"You are not good. Moreover, you are ugly. I want you off my team and out of my life. Remove yourself from my consciousness completely as you continue to give me nightmares. Please let the door hit you in the ass, much in the same fashion most Major League hitters have."-Mets2Moon, 10:34pm, 6/26/2007
I didn't see any of the game last night until the last of the 10th, when I entered a bar around the corner from where I was working. When the top of the 11th began, and I saw who was pitching, I stopped, put down my beer and exited the bar, standing outside with my back to the window. I turned, if only for a second, a few minutes later, wondering what had progressed in the game. I saw a ball flying over the fence. My subsequent text message to El Guapo was not repeated in his live-blog, but let's just say it was pretty predictable.
I've been counting to ten slowly, in my head, over and over for the remainder of the evening. That's about all I can do right now.