So it's three-zip now for the Mets in the NLCS, and I must admit: I'm feeling vaguely let down.
Here at the Blob we buy in with unseemly haste to signs and portents, and the Cubs are the world headquarters for signs and portents. And yet, even though the baseball gods are no longer returning the northsiders' texts and phone calls ("What did I do? Was it the pet flamingo?" Joe Maddon beseeches), there is no evidence of any otherworldly interference in the affairs of man this time around.
No Steve Bartman, the poor soul assaulted by gibbering lunatics in 2003. No evil goat. No curses at work in any form or fashion.
Well. Unless you count the Curse of Pitchers Who Throw The Baseball 900 Mph.
Very simply that's the only curse involved here, and, folks, it's nothing but baseball being baseball. There are immutable truths in the game, and one of them is that great young pitchers fare a whole lot better in the postseason than great young hitters. All this series is doing is revealing that truth.
Lost in all the this-time-it's-real euphoria of beating the hated Cardinals in the divisional series was the fact that the Mets, while winning the weak-tea NL East, did it with four of the most potent young arms in the game. In Matt Harvey, Noah Syndergaard, Jacob deGrom and Steven Matz, the Amazin's had four starters with ERAs lower than 3.25, and three starters with ERAs lower than 3.00. And in the bullpen, they had a closer (Jeurys Familia) with 43 saves and 86 strikeouts in 78 innings' work.
All they've done so far in this series is live up to their stats. And all the potent young Cubs sticks have done is validate what is ageless: Arms beat bats in the postseason.
No signs, portents or evil hexes in that. Unfortunately.