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Catching for Santana, Schneider Now Has a Charge in His Battery
Much was made in the New York papers about the pockets of boos that arose out of the stands at the end of Santana's Shea Stadium debut -- in which the Brewers rocked him for three home runs -- but the majority of fans that day were cheering for him, and the ones who booed undoubtedly will join in the cheers the next time Santana puts a seven-inning headlock on some overmatched foe, which, of course, will be very soon and very often.
"If they boo, that's fine," Santana told reporters after that start, seemingly throwing the insult back in the faces of the fans. "That's the history they have from not being so good, I guess."
In New York, especially if you come to town with a big contract, both the fans and reporters feel the need to test you, to see you if can handle the big-stage pressure. Heaven forbid you stumble once -- it will be twice as difficult to pass the test. In Queens, it took Mike Piazza years to win over Mets fans. Center fielder Carlos Beltrán still is trying, three-plus years into his deal.
"The game is the same," Santana says, describing the difference between the Minneapolis and New York media markets. "But the intensity -- [New York] takes it to a different level. It is different. The media, the fans. But you still know that if you take care of what you do on field, it will be fine. . . . You have to make adjustments."
The pitching, in other words, is the least of Santana's worries. To deal with the media onslaught, the Mets have attempted to limit access to him between his starts, although twice during a two-game series in Chicago reporters were able to circumvent official channels and secure interviews by approaching the affable Santana themselves in the clubhouse.
"I'm the same guy I was" in Minnesota, he says. "The same guy who always tries to have fun on the field."
Nothing has changed, indeed. The Santana show merely has moved to a new, bigger venue. The batters all look the same and have the same intentions. And the catcher still has the best job of all, playing his own twisted game -- flipping a coin to decide which particular method of destruction to unleash upon the poor batter.






