Nothing is wrong with the Mets’ world when Johan Santana is right.
There is no arrest.
There is no arraignment.
There is no civil suit.
There is no issue over who pitches the eighth.
There is no wondering who will pitch the ninth.
There is no pitch count.
There is no endless slump.
There is no idiot manager.
There is no inane remark about the sun coming up.
There is no waste-of-space rightfielder resenting his benching.
There is no waste-of-space lefthander resisting demotion.
There is no Chris Carlin in the studio.
There is no unconquerable margin in the standings.
There are no problems capturing rubber games.
There are no problems at all.
There ain’t no mountain high enough.
There ain’t no valley low enough.
There ain’t no river wide enough.
There ain’t no “here we go again…” narrative.
When there is Johan Santana, there is Baseball Like It Oughta Be.
There are nine shutout innings.
There are ten strikeouts.
There are insurance runs set up by a hit-and-run single.
There is a New York Mets victory over the Colorado Rockies.
There is a New York Mets triumph over the forces of doom.
There is too much time between Johan Santana starts.