Put To Bed

I thought about writing something last night after I got home from rehearsal at approximately 12:23am, and after a few shots of rum with a fellow cast member in the back of the Theater following the conclusion of the night's happenings, and I thought better of it. In a saltier mood, I might have done something like challenge the team to a fight, which it appears is standard protocol within the Mets organization.

I'd like to say that there is some sort of interesting happening going on with this team, or if nothing else, that there's something interesting to write about this team, but let's face it. I didn't see the game and even if I'd had the poor fortune of watching or listening to it, there wouldn't be anything noteworthy to say, no new angle or spin to put on any of this particular disaster of a season. Oliver Perez went out, walked a bunch of guys, looked confused, chewed on his shirt, walked some more guys, the Mets got a bunch of singles that were subsequently followed by pop outs to the shortstop, and a lot of Mets ended up standing around first base for most of the evening. Oh, and Gary, Keith and Ron probably talked about how John Lannan is from Long Beach or Freeport or Merrick or whatever South Shore town he comes from. Howie Rose probably mentioned it too, because, hey, there needs to be some sort of human interest angle with this team, right? Is that a pretty accurate description? It probably is, though, again, since I didn't actually see the game and all I know is the final score, I can't actually verify this as truth.

But, in reality, what the hell does it matter?