I know that there's no crying in baseball; my purse tells me that each game. However, when we lose to a team with which we have developed a near incestuous relationship with I want to cry.
Not only were we owned by the Mets, it was my old Ryan who did a big chunk of the damage to us. I think that having all 14 inningings of last night/this morning come down to a wild pitch was just short of pushing me over the edge. I love my Nationals; I really do. They say it's always the ones you love that hurt you. And, let's face it, a 2-3 loss in extra innings hurts.
I just hope that we clean ourselves up for Florida. I may have a complete break-down if another truly amazing starting pitching job (last night was Lannan, but Chico was amazing last week) comes to not. I feel an urge to run down to Florida and either hug or hit the guys into putting a couple hits together.
Here's to hoping that the guys start coming into their own. I miss the call of curly-Ws going down in the record books. I'm starting to forget what the words sound like.