Monday night was my 19th game of the season and the 4th time in which Noah Syndergaard would be pitching. I have to say I felt pretty confident that things would go well, given that Syndergaard's been in a great groove. And after one inning, in which Syndergaard struck out the first two batters and then retired the third on a weak ground ball, well, you draw your own conclusion.
Unfortunately, that was the high point of the night. Syndergaard's 10-pitch 1st inning was a mirage. In the 2nd inning, Syndergaard unraveled in a stream of walks and singles, throwing 30 pitches and allowing two runs. In the 3rd, Freddie Freeman took him deep to the opposite field. In the 4th, more of the same. And after 3.2 innings, close to 100 pitches, Syndergaard was mercifully removed on the short end of a 5-0 score.
Things barely improved from there, unless you can take the T.J. Rivera Home Run as some sort of positive on a night where the Mets looked like they were going to get shut out by Aaron Blair. I had to sit through this dreck for slightly over 3 hours and, well, I was treated to no better than a 7-3 loss.
This was one of them games, which you'll accept every once in a while, except that we're now officially in the final two weeks of the season, which is often dicey for the Mets when they're in the thick of contention, and because it's against the Braves, a team against whom there's been a few too many of them games against this season. I should know. This was the 3rd game this season I'd been to against the Braves, and the Mets have managed to lose all three. It's not only dropped the Mets closer to the Wildcard competition, but it's now officially solidified me with a losing record for 2016. I'd try to remedy this by forcing myself to another game this week, but I have a bad feeling about the sort of karma that kind of desperation generates.
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