Turns Out, Phils are Subject to Murphy's Law or...F*ck the heck, I'm back in!

The Mets third baseman, posing here with the Mets bullpen, better get his offensive act together say some.

Well I'll be damned. It didn't look good. Not for me and the Subcontinent internet tech I had on the phone OR Johan Santana. I got through to tech support ("Oh, you said firmware!") just as Johan coughed up the lead on what looked to me like some kind of illegal swing by the Phils oxen first baseman. I thought: Shit man, the combination of this tech guys' thick accent and his easily forseeable tendencies towards condescendingly reading the manual at me from 6000 miles away for the next 30 minutes and fucking up my system worse than it is, well I dunno if I can take that and the Mets marquee man taking it on the chin. I was actually slightly looking forward to the Mets losing without a bullpen meltdown.

But then out of nowhere, what looked for sure like the Mets finding a new way to lose--lose early, lose with their ace on the hill, fall behind early, lose at hands other than their own bullpen, etc.--turned out to be a much nicer change of pace. Say what you will about these Mets, and I have, they do know how to drag themselves off the mat. So the world continues to suprise me: here I am with my wireless router working again AND the Mets pulled victory out of their asses.
I imagine many Mets fans have gone past the"I want/expect a nice clean, well-earned W tonight" approach and found themselves in the "I don't care if the Mets get pantsed, get their asses handed to them, and they only win because the opponent forfits, I'm just happy if they win or everyone else loses" mode. Call me an idealist, but I haven't got there yet. The shred of foolish idealism I hold on to--the idea that there is one last narrative to be told about this team that isn't about managerial ineptitude, player indifference, or on-field disaster--is being nurtured by players like Carlos Delgado, who two months ago looked absolutely kaput, one month ago seemed going on one last career hot streak, and now seems like he is readying himself for a run at Mayor of Flushing. Players like Murph the Hitting Smurf, who took a break from his rookie letdown to lash a frozen rope into the philthy Philadelphia night and keep our hearts from breaking at least for another week. It's guys like these who, if I had any sense at all, I'd hate for refreshing my false hope, but I can't help mindlessly cheering like a Chinese Olympic badmitton fan.

On the other hand, flashing the leather and looping a just-in-time toss over to first will not be getting David Wright off the hook for disappearing when the team needed him most in Philly. It's gonna take more than that to win me over. If this guy wants to get back the MVP award stolen from him by old Jimmy Rollins last year, he better start carrying this team because everytime he steps to the plate and looks at the pitcher these days, he sees his goofy shortstop looking back at him from second base. It's not the "Merely Valuable Player," Daveyboy.

I'm gonna enjoy this day off.

PS. No, Brian Schneider is not off the shit list.