Game 139 - Mets
Reds 7, Mets 0
Before, as Rob noted, I found myself short on insightful prose because all was well with the Met Machine. Today, despite the Metmen having forfeited a softball game to the Reds yesterday, despite John Maine having gotten pounded around, despite Carlos Delgado sitting down for 7-10 with a hip strain . . . I'm still okay with everything in the world of the Mets.
For I am two days from my first trip to Shea since the glorious night with the un-Hollywood ending last fall. As my brother-in-law commented, it's as if this season has flown by in a blur and we're back to the tension and excitement of that October night. No, we're not nearly to that point in the success story yet, but it feels like it for us. Returning to the scene of the crime (Yadier Molina, guilty on all charges) is momentous enough, but to park it in Dee-Dub's seats behind home for an afternoon has us both pretty fired up . . . and has me unwilling to care at all that the Mets snoozed through a series finale yesterday.
According to the terms of the arrangement, we were supposed to meet Dave himself and some of the team for quick pictures. Doesn't appear that this is happening, but we'll still hold out a tiny glimmer of hope. And if not, an afternoon in the sun at Shea with Tom Glavine on the hill and me in the ballpark . . . well, only a damn fool would gripe about that.