Last night, around 7:10 pm, I entered some odd two-day time warp that transported me back to Saturday night. I know it sounds strange, but I swear to God I ended up watching the exact same baseball game twice: Total domination by a tall, skinny opposing starting pitcher, not even a whiff of a rally by the home team, bada-bing, bada-boom, game over well before 10 o'clock, Mets lose 4-2. But then I realized that this was not some Malaysian-food-induced hallucination (we ordered in Penang last night - highly recommended), nor was I somehow trapped in a Delorean in Punxatawny, Pennsylvania. No, this was a whole other game. Which, I guess, means today is Tuesday, not Sunday. Rats. That explains why I'm in the office.
By the way, it was a totally bizarre and unnatural feeling having to root for the Yankees last night. Every time the Phils scored a run or a Yankee whiffed, I was like Homer Simpson in this scene:
Executor: May I offer my condolences on the untimely passing of your Great Aunt Hortense. As her only living heirs, you stand to inherit her entire estate.
Homer: [crying] Poor Aunt Hortense! [crying]
[crying] [weakly] Woo-hoo.
Thank God I only have to do this two more times. Go, er, Yankees.
Finally, since I have nothing else to add, I present a treat. First, I ask you: What was the loudest you ever heard Shea Stadium in person? Since I was not at Game 6 or 7 in '86, nor was I at the Todd Pratt game in '99, I have my own memory to share. October 11, 1986. NLCS knotted up one game apiece. Bottom of the 6th inning, and Bob Knepper is handing the Mets their lunch. It's 4-0 Astros, and they appear to be well on their way to a 2-1 series lead (actually, might as well write in 3-1, because Mike Scott is throwing the next night). I'm sitting in the Mezzanine reserved section roughly behing home plate with my dad, brother, and uncle. In thr 6th, the Mets string together a few hits and an error, and suddenly it's 4-1. Darryl Strawberry strides to the plate with two runners on. What happened next? Enjoy it here.
Take a look at that crowd. It was sheer bedlam. People were literally leaping 3 feet off the ground. A random guy grabbed my uncle and gave him a full body bear hug. We're talking dogs and cats, living together -- mass hysteria. Yes, Lenny won it with a 2-run walk-off in the bottom of the 9th after the Mets trailed again, but I'll always remember the massive party that erupted after Straw tied it up with his 3-run shot.
Top THAT, 2006 Mets! Please?