I want to start this off with a pre-emptive thanks to whoever’s car alarm that was at 5 A.M. It was like the Tarzan Cooper comment version of car alarms. But instead of the letter “Z”, loud honks. Rubenstein is in a bad place right now. If this were on video, it would look like a cross between Milton Bradley and that Oklahoma State football coach Mike Gundy. But angrier.
The Mets now have a one game lead for first place. Technically, they haven’t totally blown it and thrown their season down the toilet, flushed, waited a moment and flushed again to be sure. Whatever. They are POSTMORTEM!
MY SINFUL GLARE AT NOTHING HOLDS THOUGHTS OF DEATH BEHIND IT! SKELETONS IN MY MIND COMMENCE TEARING AT MY SANITY! VESSELS IN MY BRAIN CARRY DEATH UNTIL MY BIRTH! COME AND DIE WITH ME FOREVER SHARE INSANITY!
DO YOU WANT TO DIE!!!!!!!!!
Yes it’s been that kind of run. I didn’t watch many Mets games over the summer. I don’t watch much T.V. when the weather is nice. There are better things to do, and with all the time I spend staring at computer screens, I get concerned for the health of my eyeballs. So, no I have not been a superfan clinging to every pitch. I assumed I’d have plenty of time for that once they got to the playoffs. I was looking forward to some fun nights watching the do or die intensity of playoff games with my friends at assorted viewing get togethers and bars. The communal joy of being a sports fan. That’s what it’s all about to me. I really didn’t expect to find myself worrying about the Mets trying to beat some lowly quasi-expansion team.
As Khalid said yesterday, all the sports coverage over the summer is off the field stuff. This is on the field and it suxxxxxxxxxxx. Do you enjoy my suffering? Does it make you feel better about yourself in a “At least I’m not him” kind of way? Is what I call misery what you would call entertainment? Well I don’t martyr myself. This is BS! I want to be happy. I would rather be quiet and content than all pissed off and fired up.
Say what you will about Bill Simmons, but he made the 2004 baseball Playoffs for me. You could feel the pain as the Sox went down 3-0. Now it is my team that provides the pain that fuels my fire. Not the sport I am supposed to be writing about, but I can’t fake like it’s not on my mind. Do I write a lengthy emotional post about it, documenting every little thought I have about who is to blame and why and what I’d do to them if I could? No. I keep it inside. This is a burning, smoldering hatred, the earth’s most precious resource. More vital than oil. You want to go to war to try and take it from me? That’s your life your ending, the way I feel right now. Do not speak to me today unless spoken too.
Hey my team is participating in one of the all-time collapses. Fabulous.
WILLIE! BILLY! BULLPEN jerk A, B, and C! You are all DEAD TO ME!!!!!!!!
Wondering where I was when watching last night? Well, I first turned the game on and it was 5-0 Mets. Yaaaaaaaaaay. Don’t mean to give myself too much credit here as a jinx but that means I saw the Mets lose 9-1. Every time I call a game the worst loss of the year, the next one somehow manages to be worse. Much worse. Last night was the most painful loss of the year, replacing the night before that, replacing last Thursday against Florida.
Okay, do your worst tonight, Mets. Do your worst, Baseball Gods. Really excited to go to work and face the two headed monster of Lang and Khalid. Ben is a much nicer person. Susan finds comedy in my angst. We have a staff meeting this afternoon so I’ll be trapped in the SLAM Dome with them, no escape. You know how Isiah said Anucha had “Daggers in her eyes?” Well, I’ve got two bloody swords in mine MFers. DON’T PUSH ME.
I am going to the gym to get some aggression out. I have A LOT of it.