Franz Kafka....Meet the Mets

Reading Matthew Callan's article about this September, I noted that he used the term Kafkaesque to describe the current September. As Franz Kafka would most certainly have been a Mets fan, I thought that it would be a good idea to look to his book Metamorphosis for apposite descriptions of this team. I hope that you enjoy.

Ike Davis on April through June:

"As Ike Davis awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect."

Matt Harvey on his elbow:

"I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself."

All Mets fans who want a decent outfield to be signed:

"What am I doing here in this endless winter?"

On Jose Reyes:

"Was he an animal, that music could move him so? He felt as if the way to the unknown nourishment he longed for were coming to light."

On Omar Minaya:

"He was a tool of the boss, without brains or backbone."

On the opposite of Jay Horwitz or the 90s clubhouse guy, or true feelings towards Willie Randolph, Mike Pelfrey, or Frank Francisco, or yeah....

"What a fate: to be condemned to work for a firm where the slightest negligence at once gave rise to the gravest suspicion! Were all the employees nothing but a bunch of scoundrels, was there not among them one single loyal devoted man who, had he wasted only an hour or so of the firm's time in the morning, was so tormented by conscience as to be driven out of his mind and actually incapable of leaving his bed?"

On Terry Collins:

"His biggest misgiving came from his concern about the loud crash that was bound to occur and would probably create, if not terror, at least anxiety behind all the doors. But that would have to be risked."

On Sandy Alderson's player acquisition strategy upon taking the helm of the team:

"The door could not be heard slamming; they had probably left it open, as is the custom in homes where a great misfortune has occurred."

On the Wilpons:

"He had always believed that his father had not been able to save a penny from the business, at least his father had never told him anything to the contrary, and Jeff, for his part, had never asked him any questions. In those days Jeff's sole concern had been to do everything in his power to make the family forget as quickly as possible the business disaster which had plunged everyone into a state of total despair. "

On the Sabremetrics community:

"Open up, I'm pleading with you.' But the Mets had absolutely no intention of opening the door and complimented themselves instead on the precaution he had adopted from their business trips of locking all the doors during the night even at home."

On me on the 7 train with about a thousand other Mets fans after the Ventura grand slam single game:

"Away in the distance, a train appeared behind the trees, all its compartments were lit, the windows were sure to be open. One of us started singing a ballad, but we all wanted to sing. We sang far quicker than the speed of the train, we swung our arms because our voices weren't enough, our voices got into a tangle where we felt happy. If you mix your voice with others' voices, you feel as though you're caught on a hook

This FanPost was contributed by a member of the community and was not subject to any vetting or approval process. It does not necessarily reflect the opinions, reasoning skills, or attention to grammar and usage rules held by the editors of this site.

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