Game 157 - Mets
Nationals 10, Mets 9
Blast. That was close to being something. As it turned out, it was nothing.
Maybe six ninth-inning runs and a damn fine comeback that fell just short isn't quite nothing, but the time for moral victories expired long ago. If we're simply looking for signs of life amid losses to one of the league's doormats, I just registered for postseason tickets in utter vain.
It's a simple game. You throw the ball. You hit the ball. You catch the ball. Going 1-for-3 is great for a batting average, but where those three elements are concerned, it spells doom.
You got trouble
And it's tailor made
Well mama, lay your head down in the shade
'Cause your eyes are tired, and your feet are, too
And you wish the world was as tired as you
Well I'll write a blogpost, and I'll send it away
And put all the trouble in it you had today
. . . Oh, Atlanta -- thanks.