David Peterson was bad and then OK and then bad again and then had a chance to give the karmic wheel another shove: Mets down two in the fourth, bases loaded, James Wood at the plate, 0-2 count.
The 0-2 part was positive considering Peterson has been mashed by lefties and you could argue he shouldn’t have been facing Wood at all, but he had the advantage against a young hitter prone to strikeouts with the game not yet lost.
So what did Peterson do with this opportunity? He nibbled, and then he nibbled some more, and then he nibbled yet more, and then he threw a 3-2 sinker that missed, and not by a little, and the Mets were down 4-1.
Exit Peterson, to boos that barely registered because there weren’t very many fans in the first place and those who remained were cold, wet and probably reflecting that they’d made terrible life choices.
Hey, I don’t judge … well, actually I do. Unless you lost a bet, why the fuck were you watching a wretched baseball team on a wretched night where literally any other choice, including lying down in the road, would have been a better one? If that description fits you and you’re reading this, consider this your intervention. For the love of God, make better choices.
Peterson left, Sean Manaea entered, and three pitches later it was 5-1 and two pitches after that it was 9-1 and after that not even the most dedicated of us could have given a shit. I watched a couple of episodes of Margo’s Got Money Troubles, dimly registered that the Mets wound up losing by 12, and pulled Austin Slater‘s baseball cards to commemorate his becoming the 1,302nd Met in The Holy Books.
Poor Austin Slater. The Witness Protection Program would have wiser.
But then none of us connected with this miserable team — whether we’re constructing rosters, mulling whether or not to take a pitcher out, accepting employment with a baseball outfit or figuring out what to do with our precious nights — is making good choices right now.
