Rafael Edward Cruz, a.k.a. Ted Cruz, the current leading actual-politician in the 2016 Republican presidential primary, was born in Canada. It is contended by some that this makes him ineligible to be President. Well, okay, the issue has been thrust into the spotlight by troll extraordinaire Donald Trump, who's managed not to actually make the argument himself, rather alluding to its existence as a potential complication should the Republicans nominate Cruz. (His subsequent argument that Cruz should seek a declaratory judgment settling the issue once and for all is (a) a truly masterful piece of trolling, and (b) the most attention the law of remedies has had since the Kim Davis saga, teehee.) Anyway the thrust of the argument is that the Constitution limits the Presidency to "natural born Citizen[s]." What does this mean? Who knows. But perhaps it means only people who were born on American soil. And Cruz wasn't.
Under this reading, the fact that his mother was from Delaware, and hence an American citizen by the Fourteenth Amendment, and that Cruz was therefore* an American citizen from birth, is immaterial. Under any other reading it probably isn't. So the question becomes, is this reading the correct one? (Spoiler alert: no, it is not.) This legal question has a funny and oft-overlooked relationship to the whole Obama birther debate, because even if Obama really was born in Kenya, so long as we don't dispute his mother's identity then he would be in the same position Cruz is in now. Birtherism, that is to say, relies not only on a flatly-wrong view of the facts, but also on a rather extreme view of the law. Nobody really brought this up back when birtherism was a thing.
And so, you see, this puts liberals in a funny situation. We all think it's hilarious that Trump is trolling Cruz this way. But it's a little awkward for us to, like, join in the fun. Because, y'know, we think this kind of thinking is repugnant. What's a poor liberal to do? Ah, the good ol' hypocrisy gambit, by which things that aren't fair game become fair game against people who think they should be fair game (e.g. homophobic Republicans who just happen to be gay). In this context it works by asserting that the narrow reading of "natural-born citizen" I described above would be correct under an originalist theory, that Cruz favors originalism, and that therefore, in Ted Cruz's own opinion, Ted Cruz is ineligible to be President. This also serves, for those among us who enjoy this sort of thing (e.g. Fordham Law professor Thomas Lee), as a convenient way to get in a few pot-shots against originalism. It's reminiscent, in that way, of Erwin Chemerinsky's argument from a few weeks ago that, under an originalist theory, women can't be President. I don't like that sort of thing. I didn't like it when Chemerinsky did it, and I don't like it now.
Because, you see, it turns out that the correct historical approach to this problem reaches the same damn result as every other kind of argument: yes, Ted Cruz can be President. I'm not gonna do exactly what I did last time, running through the modalities in turn, because the issue doesn't seem to have that kind of shape to me. Rather, I'm going to discuss two arguments, each of which weaves together several modalities. They reach the same conclusion, but one of them is pointedly anti-originalist and the other, y'know, isn't.
Thursday, January 14, 2016
Thursday, December 10, 2015
Two Points on Affirmative Action
Yesterday was the big affirmative action argument at the Supreme Court, with Fisher v. University of Texas being argued for the second time. It's long been suspected that the case could bring about the end of race-based affirmative action in America, anywhere within the ambit of the Fourteenth Amendment's "state action doctrine" at least. Not surprisingly, the oral arguments were rather high-profile, and some remarks by Justice Scalia have become especially controversial. I just have a couple of points I'd like to make, both about Scalia's comments and about those of one of his colleagues.
First, concerning Scalia, a discussion of whose remarks and the theory behind them you can find here. He was, in a rather clumsy way, invoking so-called "mismatch" theory, the idea that affirmative action ends up putting black students in schools that are too advanced for them. A sophisticated version of this analysis might focus on the fact that, as a result of unequal policies at various lower levels of the American education system, black people are in general not prepared as well for the rigors of elite universities. Scalia, of course, did not make the sophisticated version; his remarks seemed rather to suggest that black people are actually just not as smart as white people, and will therefore be overwhelmed by going to white people schools.
