Another chance to disapprove
Remember when our biggest problem was Victor Diaz taking an extra base with a 17-run lead? Me neither. It's 15 of 18 following Thursday's matinee performance. 15 of 18 what need not be specified. Like Oprah requires no last name (or Sondheim requires no first), our losing is that beloved a recognized national institution. But it doesn't make the Mets good lunchtime company.
Another brilliant zinger
Remember when Victor Diaz pulled out September games with two outs in the bottom of what appeared to be the final inning? Me neither. A year ago, the kid who wore 50 hit a famous bottom-of-the-ninth home run to ruin the afternoon of all those Cubs fans who invaded Shea for a Saturday. One of the interlopers was a lovely man named Frank. Frank treated me to the game, one his Cubs desperately needed, one that he was sorry he traveled all the way up from Washington to witness after Craig Brazell finished it off. Since then, he's bought Nationals' season tickets. Got an e-mail from him Thursday afternoon, moments after Diaz — now displaying 20 on his front and back — struck out to end our loss. It was titled, “He was better at number 50.” (Too'Shea, Frank. Too'Shea.)
Another reason not to move
Remember when there was hope upon the land and the worst part about going to a Mets game was cramming onto the 7 afterwards? Me neither. I'm guessing they could've piled all of Thursday's attendees into one car and still been able to comfortably make all local stops to Junction Blvd. The Mets Express has stalled, and another hundred people just got off of the train.
Another vodka stinger
I'll drink to that.