And God said, Let the frozen waters from the heaven be melted unto one place, and let the dry land appear: and it was so.
And God called the dry land Target Field; and the grouping together of the opponents he called Twins: and God saw that they weren’t so good.
And God said, Let Harvey bring forth heat, the arm yielding strikes, and the slider hitting spots after his fastball, which is a seed unto itself, upon the mitt of Buck: and it was so good.
And Target Field brought forth no hits in the bottoms of innings, and the arm yielded strike after strike, fastball and slider hitting spot after spot, the seed unto itself landing upon the mitt of Buck; we all saw it was so good.
And then the serpent that is Morneau; the temptation is to say he was the snake who spoiled paradise in the bottom of the seventh with two out when he turned unto a slider that did not hit its spot and did not land upon the mitt of Buck, but rather clanked off the pole of foul; yet Morneau cannot spoil that which is only now being created into something so sacred as the turn of the Metropolitan Rotation toward the next Day of Harvey.
And the afternoon of not quite the Second No-Hitter in the History of the New York Mets was the Third Day of Harvey of Twenty Thirteen.
And it was good.