One thing to say about this is that it's not true, as the Vox explainer makes clear. Anothre thing to say about it is that it's racist. But I'd like to go a little further on that last point: in a lot of ways, Scalia's remarks, and to a certain extent the broader "mismatch theory" on which they're based, were channeling the basic logic of educational segregation. Of course, the actual logic of segregation was that it was bad for black people and that this was good because white people should be kept in a position of social supremacy over black people. But the avowed logic, the "it's good for everyone" logic, would have been a lot like this. Black people, for whatever reason, whether their innate talents or a legacy of admittedly unfortunate discrimination, just aren't prepared to compete with white people on an equal basis. It wouldn't be fair to them to push everyone into integrated schools. They need separate but equal.
This isn't to say that Scalia favors segregation (though honestly, who among us really doubts that if Scalia had been around in 1954 he would've been condemning Brown v. Board of Education as a lawless judicial usurpation?). It's just to say that some of the logic and rhetoric behind the anti-affirmative action movement can very plausibly be seen as a slightly watered-down version of the arguments against racial integration in the first place.
My other comment concerns an offhanded remark from the Chief Justice. The supposed benefit of affirmative action, since just improving the status of the African-American community is apparently not good enough, is diversity, and specifically the idea that diversity on campus will be good for everyone. (Obviously, affirmative action is only okay if it benefits white people.) One of the ways in which the state of Texas was arguing that the diversity fostered by affirmative action was good for everyone was about the dynamic within individual classrooms. John Roberts was skeptical of this idea, and at one point asked the lawyer for the state, "What unique perspective does a minority student bring to a physics class?"
Mr. Chief Justice, may I humbly submit that a minority student brings to a physics class the perspective that black and Hispanic people are also, y'know, people, and might actually be smart, or have something to say about physics? A "perspective" that is too often lacking? Along with its close cousin, the "perspective" that women are also people and might actually be smart or have something to say about physics; lord knows that one's been all too absent from the classroom for ages. I've never had the opportunity to experience it directly, but my sister has, and my impression is that that feeling of being not welcome does an awful lot to discourage everyone other than white men from even trying to participate, or pursue a career in these fields. That probably has an awful lot to do with why the historically black colleges are so much better at producing black scientists. They are, to use the cliched term, a "safe space" for black people to pursue science. And unfortunately, an awful lot of science classrooms just aren't safe, in that way, because there are just so goddamn few black people or Hispanics or women or whatever already there.
You might think that, in something like math or physics, there would be no such thing as the "black perspective" or the "female perspective." You might especially think that if you really didn't have much sense of how to empathize with the plight of the oppressed. And in a way, you would be right. But it's a funny thing about science: insight can come from anyone. Even if there's no "black perspective" or "female perspective," an individual black person or woman might turn out to have an insight that could change the world, or at least be kind of interesting. And if the world is set up in such a way that they're all strongly discouraged from even bothering to try to contribute, that insight might be buried forever. Sort of like how there isn't a black way to hit a baseball, but Jackie Robinson was still damn good at it. And so was Josh Gibson, it's just that he never got the benefit of someone willing to say, hey, maybe we should give these guys a chance.
First, concerning Scalia, a discussion of whose remarks and the theory behind them you can find here. He was, in a rather clumsy way, invoking so-called "mismatch" theory, the idea that affirmative action ends up putting black students in schools that are too advanced for them. A sophisticated version of this analysis might focus on the fact that, as a result of unequal policies at various lower levels of the American education system, black people are in general not prepared as well for the rigors of elite universities. Scalia, of course, did not make the sophisticated version; his remarks seemed rather to suggest that black people are actually just not as smart as white people, and will therefore be overwhelmed by going to white people schools.
