Open Letter: Luis Castillo

Dear Luis,

So you asked to be released? You weren’t given a fair chance for the starting job at second base? Well you got your wish—the Mets released you.

Talk about a win-win situation: you get to move on to greener pastures, while still collecting $6 million from the Wilpons, and we get to watch Mets games without the nausea we get whenever the camera shows your scowling mug.

I only wish it’d happened sooner…like about two years sooner. I mean don’t get me wrong, we fans appreciate the monumental effort it must’ve taken just for you to hobble out to second every inning, but I can’t say I’m sad to see you go.

Who could ever forget the dropped pop-up against the hated Yankees? I know you only got paid $44,000 for that game, but couldn’t you have done us a favor and used two hands? Well, at least when you picked the ball up you had the incredible presence of mind to fire the ball to second base, despite the fact that the winning run was huffin and puffin his way home. People will probably only remember you for this horrific moment of infamy, but I think that’s a shame, and you deserve better.

People should also remember you for your uncanny inability to drive in a runner from second on a base hit(2007-2010: 10 RBI on 28 singles w/man on 2B—and most of the time it was Reyes!). Damn that drawn-in outfield that had to back up even when the pitcher came up next.

People should remember you for your unparalleled combination of weak hitting and lack of speed. Kind of like a Bizarro Willie Mays. (Sorry, Willie, for getting you mixed up in this.)

They should remember your ever-shrinking range in the field. I think by now the only thing you could field is a pop-up right to you—oh wait…

And let’s not forget that you and your bloated contract have twice prevented the Mets from signing Orlando Hudson—a lifelong Mets fan, perennial Gold Glover and one hell of a nice guy. Thanks, Luis.

Right now you’re probably on your way to join the Phillies, where you’ll inevitably get a game-winning hit or three against us. But that’s okay—we’re used to it. There’s just a certain breed of ballplayer that are Kryptonite to the Mets. Whether they destroy the Mets as an opponent, then join our team and continue to kill us from within or vice versa, these players just always find a way to ruin our day (see Tom Glavine, Jose Vizcaino). And I’m fairly certain you fall into this category—come to think of it, pretty much all players fall into that category.

Farewell, Luis. You and your geriatric gait will be sorely missed.