then waited for the phone to ring all winter into the spring for a team – any team – to ask him to grace their roster. He’s about to experience a de facto forced retirement.

Here’s what I want.

I want to see Mike Piazza see the standing ovation as he strolls to the plate, basking in the love from the Shea faithful thanking him for the glorious postseason runs of 1999 and 2000, and for enduring the Art Howe era with class.

Then, when either Castro or Schneider is ready to play, I want Mike Piazza to be able to say, “Fans, it’s time for me to hang ‘em up.”

I want to see Mike Piazza retire as a proud New York Met in a stately ballpark’s final go-around, and not as an Oakland Athletic – ick – in a football-fractured stadium where they have to cover the seats in the upper deck so the place doesn’t look as empty as it is.

Then, the very next day, I want to see No. 31 hoisted to the wall in rightfield, so the best position player to ever play for the Mets can join No. 41, the best pitcher ever to play for the Mets.

Piazza certainly has nothing to be ashamed of if his career ends now. He’s a first-ballot Hall of Famer. In fact, five years from now he’d be on the same ballot as his old nemesis, Bat-Chucker Clemens, who I think we can all say will not be joining him at the podium.

But it could be so much nicer.

It’s a zero-risk proposition for the Mets. And what’s the alternative? Raul Cassanova? It’s not like Mikey is blocking a prospect from getting a shot.

Let him come back so he can go out in style.

Clemens, Congress and the conversation with Debbie

I can imagine the awkward conversation in the Clemens household today.


Rocket: Hello, honey. I was talking to some folks today. They asked about you.

Debbie: Roger, you were talking to congressmen about steroids. You didn’t tell them about me, did you?

Rocket: Me? Sweetheart! Never. I’ll tell you what, though. That Andy Pettitte sure does have a big mouth.

Debbie: Oh great. You are in so much trouble.

Rocket: Well, there’s more. Remember the 2000 World Series?

Debbie: Sure. That’s the one you won, unlike that disaster against the White Sox.

Rocket: Yeah, that’s the one. They had all kinds of questions. But I was pretty smart. I told them that you said, “Wow, how about that Mike Piazza!” and I got all confused and thought you said, “Now, throw a bat at Mike Piazza!”

The Debbie made him do it!

Debbie: You didn’t! Now that’s my fault, too? Am I on the hook for the 2004 All-Star Game meltdown, too?

Rocket: I thought....I thought....

Debbie: See that’s the problem, Roger. You know you’re not supposed to go thinking for yourself. Why didn’t you listen to Rusty? What has he doing when all this was happening?

Rocket: He kept muttering, “I have a blockhead for a client.” And that’s just not true because Chuck Knoblauch has a different lawyer.

Debbie: Roger. Just stop talking.

Rocket: By the way, the Astros, Blue Jays and Red Sox all called. They said it’s OK with them if I want to wear a Yankee cap on the Hall of Fame plaque. That's just swell of them because I have so much on my mind right now and can't make big decisions like that.

Debbie: I don't think that's gonna be a problem.

Bat-chucker's rampant butt talk

Roger Clemens' butt, the source of so much attention, before he apparently worked it off and put it on the line.

I’m worried about Roger Clemens.

Oh, not about his alleged steroid use. I don’t think too many people are surprised by those stories.

No, I’m worried about his apparent obsession with butts -- both his own, and those belonging to rodents.

I’ve worked with middle school youth groups, and I’m painfully aware that boys of a certain age develop a fascination with the hind quarters and all of its assorted functions. Backsides become a frequent source of humor a handy insult.

Now that I work with high school youth groups, I sense that the boys have outgrown ass antics and have moved on to other obsessions, mainly dodge ball.

But Clemens, for all his riches and accolades, appears to have been unable to take his attention away from butts.

Let’s look at the record.

The real fornt page of the Trentonion. You just can't make this stuff up.

Former strength and conditioning coach Brian McNamee told George Mitchell that he injected Clemens at least 16 times with steroids and human growth hormone in 1998, 2000 and 2001.

Clemens acknowledged receiving injections from McNamee, however, he said they were vitamin B-12 and the painkiller lidocaine.

Where did he get these shots? You guessed it, in the butt. I don’t know about you, but I like my vitamins in pill form. Never once did I ask to have my Flintstones chewable ground up and loaded into a syringe.

And when I get a shot, I generally try to take it in the arm. It doesn’t hurt that much.

"Dude, keep your hand off the butt. It's sore."

I would note that the list of people I would allow to inject me with anything anywhere is pretty short and limited to doctors and nurses. A strength and conditioning coach doesn’t meet that criteria. But I digress.

Then we have Clemens’ unusual press conference-meltdown show Monday evening.

Forget for a moment the surreal 17-minute phone call where Clemens called McNamee and didn’t once say something like, "Brian, why did you lie?" One could argue that would be because he knew that McNamee didn’t, but we can discuss that later.

Because the more frightening thing happened after the phone call. The topic of conversation quickly turned to, you guessed it, butts.

Silly sports writers. They wanted to talk about steroids. Clemens would have no part of it.

"Do you think I played my career because I’m worried about the damn Hall of Fame?" he said, according to a published report. "You keep your vote. I don’t need the Hall of Fame to justify that I put my butt on the line and I worked my tail off, and I defy anybody to say I did it by cheating or taking any shortcuts, OK?"

So Roger both put his butt on the line, and then worked it off? If he worked it off, where did it go? And what if he needed to put it on the line again? I realize it would be sore from all those vitamin and pain-killer injections, but to go through life buttless would be tragic.

Then the silly writers again wanted to talk about steroids, when whether the allegations would harm the legacy for which Clemens so dramatically sacrificed his butt. Having surrendered that behind, Clemens then turned his attention to varmint heinies.

"This is not about records or heroes or numbers. I could give a rat’s ass about that."

All this butt talk was apparently too much, because Clemens then ended the show and huffed out.

All this gives me a new appreciation for Shawn Estes, the former Mets pitcher. Actually. I previously had no appreciation at all for Estes, considering the 4-9 record and 4.55 ERA he gave us during his one year with the team.

But Estes was on the hill when Clemens made his return to Shea in 2002. Clemens, of course, by that time had drawn the wrath of Mets fans for his beaning of St. Mike Piazza, and hurling the broken bat Piazza’s way in Game 2 of the ill-fated 2000 World Series.

Joe Torre made sure that in subsequent interleague games, Clemens only faced the Mets at Yankee Stadium, where American League rules allow pitchers to avoid facing retribution for their head-hunting.

But Clemens finally had no choice but to pitch at Shea in 2002, and Mets fans — mostly me — wanted Estes to deliver a high hard one that would knock some sense into Clemens’ dome.

Estes apparently was under orders from Bobby Valentine to do just that. He didn’t, angering all of Mets fandom.

Today I give Estes credit. He wanted to nail Clemens where it would really hurt him, the spot apparently so important to Bat-chucker that it dominates his every thought and is the target for his fortifying vitamins.

Yup, Estes threw at Clemens’ butt.

Sadly, he missed. He is, after all, Shawn Estes. Maybe he should habe taken some B-12.