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The Mulligan


Let’s be honest with each other.

I don’t particularly want to write about today’s deplorable suckfest against the Braves, and you don’t particularly want to read about it. Because if you saw it, the afterimage of lousy pitching, vandalism afield and crummy hitting is probably still burned onto your retinas, and why on earth would you want to relive such a hideous way to spend a beautiful Sunday afternoon in New York? And if you didn’t see it, the score tells you that you were lucky, and a glance at any recap [1] or quick word with a Mets fan in the know tells you the same thing.

Those of you who were mercifully absent, we’re not going to delve into the fact that the Mets — HAHAHAHAHA — committed no — HOHOHOHO — I repeat not a single error — HEEHEEHEEHEE — in playing the Braves today.

Wow. Excuse me.

No, it’s true. We don’t have a single error to discuss. There was no error when Marlon Byrd and Jordany Valdespin let a Dan Uggla drive go up the seam between them. Nor was there a big E after Lucas Duda broke in on a ball zooming over his head. No run went from earned to unearned when David Wright boxed one around FIVE FREAKING SECONDS after Terry Collins came to the mound and yelled at Jon Niese and everyone else in range of his voice that they could forget about the postgame trip to the Tastee-Freez. No defensive lapse was observed when John Buck let balls go through his legs. Every Brave hit was sparkling clean, the product of pluck and resilience, and there is no truth whatsoever to the base and vile rumor that the Mets have been asked to cover the logos of glove manufacturers for fear of damaging those companies’ public image.

As for all those walks attached to Niese’s line, yeah, they were what you think, and it was freaking horrible to witness.

Whoa, sorry about that!┬áLike I said, we’re not going to talk about today’s game, because it was awful. It was awful, and it was pathetic, and it made you angry, and it left you feeling sorry for all involved, and it left you cackling at the sheer pitiable horror of the baseball being played, and it took forever, and by the time it was over you were just sad.

So we’re taking a mulligan.

But only this time.

Next time the Mets walk the ballpark and swing at sinkers heading to China on full counts and play the field like they’ve been encased in cement, you’re going to have to relive each and every horrible miscue and dunderheaded mistake and moment of bad luck. Fortunately, that will never happen again — not with so sound a defensive team and such a deep rotation and such a talented lineup.