It wasn't so much that you knew the Mets were going to find a way to lose the game, but you knew that it was going to be that 3-run Homer that did it to them. The Reds, who have mostly played like the class of the NL Central to this point even if the standings might not necessarily agree, had every opportunity to wipe the Mets off the board tonight, but somehow the Mets managed to hang in there. The Reds probably had 2 runners on in every inning, I wasn't exactly paying full attention but it sure seemed that way (and a game that was 0-0 into the bottom of the 9th lasting well over 3 hours is indicative of such). With 2 men on all the time, and the tiny ballpark in Cincinnati, and a lineup full of mashers, well, you do the math.
Chris Young departed in the 6th after basically starting every inning with a runner on 1st. It didn't happen then, Ramon Ramirez got Stubbs to ground out.
Bobby Parnell didn't serve it up either, though he'd be as likely a candidate as anyone. He wormed out of a bases loaded jam in the 7th.
Manny Acosta took the loss, and deservedly so after walking Phillips and giving up a hit to Ludwick. It would have served him right if Terry had left him in to face Meatman Jay Bruce. But nooooo. It fell to Josh Edgin. Acosta, I suppose, would have made more sense, because he is terrible and inspires no hope, and at least Edgin is a rookie with some alleged upside to him, but no matter how you threw the pitch, somehow Jay Bruce was going to hit that 3-run Home Run. You could see it coming as soon as Acosta took the mound and heaved 4 pitches higher and higher over Phillips' head. That was how it was going to end. And yet, for some reason, I kept it on, like there was going to be some kind of perverse joy I'd get out of being right and calling the Mets demise. I don't know. It's not exactly pleasant knowing that there's going to be some your team will inevitably screw up a game, but I guess it softens the sting, somewhat. Somewhat.
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