NEW YORK _ You know how they do those computer-generated matchups between teams from different eras? They should do the same thing in the realm of words and ideas. It would be fascinating to hear an intergenerational debate between Gertrude Stein and Yoenis Cespedes.
Stein famously said about the city of Oakland, "There is no there there." To buttress her point, the early 20th-century writer could cite the nondescript Oakland Coliseum and the fact that the Athletics are a perennial seller, a trading-deadline department store for other major league clubs.
Cespedes, in reply, could expand on his view of Oakland as a welcoming land of milk and honey, where baseball managers are benevolent geniuses.
He would win big in a vote of the Bay Area chamber of commerce, but he sure ruffled feathers here Friday when he pined for Oakland and said he wants to finish his career there. After the Athletics-Mets game that night, he had to verbally backpedal. Cespedes had to play defense, which you know can be dicey if you've seen him in leftfield this season.
The real problem is that this episode probably will make him more wary and insular here in New York, which he insisted late Friday is his home. That is the way things generally go in situations like this: Person makes controversial comments, person takes some heat, person clams up. No good. The Mets, the fans and the media could use just the opposite. They need a Cespedes who is more open.
Kudos to him for doing the interview with San Francisco Chronicle reporter Susan Slusser in English. That puts him one language ahead of most of us. Also, baseball is more interesting when players bare any smidgen of their souls.
Where Cespedes went wrong was saying that Athletics manager Bob Melvin was "the best." Even if it was unintentional (or true), it was a rudely unnecessary slap at his current manager. It was like telling your spouse that your mom was the greatest cook ever.
Context was a problem, too. Cespedes rarely says anything about anything to the Mets beat writers. Case in point: this past Monday, in his first outing after he had incurred another injury during yet another outfield adventure, he ended the game by smacking a 3-and-0 pitch into a double play. But he never answered for it, instead sending word that he had family members in town. No good.
Mets fans still are in his corner. They cheered when his name was announced in the starting lineup Saturday night and again when he came to bat in the first inning. Terry Collins praised him, regardless of the star player's managerial preference.
"I know where he stands. We have a lot of conversations," Collins said. "It doesn't bother me one bit. I just want him to keep hitting and keep hitting home runs. I think he's one of the top five players in baseball. My respect for him is never going to change and we're going to move forward."
Cespedes should return the favor. It always is better when the franchise cornerstone is a standup person, win or lose, in the manner of John Tavares, Carmelo Anthony or David Wright. Cespedes should wax poetic about New York. He should describe the frustration of missing so many games. Have him talk about his walk-up song, "Quireme" (translated: "Love Me").
What did he think of "Moneyball?" Which is the better span, Bay Bridge or the Whitestone? Does he wish he had played for Art Howe in either Oakland or Queens? Which does he consider the best: Bethpage Black, Shinnecock Hills or Maidstone?
If he has a soft spot for his first major league city, so be it. Maybe Gertrude Stein did, too. Some scholars say she really was expressing pained nostalgia for her youth in that signature quote. But it would sure help, in terms of having real warmth for New York, if Cespedes would show that there's some there there.
