On the same trip when we buried now and forever The Curse of Turner Field, have we discovered we are subject to a new kind of locale-based dysfunction?
Things don't go as well as they could at the big sack of Soilmaster. Pedro outdistanced by Dontrelle despite pitching brilliantly? That in and of itself ain't nothin' but a thang until you consider that Pedro's odyssey to hip-riddled ineffectiveness began inside the sack when he was ordered to change an undershirt. 'Twas only the first bad thing to happen a Mets pitching stalwart because the schedulemaker insists they go to Miami. Or would Duaner Sanchez be chillin' down South Beach way otherwise?
There's far too much of this sort of nonsense surrounding the Mets at a venue that is audibly friendly to them. The legend of Shingo Takatsu and the infamous “funk” happened there. Mr. Delgado battered Mr. Koo there. Mr. Delgado needlessly detoured there. Mr. Jacobs, who wouldn't have had to have been traded to the Floridians had the idiot agent with the Joe Cocker jones steered his client more eptly, kicked a ball from Paul Lo Duca's glove tonight. That after denting Pedro's armor. Since when does Lo Duca not get a call at home just because he doesn't have control of the ball? Who could forget his brilliant masking of a bobble on Opening Day, the same game when Xavier Nady went 4-for-4.
Xavier Nady was traded with the Mets in Florida.
The Lincoln-Kennedy comparison between Turner Field and Your Name Here/Football Team Stadium doesn't run perfectly down the 50-yard line. The biggest difference is the Braves used their Metmashing as a pivot point from which to dominate the division. The Marlins merely annoy — albeit effectively — now and then. Also, the Marlins have won two World Series since Turner Field opened, the Braves none.
We just lost two of three to the Fish, but we swept the Braves on what is hard to remember was this very same trip. We can still bask in that a bit until the Abreuless, Lidleless, so-happy-they're-gone-they're-hot Phillies cut our lead to a single digit.
Gotta have something besides the steam rising up from the asphalt to sweat over, Mets fans.