Brutal Night in Milwaukee
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by Editoratlegendofcecilioguante
Originally posted on my blog, The Legend of Cecilio Guante, here.
Don't get me wrong. I'm a fan. I'm still watching. I will continue to watch. And I want a Mets win. But I'm ticked off.
Sure, it's his first shot at it. Sure, he'll have others. But it doesn't annoy me any less. Glavine's another one of those guys you gotta love. 20 years of gutting it out. Pitching. Not blowing guys away. Changing speeds. Hitting corners. Contrary to Mike McDermott 's belief, there is some glory to grinding it out. Or at least there should be.
Tonight should have been #300. It should have been, but, if you're a Mets fan, you knew it wasn't going to be. From Castillo flying out weakly with the bases loaded and one out in the seventh, to Feliciano plunking Fielder to Mota serving up a meatball. There were simply too many chances left on the table, and too many chances to shut the door that never closed.
It's the mentality of a Mets fan. Always think the worst. Up a run going into the eighth, and I had zero confidence we'd be watching a post-game mobbing of a guy who deserved to get swarmed. As a fan you're supposed to believe. But as a fan you've also seen enough of your team to know how's things are going to play out. And as agonizing as it was to watch the camera on a lonely Glavine in the dugout, and his wife and kids in the stands, you knew it wasn't going to happen. Not tonight.
Regardless of the outcome, though, the game reminded me of why sports are great. My nerves are frayed. Every pitch turned my stomach. Every move that was made caused me to sit and second-guess, whether it was right by the book or completely unorthodox. I banged couch cushions, yelled at the screen and threw a remote. It made me forget about everything else for awhile, which is a good thing.
Even now, after promising not to care about the outcome because this is just one game out of 162...because our bullpen didn't have the determination that Glavine's showcased over two decades...because our relief pitchers are paid millions to hold a one-run lead heading into the eighth...I'm still heading back to sit on the edge of my seat. Because there's something about extra-inning baseball.
So, now my attention goes back to a game. A game that ended in a no-decision for a future hall-of-famer. A game that is now heading into a second hour of nausea inducement. A game that should have been the 300th win for a crafty 41-year old.
Instead, I'll watch into the a.m. hours. And, again, on Sunday when Tommy G takes the hill again. Because who know's the next time we'll see something this.
Hopefully, I'll be sitting right back here on Sunday, enjoying the celebration of 300...and maybe talking a bit about why it's so sweet.
P.S. Couldn't care less about the other milestones. Two dislikable players. One absolutely detestable. It's actually rather amusing that the Yankees put up a few touchdowns and eight home runs and no A-Bomb from A-Hole. Sure, this one's also going to happen but we can at least hope for a prolonged slump and maybe the absolutely irrational return of boo-birds in the Bronx.
P.P.S. By the way, the Brewers are good. They may not be as good as they appeared to be early in the season, but they're solid...and they're going to be scary for awhile. It's not often I get to watch this team, but with Hart, Hardy, Braun, Fielder and Hall this is a dangerous young team. Watch out if they get some more pitching.
