Ahh.. at last it is glorious spring in DC, probably the most perfect weekend for the Mets to grace my adopted hometown.
I went to the game on Friday night to see Oliver. In knickerbockers-style uniform, he lasted seven innings, but went down 4-3. The Nats scored off him early, which could have led him into disaster, a la his last loss against Philly a couple of weeks ago. But he held it together and in the end, the Mets hitting, which is still warming up to full potency, did not come through.
Oliver knew he was not to blame. After he pitched an uneventful 7th inning, he skipped off the field, hopping over the sideline like an 11-year old boy. The funny thing was, he was on a verge of a loss and he was as elated as Charlie when he found the Golden Ticket. And why? Because he came back from his brink, from his first inning of near disaster and pitched a solid game. Like the big boys do.
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