Big, bright lights await Beltran
Mike Piazza has been the face of the Mets since being acquired in 1998. That mantle now shifts to Carlos Beltran.
LAKELAND, Fla. -- The Face of the Mets gets a funny look in his eye when he hears himself described as exactly what he is now the Face of the Mets.
"I don't really consider myself the Face of the Mets," says Carlos Beltran. "To me, the team is the Face of the Mets. I've never been someone who believed that any one guy could go out and win a ball game. Everyone has to be part of it."

Well, if he's saying he needs help, he's sure as heck right about that. Carlos Beltran can't fix the Mets' bullpen. He can't throw out any base stealers. He can't repair Pedro Martinez's labrum. He can't gift wrap 1,000 games of managerial experience for his new manager (Willie Randolph).
For the 2005 Mets to be any good, a whole lot of people not named Carlos Beltran are going to have to be part of it. Nobody will debate him on that.
But if the highest-paid player in Mets history thinks he's going to blend into the skyline, as if he were just another Miguel Cairo or Doug Mientkiewicz, he needs to reprogram his brain waves.
Or maybe he just needs to talk to someone who has been where he's about to travel.
Someone like Mike Piazza.
At age 36, Piazza understands exactly what he is now the former Face of the Mets. Which means he has a unique understanding of the unique big-city bedlam that's about to descend on the new Face of the Franchise.
So even though Beltran hasn't asked, Piazza has some advice for a man who is going to be expected to justify his seven-year, $119-million contract every minute of every day until Halloween, 2011:
• Whatever it takes to be ready to play, worry about that first.
• Think before you speak.
• "Find joy in the game" because there might be times you find zero joy away from the game.
• Expect nonstop insanity, from a city not particularly known for its serenity.
"There is more responsibility on him now," Piazza says, the relief of having that weight dumped on someone else's shoulders oozing out of every node, every pore, every syllable. "But the most important thing you have to remember is that the way they measure success is success on the field. They're not going to write nice things about you because you're a nice guy. I hate to break it to people, but that's the way it is."
Which is too bad, because Beltran is tearing up the Nice Guy League this spring. He has been accommodating, friendly and earnest with every media wave that has rolled onto his shores. And he has come through it so unscathed (so far), he's even saying: "I expected worse ... it's not even close to what I was expecting."
Then again, life under the palm trees is one thing. Life in New York is another. But Beltran says that last summer in Houston, when he was already contemplating his future, he asked his Astros teammates, Roger Clemens and Andy Pettitte, what it was like playing in New York.
"Roger said, 'Man, if you work hard, take care of yourself and give 100 percent every day, you won't have problems with anybody,' " Beltran reported. "And that's the way I play the game. I take care of myself. I work hard. And when I take the field, I don't want to leave anything on the field. I want to give everything I have every day."
If he does all that, he will maximize his chances of surviving. We'll give him that. But if he thinks that guarantees he "won't have problems with anybody," oh boy. He apparently hasn't read the papers much, huh?
| “ | When you're winning in New York, it's twice as good as anywhere else. But when you're losing in New York, it's twice as bad as anywhere else. ” | |
| — Mike Piazza, Mets catcher |
Because in New York, there are other pages in the paper besides the sports page. And baseball players wind up on those pages more regularly than, say, the people who sell the subway tokens.
You can ask Mike Piazza, a man who woke up one day to find his sexual preferences being questioned, in an only-in-New-York kind of gossip item.
"I'll never forget walking in [to the clubhouse] and seeing all those people and thinking, 'What happened now?' " Piazza says, actually laughing about this mess three years later and, by the way, two months after his marriage to former "Baywatch" star Alicia Rickter.
It was one of many stories, many topics, many Big Apple plot lines Piazza admits he never saw coming when he arrived. And remember, he wasn't exactly arriving from Milwaukee. He had, after all, spent the first five years of his career in a small town named Los Angeles.
Asked if even L.A. never prepared him for the craziness of New York, Piazza replies with a telling: "No question."
"I've seen some guys that it really bothered," he says. "Not to name names. But I'd hear these guys say, 'You can't even sit by your locker. Someone's always eavesdropping.' And I always say, 'You've got to manufacture time for yourself even if that means finding a laundry room somewhere to go read the paper.' "
Beltran, however, hasn't given much thought to researching the location of the clubhouse laundry room. He still views life in New York from the outside in. So it's no surprise there is an innocent simplicity to his thoughts on how he expects he'll look from the other end of the microscope.
"I know there are a lot of expectations on me because of the contract," he says. "I know that. But I don't want to change. I just want to do everything the way I've always done it. No matter where you play small market, big market my goal doesn't change: Just play the way I play."
