It's Mets For Me: Off-Beat, Tangentially Relevant Mets Ruminations

Off Base Since 2005! Mets commentary from the counter-intuitive to the unintuitive and all the intuitives in between. ** "Through the use of humor and gross inaccuracy...a certain truth can be gained." Rob Perri ** (pester me or follow me @itsmetsforme on twitter)

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Mets Take a Welcome Break from Collapsathon


What is the Mets Tragic Number?
Would we soon be bereaving instead of believing?
These are the thoughts creeping into view as the Mets looked headed for a Sawx-like regular season collapse. With the Met-hating national media sharpening its knives and fans at wits end, Paul LoDuca, who is always welcome at my house so long as he doesn't spike my Mookie- Buckner ball, had to do something. So he shaved his head himself. I had to do something too, so I messed around with photoshop and then started this post before the game with the following sentence:
"Tonight the Mets bucketed the water out of the boat as fast as they could, and earned a vital win against the Gnats. They are battling."
And lo and behold, Pelfrey pitched competently, the left side of the infield mostly got its head out of its ass, the pen held things down. Though committing three more errors, the Mets got the breaks, other then (ch)umpires Tony Randazzo and Chad Fairchild's hideous call on a pitch that nearly ended Ct Red Asses' season (even baby-eater Don Sutton thought it was an awful call). Remind me to complain about this season's officiating again when the Mets have clinched.
Am I precognitive? Maybe. Am I a believer? Most definately. Either way, thanks in part to me writing that sentence, the Mets won and the Phillies lost to the Cardinals. What will I do for an encore?
Well here's my advice:
The Mets need to tape Moises Alou from head to foot, help him put his pants on, and send him up to that plate. If you saw the snake that bit Ken Griffey Jr., who pulled his groin while throwing a ball into the infield last night, you know that the oft-injured are playing in the shadows of a giant set of dice.
Carlos Delgado needs to sacrifice a virgin (but not Joe Smith please) to the baseball gods to let him heal.
And finally, the team needs to just win. They know how, they just got to execute.

Tonight against the D-minus Train, lets get this Zeppelin back on schedule!

"You guys know when the new season of Lost starts?"



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This blog is meant completely and entirely in jest, unless you count the angst, and is not meant to offend anyone, unless you are a Br*ves fan. It's not affiliated with Sterling, the Mets, common sense, good taste, or anything really.