Never fear, the crumple is coming to an end. Because I, Jason Fry, bearer of Faith and banisher of Fear, am on my way to Washington, D.C., to give the blue and orange troops the support and tough love they obviously need, lest the hordes of Cheesesteak City blight another October. With yours truly poised like a rock of Gibraltar in the stands, victory is assured. Relievers will not give up infuriating tack-on runs. Young All-Stars will not snuff delicate rallies by hitting into double plays. First basemen will not field like tipped-over refrigerators. Pudgy second basemen with ludicrous contracts will not jump like their bodies have the density of neutron stars. Sanity will be restored. All will be well.
Ah, who am I kidding? Look tonight and tomorrow and maybe you'll catch sight of me bawling and banging my head against the seats in abject panic while my companions pretend they don't know me.
You'll be the guy in his Mets hat with his mouthing hanging agape as FelicianoSchoeneweisSmithSanchezAyala gives up another inexplicable homer. I think Bill Webb has that shot cued up at all times once the bullpen has been invoked.
Will I ever post a comment without a typo? Probably not. I feel like FelicianoSchoeneweisSmithSanchezAyala.
Good luck – we're all counting on you!
Well, the 2nd paragraph turned out to be the winner tonight. Oh hey, RYan Howard…
this is not fun
It was such a relief to read some Mets quoted a week or two ago about how they weren't going to repeat last year's collapse. They weren't going to ease up, or let down, or get complacent.
Such a relief…
This just in: I've been relieved of my cavalry officer's sword.
Well damn. I tried.