|Blogging Like I've Never Blogged Before|
Friday, October 20, 2006
Fucking Mets. I am going to pretend that the game ended on Endy Chavez's catch. Holy balls, what a catch.
Last night, if you were a Mets fan, you felt the two most polar opposites of feelings. After Endy's catch, if you didn't jump out of your seat and do something, you are a Mets fan in a wheelchair. And even if you were in a wheelchair and didn't get up, I still might question your commitment. And it was then, right there that you just knew they were going to win this game. Easy. That was a crusher for the Cardinals. You had the big bats coming up in the bottom half of the inning, and someone was going to do something. Even if they didn't do it then, you still KNEW they were going to win.
And then they lost. And it was like someone kicked you in the gut with a cannonball. The Mets have broken my heart many times over the years, but this one, my goodness. This is the tops.
I can't even watch SportsCenter. No way are the Cardinals supposed to be spraying champagne on each other, especially Braden motherfucking Looper. You piece of shitballs.
Can someone forward me the link to Endy's catch once it gets on YouTube? I am just going to watch that over and over again until pitchers and catchers report for spring training. Until then, this will have to do.
Oh, and PS to Carlos Beltran. When you have two strikes on you, swing at anything close. You have to protect the plate. My dad taught me that at a very young age. Actually, here is a short list of things I have learned in my life in the order they happened:
3. With two strikes against you, swing at anything close.