They're destroying our team. Since Fred's gang took over from Doubleday, they've brought nothing but sorrow, stopgap signings, black uniforms, nepotism, cronyism, Ponzi schemes, Mo Vaughn, sex-addicted GMs, surreal press conferences, mock credit cards sewn into uniform sleeves, "Beer Money," Robbie Alomar, players with concussions playing at altitude, horrible roster management, a nearly barren farm system, pitchers with more psychiatric disorders than pitches, prospects as mop-up men, "Wild Card" banners, a medical blooper reel that would last for days, a new stadium designed as a shrine to a different team that caters to the disposable income of nonexistent investment banks, shirtless sleazes challenging our developing players to fights, a bunting fetish, Luis Castillo, a TV network that uses as its selling point that it provides Yankee scores, Art Howe, Willie Randolph, Omar Minaya and Jerry Manuel. They're a second-rate, bumbling organization that doesn't even know how to spend money to paper over their mess.
Can the fans possibly be motivated to do what English fans of Manchester United and Liverpool have done and revolt? With enough "sell Fred, sell" chants, will the Wilpons be shamed into sneaking out the back door? Probably not, but sitting on our hands and watching our hitters bunt against pitchers yet to throw strikes, for example, sure doesn't feel like entertainment. We need our Mets back -- or, more specifically, back from the Wilpons. Thoughts on how to do this, short of just staying home?
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