Disgusting

I'm disgusted that the Mets lost 1-0.

I'm disgusted that Pelfrey's finest outing was wasted.

I'm disgusted we're still lacking that initial no-hitter

I'm disgusted that Reyes attempted to go first to third on a bunt.

I'm disgusted Reyes has devolved from shortstop gone wild to a showy Dick Schofield.

I'm disgusted Beltran was doubled off third.

I'm disgusted that Delgado is in a two-year slump and couldn't pause it long enough to rekindle the magic of the inaugural CW 11 Weather Education Day with Mr. G and Linda Church.

I'm disgusted that Willie Harris isn't turned back at the players entrance by security.

I'm disgusted that a last-place team just won three of four from our alleged contender.

I'm disgusted that in games started by Odalis Perez, Tim Redding and Jason Bergmann, the Mets scored all of seven runs.

I'm disgusted that Billy Wagner publicly sniped at several of his teammates afterwards.

I'm disgusted that several of his teammates absolutely earned Wagner's wrath by apparently hiding from the press.

I'm disgusted that Willie Randolph manages like an NFL coach staring at one of those go-for-two/don't-go-for-two cards.

I'm disgusted at the four years handed Luis Castillo and the deterioration of Aaron Heilman and everything else that disgusts us all.

I'm not made of cotton candy, for crissake. But I can't stay disgusted for the last year of Shea Stadium, for my fortieth year of being a Mets fan. I like being a Mets fan too much.

Faith & Fear In Flushing, May 15, 2008