Game Six

The 1986 New York Mets were so full of themselves, they could have franchised. They were a bunch of arrogant jerks and great ballplayers. They talked smack, battled personal demons, smoked in the dugout, were hated by pretty much the rest of the National League, but by god they were fun. In the case of Strawberry and Gooden, we didn’t learn till later how many demons they were battling, but that was a fun year to watch. For that I feel a little guilty, but I also watched them in 83, so fair is fair. To any Mets fan, “Game Six” is more than just a Seinfeld line. Back before the Red Sox were either sterioid cases of 07 or the “idiots” of 2004, they were the choke artists of 85. Game Six is when a season of promise for long suffering Met fans shifted from intense disappointment to a once-in-a-lifetime cosmic second chance.

It was inspirational, heart-warming and in the case of the below, downright weird.

I hope the creator has eventually moved out of his mom’s basement.