Holy sh*t, you guys. I’m emotionally exhausted. I’ve supported these teams all my life, so I’ve seen some dark days before. But given the magnitude of the defeats, all within such quick succession of each other, I can’t help but wonder if this is maybe the worst week in the history of fandom.
First were my Mets, who gave me four months of infuriating mediocrity, followed by six weeks of an absolute rollercoaster ride to the Wild Card, capped off by an excruciating three-hour winner-take-all. I take some solace knowing the Mets had ZERO right being in the Wild Card game — we were without four of our five young arms (deGrom, Harvey, Matz, and Wheeler), without our captain (Wright), our second baseman (Walker), and our first baseman (Duda). Yet we finished with a 27-12 record to clinch a wild card berth. While that’s all well and good, deserving to be there or not, if you’re in the game, you want to win it. So there I was last Wednesday night, getting drunk in the middle of the week, screaming at every batter clowned by Noah Syndergaard, telling them to ‘get f*cked.’
After eight scoreless, the Mets looked like they were finally going to force Giants demi-god Madison Bumgarner out of the game. The Mets were one baserunner away from forcing the Giants to have to make a pinch-hitter decision, which would have forced them to sit Bumgarner in place of their soft as baby-shit bullpen. Had the Mets gotten to the Giants bullpen, I think we woulda won. But lo and behold, in classic Mets fashion, we were one pitch too short: Familia left a fat sinker hanging over the plate, and some trailer-park looking half-pint named Conor Gillaspie cracked on into the Queens night, sending us into the offseason. It was devastating. I probably sat in silence for a good ten minutes. There’s nothing like postseason baseball in New York (it makes everyone slightly friendlier, which is saying a lot in this city.)
Then came Saturday, when my beloved Scarlet Knights suffered maybe the most embarrassing college football defeat since inventing the damn sport in 1869. If you haven’t heard by now, Rutgers lost 78-0 (ZERO!!!) to #4 Michigan. Since I don’t want to relive the painful day moment by moment, I’ll just hit you with some key stats instead:
- Rutgers did not get a first down until the fourth quarter. ESPN reported that the last team to play a major college football game and not get a first down was Western Carolina in 1990.
- Michigan had 11 TOUCHDOWNS. Rutgers had two FIRST DOWNS. Michigan had five times as many touchdowns as Rutgers did first downs.
- Six Michigan players had more individual yards (in passing, rushing, or receiving) than all of Rutgers did, in total.
- Michigan had more sacks, 4, than Rutgers had completed passes completed, 2.
Yeah, they pulled our pants down real, real slow. It was a day to forget. Luckily I was wasted.
Then came Sunday, when my New York Jets’ season essentially ended. Coming into the game at 1-3, the only shot the Jets had was stealing a win in Pittsburgh. While they were able to hang in for the first three-quarters, the Steelers predictably blew the game wide open in the fourth. It’s painfully obvious that the Jets are not able to compete with quality teams, having lost to the Bengals, Chiefs, Seahawks, and Steelers. For New York to have any shot at the playoffs, they need to go 9-2 over their last 11, and that is just not happening. The Jets season is over before it even began.
So what do we think? Sure, great individual Ls have been taken in the history of sports fandom, but when you consider the consequences of each loss and the time span in which they occurred, I may have just lived through the most brutal sporting week in history.
At least I have the Devils and Nets this winter. -__-