Yesterday was the most loveliest day so far in 2008. The temperature in DC was nearly 80, amazing sunny skies and a lovely breeze AND the Mets were atop the NL East for the first time since last year's "special time". But it's only April, so I spent the day on my beautiful new bike and caught the extremely tense last two innings of the game against the Philles.
I'm sure I've written about how I want to be a pitcher in my next life. I'm not sure, however, if I would not end up suicidal if I were to actually become a pitcher. The idea that you can almost give the other side the game in the 8th inning, as Heilman almost did yesterday, would induce me to a pawn shop or a pharmacist for sure. Who can take the tension of knowing that YOU lost it? Gave the shit away! But then I realized that you need a whole posse to back you and unless the ball goes out of the park (which is no too hard in Philly), you are not alone with the burden.
But none of this happened. Heilman pulled through, Wagner pulled through, the outfield pulled through. I think I just have PTSD from last year. Deep breath. One day at a time.
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