Game 41 - Mets
I am Lester, Lord of the Idiots
Cardinals 11, Mets 4
Record: 19-22
And I follow up today's earlier guarantee with another: I guarantee you I will never do that again. Holy hell.
Sloppy play, bad pitching, and three runs against non-marquee pitching. The Mets hadn't looked this bad since the first half (the ugly half) of the series in Arizona. I guess the blame's on me for this one, what with that half-baked Broadway Joe imitation.
What have we learned? Anything I write here leads to losses for the Mets. I am at a loss, and so are my guys. I suppose I should pack it in and rename this site "Misery Loves Company But Rob Ain't Gettin' Any," but (a) it's not my style to do the prudent thing, and (b) that title would contain more double entendre than my cohort is comfortable with. So, I press on, right in the face of the facts. The only time the Metropollys have come to life is when I swear them off, curse their stupid-sounding name, and watch other sports. But I won't do that, if only because watching the NBA is like having eyeball acupuncture and watching the NHL is watching a dead man walking. And I refuse to let the Mets defeat my will to watch. Just when it makes no sense to tune in and see my boys get their brains beaten in, I'm cooking up a pair of dogs in my Hot-Diggety-Dogger, cracking open a cold one (six), and telling my kids it's Mommy Time for a few hours. But that's just me. Not too bright, huh?
I am off to vacation for a few days, so I'll be blogless for a series or two. Enjoy my silence and Rob's double-shot make-up for it.
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