Br*ve Old World

Smoltz Never Dies

Get the feeling that John Smoltz would rise up from a molten grave to choke the life out of the Mets, like a Turner-ator? Smoltz was his typical Satanic Majesty and the Br*ves ruined Johan Santana's Atlanta debut. Poopeyface emerged on cue to serve up his usual BPSGB (big pressure situation gopher ball) and the world was again much like we remember it before 2006. No one is conceding anything, but I sometimes still scan the Mets dugout for Art Howe involuntarily. And if it wasn't clear before, the Br*ves more often then not beat the Mets in Turner Crypt because their stars, Smoltz and Larry Jones, simply want it more than our stars do. You can see it in their oily baby eating grins as they congratulate each other in the dugout each time they finish dispatching the Mets. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

"It was a tough sky." So said (he's no) Angel (in the outfield) Pagan after he blew a catchable ball allowing Yunel Escobar's run-scoring double in the third-inning by playing too shallow and then stopping under something that did not turn out to be the baseball. Later, in the fourth, Pagan, David Wright and Jose Reyes couldn't bring themselves to call off each other on Jeff Francoeur's double. This following Carlost Delgado's base-running blunder in the fourth when he was doubled off first by center fielder Mark Kotsay.

Are the Mets already too bored to keep their heads in the game? Too bad the guys making these mental errors are vets, otherwise Willie could, like, say something to them. You see, I don't like mental errors, at least not in bunches. Not from guys who should be fired up to send a message to their main rivals, and who should be well-prepared to take some pitches from the Br*ves tough #1 and 2 pitchers, get into their pen, and do some damage. It's too early to call this complacency, but when the time comes I won't be shy. It gets late early around here and I'd like to see some fire and purpose.

As it was, the Br*ves did all the little things a team does when it is paying attention, including the game ending play where future Met Teixeira guarded the line, came up with a scorched probable game tie-er over the first base bag off the bat of Brian Schneider, flipped it to Atlanta closer Soriano who did not stare at butterflies or play with his perm, but instead got to the bag in plenty of time to record the final out.

I hate losing to the Br*ves on any day. But I really hate losing with our best pitcher on the mound, who despite a few kick saves and a display of lumber, was not able to record the W he so deserved. And all this with an off-day coming to wail and gnash my teeth through.

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Matt (Me) Wise (Magic) went off for his MRI after developing a bruise on his forearm. Reminding me that Omar did little to improve what was, when it counted, a very shaky pen last year, other than give a guy named Register meal money for a few weeks.

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A sole happy note: I saw the game in the lovely company of (neglected) LA area Metsfans, at a gathering expertly arranged by the internet's own Keyser. A pleasant time was had by all, other than the watching the actual game part.