Baseball Like it Oughta Be

So fair enough, I'm pretty down on the Mets this year. I don't think they have much of a chance to compete against markedly better teams in Philadelphia and Atlanta (and you could probably throw Florida on that list too).

But I still love them, and I still love the shot of adrenaline they can provide.

I got my first little taste of that adrenaline last night, watching the game at Nevada Smith's (bros!).

I love the patented Mets fan pessimism (fatalism) that sets in as soon as the Mets fall behind.

I love the hand claps and the cheers of "let's go!" all around when Ike Davis sends that ball into the gap.

I love the excited texts when Thole comes through with that clutch single in the top of the 9th, the deflated texts when K-Rod blows it in the bottom of the 9th.

And then when they finally pull it out I love the relief that sets in, among me and my friends but also the other patrons at the bar going through the exact same routines, and the euphoric five minutes where you just feel good and make stupid jokes about how Terry Collins shakes players hands like a man after a win.


Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever grow out of it. I'm getting older. There's no way to play the numbers game to say that 28 is anything other than late 20s. 30's on the way.

To tell the truth, I hope I never grow out of it. Nights like last night, with good friends around you and baseball on the tube, are about as good as it gets for me.

No matter what happens with the Mets this season, I'll still have a chance for those kind of days/nights at least another 160 times this year. That's pretty good.

- A.F.O.M.G.