I'm not a happy camper.
Since May, when the Mets claimed first place in the NL East I've been planning to watch the playoffs. All season long they were the best in the NL, easily taking apart even the toughest opponents with ease. I got a David Wright jersey (for Father's Day) and looked forward to those Saturday Fox games and Sunday ESPN nights when I could watch David, Jose and the boys have fun on the field.
This felt like 1986, minus the synthesizer music. Until last week.
Hope remained right up until the end, when on the same day I saw the Mets go down, the Phillies win and the Jets not bother to show up to the game.
My father and son seem to be enjoying the September collapse. Last night while on the phone taking great glee in the Yankee defeat, my father taught Alex to call the Mets the "Mutts." All calls will now be monitored for quality assurance purposes.
While I'm reeling my son is having a blast. His Sox remain in the game and show few signs of waning. He's enjoying checking out Kevin Youkilis' blog (Youk is a Newton resident and Jewish ballplayer). Last night Alex jumped around each time the Indians tacked on another run against the dreaded Yankees. Final: 12-3.
I do have a soft spot for the Cubs, but judging by my track record is appears that if I throw my support behind a team they are sure to lose (the Cubbies are currently down 2-0 against the Diamondbacks). As another case in point, I flipped through game "163" the other day and said "Gee, I would much rather see the Padres than the Rockies." Rockies won.
So, here's what I'm thinking: Go Yankees.