Just The Good Parts, Thank You Very Much

I wish I had more to say about tonight's game, but when you work stocking shelves for a living you don't have a schedule totally conducive to watching baseball. I went to the bar during my break and saw it was the bottom of the third and the Reds were up 4-2. This made me sad, because I want good things for Mike Pelfrey this year.

Still, once I sat down and got my first beer, things turned around a bit. Pelfrey got out of a man on third and one out jam, then the Mets proceeded to give Edison Volquez hell in the 4th. Even without though they didn't score, my new friend who was also watching the game agreed with me that making him throw a lot of pitches in crappy weather would be good.

Oh yeah, I didn't mention my new friend. Some other guy who probably goes to the bar as often as I do, based on his conversations with the bartender, was sitting next to me, and at first I thought he may have been a Yankee fan because he was agitated and they were getting killed. Then though, the Met game came on a closer TV and we started talking about Pelf and how if he could go five it would be a miracle. I got the unhappy recap of the first inning from him and we settled in for the fifth, when the Mets mounted their furious comeback.

My new friend was hilarious, in that he was sure every player on the team looked skinny. It was like he was a Jewish mother or something. "Doesn't David Wright look skinny to you? Like he's lost a lot of weaight? Look, Delgado too, he looks skinny, what's the deal here?" I don't know, maybe I just haven't been paying attention, but I couldn't say anything one way or another, I just shrugged and said something about all of them being generally small guys and hollered when Beltran's bouncer found a hole in between second and short.

Even though I didn't get to see the whole game, I got to see the most fun parts and got to avoid nasty flashbacks to last year. Often times when watching baseball, I'll groan and cover my eyes and generally get agita after every pitch. It's not because I'm some Chicken Little lunatic, I just really love to get into the game. It doesn't mean that I need to be there for every bullpen near-collapse or every important starter barely getting out of the first inning alive. I just walked away, mostly because I had to, but still, and let myself focus on stocking shelves getting out of work and back in the bar, confident for some reason that the Mets would pull it out. Tonight I got to be right.