Noah Syndergaard Scratched From Today's Start With A Tired Arm Annnnnnnd Panic Has Officially Consumed Mets Fans
I like to think of myself as a pretty rational Mets fan. Sure I have my moments of pessimism. But I think most of the franchise’s existence is the reason for that more than anything. When the Mets crash and burn, they do it in spectacular fashion. Whether it’s the Worst Team Money Can Buy, Generation K, the 2007 and 2008 Collapse, or any of the other countless examples. But I always try to stay even keeled. KFC already owns the doom and gloom side of being a Mets fan. I wouldn’t consider myself an optimist by any means, but I wasn’t freaking out when the Mets hit a tough skid early in the season. I figured as long as the arms and the important bats stayed healthy, everything would even out over a 162 game season. Yes, even during last night’s #MetsTwitter bonfire.
But that belief in light at the end of the tunnel hinges VERY specifically on the starters staying healthy, with Noah being the most important of them all. Anyone who thought that this was actually a “mistake” is a fucking idiot.
Now obviously we’ll have to see what the MRI says and this could all be much ado about nothing. But everything I’ve known as a Mets fan during the Ray Ramirez Era Reign Of Terror tells me that this starts with a few days of rest, followed by a 10-day DL stint, followed surgery and the 60-day DL. As always, fuck that peabrain asshole with 9 lives and more importantly fuck the people that willfully sign his and the rest of the training staff’s checks when they’ve not been able to keep our fragile assets healthy for years now.
You know what? Ray Ramirez has been added to the list of people that it is acceptable to hiss at.
The Hiss List (as discussed in yesterday’s blog)
1. James Dolan
2. Ray Ramirez
And while Mets fans need to stick together during dark times like this, I know that Noah Syndergaard reads Barstool and knows KFC. I hate to point fingers, but….
Fuck everything.
Also shout out to the baseball gods for robbing Mets fans of a Thor vs. Dickey matchup as we took a victory lap for one of the best trades in MLB history. Nothing like a “Gotcha Bitches” from those evil motherfuckers sitting on Cooperstown’s Mt. Olympus on a dreary Thursday.
I need Frank The Tank to sing me a sweet melody and convince me that everything will be alright.
Actually it appears Frank is probably a worse person to turn towards than KFC. It looks like I have to take matters into my own hands.