The Mets played like a champ today. Or, more accurately, looked like a load of big brown.
No offense to the horse that took a couple of minutes to do in Louisville what the Mets couldn't come close to achieving over three-and-a-half very long hours in Phoenix. Our nag stayed a nose behind for a few innings, but eventually finished six lengths back and completely out of the money.
Quick, Billy Wagner — say something helpful about Mike Pelfrey and his dry fingers.
On the plus side, the Mets aren't just taking a dive. They're taking many dives. Ryan Church dives. David Wright dives. Sometime they come up with a ball or keep a runner in place. Sometime it's just a matter of belly-flopping into the abyss. But their efforts are appreciated, however sporadically they pay off.
Except for one well-pulled swing by Carlos Delgado and one impressive gut check by Aaron Heilman (were his shoulders always so stiff that he had to shake them loose before every pitch or is it just the weight of the world crushing him?), nothing. Nothing about this apparently reluctant Fox game of the week — we swear, Sprint Cup Racing from Richmond is coming up next — indicates the 15-13 Mets entered this game a single Brian Wilson mistake from first place. This was the best team in the National League versus what is, at this moment, the eighth-best, a unit that is glaringly middle-of-the-pack, mediocre and, because it's such a damningly accurate Metric, 70-70 since last May 30.
They're not thoroughbreds, but perhaps the Mets might give Nascar a whirl. It seems to feature lots of going in circles.
P.S. Help us Johan-Wan Kenobi, you're our only hope.
i'm just gonna write this off to a bad appearance by duaner. who is very entitled.
if there was ever a loss to turn the page on, this was it.
Just one game. Makes today's game loom that much more important. Dbacks are the class of the league at the moment. Thankfully, our stopper is on the mound. Lose – 29 games and counting.
The thing that stung me the most from the Saturday game was that horseshit announcing team. Top of the 8th inning, 2 outs, the fuckhead color guy says “we got plenty of baseball left!” That put me over the edge. “YOU GOT ONE INNING LEFT,” I yelled to the TV, “HOW'S THAT PLENTY OF BASEBALL?!?” Suddenly I stopped and thought, “unless this whole thing is fixed and they know we're going into extra innings… or the Diamondbacks take 30 minutes to play the bottom of the 8th.”
I hate it when I'm psychic. It always coincides with a brutal loss. But shit, it's the Mets: anyone can predict brutality and come out smelling like roses.