To address my lingering virus that developed in the wake of the day-night doubleheader against Philly, I was prescribed some cough syrup Wednesday. Some very good cough syrup. It's got some very good stuff in it. It makes you quite drowsy which is the way to watch the Mets these nights.
I took it a little before Capital One Pregame Live. As a result, I wasn't as in-game lively as I might have been otherwise. I didn't really have the wherewithal to cheer the two first-inning homers. In fact, I nodded off at Mets 2 Nats 0 and woke up from the longest 15-minute nap of my life with it Mets 7 Nats 1. My alertness waxed and waned until I began to have these visions of relief pitcher after relief pitcher marching in from the bullpen while Gary, Keith and Ron grew grimmer and grimmer. Next thing I knew, Jerry Manuel was cracking wise about the crowd not wanting to see him blazing a path from the dugout to the mound and Johan Santana having to throw a complete game Thursday, even if it takes 170 pitches. I guess he was being funny. It was hard to tell, legally medicated as I was.
It took seven relievers gritting their teeth across four innings to quell the Washington Nationals, but the Mets held on 9-7 [1]. I didn't feel a thing.