Yet, in New York, even the way he plays has inspired debate about whether he truly was worth the dollars the Mets showered on him.
Of course he was. The guy just hit eight home runs in one postseason (in 12 games), right? That's a distinction matched only by Barry Bonds. So he's the new Mr. October.
No he wasn't. Fact is, he isn't always that player. Not only has Beltran never hit eight home runs in any 12-game regular-season stretch before last season, he hit zero home runs in his last 24 regular-season games with the Astros.
Of course he was. Beltran's power-speed combination is off everyone's charts. He's the first player in history to run off four straight seasons of at least 20 homers, 30 steals, 100 RBI and a .500 slugging percentage.
No he wasn't. If he's so dominant, how come he ranks only 43rd in slugging (.490) among active players with 3,000 plate appearances behind a group that includes Matt Stairs, Jeromy Burnitz and Geoff Jenkins? And he's only 45th in OPS (.844).
Of course he was. Hey, the guy is only 27 years old, a switch-hitter, a terrific center fielder and one of the great base-stealers of all time (192 for 215, 89 percent)
No he wasn't. Funny, he's never led his league in anything. He's never won a Gold Glove. And he has had fewer 30-homer seasons (one) than Phil Nevin (two).
And that was the debate before Beltran had even played a game as a Met. Now guess what? The debate isn't over. It's going to be rattling through the stands and the radio shows for the next seven years. Nonstop.

"People always expect things from players," Beltran says. "You drive in 100 runs, they say you never drove in 110 [which he hasn't, incidentally]. You drive in 110, they'll say you never drove in 120. People always expect you to do better. That's OK."
Of course, it will have to be OK. Because that expectation is now as much a part of his everyday life as dinner. However, the man who signed him, GM Omar Minaya, says Beltran understood exactly what he was getting into.
"When I met with him over the winter, I asked him, 'How do you feel about playing in New York?' " Minaya says. "And he said one thing that attracted him to New York is the challenge. Anything you do in New York, it's a challenge. And he knew that going in. He knows it's a tough town to play in. But if you want to be the best and achieve great things in a major spotlight, there's no other town to work in."
Yes, if Beltran achieves those great things, and if the Mets achieve great things along with him, everything else becomes a non-issue. Ask Tom Seaver, Keith Hernandez and Mookie Wilson.
But if Beltran turns out to be just a nice player, as opposed to a difference maker, on a succession of Mets non-contenders, he may find himself wondering why he didn't take a few million fewer dollars to stay in Houston, where he truly could have just been content to "play the way I play."
"When you're winning in New York, it's twice as good as anywhere else," Piazza says. "But when you're losing in New York, it's twice as bad as anywhere else. When you're losing, that's when it all starts: What's wrong? Who said what? Who's a cancer? What guys are out at night? The complete scoop. 'One Met said.' And a lot of it can go sort of unchecked.
"That's when you have to dig down and find the focus that got you here and stay there."
So far, that focus has come easy, even on a day Beltran got his first small taste of Mets reality on a cloudless Port St. Lucie afternoon when he lost two balls in the sun. And got booed. Afterward, he actually went to the Mets' public-relations staff and announced he was ready for the media onslaught. Which is a sign he generally gets it.
But there is more to come. Much more. Stuff that doesn't happen in Kansas City or Houston. In New York, stars like Beltran are held accountable. For everything. And not just for the errors and the strikeouts. For the 0-for-5's. For the 24 straight games without a homer. Even for stuff teammates may (or may not have) done.
Piazza advises that Beltran be attuned to all of that and spend a few minutes after each game trying to anticipate the questions so he can think through his answers. And only "then," Piazza says, "go out and make your comments."
"These are just survival tips if you get caught in the wilderness," Piazza laughs. "But they're not foolproof. You still could die. This is just to help you live a few more days."
Alive and well beneath the March sun, the new Face of the Mets says he's "happy" to be wearing this uniform and looking forward to all that goes with it. Meanwhile, the former Face of the Mets sees a certain Jeter-esque "calmness" to Beltran that leads Mike Piazza to conclude: "I think he'll be fine."
But who knows, really? Who knows what's to come for Beltran, for his team, for all of them?
"The best tonic is winning," Piazza says. "Not winning that's when it gets bad. There's so much pressure here. So many expectations. All the comparisons with the Yankees."
Yet, as he begins his eighth (and no doubt final) season as a Met, Piazza says: "It's been an experience I'd never want to trade from the last out of the NLCS to the worst sort of story ... eight years. Unbelievable. I've seen a lot."
And now comes one more chapter Mike Piazza's last, Carlos Beltran's first. Who knows where this one is leading?
"We'll find out," says the Face of Mets Past. "And I know one thing. It'll be interesting."
Jayson Stark is a senior writer for ESPN.com.
