But there is one thing that has always set the Yanks on a higher pedestal - even during most of the bad ole days between Reggie and Jeter. That thing is, in fact, a person, or at least, a person inside a ridiculous outfit. That's right, Mr. Met. I hate Mr. Met. I hate Mr. Met more than cockroaches, tornadoes, the Red Sox, being hit in the head with a golf club, your girlfriend breaking up with you in front of your mom, Hitler, and even people who own small dogs or rolling suitcases.
It is not just the mascot itself ; it is the insipidly lazy concept. You are tasked with coming up with a baseball mascot, and all you could come up with is a guy with a baseball head?! Really? Any of these from a simple Google image search for "Metropolitans" would have been better:
At least the encephalitic Mr. Met is a friendly guy and is often accompanied by an attractive young lady shooting t-shirts out of an over-sized airgun (yeah, we get the Freudian reference). The dreaded Mr. Red is a thing out of childhood nightmares. Just look at this guy! Makes my skin crawl:
This is a monster out of countless alien abduction stories. Can't you see this guy coming at you with an anal probe? The head is too big to be normal, too small to be jolly. It's like catching a Body Snatcher in the middle of becoming Dorah's friend Diego.
At least one version of this Red Idiot has a mustache. With that, he merely looks like your slightly creepy uncle right before he touches you inappropriately in the basement after Thanksgiving dinner.
Baseball headed mascots... I hate them, but I guess it's part of baseball. I wish I was in on that meeting, I would have argued against it, for all of man kind. It's a terrible unimaginative idea, and I wish it didn't exist.
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