Livan Hernandez, being a student of baseball history, was not going to let the 40th anniversary of Tom Seaver's fateful encounter with Jimmy Qualls go by unheralded. No, Livan Lacking offered Tom Terrific a ballfield tribute: To celebrate Seaver recording 25 outs before Qualls' clean single, Livan decided to pay homage to a Hall of Famer, recording no outs before allowing a Rafael Furcal ground-rule double, then a bunch more mess as the Mets staggered to an 11-2 loss.
This game, in addition to being dull and thoroughly depressing, lacked even the lowest-common-denominator pleasures of white balls arcing over green fields. It seemed to last about five weeks. After Ryan Church hit into a double play and Omir Santos popped one up, I dragged myself upright to turn off the TV, annoyed but mostly relieved that it was over. But no Dodgers shook hands.
Wha? Talk about hubris, you smug L.A. bast — oh, fuck me, that was only the 8th. NOOOO!!!!
I can't even tip my hat to the die-hards who stuck it out down nine runs on an unseasonably cool — heck, downright cold — July night that featured hit-allowing by both Livan Hernandez and Tim Redding. You all really had nothing better to do? If Moonlight Graham had been playing in this mess, he would have stepped over the foul line around the fifth inning so he could morph into an 80-year-old and shuffle the hell away from it.
When Gary Sheffield got ejected, I half-wished that Marty Foster would pop out of my TV and eject me. No more TV for you, Fry, and don't let me catch you sneaking a listen to the radio or I'll file a report with the league office. Oh, if only. The Livan Death March had miles left to go, before I could drop exhausted by the trail. Which, I suppose, makes it a microcosm of 2009.
Join us for the first of Three AMAZIN' TUESDAYS at Two Boots Tavern on July 21, a Mets night devoted to reading, rooting and Rusty Staub. Get all the details here. And get your copy of Faith and Fear in Flushing: An Intense Personal History of the New York Mets from Amazon, Barnes & Noble or a bookstore near you. Keep in touch and join the discussion on Facebook.
i believe the escalating shittiness paradoxically increases the wait at the shake shack line, since no one has any reason not to piss innings away there
but: perhaps this phenomenon decreases the wait at blue smoke…i will investigate
(i left at the stretch, and i thought that was a good four innings too late)
By eight thirty I had already switched to CNN to catch up on some less depressing things like the wars in Iraq and Afghanastan, Iranian protesters beaten up in the streets, the predicted return of swine flu, global warming, near ten percent unemployment and AIG handing out multi-million dollar bonuses to top executives.
earliest ive ever left a mets game was yesterday; 3rd inning. just enough time to eat a sausage and pepper and drink two beers.
What a way to spend my birthday.
At least the Box Frites were crispy.
i was considering this, but it was a nice night and my girlfriend was enjoying herself. if you don't watch the game and you have the tickets to burn anyway, it's not a bad night out.
Can someone on the Shake Shack line please walk across the concourse to the Mets team offices and explain to the geniuses inside that Tim Redding — um, how exactly to put this — CAN'T PITCH? They could get more good innings from the Pepsi Party Patrol than that guy.
while i agree with you, if you think i'm waiting an inning and a half to talk about tim redding, you're out of your mind
I stayed the whole game, solely due to location: a business associate put me up in a luxury suite. By the 7th, the whole bunch of corporate non-fans had left, leaving the Missus and me plenty of room to spread out. She enjoyed taking pictures and basking under a heat lamp (!), I went about finishing all the beer left in the fridge. Opening up a beer in the ninth inning had the feeling of forbidden fruit; it was fantastic. The game, less so.