metsgrrl.com

AND THAT’S A WRAP.

2009-10-26T15:52:43Z

And we’re done.

I have been watching, despite saying I wouldn’t; many nights I would just hop on Twitter and get caught up, or check progress on At Bat or Gameday.

I am going to advocate the strong position that you do not need to root for anybody in the World Series. By all means, watch the games, enjoy baseball. But this nonsense that Mets fans “have” to root for the Yankees or “have” to root for the Phillies is just that - nonsense. There is no requirement that you have to root for a team in order to watch a baseball game. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Maybe for fans of other teams they can temporarily take a side. But not these two teams for Mets fans. I mean, obviously, do what you like, but it doesn’t make any sense that Mets fans are suddenly flocking to either side with mandates that we “must” root for the Phillies or that we “must” root for the Yankees.

I am not rooting for anyone. I do not have to. And I absolutely will not root for either team. I also have no intention of watching. The outcome is irrelevant to me.

Just a couple of months until pitchers and catchers report.

P.S. You can read more of this theme - written some time after the last out last night, so please take it with a grain of salt - over at Jesse Spector’s Touching Base blog at the Daily News.

WE DESERVED ONE OF THESE.

2009-10-13T17:06:50Z

The Minnesota Twins took out this ad in the local papers (and made it available on their web site).

Sure, they’re promoting Target Field. But there’s no “call to get your tickets now” or “you can be here too, here’s the phone number”.

It’s just a thank you. Thank you for being fans. Thank you for being there. We are grateful for your support, and we are sorry that we let you down. (And the photo of Carlos Gomez in mid-air made me a little misty.)

Maybe the Mets have done this in the past (have they?), but we’re owed at least three since when I came on board. And don’t point out the hastily cobbled-together “We’re sorry” video footage at the games, not everyone was at the games, and they didn’t show them on TV.

Don’t give me “small market team”. This is just manners. This is just common sense. This is just classy. This is the right way to run an organization.

Are you listening, Dave Howard and Jeff Wilpon? Or is this something that you’ll “get to” eventually?

SOMETIMES RULES ARE MADE TO BE BROKEN.

2009-10-10T06:14:37Z

I could never do it, but I couldn’t not take a picture.

Guess where we get to park #Springsteen [Flickr]

2009-10-14T15:56:26-07:00

metsgrrl.com posted a photo:

Guess where we get to park #Springsteen [Flickr]

2009-10-14T15:56:26-07:00

metsgrrl.com posted a photo:

NINE INNINGS.

2009-10-09T13:18:48Z

Thanks to Jesse Spector, I’m the latest blogger interviewed in his Nine Innings series in today’s Daily News.

BOBBY V.‘S LAST GAME IN JAPAN.

2009-10-08T19:57:41Z

My friend Deanna, who’s forgotten more about Japanese baseball than most of us will ever know, was at Bobby V’s last game in Japan, and has a writeup and photos, which is where that photo above was taken. (Also photos of the ‘Goodbye Bobby’ merchandise being sold, and him being thrown in the air by the Marines players.)

Deanne describing the photo:

(It’s actually from a few weeks ago—I didn’t actually see Bobby on Tuesday. At the time, I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone I’d been in Bobby’s office watching him sign a bazillion thank you cards that he was going to give to the fans, so I also didn’t post this photo then. And in case you were at the game over the weekend where he gave out thank-you cards to the fans, with a signature on it? That signature was real. It probably took him a month to sign them all. Next time someone says Bobby didn’t really care about the fans and was just putting on a show, I’m going to punch them.)

Seriously, how lucky am I? I think that’s the best thing about Bobby—he always made me laugh, except for this last time, when he made me cry.

We Mets fans can only hope.

CONGRATULATIONS TO THE AL CENTRAL CHAMPS.

2009-10-07T02:07:52Z

(Before you get all bent out of shape, I traded it for a Johan Santana Mets shirt last year.)

For a few hours tonight, I was excited and happy about baseball again. I turned on the game as soon as I got out of the subway. I stood online at the Apple Store using their bandwidth to watch video from Minnesota. TBF and I stood at the bus stop on the way home sharing earbuds (which of course came out when I started jumping up and down). It was up. It was down. It was up. It was down. Paws was defiantly placed on top of the television. TBF dug out his Detroit hat and spent every between-inning break on the phone with his dad or his uncle: “Roar, buddy. Roar.”

