Not having grown up a Yankees fan, I always thought that as a broadcaster, well, Phil Rizzuto [1] sure was a Yankee legend.
But Rizzuto had a bit of scorekeeping shorthand that I always loved for its combination of honesty and puckishness: WW, which stood for “Wasn’t Watching.”
I thought of the Scooter in the bottom of the sixth inning, as the Mets continued to do nothing with bats in their hands and the Dodgers kept the sportscar thrumming along in the left lane, several car lengths ahead of their theoretical pursuers.
It was late, I was tired, and the two-thirds of the ballgame I’d watched hadn’t exactly intensified my love for the 2026 Mets. What could the last third bring? An epic comeback that everyone would be talking about come Tuesday? Oh ha ha ha. Another look at the latest recidivist Met, Tommy Pham [2]? I was familiar with his work. The possibility that Joey Gerber [3] might become the 1,299th Met in the Holy Books? OK, actually I did kind of want to see that (and it came to pass), but that was more about my weirdo collector mindset than anything else.
So I decided to add a notation to my own mental scorebook, a variant of Rizzuto’s: WS. You can probably guess what that stands for.
I checked the scores as soon as morning came and my eyes opened, and let’s just say I wasn’t surprised [4]. I’d made my decision, and looking back on it I RN.