Tuning In To Tune Out

Much like Monday, I spent a reasonable amount of time on Tuesday morning debating with myself over whether or not I should go to the game that night. Much like Monday, I ended up with the same conclusion: It's too hot, I'm too tired and I'd rather just go home.

I have a fairly standard routine when I'm watching games at home, usually it involves making dinner of some variety, and of varying intensity of labor involved in the preparation of said dinner. Tonight, I also had some laundry to do, so I was in and out of the apartment and up and down stairs from the Laundry Room (and it is only my own good fortune to live in a building that has laundry internally; in another era of my life, I would have had to go down the block to the laundromat).

But, as I'd mentioned, I was tired, and so when I arrived home, which was just about 7pm, I decided to sit down and collect myself before I set off on the evening's tasks. So I was paying attention to the game at the outset, and I saw Overratelton Simmons hit a Home Run on the 2nd pitch of the game from Carlos Torres, which was bewilderingly followed by Keith Hernandez burying his head up Simmons' ass. I swear, the ink this guy gets, you would think he was a Yankee Prospect, but I still think he's basically Rey Ordonez with a little more pop. I'll be vindicated. I think.

After shaking my head over Simmons, I figured it time to spring into action. I got my laundry together and ready to go. This is a tricky proposition, since there are only two washers and two dryers in the building, so it's always a crapshoot as to what's available, and I had a lot of laundry, so I'd planned on hogging everything for my 2 loads. Both washers were empty, but the two dryers were full, with different times remaining. But I'm in no mood to cock around, so I put my laundry up and set the timer on my phone so I wouldn't get stuck.

Meanwhile, I've also got a dinner to make, which involved concocting a paste of assorted ingredients (Olive Oil, Garlic, Oregano, Cumin, Chili Pepper, Black Pepper, Kosher Salt & Chicken Broth, if you're keeping score) and spreading it over some chicken, which I then planned to oven roast for about 35 minutes. So, here's my plan: Get everything prepped while the laundry is in the washer. Go downstairs and switch one load to the dryer, which should, by this time, be available. Get everything cooking. Go downstairs again and flip the second load of laundry. Hope I don't lock myself out of the apartment with food in the oven (and my other half not due home for another 45 minutes). The first load in the dryer should be finished just about when I sit down to eat, and the second load should be done by time I'm done eating. Ready? Go!

Oh, yeah, there's a game on, too. At some point, the Mets had tied the game, I know that, and apparently it was Carlos Torres helping his own cause by driving in the run. I didn't see the hit, but I heard Gary Cohen say something about the 8th RBI by Mets Pitchers this season (or something to that effect), and I of course figured the other 7 were by Matt Harvey. And so, I go back and forth and up and down and everything is going along just as I'd planned it. But, of course, the sacrifice here is that I'm now not really paying any attention whatsoever to the game. My laundry finishes, my dinner is great, and only as I sit down to eat do I see Ike Davis coming through with the double that ultimately drove home the winning run against the similarly over-hyped Kris Medlen, who looks the part of the kind of guy you might run into at a College frat party. The Mets continued their little rally against Medlen long enough to score 2 more runs and knock him and his flat-brimmed cap out of the game.

I then went back to my other business, finishing dinner, getting the remainder of my laundry from the dryer, folding everything up and doing dishes (a testament to how well-domesticated I am); by this point my other half has come home and so we discuss a variety of things, and I look back at the TV to see Bobby Parnell on the mound. Wait a second. Bobby Parnell? I look at the score box. 9th Inning already!? 10pm!? Where the hell did this evening go?

So I saw the beginning of the game, and I saw the end of the game, and Parnell looked much better than he did last night (and looked to be pitching pissed off). But I can't say I saw much of the meat of the game, so I can't really offer too much of an informed opinion on the matter. Carlos Torres appeared to pitch well enough. He gave up a load of hits, but got out of jams, which has been the M.O. of Met pitchers lately, and outside of the Simmons HR, nary a run. So that was good. Ike Davis got a big hit, which we haven't seen in months. Also good. Parnell shook off last night, good as well. Dinner was good. Laundry was good. Good night all around.

On A Plain

Presumably, the Mets would have settled for the win on Sunday. But that simply wasn't enough for Johan Santana. Following Saturday night's affair, which seemed more like battle of wills than simple Saturday night in July, Santana saw his team reeling from a 5-hour loss where his team exhausted every man in their bullpen, and clearly took the mound on Sunday with one thing in mind: Finish it off. Give these guys a break, and make sure they don't blow it for me again.

