Meanwhile In Port St. Lucie...

Lots of shit popping off in the news right now. Obviously #FellateGate featuring Bob Kraft was the story of the day before R. Kelly is getting charged with some true scumbag shit took the baton. It’s gotten to the point that Zion’s shoe exploding feels like it happened 100 years ago and Jim Boeheim actually killing a guy has pretty much been swept under the rug.

But it’s nice to know that through all the craziness going on in the world, the Mets are still doing silly Mets shit. The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been Mets baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It’s been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt, and erased again. But Mets baseball has marked the time. I get that there is probably a very reasonable explanation for throwing our organization’s White Sox Dave doppelganger in spandex and a referee shirt during the dog days of Spring Training. But it’s nice to know that things are still just a little different in Mets World compared to everywhere else. If the Red Sox or Cardinals were doing this, I would bat an eyelash. But since it’s the Mets, I am now waiting for my iPhone notification about a projected Opening Day starter getting hurt after he was powerbombed through a table because when you have dozens of bored baseball players and a referee jersey in sleep Port St. Lucie, something reckless is about to go down. And you know what I will do when I see that notification? Smile and nod my head. Because even though ridiculous Mets stories hurt my favorite baseball team, it is also my totem that lets me know the world hasn’t completely gone upside down.