Games 87 - 89 - Mets
Braves 7, Mets 3
Braves 5, Mets 3
Braves 6, Mets 3
I sense some kind of theme here, but I can't quite come up with it. And so the Mets impress with a sweep of Cincy and depress with a sweep to the Braves. Except, it's just not that depressing this time around. There is no rivalry when one of the rivals is catatonic. It seems like a decade ago when the Mets, led by Robin Ventura's grand slam single, were battling it out in the postseason with Atlanta. And even longer ago when the Braves, led by John "Where Am I Now?" Rocker, were whining about New York, failing to sell out playoff games, and rolling over and dying against supposedly inferior opponents every postseason. People, that was only 3 or 4 years ago. And oh, how the landscape has changed since then . . . well, they're not whining about New York, mainly because there's nothing to whine about when you're winning all the time.
No, this time the whining is coming from Tom Glavine. It seems you can take the crybaby pitcher out of Atlanta, but you can't get him to pitch like he's still in Atlanta, just cry like it. The bottom line is that Glavine, more than anyone except maybe Greg Maddux, has been the benefactor of "neighborhood" strikes throughout his illustrious career. Those sliders tailing off the plate are great pitches, just not all strikes. And now that he's not getting the calls, he bitches. And so I reiterate, he should see the good in checks and balances for umpires and praise the concept if he must criticize the current product. This revisit to an ongoing MLB dilemma, coupled with Mr. Russell's worthy detailing of the Mostly-Star Game disaster-in-waiting, makes one wonder how such a huge, high profile operation with millions of dollars being thrown around within it can be run so poorly. Ladies and gentlemen, Major League Baseball is truly our national pastime, if only for the fact that its day-to-day mismanagement models itself after the United States Federal Government. Enjoy.
By the by, more apologies for my repeated absences. This time it's a new house and the accompanying move, one which has left me without the use of television for three days now. (Catch your breath, Rob. Easy now.) Tomorrow the DirecTV guy is supposed to hook us up, and I should be knee-deep in Extra Innings by nightfall. If I had to miss three Mets games, though, I think these three were the ones, don't you?
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