Now the Mets’ Sandy Alderson is throwing around coy hints that he might trade R.A. Dickey for some younger talent.
Let me drop a few names, before Alderson's time, to be sure: Joe Foy. Jim Fregosi. Mo Vaughn.
The Mets don’t have much – won’t have much for a long time – but the last time I looked they were using the golden images of David Wright and R.A. Dickey every half inning on television to thank the fans for their support.
Not only that, but whenever anything was happening around the Mets – good or bad – the visual of the dugout showed the 38-year-old knuckleballer right in the middle of it, the adult in the room, always positive, always there. A guy who played every fifth day is the heart and soul of this team.
Did I mention that Dickey won 20 games and the Cy Young Award with a pitch that he could conceivably still be floating toward home plate for three-four-five years?
And when he cannot pitch, and is doing all the family-religious-charity-academic-travel-writer things he wants to do, Dickey should be given a permanent position – chaplain, dugout coach, honorary uncle, spring-training guru, whatever he wants.
I understand the general manager’s tropism for negotiating contracts. It’s what they do. Feint a trade and save the House of Wilpon a few million. Fine. They need it. But the process is so undignifid that the Mets could actually botch their relationship with a very good pitcher who knows he will never have a better gig than in Queens.
I am confident the Mets could mess it up.
Two more words for them. Tim Tebow.