One thing to say about this is that it's not true, as the Vox explainer makes clear. Anothre thing to say about it is that it's racist. But I'd like to go a little further on that last point: in a lot of ways, Scalia's remarks, and to a certain extent the broader "mismatch theory" on which they're based, were channeling the basic logic of educational segregation. Of course, the actual logic of segregation was that it was bad for black people and that this was good because white people should be kept in a position of social supremacy over black people. But the avowed logic, the "it's good for everyone" logic, would have been a lot like this. Black people, for whatever reason, whether their innate talents or a legacy of admittedly unfortunate discrimination, just aren't prepared to compete with white people on an equal basis. It wouldn't be fair to them to push everyone into integrated schools. They need separate but equal.
This isn't to say that Scalia favors segregation (though honestly, who among us really doubts that if Scalia had been around in 1954 he would've been condemning Brown v. Board of Education as a lawless judicial usurpation?). It's just to say that some of the logic and rhetoric behind the anti-affirmative action movement can very plausibly be seen as a slightly watered-down version of the arguments against racial integration in the first place.
My other comment concerns an offhanded remark from the Chief Justice. The supposed benefit of affirmative action, since just improving the status of the African-American community is apparently not good enough, is diversity, and specifically the idea that diversity on campus will be good for everyone. (Obviously, affirmative action is only okay if it benefits white people.) One of the ways in which the state of Texas was arguing that the diversity fostered by affirmative action was good for everyone was about the dynamic within individual classrooms. John Roberts was skeptical of this idea, and at one point asked the lawyer for the state, "What unique perspective does a minority student bring to a physics class?"
Mr. Chief Justice, may I humbly submit that a minority student brings to a physics class the perspective that black and Hispanic people are also, y'know, people, and might actually be smart, or have something to say about physics? A "perspective" that is too often lacking? Along with its close cousin, the "perspective" that women are also people and might actually be smart or have something to say about physics; lord knows that one's been all too absent from the classroom for ages. I've never had the opportunity to experience it directly, but my sister has, and my impression is that that feeling of being not welcome does an awful lot to discourage everyone other than white men from even trying to participate, or pursue a career in these fields. That probably has an awful lot to do with why the historically black colleges are so much better at producing black scientists. They are, to use the cliched term, a "safe space" for black people to pursue science. And unfortunately, an awful lot of science classrooms just aren't safe, in that way, because there are just so goddamn few black people or Hispanics or women or whatever already there.
You might think that, in something like math or physics, there would be no such thing as the "black perspective" or the "female perspective." You might especially think that if you really didn't have much sense of how to empathize with the plight of the oppressed. And in a way, you would be right. But it's a funny thing about science: insight can come from anyone. Even if there's no "black perspective" or "female perspective," an individual black person or woman might turn out to have an insight that could change the world, or at least be kind of interesting. And if the world is set up in such a way that they're all strongly discouraged from even bothering to try to contribute, that insight might be buried forever. Sort of like how there isn't a black way to hit a baseball, but Jackie Robinson was still damn good at it. And so was Josh Gibson, it's just that he never got the benefit of someone willing to say, hey, maybe we should give these guys a chance.
Monday, December 7, 2015
Another Inevitable Result of the Great Inversion
So one thing that's making the rounds today is a poll showing an ever-increasing number of people saying they wouldn't like it if their child married someone of the opposite political party. This of course shows how terrible Americans are, how acrimonious our partisan divides, how tribal our politics, etc. Because you see, in 1960, 4% of Democrats and 5% of Republicans said this. In 2008 it was 20% of Democrats and 27% of Republicans. Now it's 33% of Democrats and a whopping 49% of Republicans. People are becoming that much more ideologically intolerant, I guess.
Or not. We don't know how ideologically intolerant people were in 1960. Not from this survey data at least. Because, as I detailed in my previous post, back in 1960 party identification correlated only weakly with ideology. More to the point, there was a considerable amount of ideological overlap between the two parties. A Democrat and a Republican from Massachusetts had an awful lot more in common with each other than that Democrat would have with a Democrat from South Carolina. Indeed, it's quite likely that, at least if you go back a little further, the Massachusetts Democrat would have had more in common with the South Carolina Republican than with his southern co-partisan.
