Here’s a thought: When the Citi Field faithful serenaded the best pitcher of the last half-dozen years with a mocking “KERRRR-shaw,” “KERRRR-shaw,” it was like walking up to a lioness, peering into her face and repeatedly sticking out your tongue.
Your life expectancy is greatly diminished.
So Mets fans jeered and chanted with the insistent insanity that is our birthright as New Yorkers. And so Kershaw reared and threw, and reared and threw, and he went through the Mets’ lineup like a man on a mower. At the end of seven innings he had yielded three hits and a single run.