Replacement Matt found this New York Mets script in an abandoned typewriter.
INT DAY:
JEFF WILPON sits at an oak desk strewn with papers, a mirror with white powder and a .45 automatic near his Mets Helmet Pen Holder. WILPON obviously hasn’t slept for days. His mane resembles that of a drowned rat, his eyes bloodshot and his nostrils beet red.
WILPON: (picking up phone): Alderson! where do you get off spending my insurance money? That was MY money! —– I don’t give a goddamn what you think its for!
WILPON winks across the desk, where we see two LOANSHARKS standing.
WILPON: (on phone) You better fix this! What? You called about another trade? And we have to pay? Are you f*cking kidding me? (Slams phone down)
LOANSHARK: You really think we weren’t going to collect? You think we don’t read the papers? You think we built this stadium for free? You got til 4pm Friday.
Is this that far fetched of a scenario?
I don’t think so. It’s really the only thing that can explain any of the sh*t Mets fans have been asked to eat for more than 5 ugly years. Why do they continue to torture us? Get our hopes up, thinking that maybe we were wrong all along and maybe we really have a shot? And then they just crush our souls once again?
Well, this might be the end.
As a lifelong Mets fan, I have put up with a lot. But this… This takes the cake. It makes Luis Castillo’s dropped pop-up pale in comparison… It makes Kenny Rodgers walking in the NLCS winner seem like small potatoes… Wainwright’s curveball? Nothing… The Yankees dancing at Shea in 2000? Minor speed bump. They all are compared to the last two days’ debacle. Leaving a crying player in a game?! 
Reporting a trade and then taking it back?! Not taking a pitcher out of a game after a 45-minute rain delay?! Incapable of even getting a tarp on the field?!
This is rock bottom baby and this where we stay.
There is no bounce back, no light at the end of the tunnel, no wait ’til next year. There is nothing but hopelessness, doom and despair in the future.
Amateurs… Amateur owners, amateur GM, amateur manager, amateur medical staff, amateur groundskeepers.
The Mets are done. You have until 4pm to prove me wrong. I dare ya.
FADE TO BLACK