Well, he did just that.


In pitching the Mets first true Complete Game in almost 2 seasons, Santana preserved his bullpen for the day, ensuring that they'll all be fresh and ready in Miami tonight. Backed by an offense that continues to score plenty of runs (albeit lacking in key hits, particularly on Saturday, but at this point, the Mets fan might feel a little comfortable saying the phrase, "Hey, can't win 'em all"), Santana baffled the Cardinals all day and didn't really find himself in any sort of pressure situation, and throwing the kind of game we've been waiting for him to throw.

Yes, the victory is first and foremost. Yes, it was more important to secure the series from the Cardinals and bounce back from Saturday. But Johan took that extra step on Sunday, perhaps the first step on his way to the kind of second-half dominance that he's displayed so often in his career.

In the words of Kurt Cobain, "I'm on a plain, I can't complain."

Long Day's Journey Into Night

I'd be remiss if I didn't say anything about Saturday's game, which was another one of those games that I seem to find myself at, except that I wasn't there Saturday night. I probably could have gone, but because of my rehearsal schedule, I wouldn't have arrived until the 4th or 5th inning, and I think the game was close to, if not completely sold out.

Instead, I ended up catching most of the game on TV. My rollicking Saturday Night schedule (admittedly, following running a 6-hour rehearsal) involved little more than watching the game and doing my laundry. I figured that, with the game moving along, I'd wait for the game to end, then put up the wash. It was already 4-4 when I tuned in, and I'd missed Brandon Knight (odd seeing KNIGHT 28 rather than KNIGHT 22 at Shea, but I digress) put forth a start of The Late Jeremi Gonzalez proportions (and they kind of look similar on the mound). So I saw the Mets briefly go ahead, and then just as quickly fall behind, and then Delgado hit his 2nd HR, and it was 8-7, and I was having some visions of another Mets/Cardinals game from a couple of years ago, and even moreso when Fernando Tatis tied the game with a HR that I could have sworn Ankiel caught.

So, the game goes to the 10th, and I figure someone'll get a big hit for the Mets and I can get to doing my laundry. But they didn't. Then, I figured it would be the 11th. Delgado came up and Gary Cohen immediately started talking about how no Met had ever hit 3 HRs in a game at Shea, which was, of course, the immediate jinx. Then, I started to get antsy. I had to do laundry, lest begin a recycling process that I would have preferred to avoid. I also didn't want to be up until 2am doing my laundry. Delgado hit into a DP, which Gary Cohen practically had ensured.

With the game moving to the 12th, and beginning to take on the eerie, farcical feel of a game I had already attended and chronicled in depth a little more than a month ago, I decided I could wait no longer. I said screw it, went downstairs and put up the laundry, which took up the top of the 12th. Living in an apartment building 7 washers and 5 driers, I figured I'd have little competition for space as I went downstairs. Foolish me. There were 4 washers running and all 5 driers were full, albeit stopped. Who the hell knew Saturday Night was such a big Laundry night? A gentleman was loading up two machines, leaving me to take the last remaining empty washer. He started his cycle a couple of minutes before me. I knew it would be a race to get to the driers before him. I went upstairs and was not surprised to see that I missed little of consequence. The Cardinals trotted out a pitcher who seemed to be a Social Studies classmate of Tyler Clippard, and the Mets couldn't score off him despite the fact that he seemed all too happy to hand the game over to the Mets. But try as he might, the Mets just wouldn't take it. So, to the 13th. And by the bottom of the 13th, it was time to head back downstairs and jockey for a drier. I was quick. I was stealthful. I entered an empty laundry room. My washer had stopped. The other guy's washer had stopped. There was now only one empty drier, with the other 4 driers now running. I knew I had to strike quickly. I immediately tore my laundry out of the washer and flung it haphazardly at the empty drier, my only chance to secure it. I made it. I loaded up the drier and got out of dodge just as the other gentleman was returning to get his laundry. I win. And I get upstairs and it's the 14th inning, with the game over 5 hours. Of course, as soon as I walk in, it's that guy who's no good stepping up and sending one out, tilting this ridiculously extended game in the Cardinals favor.

That's when I knew this wasn't my kind of game after all. The Mets usually win when I'm at games like this.

At least my laundry was clean.