Players are already hearing disapproval.  Even fan-favorite David Wright--striking out at record numbers recently--has been getting his share of boos.

I've never booed a player, nor have I booed a performer in the opera house or concert hall.  But I've observed many people who are seemingly completely comfortable in doing so.

I guess my hesitation in heckling is that I give the artist or player the benefit of the doubt that he is doing his best.  The result may be less than I--and perhaps the performer--had hoped for or expected, but I rarely have reason to think that an honest effort is not being made.

Also, as an adherent (most days) to the "positive reinforcement" school of parenting, I guess I'm just a little uncomfortable screaming antagonisms at others, whether the venue is the theater, opera house, concert hall, ballpark or playground.  The parenting books I've read espouse "catching them being good" and then heaping on the praise.  Berating or humiliating a child, this philosophy holds, is not beneficial, especially if the mistake is one from which a lesson may be learned.

At Citi Field, my sense is that hecklers have been quick to express discontent early this season primarily because of the frustrating way in which the past two seasons have ended for the Mets.  The team's performance early and midway through both the 2007 and 2008 seasons led fans to believe that it was not unreasonable to expect to see October baseball in Queens. 

A contending team that inexplicably falls off the charts late in the season--and repeats the exercise the following year--leaves a bitter taste that does not easily go away.

Although I wouldn't do it myself, I can at least understand the fan, frustrated by squandered chances, giving an audible voice to his exasperations.

However, I question the idea, made by some, that money--that earned by players and that spent by fans--somehow entitles one to heckling.

I often hear fans cite the "outrageous" salaries of today's ballplayers as justification for calling out a player for a poor outing. (Interestingly, while solo artists can earn thousands of dollars per performance, I have not yet heard an audience member mention an artist's compensation as justification for publicly voicing a personal commentary.  It should be pointed out, though, that unless you're Renee Fleming or Placido Domingo, even those large per-performance fees don't approach the salaries of today's professional athletes.) 

Personally, I don't think the player who has fairly negotiated a higher salary should be held to higher standards than lesser-paid players.  Nor do I feel that, if those inflated expectations are not met, the player should be booed more vociferously than underperforming players who are not paid as much.

In this time when funds are limited and folks are worried about their financial security, more attention than ever before is being paid to ticket prices.  Both sports presenters and arts organizations are seeing reductions in numbers of series or subscription ticketholders. 

Not only that, this Los Angeles Times piece leads me to believe that more in the audience and in the stands are feeling that the higher ticket and concession prices themselves entitle them to heckle if they are so inclined.

This post is not meant as a personal diatribe against the bood-bird, per se.  Judging from this website, there are apparently some who consider heckling a sport unto itself.

But if some feel entitled to behave in a certain manner merely by virtue of being a consumer, that does make me uncomfortable.

Freedom of expression is a right we are freely given as U.S. citizens; we have not purchased the privilege. 

If equating admission price itself with license to publicly express one's opinion in a derisive manner becomes a more universally held view and if this recession does not turn around any time soon, I have to wonder what kind of entertainment experiences--both on the field and stage AND in the audience and stands--we could find ourselves privy to.

It's fascinating to me how an athlete's career trajectory and that of a professional singer can have such similarities.

At the MET--as at many other opera houses--productions and performances are scheduled and cast years in advance.  This is necessary because it is the only way to engage jet-setting conductors and singers who have managers securing them bookings years in advance all over the world.

One of the consequences of such early planning, however, can be that--with so much intervening time between the booking and the performances, it's possible that the artist in question could be be experiencing vocal trouble or some other malady unforseen at the time of the booking. 

Or perhaps the role for which the artist was engaged was well-suited to his or her voice at the time of the booking but in the span of time before the performances, the oice has changed.  Perhaps the artist has lost a bit of the "bloom" on the top of the voice or the voice has darkened.  Or perhaps he/she does not possess the same tessitura--range--he/she once did.

In such cases, it is not unheard of for a singer to be "bought out":  paid their fee not to sing.  Another singer is then quickly found as a replacement.  This is usually done by way of a public announcement stating that the initial artist has bowed out due to illness, but those in-the-know are aware of the real story.

