I know that we've already performed the autopsy on baseball, dressed it up in a suit, and had a nice funeral where we danced on its grave, but I'd like to dig it up and poke the corpse with a stick, if you don't mind.
The Mets lost in spectacular fashion to the Marlins last night, blowing two different three-run leads (the latter in the bottom of the ninth) before falling in the 10th inning. The injury-plagued Metropolitans have now dropped six of seven, and have seen their seven-game lead over second-place Philly shrink to 1.5 games over the last nine days. Should they fall from the top of the NL East, they might miss the playoffs altogether: streaking San Diego has won seven straight and has a one-game advantage over New York for the Wild Card.
And I, for one, say bra-vo. Few things in sports are as historically memorable as a late-season collapse, and I enjoy them immensely. It's like watching a building get detonated in super slow-motion, or a nun fall down the stairs. Plus it's nice to know that as a Mariners fan, I'm not alone.