The Blind Boys of Alabama

Game 46 - Mets

Braves 2, Mets 1
Record: 29-17

There were moments to enjoy last night, elements of the Mets' game to appreciate. But I won't / can't name them. Willie indicated that the Braves just wanted the game more, which is a backhand to his club cloaked as a compliment to his competition. David Wright, who reverted to the form he found right after his Home Run Derby experience last summer and fanned three* times, said that they just ran into a buzzsaw, that of John Smoltz. Smoltz picked up his 200th win while keeping the Metmen just off-balance enough (and benefiting from a stellar infield defense). Either way, the Mets didn't get it done in Atlanta.

I had a very strong, very wrong premonition that the Mets were going to tie it up in the 9th, which makes losing to the Braves that much more of a punt in the groin. Crap.

*Really, Wright only whiffed twice. The first base umpire (who shall remain nameless, as well as useless) inexplicably called a standard check-swing strike three to end the inning with the bases loaded. At every angle it was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad call, but before we rage against the dying of the at-bat, let's acknowledge that it was 0-2 and Dee-Dub almost certainly would have struck out anyway. He did nothing before or after to convince us otherwise.

And then there was the home plate umpiring. Just two nights from draining the tub on a Mets rally with a ridiculously sorry attempt at umpiring second base, another nameless, soulless man in black seemed to be fired up for Smoltz (or, as Ron Darling pronounced it all night, Schmoltz) to get the big W. Glavine was squeezed in ways his former teammate was not, and not in the good way. Consistency is what the players demand, and there was little tonight in the unarguable land of balls and strikes. Didn't change the fact that Smoltz had better stuff, just enhanced it.

And finally, we'll go ahead and actually name the 2B ump who continues to frustrate (in lieu of another f-word) the New York Mets at every interval. Angel "of Death" Hernandez botched a pretty easy pickoff call in the middle innings. Didn't change the outcome of the game, I just wanted to mention that guy once again. Just lousy.

See, guys, irrational idiots like myself spend time bemoaning your affect on the ballgames we watch, and that's lame, but it's games like you had last night in Atlanta that keep us clamoring for improved umpiring (and in extreme cases, calling for your untimely demises). The Braves were better than the Mets last night and deserved the win, but both squads had far better nights than the fellows calling the game. Step it up.

That's about it. All of the idle chatter about losing 6 of 9 to the Braves thus far is just that. 10 more regular-season contests to figure them out, but we have bigger fish to fry in the interim. Like, say, the Marlins tonight. There's a Julio Franco / Santiago slag brewing up in my head, but it pales in comparison to the classic quip I'll close this brief post out with, one from Jason at Faith and Fear in Flushing that echoed my precise sentiments at the moment and made me cackle:

Can't argue for Gotay bunting the tying run into scoring position. Could argue with Julio Franco, whose considerable contributions to this team can't preclude noting that such contributions are increasingly intangible. Gary noted that Julio's got a lot of experience in this spot; I rather sourly noted that I could walk down to the VFW Hall and find guys with experience storming beaches, but that wouldn't make a repeat a good idea.

Weak effort here today. Clearly, my peers in the 'sphere just wanted it more. Oh, or maybe I just ran into a buzzsaw of a day's worth of tasks to get done. Something like that.