You didn’t think we’d forget about you, did you New York Mets? Oh no we did not. Almost one year to the day, you go into the final game of the season after a heartfelt and spirited push to get your high priced, overrated team into the postseason only to shit the bed! Again!
Only this time, you wasted a $20 million dollar year from Johann Santana in which he probably actually earned his money. Hey, it was only 8 months of work to go out and get beat by a guy with a 4.20 ERA. 89 wins and two coaches later you’ll be sitting at home just like the teams that won 70 ballgames. It really makes no difference.
And you know you were all sitting there thinking “Alright! We haven’t heard the last of Shea Stadium yet! It’s gonna be the Miracle Mets all over again!” Fuck. That. You should watch the blowing up of Shea Stadium in a few weeks because its the most productive part of your team’s history the past couple of years.
Jerry Manuel should continue to be employed by the club, I’m sure he can find a job at the Dunkin’ Donuts in the new stadium. He takes this team all the way to the brink of the playoffs and loses at home in the final day of the season? It’s happened before in other Major League cities, but not quite in the fashion it went down in Flushing. David Wright and Carlos Beltran should be relegated to the duty of those assholes in those shit hats on the trains out east that walk up and down the aisle and punch your tickets. They’re a couple of worthless dickheads who don’t come up big in the clutch. You gave Beltran that huge contract after he looked like Jesus in baseball cleats in the 2004 playoffs so he could come to New York and age into a decent ballplayer.
So congratulations Mets on finding a way to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. We know how you feel. Not really.
You fucked me, Carlos Delgado. Today I look up and realize that they’re talking about your mangy ass on ESPN as a possible MVP candidate if the Mets get back in this thing and squeak into October play. Talk about a shitty fuckin’ field. You see, I took you high in fantasy baseball’s March draft. I was miffed when the roto magazines said you were done and that you couldn’t turn on a fastball anymore. I scothed at all the other owners who laughed at me like I was a schoolboy who farted loudly in class when I drafted you cause you were there.
I hung onto your ass when it was more than mere deadweight. You are the one I have to thank for being in a hole that I could not dig out of after the season’s first month. I let you hang around and poison my club for 20 games while you hit a paltry .162 with one lone home run and 9 RBI. Then I cut you, and I heard the laughter of every manager in the league. How could I have been so fooled by an old man like you? Of course you didn’t have any speed left in your bat.
Then I hear tonight that in your last 68 games you’ve hit something like 27 homers and driven in around 70 runs. That puts you right in the thick of the MVP race. You’re now hitting .266 with 103 RBI and 35 home runs. That’s right in line with your possible Hall of Fame career numbers. Things are really looking up for you. If you win the MVP award, not only will I eat a loaded shotgun’s barrel; but it will make now the second time in three years that I’ve released a league MVP (get fucked, Justin Morneau). This all occuring to me, who is known as one of the most patient, offense-happy owners in fantasy baseball. You don’t know what you’ve done to me, Carlos Delgado.
It’s okay. I didn’t need you and your monster year, Carlos Delgado. Just like I didn’t need Grady Sizemore added to my list of offensive fucking juggernauts that is already one of the finer offensive teams in my league.
It seemed like you started hitting on that tuesday in mid-June, Carlos Delgado. Did you not like Willie Randolph? Was he too black for you? Do you like Jerry Manuel’s lighter-colored hue? What was it that made you find that old stroke, hitting like the boy in the years of your youth again?
You’ll never fuck me again, Carlos Delgado. 2008 was enough for a lifetime.