Oxygen Tent to the Sixth Floor, Oxygen Tent to the Sixth Floor
(Note: Plenty of heart-quaking content today. Below, a Game 7 primer from Sip. Two pieces about the Mets' victory in Game 6, one by Sip and one by A.F.O.M.G., follow. Enjoy.)
Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. They call it hyperventilating for a reason.
Read Sip and AFOMG below. They're doing fine. They've found a comfort zone.
I'm not nervous so much as terrified. I tried to talk shop with a guy wearing a Mets jersey today outside the newsstand, buying the Daily News, and the guy looked just like me: sunken eyes, dry mouth, sweaty palms.
In other words, not bad. Others appeared worse.
This is going to be a harrowing night, any way you cut it. During the first six innings of Game 5, AFOMG literally couldn't talk. I was bringing some middling-to-crappy patter to break the ice, and dude wasn't blinking.
Rob Neyer came strong today with his cryptically-titled article "Mets going with worst Game 7 starter ever." Subtle, Neyer, very subtle.
Don't matter. All-or-Nothing Ollie is here for the money, the glory, the women, the wine.
This wass me back on Sept. 7 - "We'll get into what the postseason roster should look like once the injury situation settles down and the moment draws nigh, but the point is that there's pretty much no scenario in which Perez or Williams are on board for that."
Like I said, don't matter nothin'.
Two hours. Let's go.
Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. They call it hyperventilating for a reason.
Read Sip and AFOMG below. They're doing fine. They've found a comfort zone.
I'm not nervous so much as terrified. I tried to talk shop with a guy wearing a Mets jersey today outside the newsstand, buying the Daily News, and the guy looked just like me: sunken eyes, dry mouth, sweaty palms.
In other words, not bad. Others appeared worse.
This is going to be a harrowing night, any way you cut it. During the first six innings of Game 5, AFOMG literally couldn't talk. I was bringing some middling-to-crappy patter to break the ice, and dude wasn't blinking.
Rob Neyer came strong today with his cryptically-titled article "Mets going with worst Game 7 starter ever." Subtle, Neyer, very subtle.
Don't matter. All-or-Nothing Ollie is here for the money, the glory, the women, the wine.
This wass me back on Sept. 7 - "We'll get into what the postseason roster should look like once the injury situation settles down and the moment draws nigh, but the point is that there's pretty much no scenario in which Perez or Williams are on board for that."
Like I said, don't matter nothin'.
Two hours. Let's go.
posted by Cheddar Ben at 6:05 PM
2 Comments:
i pulled out all the stops last night to do my part to induce karmic convergence, all in the name of survival. i won't hesitate going to the well again, but the team must force its will on the game with or without the aid of the legions of charms, incantations and rituals entered into on its behalf.
all day, i've been disappointed to smell more than a whiff of triumphalism among sports talk jocks and fans alike. not once all day did i hear anyone address the cardinals' side of the equation: don't they want it too? what about suppan's strong postseason record (a 7th game win TWO YEARS AGO) and his SHUT-OUT MASTERY over the mets less than a week ago.
but there is one great leveling element, and appropriately enough for this blog and others like it, it involves the fans. the cards have the decided edge on starting pitching. but last night, when i was at game 6, it was obvious just how much an advantage home-field provides. that's a tribute to the fans -- that would be all of US.
those of us in the stadium tonight will be in a real sense the equalizer for suppan, getting into his head, and those of his teammates, offering unswerving support for our guys, urging them on, tying our hopes to their talents, maybe even intimidating the umpires just a wee little bit.
level the playing field; bring on the game. no doubt now. let's take this one.
suppan turned out to be even better than last week. wow.
kudos to him.
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