Yesterday, I only found out about the epic eighth inning meltdown when I saw some random Mets’ related Tweets. Truth be told, I was home from work, ate dinner and forgot the Mets were even playing.
Doesn’t that speak volumes?
What’s there to be excited for right now? I find it that I grab a hold of anything that I can. When Travis D’Arnaud homered his first game back from the minors, I saw a glimmer of hope. When Zack Wheeler tossed a complete-game shutout, the same applied. I am tired of hope. I want results.
My history as a Mets’ fan has been filled with ups and downs. First of all, I was born in December of 1986, so I didn’t get to celebrate the last title. I jokingly tell people that I was throwing a party and ordering womb service (horrible I know). Anyway, I have a lot of good memories as a fan and a lot of bad ones. Let’s start with the good.
The first game after Sept. 11, 2001 stands firmly in my mind. Amidst all the chaos, New York City had an avenue to escape. There was talk of whether or not playing was appropriate, but it was exactly the medicine Mets’ fans needed for three hours. Mike Piazza hit an epic bomb to center field off the camera well that put the Mets’ ahead for good, and even some Braves’ players said it was “the only game they’ve ever felt okay losing.”
My next memory involves Mike Piazza and the Braves as well. It was fireworks night, and the Mets were being slaughtered. Then came the eighth inning (as Steve Somers famously said on the WFAN postgame). The Mets went on to score 10 runs, capped off by a three-run homer by Piazza down the line. The building was shaking. We got our fireworks way earlier than we expected.
I have also been in attendance for numerous walk-offs, including Robin Ventura’s grand slam single, and Todd Pratt’s series clinching homer. But it hasn’t always been peaches and rose pedals.
In 2000, I went through a Mets’ fan’s worst nightmare and watched the Yankees celebrate on our field. I was in the building when the Mets closed Shea Stadium with a thud, and I stormed up the stairs crying when Kenny Rogers walked our season away.
But at least we contended.
These days, all we have is hope. What have the Wilpons, Sandy Alderson or Terry Collins done to earn our trust? How long are we going to give them until our patience wears out. All we keep hearing is that the future is bright, but I am dying for the day that the future becomes the present.
In the meantime, this video probably applies.
[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=okXhAC78d4Q[/youtube]
