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SNY, AKA Sad New York: Phillies 2, Mets 1

Tonight's broadcast was a three hour meditation on the futility of life.

It's ok, David. Let it all out.
It's ok, David. Let it all out.
Rich Schultz

I live in Connecticut. When the Phillies play the Mets, I'm not able to watch the game on as I usually do. That's because I get SNY, SportsNet New York, which broadcasts many Mets games. Tonight, though, SNY stood for Sad New York, as most of this evening's thoroughly bizarre broadcast centered around Matt Harvey's torn UCL.

I have a profound sense of my own mortality after tonight's game. There is no sun, no daylight, no happiness. We are but ants on the peanut butter covered celery stick of life. We do not control our own fate. "Baseball has no feelings" said Gary Cohen. The things we love do not care about us. They will leave us and betray us. Footage of a defeated, bewildered Matt Harvey at this afternoon's press conference was sprinkled in liberally. It seemed at times that the entire Mets broadcast team was holding back tears, and they could barely prevent themselves from wailing plaintively into the night like lost children. The game going on in front of their faces barely mattered. It was more important to get Bob Ojeda's take on Matt Harvey's injury, even though he spent the entire pre-game show giving the audience just that. The treatment that Ojeda received in the mid-80s when he had UCL problems was of the utmost importance. Hot water and THEN cold water. If Harvey were somehow himself but in 1986, he'd be pitching on Thursday, so aren't we all thankful that insane, impossible situation isn't a reality?

The Phillies counteracted the funeral-like atmosphere of the Mets broadcast tonight. Cliff Lee had his best outing since the end of May, going eight innings and giving up just one earned run. He allowed five hits and one walk, striking out seven. That is a great outing, and in no way made me want to lay motionless on the couch for hours at a time, consumed with thoughts of how our bodies will eventually betray all of us, acting like an angry, murderous traitor and pulling us into the infinite abyss.

Zack Wheeler had a good outing as well. He allowed two runs on five hits and one walk, and he struck out seven in six and two thirds innings. His line was eerily similar to Lee's, the run total and innings excepted. Wheeler was pulled with two outs and the pitcher up in the seventh because he'd hit his 105 pitch limit. Post-game, Mets manager Terry Collins defended his decision to pull Wheeler despite the easy out coming up in Cliff Lee. The Harvey experience (a new horror movie coming to a theater near you!) weighed heavily on his mind, though he himself admitted earlier that pitch counts aren't an exact science. Wheeler was tremendously unhappy at being denied the chance to finish the inning. I spent the next fifteen minutes wondering if we ever really finish anything -- or is life the only thing we truly finish?

The Phillies eked out just six hits today. Two belonged to Michael Young and two belonged to Cody Asche. Asche brought in both of the Phillies' runs today.

That's pretty swell. I have mixed feelings about this, though:

We cannot control the Phillies' destiny. They will win or they will lose. I have found it easier to find joy in the losses, though, than in the wins. The losses have a larger purpose while the wins seem empty and strange. Or maybe it's just that the Phillies haven't won a ton of games this year and I'm not used to it. Will I get used to it? That's up to the Phillies. Or really, it's up to the universe. The big, empty, cold, universe.

Fangraph of confusion and nothingness.

Source: FanGraphs