Last night as I sat in the woods with the scouts looking at the stars, my daughter texted me - the Mets were up big, the Phillies were losing and the baseball season we've shared was still alive. Now, after Glavine went out throwing batting practice to the Marlins and the Mets have nearly completed their terrible collapse, that's the worst part of this late baseball season. I'm pretty jaded about professional sports franchises and the reality of highly-paid players' allegiances to their teams; I suspect, at times, that we root for the uniforms and the logo, and our lost youth.
Jerry Koosman wasn't around to put the stop on the Mets' swoon, not Tom Seaver. Hell, the Mets didn't even have a Gary Gentry to hand the ball to. Sure, I rooted 'em on but it's not the same as it is for the kids - I had Cleon Jones and Gil Hodges and Tommie Agee and Tug McGraw. They've got Carlos Beltran's third strike freeze frame, and this year's disaster.
And they've got this year's version of the New York Yankees to contend against - they already knew they were second fiddle franchise types, but the Yanks have put on quite a show in the Bronx this year. And they've finally become A-Rod's team. With Alex Rodriguez putting up the finest season in New York since the days of DiMaggio, the Yanks should go all the way on the breeze. Reyes and Wright suffer by the contrast - especially Reyes, whose exposure to Rickey Henderson has been a horrid experiment.