THEY see that stoic look. They hear that monotone delivery. They search for fire but find ice. Then they take a mournful glance at the standings and see the Mets sitting not first, not second, but dead last and wonder if their new manager, Art Howe, cares enough to get things right.
It’s a natural, albeit shallow view taken by fans, especially with a newcomer who, despite success elsewhere, needs to prove he can do it here, in New York, where scrutiny is everywhere and critics are more plentiful than potholes. Losing is bad enough, but losing without obvious passion is detested everywhere. Especially here.
Do not let outward appearance deceive you. That is the message conveyed by Betty Howe, who next month celebrates her 34th wedding anniversary to Art, a man she’s known since the two were 16-year-olds, 40 years ago.
“I will let the fans know the fires are churning inside,” Betty Howe told The Post yesterday. “His fires are churning inside. There are nights when he won’t sleep, he’ll have a restless night. But, he feels he is the rudder on the ship and he has got to stay calm. If the fans are panicking, if the city is panicking, you don’t want your guys to panic; somebody has to be calm, and he is the calming influence.
“People may look at him and say, ‘He’s blah.’ I look at him and say, ‘I don’t know how you do it. Three cheers for you.’ “
Cheers have been in short supply around Howe, who after managing the Astros for five years and the Athletics for seven (where he finished first twice and second twice in the past four years) has muddled through a forgettable debut season with the Mets. He inherited an overpaid team supposedly assembled to compete but at present is at the helm of a major renovation job.
While Howe hasn’t been roasted for the downfall, his low-key ways, bland sound bites (has he stopped praising recently traded Roberto Alomar yet?) and inability to ignite the semblance of a spark make him seem more culpable than someone filling the role of an innocent bystander.
After some grim nights at the ballpark, Howe does show signs of strain.
“He’s still very calm, he’ll just let out some sighs, and I’ll say to him, ‘You got to let it go,’ ” Betty said. “He definitely doesn’t feel he made a wrong move. We’re really looking forward to getting it turned around, and I know he will.”
It was easy yesterday for Betty Howe and several wives of Mets players to shake off the sting of a lost season. The group made an appearance at St. Mary’s Hospital for Children in Bayside. The wives took part in a “Fun Day,” playing and interacting with sick and impaired children, their minds a long way from last place.
“Just to be a part of it and be involved, it’s a little emotional,” said Bridget Wilson, wife of catcher Vance Wilson, tears welling up in her eyes. “We’re so lucky and so blessed, it makes you appreciate all we have.”
As one of the few bright lights in a dim season, Vance Wilson seemingly has mastered the art of separating work and play.
“When Vance comes home, he sees [3-year old daughter] Peyton and nothing else matters,” Bridget Wilson said. “He’s very intense on the field, he’s very laid back at home; it’s like two different people. Not everybody is that way.”
Apparently, Art Howe is that way. The same manager who is deemed a calming influence when winning is labeled a lifeless bum when losing. What’s a fan to think?
“I’d tell them to hang in there,” Betty Howe said. “When we first went out to Oakland he was compared with Tony La Russa, and people thought Art was boring. He can look like someone who doesn’t care, who’s apathetic.
“He is far from apathetic.”
