Last night, the Mets lost a painful game to the Phillies. The scrappy Mets battled back from 2-0 against Roy Oswalt, and took a 3-2 lead in the bottom of the seventh. The reliable bullpen faltered, surrendering that lead in the top of the eighth (Izzy, whom I root for a big way). But, Izzy stranded Rollins on third with one out, and things were looking up a bit. Then came T9, and K Rod was hurling. With first and second and one out, Murphy lets one get by and the Phils go on to score 3. Move to B9, Mets have one in, and first and third with one out. Who's up? Murphy, with a chance at redemption. But he goes 4-6-3, game over. Ugh.
Sad point number 2...33,000 at Citi last night, many wearing that dreadful crimson. There was a day when Philly would be littered with blue and orange, and they have turned the tables and stuck it in our face. They take over our place, and usually, they win. And then there's all the news of the week, most troubling is the "bleeding money" part, and the constant talk of dismantling the team. Wow, there's even talk that Einhorn's money will be needed to keep the team viable. Baseball, in New York, with viability concerns? OMG.
Then, there's the most real, and saddest, news of all. Gary Carter may have malignant brain tumors. When heroes from your youth show their humanity, it really gets to you. I was in San Diego, watching the Mets, in 1985. Yes, everyone has a story like this. But I was at a bar after the game, and Gary Carter walks in. The Mets had won the game, so I congratulated him, told him I was from CT, out there to see the road trip. He asked me to sit with him, and introduced me to Rolf Benerschke, a kicker for the Chargers who had joined Carter at the bar. We talked baseball for 5 minutes, and I excused myself, not to over-stay my welcome.
Fight this, Kid. Be strong. You're not only a HOFer, you're someone who made the game better because of your contributions to it. Prayers are with you, number 8.