Done

Repeat: they are done. Johan is garbage. Eighty percent of this roster is garbage. Why was I cursed to root for these four pathetic franchises that always smack me in the face with a sledgehammer and then stick it up my rear end every damn year?

Why must the Mets lift our hopes to the rooftop? Eight wins in a row. Nine of ten on the homestand and an absolute ass-kicking of those assholes in Philly on Friday. I was so giddy. I wore my Mets gear on Saturday. I was so proud to put the blue and orange on. That afternoon, they get embarrassed by Doc Halladay, but I can live with that. He's the best pitcher in the game. Each team wins a blowout game, fine. But never in my sickest dreams did I envision the bullshit I would watch tonight.

The Mets pitch their supposed ace Johan Santana against 97 year old Jamie Moyer. Top of the first" David Wiright drills a 3-run homer and I am going nuts. Bottom of the first: our ace allows homers to Polanco and Howard. 3-2. I'm not pleased, but I can handle it, CBP has smaller dimensions than a little league park.

Fast forward to the fourth inning. This inning sums up this franchise and everything they have been since 2007. Following a Tatis strikeout and a Francoeur single Rod Barajas drills a two-run homer off the left field foul pole. Bottom half: here we go! Utley doubles, Santana retires the next two. Fine, all is well. Then Ibanez singles Utley home. But with 7, 8, and 9 coming up, I had no real worries. Uh huh. The immortal Juan Castro singles. Carlos Ruiz walks on four pitches and Santana never gave him a thing to hit. But that is completely against Santan'a tough, aggressive mentality that he used to have. Up comes Moyer, the ancient pitcher. On seven pitches, this overrated, so-called great ace pitcher walks Moyer. He freakin' walks him! Run in. Second pitch to Shane Victorino, it's a grand slam! 8-5! If that wasn't enough, Polanco promptly singles, and Utley homers! 10-5! Finally, our manager, who thinks he is Johnny Carson, brings in Takahashi who gives up a single to Howard and double to Werth. 11-5, nine runs in one inning. Oh, and over the final five innings, against Moyer,the legend that is Chad Durbin, and Dennys Baez, how did the Mets offense fare? One walk, no hits. Way to show heart, you pussies.

All the optimism built up over 10 days has been extinguished. But here is what I have come to realize. Santana sucks. He is finished. He sucks. He may have a good outing against the Pittsburgh's and Washington's of the world. But he is nothing close to approaching the No. 1 ace pitcher he used to be in Minnesota and in his first year with the Mets. Please. Ollie Perez looks better than this stiff. Go back to Minnesota Ollie and their jerk-off fans up there. You're done, you're crap, you're a failure. A damn failure.

I don't like sounding like a broken record. But how else can I sound? Between the Mets, Jets, Knicks, and Rangers, I have one championship in 23 years! I am so tired of this and yet, I cannot get these teams out of my blood. It's like a terminal disease, like cancer. A lifelong drawn out death.

Seriously, hoping for glory and happiness with this team was like chasing after Stephanie in high school and later on, Jen in college. Runaround after runaround after runaround. Tease after tease after tease. I'm so blinded by the hope or the infatuation or whatever. And I keep coming back for more! I wish I knew why! I am such a moron! I apologize to all four of my grandparents that I have turned out this way. I really do.

God, why was I destined to become a devout follower of this chain of failure and misery? Why?

Epilogue: One John Daly and Two High Lifes down. I could use a Pissed-off Life right now because my life is not very high right now. Off to Cincinnati.