Sometimes, though, the original artist remains in the show.  Management--and the artist himself/herself (if there is any self-awareness there)--cross their fingers and hope for the best. 

Often a much-beloved artist can go onstage and give it his/her best effort and, even if the singing is not as great as in the artist's prime, the adoring public will overlook any present-day flaws and give the singer the accolades to which he/she has become accustomed--even if the performance does not particularly merit that response..

Unless the artist is extremely popular, if the "suspension of belief" required to recall the artist's glory days is just too great or there are a host of glaring problems, e.g., wobbles that have developed in the voice, faulty intonation, or a lack of breath support, the artist may not escape embarassment.  He or she will likely hear a few boos sprinkled in with tepid applause at curtain calls.

The latter is my fear for a Pedro Martinez return to the New York Mets.

I don't remember hearing much interest in Pedro until now:  only after not one of the potential fifth-starters has distinguished himself in Spring Training. 

While it's certainly possible that Pedro has retooled himself and could contribute to the pitching roster in some way, my fear is that the minute he has a faulty start, the Shea, oops, Citi Field crowd will show little patience for lack of velocity on his fastball or faulty location. 

Just as I feel very sad when I hear a once-great singer onstage whose present-day performance bears little resemblance to the "glory days", I would feel similar pangs to see this three-time Cy Young award winner embarass himself or have criticisms and boos heaped upon him.

He's had too distinguished a career to go out in any other way than holding his head up high.

No, in lieu of Pedro, I don't have any suggestions for the fifth spot.

The words of the late soprano Beverly Sills come to mind: 

"I retired when I was 51 so people would say 'Why so soon'?' instead of 'When will that woman shut up?"

"...Where'd Ya Get Them PEE- PERS?!"

Many National League batters will be getting their first glimpse of K-Rod very soon.  But besides watching him intently to see if he's tipping his pitches, players and coaching staff may also be taking a double-take at the Mets' new closer for an arresting facial feature:  his eyes.

Francisco Rodriguez succeeded in making his already newsworthy arrival at camp even more eye-catching (ouch!), sporting red contact lenses.

According to the New York Post, Rodriguez claims that the special lenses help in reducing glare and that wearing the lenses negates his needing to wear his signature glasses.

Hearing how daunting those in camp found his scarlet gaze, I wondered if the lenses might serve a dual purpose:  reducing glare and instilling fear in the opposing batter.

I often enjoy thinking of similarities in the world of sports and my own professional world:  classical music.

Although the days of the autocratic music director who used fear, public humiliation and threat of termination to get his desired result are essentially over (Thankfully, musicians are unionized as well.), the age of tyrants of the podium is not actually that far in the musical past.

In fact, only several days ago in the New York Times' TimesTraveler Blog feature, a story ran in the Times 100 years ago that day was featured.  The story announced Gustav Mahler as having been engaged as the next conductor of the New York Philharmonic.  A prolific composer as well as a fine conductor, this was indeed a coup for the ensemble.

But what really caught my eye was this quote: 

"The present cooperative system will be abolished, and the orchestra will be under the absolute control of the conductor and the Board of Directors," today's report says.

No cooperation?  Absolute control?  Sounds like a dictatorship!

In fact, older musicians I know who either played under or know someone who played under the likes of Arturo Toscanini, Erich Leinsdorf, and Fritz Reiner, to name a few daunting maestros that era, have told me stories of personal abuse and humiliation that certainly support that description.

A recent biography of Fritz Reiner, former conductor of the Chicago Symphony, is even entitled Fritz Reiner, Maestro and Martinet.

Above, I imagined what the notoriously volatile and quick-tempered Italian maestro, Arturo Toscanini, might do with the option of staring down his subservient players with red eyes.

Thankfully, most of the conductors I have played under have been absolute gentlemen (or ladies) and have been able to achieve their interpretive goals in cooperation with our orchestra and without the use of intimidation.

However, if our closer happens to come across as menacing in his attempt to simply reduce sun glare, I say why NOT take the red-eye flight to the game's finish?!