And just when I least expected it, and was thinking “Well, at least the Twins fans had a great end to this season,” the improbable happened.

Now, please, BEAT THE YANKEES. Thank you.

P.S. For the Twins fan perspective:

LET'S GO TWINS! [Flickr]

2009-10-06T19:07:34-07:00

metsgrrl.com posted a photo:

ONE LAST THING TO SAY.

2009-10-06T01:52:05Z

I thought I was done, and was moving towards arguing over AL Central loyalties and thinking about recapping the year in baseball, when I read on Twitter that Jeff Wilpon was going to be on WFAN at 5pm. I can’t stream at work (I don’t like hogging bandwidth) but I can listen on my iPhone. I thought I would casually listen while wrapping up my day. Maybe Jeff would take the high road. Maybe they would have something good to tell us.

Instead, what I heard was 60 minutes of the most condescending, ill-prepared, arrogant, ill-informed, unprepared, unprofessional blather I have heard in my life.

My greatest fear this season was that when it finally came to an end, we would be no better off than we were in the middle of it because the organization is incapable of real change. The radio interlude on Monday afternoon confirmed my worst fear:

The Mets do not know what they are doing. Period.

Let’s just start with the unmitigated idiocy. Comparing Daniel Murphy to Kevin Youkilis? Comparing Oliver Perez to Justin Verlander? Saying things like “The criticism was unfair, but we’re going to address the problem” when discussing the lack of Mets content in the ballpark? Hey Jeff - EITHER THE CRITICISM WAS UNFAIR, OR THERE WAS A PROBLEM. YOU CAN’T HAVE IT BOTH WAYS.

Dave Howard should not ever, ever, speak in public. When he speaks, he is dismissive, he is curt, he is rude. He does not like fans. He does not like dealing with fans. He considers fans a nuisance. He wants corporations to buy up the whole ballpark in full seasons so he never ever has to do a promotion or deal with a fan complaint. I don’t know if my statements about what he likes and dislikes are true or not, but he certainly projects that when he speaks. Every time he opens his mouth he makes Mets fans feel terrible. He is uncouth. He is uninformed. He should not be allowed to address the media when it comes to fans.

Omar and Jeff were a comedy of errors. I don’t know if you heard it and I can’t advise you to look on WFAN to see if it was archived because it will make you put your fist through a wall. They have confidence in Jerry. He had a bad year, it is unfair to judge him because the year was bad. Jerry doesn’t think they need to change anything about the dimensions of Citi Field and Jerry thinks it suits the team so they are not changing it. There is nothing wrong with our Minor League system, we have talent there. I mean, I could go on but I hope those paraphrases of statements give you the general idea that this was the Three Stooges on the radio.

To make things worse, the trio became audibly irritated at the fact that Francesa wanted to actually ask them hard questions. I’m not quite sure why they thought this was going to be a free informercial for an hour, but the irritation when Francesa tried to ask them the questions that everyone has asked all year was even more disrespectful. Why did you bother to come? Who was supervising this visit? What did you think it would gain you? If you thought it was going to get you good will or assuage the fans, it did not. In fact, it made things a million times worse. They didn’t provide any answers, they weren’t genuinely contrite, their pseudo-apologies felt insincere and forced.

And before you try to tell me I don’t know what I’m talking about, in this case I do. I got my start in business working in the music industry. I watched masters handle situations for people like Axl Rose and Madonna. I understand spin. I understand dealing with the media. And even if I didn’t, even an uneducated dweeb could parse today’s radio outing and understand that it was an unqualified disaster. And even if I didn’t, plenty of people who know more about this than me and are way smarter than me had the same reactions in real time.

It is looking like we will be able to make alternate arrangements for our 2010 Mets tickets and we will therefore be able to cancel both of our ticket plans. I will very much enjoy the day I can call the ticket office and tell them why. However, at this point I am not sure I want to make a significant investment in 2010 (above what we made in 2009), because I do not believe this organization has enough intelligence to fix the problems at hand. (Please notice how I said FIX THE PROBLEMS and not DESTROY THE TEAM AND START OVER. Thank you.)

