This is not a big surprise despite the mediocre record that the Minaya-constructed teams have produced. It is in keeping with a team policy that players and front office people must complete their contracts despite the quality of their work. Since seemingly no other organization seems so obstinate on this point, The Apple wonders whether Wilpon runs other aspects of his life the same way.
We sent reporter Larry Smith to tail the senior Wilpon for a day and as usual he attacked the problem with zeal above and beyond the call. Smith camped out under Wilpon's bedroom window with his handy stethoscope pressed up against it. At 8:18am he heard a grinding alarm-like sound. It was Fred's alarm clock going off. Mrs. Wilpon came in:
Mrs. W: Fred. I thought you wanted to be up by 7:30 for those early meetings you had scheduled.
Fred: It's this damn clock. It hardly ever works right. I bought it two years ago down at Boras' department store and it's been messed up ever since.
Mrs. W: Well why don't you throw it out and get a new one that works?
Fred: Oh, no. I paid full retail for that thing and I'm gonna get three years out of it if it kills me.
Mrs. W: If it doesn't work right then why don't you have it fixed?
Fred: I tried that. I used to bring it into Petersen's down the street. He used to be able to get it to work a bit.
Mrs. W: So bring it back to him.
Fred: No can do. He moved his whole operation to Milwaukee. Now the place is run by some guy named Warthen. I tried bringing stuff to him and the guy just talks your ear off but can't fix anything I bring him. Believe it or not at one point he just suggested that I put the alarm clock in the closet and only bring it out if all of our other clocks have stopped working. What a dolt.
Mrs. W: By the way Fred your hair looks awful. It's too long and going in all sorts of directions. Maybe you should make time today to get a haircut.
Fred: Nope. I get my hair cut every four weeks down at Castillo's near the ballpark. It's only been two and half weeks since I was last there so I have to wait.
Mrs. W: Now that sounds ridiculous to me. Why wait? Go to another barber now.
Fred: I am paid up for haircuts there every four weeks until October of 2011 so that's where I'm going. Waste not, want not, I always say.
Mrs. W: Are we still going to do dinner and a movie tonite?
Fred: Absolutely. Meet me at Matthew's Steakhouse at 6:30.
(To Be Continued)
All articles featured on The Apple are fictitious. No Mets were harmed in the writing of this story. Today's story written by Larry Smith.
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