Thursday, September 17, 2009

THEATER OF THE ABSURD.

I started to write something, about how when I realized I had a game to go to tomorrow my immediate reaction wasn’t enthusiasm, it was dread. It was dragging-my-feet, oh GOD it’s cold and it might RAIN and now I have to schlep all this crap to the office or I will be miserable at the game. It was realizing that I could go and suffer or I could stay home and be annoyed that I lost the money I paid for these tickets. If I go I’ll be miserable because the Mets cannot play major league baseball, and if I stay home I will start making Wilpon family voodoo dolls.

I can’t even take the tack TBF and I were going on with last week or the week before, about how it’s still baseball and we still enjoy it. There is nothing to enjoy in this right now. We will be crabby and we will be chilly. If I don’t go he’ll feel bad for leaving me at home alone. If I go I’m going to be angry at a million different things.

There is nothing noble in my support of the team right now. I don’t even think I’m supporting the team in the true sense of the word. I am tolerating them. I am abiding them. I am suffering silently.

I just want the season to be over.

p.s. We are already planning our 2010 roadtrips.