Two more pathetic losses in that dump of a ballpark at the corner of Addison and Clark. Two more three-run homers. Mike Nickeas better haul his ass back to Buffalo. He can't hit and he can't hold on to the baseball. Luis Castillo still sucks. Ike Davis will be lucky to have a career on the level of Lyle Overbay. Mejia is just another hype on his way to failing, despite his "hellacious" curveball. Wright, Pagan, and Beltran hit the ball pretty well, so I will not get on them. But I was so miserable by Saturday, I took off in the sixth inning. I skipped out on meeting Dec's nephew as well as Cerrone and Berg from metsblog.com. And I really wanted to meet all of them. But after suffering this much, I could not bear to stay around. And this marks the first time I wanted to punch out a 7-year-old when I wasn't on an airplane. He would not stop yelling "Let's Go Cubbies!" My advice to him is simple. Learn the number 1908. You'll know it for decades on end. I did meet quite a few Mets fans from both in the city from the east. That was very cool. Always good to see Julie as well. Iowa football fans did not need to take over Merkle's though.
I know I should not care that much, I know this team is more dead than a 80-year-old milk. Yet I care. I seriously wish I could do my life over again so I could know zero about sports. Maybe I would be a man of the arts.
And Bernie officially takes the son of Ricky away... I shouldn't be shocked. She's so good with her stiletto...
I did score five goals at frisbee, including another trademark bomb from midfield. I mad sure to give Ricky's son a look after that one! Then again, I know the deal. It meant zero. That goal and a nickel gets me five cents.
So Glen Ellyn is also coming this weekend. The hits just keep on comin'!
Epilogue: Jim + Jeremiah + Corona + Sunset Wheat = A rough evening. Not doing that again.
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