Leave aside the image of a shirtless executive challenging minor leaguers to fist fights, or a general manager accusing a good reporter of being out for a job running the farm system, or rumors that the team’s owners will soon be seen on what’s left of the Bowery shaking tin cups. What matters about the New York Mets is that, Sunday’s sound 4-1 (RECAP | BOX) beating dealt to Chicago Cubs ace Carlos Zambrano notwithstanding, right now they’re the kind of bad that drives people to drink. If they were a band, they’d be Creed; if they were a food, they’d be tripe soup; if they were a gesture, they’d be a lazy, lazy slouch. Few have seen their like.

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