Monday, September 14, 2009

THAT GAME.

I wanted to write, and then I didn’t want to write, and then this all came out as a comment over at Faith & Fear, and remembered that the reason I do not comment is because then my best stuff gets lost in a comment instead of a blog post:

I was heartbroken, a tiny bit. I was heartbroken in that it was Pedro, that - to quote someone I cannot remember on Twitter last night - when Pedro played for US, if there was a breeze blowing the wrong way in the dugout he was injured for weeks, but for Philly, he will go 120 pitches or whatever insane number it was - because that crowd stood and cheered for him as though he belonged to them, when he’s nothing more than a rental, a grand FUCK YOU to us, that the Keystone Cops that masquerade as on-air commentators treated this game and that moment as those it was the final out of the World Series.

And it just broke my heart again that we come close but then can’t find anything in us to rally and just fucking MAKE IT HAPPEN. And because I don’t see a way to fix this team and this organization for 2010. That I will have to renew my plan seats or watch my prime location go to scalpers. That the Wilpons lie to us and do not care about baseball. That San Francisco and Milwaukee and hell, Kansas Fucking City have better promotions than we do. That we are a laughing stock. That people think they can laugh at us because they think that one just changes teams like tshirts.

I still feel all of that, although a tiny bit less today. It helps that today is an off day, although before I realized that, I had dramatically declared that I AM NOT WATCHING BASEBALL TONIGHT.

Can’t blame me for trying.

p.s. Come commiserate with us tomorrow at the last installment of Amazin’ Tuesdays. Metstradamus is reading in public for the first time! Metstradamus! And Jeff Pearlman will be there for you to heckle.

p.p.s. as per the comments, there is now a bumpersticker.