Don't mean well done.
Done like Mazz.
Lots this time.
Can't take this game.
Can't bear this game, even.
They also blow like wind amid that logy Shea heat.
When they lose, they look very bush.
Brew Crew? Phew!
Damn noon game.
Long, damn noon game.
Mark-tyin' long, damn noon game.
Bert gave back five runs.
Real hurt. Isn't fake. Ride that pony?
Sure, Skip. Sure…
Hope seem just 'bout gone this year?
Yeah. Very gone.
Let's face that fact just once.
Have some good news?
Both. They went deep, each shot very nice, very long.
Jose kept goin'. Base hits each game. Good stat.
Same auld same auld.
Back five. Plus half.
'Stro roll goes, goes…they just keep goin' also.
When this year gets late, will they then stop?
Will they ever stop? Will they ever lose?
'Stro wins…ever more 'Stro wins.
They don't lose much. Even some.
We're just goin' down.
Some days suck more than some.
This game more than most.
Don't know what else will come.
'Cept Mets play them Cubs next. Must-wins. Each game.
Have hope. Can't ever tell when we're done.
Ain't over till true end's here.
That damn math just don't look very good.
Plus this damn team don't feel very able.
Good gosh, we're last.