Where Have You Gone, Doris from Rego Park?

Photo: YouTube

I’m afraid to pick up the New York Times. Every day there are  more front page revelations and allegations about the Mets’ dire financial state. And I thought following the team on the field was going to be scary. Now, it’s a refuge. With an avalanche of debt, mysterious back-room bailouts from MLB, and a Madoff trustee hellbent on a billion dollar clawback from team owners who may not have the cash to pay Mr. Met, well,  now Ollie Perez and his 82 mph “fastball” hardly worry me. Neither does the fact that the Mets have no second baseman. Maybe they should play the season without one. Just another guy you don’t have to pay — other than  Luis Castillo, who is worth more to the Mets playing for another team. But again, this is lite fare compared to the 15-car pile-up that is the Wilpons’ balance sheet.  

David Wright recently told the Times that the whole Madoff mess was not on the players’ minds as they began the exhibition season.  He said you’d have a hard time finding half the guys here who know what this is about. Really? Not as hard as finding a fourth and fifth starter for the Mets’ rotation, I can tell you that.  If I play for the Mets, and I’m owed millions of dollars, it would be wise for me to be in the know about this whole deal. Talk to your accountant. Consult with your lawyer. Or just check out my blog. I could use a few more readers.

Actually, I read something in the Times yesterday that actually took my mind off  bad debt and bad baseball for a change. Ken Plutnicki wrote about a songwriter, Don Rosler, who composed a ballad about legendary Mets fan and sports radio caller, Doris Bauer (“Doris from Rego Park.”). Bauer, who passed away in 2003 (and thereby missed a LOT of material for her frequents rants), had faded from my memory. But after reading Plutnicki’s article and listening to Rosler’s humorous and heartfelt ode to this sad, lonely but devoted (obsessed, actually)  fan, I hearkened back to  a more innocent time when the sound of Doris’ whiny voice, interrupted every few seconds by a coughing tic, passed for an occasional annoyance about the Mets. Today, her late-night or mid-Sunday afternoon blatherings would actually be a very welcome and amusing escape from the grisly news out of Flushing.

       Where have you gone, Doris Bauer, Mets nation holds its lonely eyes to you (woo, woo, woo). . .

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