So if you had the strong feeling that you didn't want your son or daughter marrying someone whose ideology you found hateful, it just wouldn't make a lot of sense therefore to decide you didn't want them marrying someone of the opposite party. You would presumably want to be discriminating among cross-partisans, just as you would need to be discriminating among co-partisans. These days, though, if someone puts an R after their name it gives me a pretty good idea of what they're all about, or at least what they're willing to tolerate. So whether you like the practice or not, it just plain makes a lot more sense to disfavor members of the opposite party, for your children or for yourself.
Or not. We don't know how ideologically intolerant people were in 1960. Not from this survey data at least. Because, as I detailed in my previous post, back in 1960 party identification correlated only weakly with ideology. More to the point, there was a considerable amount of ideological overlap between the two parties. A Democrat and a Republican from Massachusetts had an awful lot more in common with each other than that Democrat would have with a Democrat from South Carolina. Indeed, it's quite likely that, at least if you go back a little further, the Massachusetts Democrat would have had more in common with the South Carolina Republican than with his southern co-partisan.
So if you had the strong feeling that you didn't want your son or daughter marrying someone whose ideology you found hateful, it just wouldn't make a lot of sense therefore to decide you didn't want them marrying someone of the opposite party. You would presumably want to be discriminating among cross-partisans, just as you would need to be discriminating among co-partisans. These days, though, if someone puts an R after their name it gives me a pretty good idea of what they're all about, or at least what they're willing to tolerate. So whether you like the practice or not, it just plain makes a lot more sense to disfavor members of the opposite party, for your children or for yourself.
Friday, December 4, 2015
Donald Trump is the Inevitable Result of the Great Inversion's Completion
The latest CNN poll shows Donald Trump, Ben Carson, and Ted Cruz as the three medalists (right now) in the Republican nomination. That's two not-actual-politicians who've spent years cultivating support among the right-wing fringes of society, plus one actual Senator practically every member of whose own party hates his guts. The three of them together are getting 66% of the primary vote right now. That's two-thirds of Republican voters, planning right now to vote for one of the three craziest candidates in the race. If Marco Rubio were to consolidate the Christie, Bush, Fiorina, Kasich, and Paul supporters, he'd be at a whopping 25%. There's a real inmates-running-the-asylum feeling here. And I know why.
The big story of American political history, well, since the Civil War at least, is what I like to call the Great Inversion. In 1890, there were two political parties, each consisting of a sharply-drawn and entirely coherent faction. One party represented the northeast and the Pacific coast; the other was for the most part based in the South. You'll note that every word of those two sentences would be the same if I replaced the year with 2015. The only difference, of course, is which was the Democrats and which the Republicans. During the interim the two parties switched places, Democrats shifting from the party of John C. Calhoun to that of Barack Obama, while the Republicans went from the party of Lincoln to the party of, well... evidently Donald Trump. And all through the middle of that time period, things were messy.
The big story of American political history, well, since the Civil War at least, is what I like to call the Great Inversion. In 1890, there were two political parties, each consisting of a sharply-drawn and entirely coherent faction. One party represented the northeast and the Pacific coast; the other was for the most part based in the South. You'll note that every word of those two sentences would be the same if I replaced the year with 2015. The only difference, of course, is which was the Democrats and which the Republicans. During the interim the two parties switched places, Democrats shifting from the party of John C. Calhoun to that of Barack Obama, while the Republicans went from the party of Lincoln to the party of, well... evidently Donald Trump. And all through the middle of that time period, things were messy.
Tuesday, December 1, 2015
Giving Constitutional Argument a Bad Name
So apparently Erwin Chemerinsky goes around maintaining that the text and history of the Constitution don't suggest that a woman can be President. This is called giving constitutional argument a bad name. This outrages me so that I thought I'd just give a quick run-down of different ways to approach this problem from various modal angles.
