Day is done

The last weekend of September was beautiful. The sky was blue and the air clear, with a taste of autumn, cool and clean and firm as the oak in a glass of Tennessee whiskey. It was a good day to die.

Or to complete a collapse that the baseball world has described as "historic".

This isn't a site to go into details of the Mets' play over the last three weeks. I've been as stunned and frustrated as anyone else watching the losses, one following the other, each as unlikely as the previous, and an incomprehensible statistical aberration when considered as a whole. But, them's the breaks. Baseball is a game of odds as much as it is of brawn or brains, and every now and then shit happens. Sometimes it happens at the worst possible time, and continues to happen. After a while you shout every filthy word you can shout, throw every object in the living room, and all that's left is to laugh. I reached that point about a week ago: it hurts to give up on your boys so early, but the bullpen this year would have had trouble surviving the Division Series. Realistically, we lost the division for good somewhere on that last DC / Miami road trip.

So I swore once this afternoon, loudly, for the hell of it, and then I laughed, and then I got up in the 7th inning and took care of some business around the Upper West Side, where there were other suffering residents wearing the blue and the orange.

In a couple decades I'll recount this month happily, with a resigned face: it's fun to gripe. I can take some comfort from that thought. And in a couple months I'll be following the news closely. Here are some concerns: Minaya needs to revamp the bullpen. The starters will need some work, too. Is LoDuca coming back? Does Green belong on this team? Can Milledge become an everyday outfielder? Are there any managers available who know how to run a clubhouse AND run a ballgame? But for now, it's time to let this season go. Drink and laugh, for the baseball gods are fickle. With any luck, Philly will embarrass themselves next week. It's about time we had some luck.

And thanks, John Maine, for giving us yesterday's few hours of joy. This winter would have been a lot colder had you not shown us what this team is capable of, in ordinary times -- and what you can do when you're not tipping your change-up. I'll throw you some All-Star votes next year for that one game, and, I hope, for a few more years after.

Livejournal has this field where diarists say what music they're listening to. This evening the music is Over the Rhine, "I Don't Wanna Waste Your Time." You were a good squad, guys; Jeff knows we've seen worse in Flushing. But you didn't seize the division title when you had the chance. Take a few months to look for that killer instinct, and we'll see you in the spring. Hopefully with reinforcements.

"But I don’t wanna waste the words
That you don’t seem to need
When it comes to wanting what’s real
There’s no such thing as greed
I hope this night puts down deep roots
I hope we plant a seed
‘Cause I don’t wanna waste your time
With music you don’t need"

The drink right now is Jack Daniels, with ice.