After Jason Bay crossed home plate last night, I watched the Red Sox jump up and down all over SS Jed Lowrie, who had just won the series with a huge game winning single. My buddy, a Red Sox fan, started jumping up and down like a thrid grade girl while I starred blankly into the TV set. Watching the Red Sox win yet another playoff series, in such dramatic fashion, not only made me think about the Mets' failure, but it also made me really depressed? I said to myself, "The Red Sox won again....f*^k!" I felt like a Yankee fan, despising the success of the hated Red Sox and bluntly cursing them out for no apparent reason.
But why was I doing this? I am a Met fan, not a Yankee fan. The Red Sox have not done anything to the Mets besides give us the 1986 World Championship (thanks again Mr. Buckner!). Hell, I even like the Red Sox in 2004! Johnny Damon, wooooooooooo!
Nevertheless, I was about to throw the remote through the TV last night (rage...I know) at the sight of the Red Sox winning. Perhaps I'm just not ready to watch another team celebrate because of my disappointment. Or maybe, I'm just bitter at the fact that the Red Sox have become so good (4 playoff appearances in 5 years), while the Mets remain haplessly in neutral. Weren't the Red Sox known for being chokers, not the Mets? Role reversal stinks. Could it just be that I wanted the Mets to celebrate like 9 year old schoolkids by jumping and piling on top of each other-not the stinkin' Red Sox? I mean, the thought of Jose Reyes leaping on Luis Castillo and Scott Schoeneweis in a huge dogpile as Carlos Beltran sprints in from center field is probably one of the happiest thoughts I can think of. It's just beautiful.
No matter what the reason is, the fact is that I have become bitter. Very bitter. And I tell you this, if I have to watch Kevin Youklis jump around uncontrollably or watch Jonathan Papelbon act like an idiot (or dance!) after a victory, then a remote will be launched. TV, your on notice.
Twenty eighteen... the year that matters
19 minutes ago