Monday, November 16, 2015
On Hillary Clinton, Wall Street, and 9/11
So, in what might have been the single most memorable moment of the debate (other than that time when I was genuinely shocked to hear that Sanders actually wants to let the states run his single-payer health care program, like, actually), Bernie Sanders impugned Hillary Clinton's integrity over her donations from Wall Street (despite his protestations that he did no such thing) and then Hillary responded by invoking 9/11. It was pretty cringe-worthy. In no way is this post meant to deny that. What this post is meant to do, however, is suggest that Hillary has at least a very plausible argument for why those campaign contributions shouldn't be held against her the way Sanders wants them to be.
Let's start with getting at what Hillary was actually trying to say, or at least the coherent argument behind her (again, admittedly) facepalm-level 9/11 framing. The donations from Wall Street are on the record, and they almost entirely date from her tenure as Senator from New York. Sanders' hypothesis is that the bankers gave her this money because they know that, no matter how tough she might talk on financial regulation, she won't actually do it. Hillary's suggestion to the contrary is that these were essentially donations of gratitude for her service to the state and city in the wake of 9/11. That's... that's very plausible, right? Especially bearing in mind that when we say "Wall Street donations," we don't just mean donations from the corporations themselves, or even from their executives. Donations from any of their employees count for this purpose. And it sounds pretty plausible to me to think that a lot of Wall Street bankers might have donated to any and every politician who played a meaningful role in the 9/11 rebuilding efforts. It might not be true that that's what motivated the donations, but it's a valid and on-point argument to make.
And really, she didn't even need to get that specific. She was a Senator from New York! I have a feeling that anyone in that position is going to get a lot of donations from Wall Street. I'm sure Chuck Schumer has a long trail of such donations to his name. You donate even to candidates who are relatively speaking not on your side, especially because New York is a solid blue state with little hope of electing Republicans to the Senate. And, sure, you're probably hoping for some measure of access and influence, but, contra what the moderator said, candidates aren't actually indebted to their donors. Again, it's genuinely possible that Hillary went around to various Wall Street potential contributors and said, give me some money and I'll keep an eye out for your interests going forward. That would be bad! But it's also genuinely possible that a bunch of Wall Street bankers gave her money just because she was the only game in town, and she didn't outright reject their donations.
This sort of ties in with another dimension of this whole thing. She was Senator from New York. All the financial types from Wall Street were among her constituents. There are many valid theories of representation on which it would have been proper for her to promote Wall Street's interests, insofar as they were New York's interests, as against the rest of the country. This would have to be within reason, of course; politicians shouldn't support the interests of every scumbag who happens to live in their jurisdiction. But we don't think there's anything weird about Senators from Iowa promoting corn interests or whatever. It's natural, if slightly unsavory.
The question is whether this works for or against Hillary. And that depends, I think, on whether we think that a person who has once favored a certain interest because they represented that region will always be beholden to that interest, even if they now represent a broader constituency. I tend to think the answer here is "no." Kirsten Gillibrand, Hillary's successor in the Senate, is an interesting example. She used to be a Representative from a reasonably conservative district in upstate New York, and her record in the House was reasonably moderate. That led people to be concerned that she wouldn't be as liberal as a Democratic Senator from New York ought to be. But in fact, she's been great! Because now she's not representing a constituency that requires her to be more moderate. By analogy, even if Hillary did take Wall Street contributions, and aye, even if she did take relatively pro-Wall Street stances when she was Senator from New York, that doesn't mean she would do so as President, representing the whole nation.
