I can't believe we lost to the friggin' Mets today. If we can't beat the Mets, what's the point?

It's hard enough being Phillies fans the way we are (a mostly embarrassing and shameful history; no championship in a quarter-century; psycho skipper replaced by laconic loser; we're in Philadelphia, for crissake), but this is insult to injury. What is it about playing the Mets that brings out the worst in our Phillies? We're 3-6 against New York this year and almost every game we've lost I was sure we were going to win.

Like I said what's the point? What's the point of having an alleged Metkiller like Pat Burrell if Pat doesn't in fact kill those damn Mets? Where's Armando Benitez when we need him? What's the point of riding the back of the best rightfielder in the National League -- one who has owned Braden Looper forever -- if Abreu can't touch him? What's the point of having alleged studs like Thome and gnats like Rollins and an arm like Wagner if we can't beat the Mets?

Cripes, Tank can't do it all by himself.

Is this our life? Getting beat by guys we had no use for like Marlon Anderson and Roberto Hernandez? Losing to the Mets behind ex-Mets like Cory Lidle? (I'm beginning to think Lidle is still on their payroll like some sort of, I don't know, Manchurian Met). Are we destined to, no offense to our second baseman, always Chase and never lead? It's bad enough we're behind a team from Washington, but we can't even beat the last-place, friggin' Mets.

How on earth are they in last? I don't know what they're like the rest of the time, but man are they lethal when they play us. Piazza's always having a happy homecoming. Floyd hits bombs. Mientkiewicz is an All-Star. Reyes runs wild. Pitchers I've never heard of like Royce Ring and Heath Bell don't look so bad. Even that kid Wright, who makes all those dopey plays, can't stop them. That's what the Mets are against our team – unstoppable. Except for one lucky inning Wednesday night, we would've been swept.

The worst part? The way their fans show up here. More of 'em were here this week than were at Shea Stadium the last time the Phils were in New York. What's the point of having a great new ballpark if it's gonna be filled by Mets fans? Do you have any idea how long the cheesesteak lines were with all of them here on Thursday afternoon? If we can't enjoy our cheesesteaks and lose in peace, I have to ask once more...

What's the point?

Shove 'em on the SEPTA. Steer 'em to the Turnpike. Throw 'em in the Schuylkill. I don't care what ya do with 'em. Get the Mets out of Philly. They're murder on us.

OK, so that would have made a lousy song title. And it won't necessarily make for a hugely enjoyable season of winning baseball. But it's what we've got. And, perhaps inspired by your cry to "Stand pat!", I found tonight that it's enough for me.

I had to inspired by something, because it sure wasn't tonight's game. What on earth was David Wright doing with that one-hopper he sorta fielded? Did he really think he'd caught the ball? Did he think the umpire had just suffered a bout of hysterical blindness? If only there'd been a dispirited runner from second chugging toward him, he could have set a record for most easy put-outs ignored. Jeepers. It's interesting how often you still see something new in a baseball game, but I'd rather not have seen that.

As for that seventh inning, well, I'm disappointed but I'm not down. Whatever Dr. Peterson did with Royce Ring, my hat's off, even if it took more than 10 minutes.* Ring made Abreu look foolish, and almost got Thome on an exquisitely nasty 3-2 pitch. (Almost -- the ump made the right call.) As for Aaron Heilman, he was by turns overamped, unlucky and bad. Hey, it happens. His pitches still have zip and movement, and I'm still encouraged. Besides, I'll take Ring and Heilman and even our flyer on Danny Graves over no-future retreads like Mike DeJean any day. The kids are learning on the job -- as is the still-esteemed Mr. Wright -- and it's going to be rough at times, for them and for us. But I see potential. I see promise. And I'm curious -- eager, even -- to see how it all turns out, whether we get to the good part of the story later this year or in 2006 or whenever.

(You'll notice I'm not including Mister Koo on that list. Time to write Mister Koo out of this particular tale.)

Besides, what the hey, maybe we tired Billy Wagner out in the ninth. Right back at 'em tomorrow, bright and early. Even if it is Ishii.

* And maybe we oughta retire that joke. Watching Zambrano pitch is excruciating, like watching the family dog play in traffic, but y'know what? He's gotten pretty good at dodging cars.