(Consolation regarding the rather spectacular loss suffered by the Yankees this afternoon)

At least they won last night with an impressive (and surprising) tenth inning.

At least the novelty of being a one-time Red Sox fan and now getting to watch Mo Vaughn and Roger Clemens both playing for two different New York teams has yet to wear off.

At least I dozed through a couple of today’s more painful moments, thanks to the lingering remnants of the most recent tonsil escapades. It was a little disconcerting waking up each time and realizing the Mets had another run or three, but perhaps less excruciating than actually watching it happen.

At least it was undeniably hilarious when Estes missed Clemens with that pitch. It didn’t just not hit him but actually went behind him completely, nowhere near the plate (or the batter, for that matter). Seriously, isn’t he at least as big as the strike zone?

At least after a couple of mid-game screwdrivers I’d more or less lost track of which team, exactly, I wanted to win. It’s much easier to maintain a consistent level of generalized, surly enthusiasm when sobriety is somewhat less than total.

At least they lost spectacularly.

At least the Mets are a New York team, too (and at least there’s another game tomorrow).