I miss the daily 'Sports of the Times' column that originated from the minds of Arthur Daley, Red Smith, Dave Anderson and Robert Lipsyte. But Mike today, under the banner of 'Sports of the Times' 'proves he can be in their league.
Unless you've been heavily sedated, you should know by now that the ownership of the Mets is quickly headed toward a majority ownership by Stephen A. Cohen, a hedge fund billionaire and likely the model for Bobby Axelrod, of Axe Capital in the Showtime series 'Billions.'
Mike drops several nuggets in his piece telling us, "Cohen commands a great pile of stones in Greenwich, Conn.—a palazzo with more bedrooms and more bathrooms than you could count in this and another lifetime..."
"As Cohen is a raptor's raptor, I would bet a large sum of money I don't have that the Wilpons will quickly become potted plants..." They will no doubt be seen in a private box, and perhaps won't have their belt buckles wanded as they enter, but the words "putative ownership will apply.
"A new owner who will burn bonfires of his cash in pursuit of a championship is like water falling on the desert of Mets fandom"
Mike's admission of caring for the Mets matches my own, but mine goes back to their inception. I lived about two miles east of Shea Stadium and sometimes walked to the games. I remember all the owners, especially the first, Joan Payson, sister of John Hay (Jock) Whitney, publisher of the now long-defunct Herald Tribune.
Mrs. Payson was not a flashy owner, and was one who also owned horses, particularly Stage door Johnny, who won the 1968 Belmont Stakes for Greentree Stable. An older fellow who was part of our original crowd commented, "there she in the winners circle in her dress from Macy's." She was a lifelong fan of the New York Giants and desperately wanted to bring a National League team back to the city. She also adored Willie Mays, and was able to eventually get him to be on the Mets, although late in his career.
The Duponts and M. Donald Grant were notable for causing heartache, but the Wilpons and Nelson Doubleday did help create some glory.
The Wilpons have probably never recovered from the Bernie Maddoff wipe-out. Selling a controlling interest to a hedge fund billionaire might just be their revenge for the bath they took when Bernie was sent to prison for life.
Steve Cohen of course skirted a similar fate through a carefully constructed organization that gave him a stay-out-of-jail card: plausible deniability.
Wealthy people own teams. You have to be to own one. If I'm right, the Green Bay Packers might be the only mutual ownership there is—fans own shares.
So, Steve comes into town with the memories of George Steinbrenner still in some peoples' heads. George was a character in himself, and eventually a convicted felon for running afoul of campaign laws regarding monies to Richard Nixon.
But that is so far in the past that it is outside most contemporary memories. It is unlikely Cohen will interfere with running the team so much that we see a Billy Martin carousel come through Flushing. After all, there will never be another Billy Martin, not with statistical driven baseball and replay reviews. Umpires do not have to shine their shoes so often these days, and mangers don't have to grab a bat when free beer in Cleveland goes a bit crazy. Can you imagine Billy giving a dugout interview to say Jessica Mendoza, or a guy with a bow tie?
Steve A. Cohen is the perfect new owner for the times. Stock picking has become driven by algorithms, probabilities and programmed trading. The "Quants" rule. The new Holy Grail is a self-adjusting, heuristic trading program that makes millions while you sleep, taking advantage of every time zone there is in a a 24-hour world. The bunt sign is driven by the results appearing on an iPad.
Say what you will about Mr. Cohen's brush with the Feds and a $1.8 billion fine that probably came out of petty cash. Any Met fan will tell you, in the immortal words of Al Davis,"just win, baby, win."
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