Game 112 - Mets
Braves 7, Mets 3
Not sure where it falls, maybe between the sixth and seventh levels, but watching the Mets get throttled by the Atlanta Braves whilst surrounded by Yankee fans as the Bombers pummel their opponent on an adjacent television is somewhere fairly deep in Dante's Hell. Who new that Hades had an outstation in Park Ridge, NJ?
It was all going swimmingly for . . . a few moments, perhaps, then went the way of Dennis Wilson. I'd tracked down a decent restaurant/bar near my hotel, managed one of the few remaining barstools, gotten a nicely-poured pint, and had my request for the Mets game on the closest telly fulfilled quickly. The outspoken Yanks fan to my left -- congenial though he was -- was taken to his table in the dining room. Here we go.
And then the second batter of the game, the legendary Matt Diaz, took Ollie Perez bleacherwards. All downhill from there.
Ollie looked as "touchable" as he has in quite some time, and THE Buddy Carlyle kept the Mets in check most of the night. (Don't worry, boys, it's only Smoltz & Hudson for the rest of the series.) Moises "Giddyup . . . er, GIDP" Alou ended rally after mini-rally. The Yankee fans kept filing in as if orchestrated in a Let's Taunt Whitney kind of way. The Jays outfielders kept diving on the turf without much concern for where the flyballs were landing. The cheeseburger was blatantly overcooked. And the Mets were losing to the GDMFSOB Braves.
A few glints of enjoyment in the otherwise bleak night: ARod getting plunked again, Larry Bowa spazzing out, and Lyle Overbay calling ARod something that rhymes with "glitch"; The Mets not quite rolling over, mustering three runs and keeping me interested; a flurry of enjoyable text messages with bro-in-law Patrick and bro-in-MLC Rob about all of these various subjects and more (with more expletives, natch); at least one pint on the house, and a $23 tab for a burger and countless Guinnesses.
Just one game, but at least one of my fellow Mets fans has quickly gone from "Let's sweep the Braves and bury them" to "God, I pray we win one game." Such is life in the Township -- and the Nation. We're getting close to that time of year when the temperature begins to cool (not happening yet) and the emotions start to run hot (oh, yeah). Let's win Game 2 tonight and give us a reason to get fired up.