For those of you keeping score at home, the Mets were 5 games ahead of the Phillies after the games of August 27 and they are 5 games ahead of the Phillies after the games of September 4. Both teams went 5-3 in the intervening week and a day.
Hence, nothing happened, right?
Wow does baseball make every single one of us who loves it look, feel and sound stupid every so often.
C'mon everybody, let's all admit it in unison so none of us has to feel ashamed: We know nothing about what's going to happen next.
I don't. I'm dumb as a plum when it comes to figuring out this game. I've spent every sentient year of my life focused like a laser on it and I haven't the foggiest. And I'm no dumber about it than any of you.
Having officially gone expectation-free since the second weekend of August, I've officially carried no expectations about what the Mets were likely to accomplish across the remainder of their schedule, but unofficially, I've had my thoughts.
I thought once they got on a roll against the Pirates and the Nationals, that it would carry over against the Padres. It didn't.
I thought once they expanded their lead to seven during the Dodger series that double-digits were just around the corner. They weren't.
I thought once they, with the help of their closest pursuers and their closest pursuers' allies in blue, coughed up one…two…three games in Philadelphia that the noose was tightening. It wasn't.
I thought a trip to Atlanta…well who the fudge would have guessed Turner Field would be so darn hospitable?
Now they've beaten Cincinnati two in a row, which seemed predictable enough. There, finally, something I figured out ten minutes in advance of it happening. Look at me! I'm a baseball genius!
Yeah, I rock. I'm so brilliant that I had grown tired of Carlos Delgado and Paul Lo Duca as if they were last year's models. I was becoming convinced that David Wright did not add up to the sum of his hype. I didn't bother to defend Shawn Green's viability any longer. I looked to skip John Maine in the rotation if at all possible. And I'd included Mike Pelfrey in every possible trade I could conjure.
Good thing I don't do this for a living…though judging by the constant stream of unprovables and wrongness that flows out of the mouths of everybody paid to assert and predict, I'd fit in as well as anyone. All I need is to preen and make lousy trades for a few seasons in a major media market and I could be a very hot commodity on some network.
Mets versus Reds today. You know what's gonna happen? Neither do I.
nope. I have no idea, but I wasn't panicking. If we could predict, would we watch anymore?
You just have to have faith, and that's what i've embraced this year. Faith that this team will succeed. Don't sweat the difficulties, enjoy every fun ride, and don't force preconceived notions on this team, and maybe they'll exceed you're wildest expectations.
Can't say I ever lost faith in Carlos Delgado or The Amazin' Johnny Maine. Shawn Green I never had any in, so that's a wash. Lo Duca I can take or leave. David Wright is still David Wright… faith at the plate, Knoblauchian fear when he gets the ball in his hand. Pelfrey I'd pretty much forgotten about.
But yeah, I'm happy to climb aboard the “it never happened” train. I'm happy to pretend Philadelphia itself doesn't even exist. Except that we have to deal with them again and I'm already shaking in my shoes.
All I need is to preen and make lousy trades for a few seasons in a major media market and I could be a very hot commodity on some network.
Don't get me started.
Me, a month ago:
Marlon Anderson's not a major league fucking hitter.
Why the hell did we sign him?
Always happy to be wrong in such spectacular fashion.
??? I was cursing the day we ever let him go, and ostentatiously standing-O'ing him when he returned as a visitor.
Love me some Marlon. But I was spectacularly wrong in a way, too. I used to HATE him. And I used to hate Endy. And Xavier Nady. And Luis Castillo. FAFIF regulars will notice a pattern here. Yes, I adore these guys beyond all reason. But I used to hate them before they got here. Pains in the butt all (but not it in a revolting, subhuman, Chipper/Burrell/Clemens kind of way).
Never hated Pedro, though, despite his determined Expo-ness against us. Loved beating him, but only because it meant that at least on that day, we didn't suck.
PS: I hate Brandon Phillips.