It is with great disappointment that I must inform you that The Wilpon Award will be returning for another season. In an attempt to avoid the inevitable, those of us here at The Wilpon Award tried to ingratiate ourselves to other, less acid-reflux-inducing, teams. Unfortunately the result was the worst; we found ourselves flipping back to watch Mike Pelfrey pitching batting practice to any one of the three other teams within 500 miles of the Mets incredibly expensive training facility in Port St. Lucie.
After much hemming and hawing we decided as long as we were going to continue to watch and root for the Mets — and subsequently get mocked mercilessly and laughed out of any decent conversation pertaining to baseball — we might as well preempt the inevitable and mock ourselves, our team, our allegiance, and most importantly these pitiful owners.
The Wilpon Award will once again strive to find the greatest failures, the biggest disappointments, the most abominable atrocities, and the saddest moments that happen between two foul lines. We will watch, albeit hiding our eyes, as many Mets games as our highly paid psychiatrists allow us to, in the hopes of finding a few bright spots in the team we once loved. Meanwhile, each day we will be awarding players who best encompass the traits the Mets Owners, Fred & Jeff Wilpon, value most: incompetence, idiocy, poor instincts, and of course failure. It is with this sentiment in mind that we award our very first Wilpon Award of the season to the man who single-handedly is responsible for our reluctant return, Irvin Picard. For he, and he alone, could have done the honorable thing and put us all out of our misery by bankrupting this titanic of a baseball team. Thank you Irving, you could have backed over this gimp mutt, but instead you decided to keep on tearing down that country road toward brighter futures, letting us limp our way to the gutter, where we will inevitably suffer through a seemingly endless misery. I hope you’re proud of yourself.