It is on these short journeys that I have seen my temper flare to unrecordable heights, listening to one Christopher Russo wax poetic about how great a team the San Francisco Giants are and how they were going to shove my beloved Mets unceremoniously right out of the playoffs.
After Sunday, I am sure thousands of other sad sacks such as myself were jumping for joy at what had transpired, a one-hitter tossed by the most unlikely of pitchers, Bobby J. Jones, who silenced the Giants
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