And The Brooms They Rode In On

I dig witches. I love magic spells. I adore black cats. (I own one hefty enough to give Halloween black-cat thieves a hernia if they tried to heist him.)

But most of all, I love brooms! Because brooms are for sweeping! Sweeping is great for hardwood floors and for Mets! And they saved the best for last in the series, a 10-0, riotously one-sided shellacking of the Cardinals which had their announcers, Mr. Velvet with Peanut Butter and Mr. Guy Who Used to Spin and Face Center Field During His Windup Before Releasing the Pitch When He Was a Pitcher, murmuring in sepulchral tones about the unexpected gusher of ooky Redbird droppings all over that lovely manicured outfield grass. “Outplayed in every aspect…outplayed in every aspect…outplayed in every aspect…” Oh, Joe Buck, sing it, baby, sing it. At this moment, I’d rather hear you than Aretha, even.

The Mets came dangerously close to being that guy who takes you out for lobster and tells you he’s madly in love on your first date. The only thing that saved them from that fate was starter John Maine giving up a hit. A hit. Uno. If Maine had actually gone all the way and broken The Curse, I might not be able to watch again after tonight, because there would be no more wonderfulness left to slurp from this slurpiest of summer peaches.

As it is, they left plenty of juice for later, despite (or maybe because of?) two home runs from Carlos Beltran and one from Jose Reyes, not to mention the season debut of Lastings Milledge’s new hairdo…or hairdon’t. Lasto, dude, where’s all your tossable locks? Did Billy Wagner or someone else in the clubhouse hold you down and clip you like a sheep and tell you that only veteran players were allowed to have distinctive groomage? Fie on baseball’s arbitrary hairstyle caste system!

Even more troubling, though, is the idea is the one that this kid is going to sit on the bench until a lefthander starts. Not that you want to screw around with a lineup when it’s hitting like this, but the kid needs at-bats somewhere, maybe someplace with really good crawfish.

And were Cardinals fans actually booing poor Preston Wilson for doing his Lonnie Smith impersonation in the outfield? Son of Mookie was obviously just paying tribute to yet another championship Cardinal from his team’s storied past by slipping and sliding hither and yon trying vainly to catch baseballs. Don’t those fans respect their team’s history?

Yeah, I know. They were just cranky and tired and cold. I know the feeling, believe me. I had it six months ago, and I wasn’t even in the stands.

Mets 2, Cardinal Pregame Ceremonies 0

Green Earrings, Token Win