At about 8 p.m. last night I wrote this post in a rage of anger/disappointment/sugar high. I was done with the Mets. As Shaquille O'Neal would say "DUN...done."
For the first time in years, I turned the game off before the first inning was over. I played some Marvel vs. Capcom 2 on my XBox. Did some bills. Watched some Law & Order: Criminal Intent.
And then I made a mistake.
I went over to the computer and opened up Yahoo! Sports to check my fantasy baseball team. Then I happened to glance at the real time scores and noticed that the Mets score was now 6-5 in the 8th inning.
This offensively disfunctional team came back to score 5 unanswered runs against one of the games better pitchers in Dan Haren? Impossible.
And then it happened. I turned the game one.
Like a crack addict trying to stop cold turkey, the temptation became to great for me to try and do it alone. So there I sat watching Gary Sheffield lead off of second base with only 1 out. I was fooled into thinking something would happen.
Then the 9th inning came and I was still there. Hoping. Praying. And the worst part, believing that something was going to happen.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
We all know how this story ends because we've seen it a thousand times before. But every time I find myself wanting to believe that there can be a happy ending.
Not this year.