Darkness On the Edge of Town

Game 79 - Mets

Yankees 2, Mets 0
Record: 47-32

On the streets of the Township tonight, people have begun to pass each other with their heads down or facing away, conceding only furtive glances towards their fellow citizens. Any stray eye contact elicits obligatory half-smiles that could otherwise pass as winces or smirks. These fleeting looks are cast only to read neighbors' eyes, scanning them for signs of what's already figured to lie beneath: Doubt, Dread, and Sheer Angst, the Pep Boys of the fan's psyche. Conversations in the thoroughfare won't exhume what's been interred by the Township residents; to fret openly is to show a lack of knowledge of the current situation and a lack of faith in the mission at hand. But every reconnaisance glimpse brings back to camp the unwanted confirmation that the formerly immaculate garden of hope has sprouted more than a few weeds in recent days. And so we walk on silently, going about our business rather than confiding in our kinsmen with the nagging, burning question that reaches out: Should we be worried?