As I sit here listening to the Mets’ 2007 season go to hell in a spectacularly mediocre fashion, losing to the Marlins in a game that fell apart in less than half an inning, I can’t help but wonder what went wrong.
It certainly wasn’t me. I traded off between my Mets T-shirt and my Piazza jersey. I went to see the Mets in their away series against the Marlins (what a joke that was – 27,000 in attendance, at least 20,000 of whom were wearing Mets colors). I drank out of the cracked plastic Icee cup commemorating the 1986 World Series that has traveled with me over thousands of miles and sat in the cupboard of at least a dozen apartments and houses waiting for that critical moment in the season when it was needed. Come to think of it, it obviously has never worked, since we haven’t won a series since I bought that original Icee – but at least I tried.
That’s more than I can say for Tom Glavine. Two weeks ago the Mets had a seven-game lead with 17 games left. They hadn’t left the top spot in the division until two days ago. They had, for a while, the best record in the National League. So, they fell apart. That just made it exciting, having it all come down to one game like this – even possibly leading to a tiebreaker against Philly tomorrow. How cool would THAT have been? But no. It didn’t happen. And you know why? Because Tom Glavine allowed SEVEN RUNS in the first inning. No – not even the first inning. The first THIRD of the first inning. Who does that?
***conspiracy theory follows***
A former Brave, that’s who. See – here’s my theory.
In 2003, Glavine signed a four-year deal with the Mets. I now suspect this was part of a long-range sabotage plan. It wasn’t quick and it wasn’t easy – but Glavine took his $42.5 million, played for four years, then on the last possible day he destroyed the Mets in the most painful way possible – with seven earned runs and an error in five pitches. No major-league pitcher does that in the game on which the entire season hinges, unless he’s secretly been put in place to sabotage an entire team, fan base, and city.
Where does Chipper Jones come into it, you may ask? He doesn’t. I just really hate him.
OK – really? No. Notsomuch. My beloved Mets just once again choked, and broke my heart in the process. Fuckers.