Maybe life, including sports, is all about expectations. At the baseball season's start, I wrote the best thing the Mets had going from was their lowered expectations, after four years of high, unrealized ones. Turns out they're tied for first place before tonight's game! Who knew.
Until five weeks ago, their manager, Jerry Manuel, didn't seem long for the dugout and my dad and I talked about how we hoped David Wright would be traded, just to save his career from TARP Field. Now, Wright is the league's hottest hitter and the team appears to be comfortable with itself for the first time in years, a trait directly attributable to the manager. All the key hitters have improved as the season has progressed, relieving Rod Barajas of the totally unexpected home-run streak he had earlier. (I would love to shout "Rod Barajas" as the correct answer to a question at a bar's trivia night. There's something about his name's sound that is hilarious.) Maybe Carlos Beltran, the onetime star centerfielder, doesn't even need to return?
The only part of my summer that has yet to meet expectations so far is being able to hear Mets' broadcasts. I thought I'd be able to strain through a weak signal to pick up the call, but, alas, WFAN is rarely anything but static. Perhaps I should drive to the southern end of the county each night and park my car somewhere.
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