Heartbreaker

Last night was one of those games that drive you crazy as a Mets Lifer. After going down 4-0 and Maddux making us look like little leaguers, I had pretty much conceded victory to the Padres. After 5 innings, I started to accept this loss (what a difference a year makes), and I moved on with my game plan to wind down the night. Watch an episode of Entourage; get a good laugh and sleep easy - essentially purging any negative thoughts of another Mets loss.

Then, as the show ended, I checked the game just out of curiosity and saw Delgado’s home run. Now I’m pretty sleepy at this point, but I talked myself into the old “wait one more inning” approach. Watch the 8th and then call it a night. I still didn’t have any expectations for them to win, so I was fairly content at this point. But you know when you watch games, you start to talk to yourself about who’s coming up; start thinking, if he could get on, and if he can somehow work out a walk…

Next thing you know, Wright hits as big of a home run as they have had all season – a shot that this team needed in the worst way – and I am hooked right back in. Adrenaline is flowing, and I’m all psyched up, pumping fist in the air (you know you did too), the whole nine yards. And I started thinking (maybe talking) to myself, this is the game we needed, we’ve been waiting for this one, this is going to propel us to the NL East, we’re finally going to get out of this funk…yudda, yudda, yudda…you know how it is. You were there doing the same thing. That’s what Met Lifers do. Man, was I fired up after that blast.

Then we blow it in the very next inning, wind taken right out of our sails, and just like that – poof - the game is over, we lose. And I have to go to bed feeling all ticked off, thinking about every play, about that first inning of poor fielding, about Milledge just missing that pitch to end the game, about why Randolph didn’t bring in Feliciano earlier, all of it, over and over…