Friday, September 02, 2005

Cogito Ergo Sum Imbecilius

Games 132 & 133 - Mets

Phillies 8, Mets 2
Phillies 3, Mets 1
Record: 69-64

I think many more things than I know, as this site shows.
I think the Mets are worth following.
I think they are a good team.
I think they maybe a great one before it's all over.

I think this blog entertains the masses, and by "the masses" I mean the two people writing it.
I think there are a lot of people with as much time and will to write about inane subjects as I have, or almost.
I think the people we meet on the Internet are generally who they purport to be. Sometimes I wish they weren't.
I think the boys at East Coast Agony celebrated another fine season of work by flying to Bermuda, canoeing on a Scottish lake, or snowshoeing in the Himalayas.
I think that I should write about the Mets for a living, but nobody else does.
I think I now know where I'm retiring someday, and that's a comfort.

I think the walk-off homer is exciting, but nothing beats the ninth inning, two-out, game-deciding play at the plate. It's why we nod our heads in approval at Joe Carter but marvel at Sid Bream, even if we loathe the Atlanta Braves.
I think I loathe the New York Yankees more than I do the Braves, and I'm not quite sure how that happened.
I think Braves fans take an inordinate amount of flack for their tepid support of such a dominant franchise. I think it's inordinate, but not inappropriate.

I think that if a new kind of steroid came out, or perhaps some illegal procedure were developed (like in that feeble movie Rookie of the Year), wherein baseball player's arms grew to superhuman strength, resulting not only in sheer pitching dominance but in the elimination of stolen bases, taking the extra base, and most infield singles, and run scoring dried up to the point of soccer scores, Bud and the brain trust would so obviously come down like the Iron Curtain on the violators, but since the reality is just a preposterous glut of home runs and scoring in general, which draws more casual fans to the park, and after all, baseball is a business, they think it's best merely to pay lip service to combating the utter skew and inevitable taint that steroids are infusing into the lifeblood of the sport and leave well enough alone.
I think I'm rooting for science to create that super-arm scenario.
I think run-on sentences are the truest sign of having a whole lot of important things to get out in a hurry, and acceptable in certain blogtype situations.

I think I think a veritable cornucopia of things, but I don't need to share them all right now. In due time, young grasshopper. All in due time.

I think many, many things, but there is one thing I know.

I know that when I commend them for their solid play and see sunshine on the horizon, the New York Mets immediately and surely play baseball like a band of rogue clowns on mescaline.

And I think that fairly well chaps my backside.

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