Depending on your level of ardor for the franchise, the 2009 Mets have given plenty of reasons for laughter or tears. The injuries, the poor play, the front office nincompoopery and the connection to Bernie Madoff created a perfect storm in either direction, especially since the hits just kept coming all the way through the season.
The Wall Street Journal has compiled all of these lowlights and used them to stock a new version of Monopoly. Dubbed "Mets Sloppily," Boardwalk and Marvin Gardens have been replaced by entries denoting the particular mishaps that have sidelined various players this season. It's clever, both in idea and execution, and a bit shocking/uproarious to see all the pain and suffering laid out in living color.
It's also a good point to call an end to the suffering or glee that people are drawing from the Mets. It's Labor Day weekend, the traditional point where summer turns to fall and, thus, a perfect point to turn attention to other pursuits. Perhaps it's a return to the classroom or the start of the football season that catches your fancy, but it doesn't much matter what else you choose to do with your time. It's time to put the Mets aside, let them play out the last month in blissful silence because the other options are either sadistic or masochistic.
Take this graph put together by graphic designer Sean Englehardt. It clearly took a lot of work by someone who cares deeply about the Mets, but the act of looking at it feels like looking like the arms of a teenage girl who cuts herself in secret just so she can feel the pain. We understand you're hurting, that's why we want you to got to the park and fly a kite while repeating "it's not my fault" until you can smile again.
It's no different for the sadists. Stop making fun of the Mets and having a laugh at their expense. It's like picking on the weakest, dorkiest kid in high school, an act that always says more about the perpetrator than about the target. It's too easy at this point to be worth the time and effort, so find another hobby.
So unless Mike Pelfrey is discovered to be running a meth lab or Daniel Murphy shoots himself in the leg with Plaxico Burress' gun, let's make a Labor Day pact to stop the madness and just let the Mets be, shall we?