I know Satchel Paige said don’t look back, but for days it was all I could do. I was obsessed with the signs of doom for the Mets that I chose to ignore. Not on the field. I wish I could have ignored those, but I would’ve needed to gouge out my eyes and get a lobotomy. I mean signs from my life.
Because going into the last game at Shea Stadium, I was sure that the Mets would pull out a win and at the very least force a one-game play-in game against the Brewers. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind this would happen after Johan Santana’s unbelievable performance against the Marlins on Saturday–a three-hit complete game shutout on three days’ rest after throwing more pitches than he’d ever thrown in his professional career while secretly suffering from a TORN FUCKING MENISCUS.
But now I look back and see the little signposts thrown my way, and I realize the Mets were doomed.
* * *
On Saturday, I stood on the 7 train platform, shuffling nervously, wondering how Santana would respond to the pressure and the fatigue. At least they’re playing the Marlins, I thought. Not because the Marlins were a cupcake team, but because the Marlins always ensured a more pleasant stadium-going experience.