Now, Sanders and his supporters could try to argue it the other way. That, a candidate's once having been willing to pander to a local interest, we should always view them with suspicion on that issue. But I really don't think he wants to open up that can of worms. Because he's confessed, more or less candidly, that his relatively moderate record on guns was largely a pander to his rural Vermont constituents. Which would look an awful lot like Hillary's purported record on financial regulation--if we grant the assumption that Hillary has been soft on financial regulation historically. If we get into playing this game, it's just not at all clear that Sanders is categorically more pure than Clinton. And that's not even getting into all the companies whose employees he's received donations from over the years, a list which is less than wholly devoid of what we might think of as villains. The sum totals are a lot lower 'cause he represented Vermont, which has about as many people in it as like a city block in Manhattan, but the logic would seem to apply reasonably well.
There's also an additional level as concerns Hillary: she's a lawyer. She went to Yale Law School. (Woohoo!) She knows a lot of people in the world of law, which has a lot of overlap with the world of finance. A lot of these people probably gave to her campaign because they know her, and (perhaps unlike their bosses or the corporate entities for which they work) they honestly don't care that much about the public policy dimensions of politics.
The bottom line is that there are an awful lot of genuinely good reasons to think that Clinton's past Wall Street donations do not mean that she will be in any way beholden to the financial industry if she becomes President. Again, it might in fact be the case that she would be beholden to them. But there are good reasons for thinking otherwise, and it's basically a matter of contestable fact. And while, again, I agree that her invocation of 9/11 was extremely poorly done, there was an argument at the heart of those remarks, one that fits into the basic pattern of the more general arguments for why we shouldn't be troubled by her donations. So yes, it's totally fair game to call her out for her heavy-handed, Giuliani-esque flag-wrapping, but it's wrong to pivot from that to simply assuming that she is in fact vaguely corrupt in the was Sanders was insinuating.
Let's start with getting at what Hillary was actually trying to say, or at least the coherent argument behind her (again, admittedly) facepalm-level 9/11 framing. The donations from Wall Street are on the record, and they almost entirely date from her tenure as Senator from New York. Sanders' hypothesis is that the bankers gave her this money because they know that, no matter how tough she might talk on financial regulation, she won't actually do it. Hillary's suggestion to the contrary is that these were essentially donations of gratitude for her service to the state and city in the wake of 9/11. That's... that's very plausible, right? Especially bearing in mind that when we say "Wall Street donations," we don't just mean donations from the corporations themselves, or even from their executives. Donations from any of their employees count for this purpose. And it sounds pretty plausible to me to think that a lot of Wall Street bankers might have donated to any and every politician who played a meaningful role in the 9/11 rebuilding efforts. It might not be true that that's what motivated the donations, but it's a valid and on-point argument to make.
And really, she didn't even need to get that specific. She was a Senator from New York! I have a feeling that anyone in that position is going to get a lot of donations from Wall Street. I'm sure Chuck Schumer has a long trail of such donations to his name. You donate even to candidates who are relatively speaking not on your side, especially because New York is a solid blue state with little hope of electing Republicans to the Senate. And, sure, you're probably hoping for some measure of access and influence, but, contra what the moderator said, candidates aren't actually indebted to their donors. Again, it's genuinely possible that Hillary went around to various Wall Street potential contributors and said, give me some money and I'll keep an eye out for your interests going forward. That would be bad! But it's also genuinely possible that a bunch of Wall Street bankers gave her money just because she was the only game in town, and she didn't outright reject their donations.
This sort of ties in with another dimension of this whole thing. She was Senator from New York. All the financial types from Wall Street were among her constituents. There are many valid theories of representation on which it would have been proper for her to promote Wall Street's interests, insofar as they were New York's interests, as against the rest of the country. This would have to be within reason, of course; politicians shouldn't support the interests of every scumbag who happens to live in their jurisdiction. But we don't think there's anything weird about Senators from Iowa promoting corn interests or whatever. It's natural, if slightly unsavory.
