Let’s finish this shit already.

EVERYBODY PANIC.

Unimpressive baseball leads to crudely etched drawings.

Happ returns to the scene to show off all the reasons why he’s an NL Rookie of the Year candidate (STILL), while Ryan Howard and Prince Fielder took turns being giants. Also, Shane Victorino’s stomach didn’t explode and he didn’t end up screaming at an umpire, so count your blessings.

“Florida Marlins sleep with the Fishes” was the title I had in my head all day.

“Brilliant,” I thought. “It’s funny, and it will be accurate. I’ll even post a picture of a dead marlin to drive the point home.”

Earlier this year, I was in the left field stands when he threw a warm-up ball to a little girl. Clearly, I had no problem with this. In fact, I pointed at him. And he pointed back. We continued this gesture several times. I sat down.

“That’s Shane,” I informed some nearby people who hadn’t asked. “We’re friends.”

Between Cole and Ryan turning into nightmares for the opposition, you’ve got to wonder what it is about September that makes these guys explode. The playoffs in the air? Apple cider? Who knows. Whatever it is, its probably not the same thing that’s making Shane Victorino’s intestines explode.

But, it’s just like us to assume the worst, in hopes of being pleasantly surprised, and then being the cocks of the walk when the offense and pitching come alive.

I mean, haven’t you ever read this blog?

No. Probably not.

It takes a lot of guts to walk back into the lions’ den, after it has mauled, bitten, or merely run at you on several past occasions. A couple of times it may have been napping and you ran up to it and kicked it bravely in the ribs, emitting a mighty “YAH!” before the beast awoke and turned you into a torso.

Despite the rivalry, despite Brad, victory was achieved, and sadly enough, it was achieved quietly, expertly, and with the most dignity that 45,000 alcoholics with shirts that said “JESUS HATES THE METS” could muster.

See you next, near, Amazin’s.