Last night's episode of HBO's Game of Thrones dealt a crushing blow to fans of the series, particularly those who have not been reading the books. Just as things began to look up for House Stark it all came to a horrifyingly bloody end. The "Red Wedding" had sealed the fate of the King of The North, his mother, and his army.
I should have felt bad about this, but all I was left with was a strange sense of deja vu. Then it came to me. I had seen this scene before, for the last three days in Miami.
The Teal Wedding.
Just like the Starks, we Mets fans had suffered a series of defeats and setbacks. We watched a key piece slip away to Toronto like Jaime Lannister escaping into the night. (Though to be fair, that hasn't really gone well for either R.A. or Ser Jaime) But despite all that, we had scored a major victory earlier in the week winning the battle of New York. Things were finally looking up.
All we had to do was go to Miami, defeat House Marlin and wait for reinforcements. The plan might actually work. While, the Starks had to win the favor of a hideous old man all we had to do was defeat a team with a hideous sculpture. What could possibly go wrong?
Cue "The Rains Of Castamere"...
...and just like that it's over. The good feelings washed away in an instant. Any hope for tomorrow dashed to bits and left bloody on the floor.
At least the Starks were murdered by actual soldiers dressed as musicians. We had our hopes murdered by pole dancers dressed as cheerleaders.
So I hope George R.R. Martin will forgive me for not being moved by this episode. The Red Wedding will likely go down as one of the most memorable and emotional scenes in TV history but it takes a little more than horribly graphic murder and betrayal to move me...
I'm a Mets fan.
No Mets were harmed in the writing of this story. Follow me on Twitter @readtheapple.
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