The question is whether this works for or against Hillary. And that depends, I think, on whether we think that a person who has once favored a certain interest because they represented that region will always be beholden to that interest, even if they now represent a broader constituency. I tend to think the answer here is "no." Kirsten Gillibrand, Hillary's successor in the Senate, is an interesting example. She used to be a Representative from a reasonably conservative district in upstate New York, and her record in the House was reasonably moderate. That led people to be concerned that she wouldn't be as liberal as a Democratic Senator from New York ought to be. But in fact, she's been great! Because now she's not representing a constituency that requires her to be more moderate. By analogy, even if Hillary did take Wall Street contributions, and aye, even if she did take relatively pro-Wall Street stances when she was Senator from New York, that doesn't mean she would do so as President, representing the whole nation.
Now, Sanders and his supporters could try to argue it the other way. That, a candidate's once having been willing to pander to a local interest, we should always view them with suspicion on that issue. But I really don't think he wants to open up that can of worms. Because he's confessed, more or less candidly, that his relatively moderate record on guns was largely a pander to his rural Vermont constituents. Which would look an awful lot like Hillary's purported record on financial regulation--if we grant the assumption that Hillary has been soft on financial regulation historically. If we get into playing this game, it's just not at all clear that Sanders is categorically more pure than Clinton. And that's not even getting into all the companies whose employees he's received donations from over the years, a list which is less than wholly devoid of what we might think of as villains. The sum totals are a lot lower 'cause he represented Vermont, which has about as many people in it as like a city block in Manhattan, but the logic would seem to apply reasonably well.
There's also an additional level as concerns Hillary: she's a lawyer. She went to Yale Law School. (Woohoo!) She knows a lot of people in the world of law, which has a lot of overlap with the world of finance. A lot of these people probably gave to her campaign because they know her, and (perhaps unlike their bosses or the corporate entities for which they work) they honestly don't care that much about the public policy dimensions of politics.
The bottom line is that there are an awful lot of genuinely good reasons to think that Clinton's past Wall Street donations do not mean that she will be in any way beholden to the financial industry if she becomes President. Again, it might in fact be the case that she would be beholden to them. But there are good reasons for thinking otherwise, and it's basically a matter of contestable fact. And while, again, I agree that her invocation of 9/11 was extremely poorly done, there was an argument at the heart of those remarks, one that fits into the basic pattern of the more general arguments for why we shouldn't be troubled by her donations. So yes, it's totally fair game to call her out for her heavy-handed, Giuliani-esque flag-wrapping, but it's wrong to pivot from that to simply assuming that she is in fact vaguely corrupt in the was Sanders was insinuating.
Monday, November 2, 2015
Meet the (2016) Mets
Well. That sucked. I mean, first it was awesome, and then it sucked. That's true of the whole year, and also of each individual game. Good lord, has a team ever lost a World Series where it led every single game before? And four of them after the seventh inning? Jeez those Royals are obnoxious to play against. For many of the same reasons that, for a neutral fan, they're a really cool team and a great story. But... jeez. Break up the Royals, man.
Anyway, National League Champions and all, and at least this time our losing didn't mean the Yankees won. (In fact, the Mets were playing baseball 26 days later than the Yankees were, woohoo! Which is presumably a record, actually, since the playoffs were shorter in 1986.) But now the Wheel of Time turns and seasons come and pass; 2015 is over and the 2016 season, in the form of the off-season leading up to it, is upon us. So let's take a look at the 2016 New York Mets as they stand now, and some thoughts of mine about what should be done to make sure we get more meaningful October baseball last year.
Anyway, National League Champions and all, and at least this time our losing didn't mean the Yankees won. (In fact, the Mets were playing baseball 26 days later than the Yankees were, woohoo! Which is presumably a record, actually, since the playoffs were shorter in 1986.) But now the Wheel of Time turns and seasons come and pass; 2015 is over and the 2016 season, in the form of the off-season leading up to it, is upon us. So let's take a look at the 2016 New York Mets as they stand now, and some thoughts of mine about what should be done to make sure we get more meaningful October baseball last year.
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