The Mets season ended last night. It lasted a month longer than I had originally expected. But I don't feel pleasure in that. Not now.
I woke up this morning with this song in my head. I'm also angry. Angry at prima donnas like Yoenis Cespedes who thought he could hit when he couldn't run. Then there's Matt Harvey. Yes he pitched beautifully through eight innings, but I preferred Familia with a clean start in the ninth. I'm mad at Terry Collins for submitting to these prima donnas.
Someday soon I'll be able to celebrate a great season. For now, I mourn what could have been.