I Witnessed the Crime

Against the name of the New York Mets last night... Between the bad pitching, nightmare relief, sloppy fielding and too much to eat, I left RFK last night feeling like I had been poisoned.

Pounded would be an understatement. And by the wimpiest guy in our school. Massacred actually, 12- 4. I just hope we live.
I can't decide if I should go to tonight's game, I may end

up permanently damaged. I try to find a high note, but after what I saw last night, it is tough. Really tough. I can't decide if my lingering stomach ache is from the giant hot dog or from how painful the beating really was. Or the fact that our lead in the NL East is now as skinny as Nicole Ritchie when we need it to look more like Britney.

Please come back New York Mets, I miss you.