So I met a friend for drinks around 7. Then, well, it was time to eat, so we did that. Since I was on recap duty, I peeked guiltily at the game a couple of times during dinner. The Mets were up 2-0, which mollified me slightly. Then they were behind. Walking home, I turned on Howie and Josh and the first thing I heard was a reference to how sloppily they were playing. Oh, and by then they were behind.
I got home, watched Met batters club a couple of balls to the warning track to be caught, watched Ike Davis mess up a double play, and though I felt myself getting madder and madder, I was also getting more and more tired. I arranged myself more comfortably, blinked a bit, blinked in a more leisurely fashion, looked up and there were Chris Carlin and Bobby Ojeda.
Had the Mets rallied for a win? Carlin sounded grim. Bobby O. sounded madder than usual. No, they had not.
If you’re thinking, “That was a pretty half-assed evening of duty, Mr. Fry,” well, I just didn’t want to make the actual Mets feel upstaged. Because they were bad. Again. Against the Cubs, who are habitually bad. Not to go all Francesa on you, but losing two out of three to the Cubs isn’t something you can do, at least not if you want to be taken seriously as a playoff contender. And losing three out of three to the Cubs … well, ask me again in six hours or so. Let’s just say that today would not be a good time for Jon Niese to be caught being casual about scouting reports.
If the Mets manage to lose again, something tells me they’re going to be wearing the buffet. Simmering before a bank of microphones after last night’s game, Terry Collins did not sound pleased — not with Lucas Duda’s baserunning, not with the fielding, not with Ike’s deportment, not with Dillon Gee’s pitching, not with anything.
I think we all know how he feels.