More than anything, I am sad.

Finally, and this is unprofessional of me: Dave Howard, you can go to hell for your imperious, snooty lecture on how we should continue to wear our Mets caps “with pride”. You are out of touch. You are rude. You are in the wrong line of work. In the real world you wouldn’t have a job for long with the attitude you take towards your actual customers.

I feel better now.

LETTER TO THE METS, 2009 SEASON FINALE.

2009-10-05T19:20:42Z

Dear Mets Organization:

This isn’t going to cut it. Not by a long shot.

But you know that, right? You really don’t think that we’re so stupid that we’re going to view these as real, actionable changes and be willing to BELIEVE for 2010, right? Sure you do.

Right?

Love and kisses,

GOODBYE, BASEBALL.

2009-10-04T17:23:38Z

It’s a stunning Sunday. There is part of me that wants to be at Citi Field today, there is part of me that is wistful that the year is ending, there is part of me that wants to be sitting in the ballpark on a beautiful day, that cool smell of fall in the air, and say goodbye to baseball.

And then there is the part of me that, like TBF, wants to enjoy it lying on the couch and listening to Howie & Wayne. He always listened to the last game of the year on the radio, and this year is no different.

This year has been so overwhelmingly sad for me because I don’t see how the team and the organization is going to climb out of it. Quick fixes will spell disaster. Maybe there will be some astounding announcement tomorrow and I’ll change my mind.

We still do not know what we are doing for 2009. We will cancel one ticket plan to make a point. If we could find a season ticket holder who would want to give us 25-30 games, something that approximated our Tuesday-Friday Shea plan (including the same playoff rights), we would probably do that instead. Stupidly (perhaps) we won’t cancel both plans because we like having a commitment and we really, really love our seats and don’t want to see them go to a scalper.

Anyway, for today, it’s WFAN and sun streaming in the windows and living vicariously through the AL Central race and our friends who are Red Sox fans.

Just wrong. [Flickr]

2009-10-03T13:49:54-07:00

metsgrrl.com posted a photo:

Just wrong. [Flickr]

2009-10-03T13:49:54-07:00

metsgrrl.com posted a photo:

THE LETTER THE WILPONS SHOULD HAVE SENT US.

2009-10-02T14:55:24Z

I don’t usually do this, but I had planned to write something similar over the weekend, now that the information about the purported ticket price decreases has made the rounds. However, Greg Prince over at Faith and Fear has already said everything I could have said, and more. This is a must read for every Mets fan.

Faith and Fear in Flushing: The Letter They Should Have Sent

It’s people like Greg and Jason that make me proud to be a Mets fan. It’s people like the baseball fans I met on Twitter, from all over the country, Mets and non-Mets, that make me proud to be a baseball fan. It’s about time the Wilpons step up.

THE SEASON STOPS HERE.

2009-10-01T00:22:58Z

Our last Mets game of the season was for Friday night. The Astros. We were going. It was already a very busy weekend, we had people in town, but we were going. Suck or not, it was the last game of the year for us. The last set of tickets in the book. There would have been a ceremonial tearing-out-of-the tickets from the book, a small moment of silence, perhaps a tiny pause because baseball for the year was coming to an end.

And then Bruce Springsteen announced he’d be playing the album Darkness On The Edge of Town in full Friday night at Giants Stadium.

I know that you are probably sick and tired of hearing about Bruce Springsteen on a baseball blog, and I really try to keep the extra-curricular to a minimum, but you have to understand that this is my record above all other records. I should have been running to the computer to buy tickets the second I heard about it.

Instead, I wavered.

Me: “...but it’s our last game of the year!”
TBF: “But it’s the METS!”
Me: “But I hate Giants Stadium!”
TBF: “I’m sorry, are you feeling okay?”
Me: “But Lisa is coming to town for the Saturday show and wanted to see Citi Field on Friday.”
TBF: “Call her. Now.” *handing me phone*

It was about that time that I realized that I was being massively idiotic. We gave our Mets tickets to a friend, and bought our Springsteen tickets for Friday. We’ll be there Saturday, and have another concert on Sunday night.

Maybe we’ll run out on Sunday afternoon and see what we can pick up outside on the plaza…it’s always possible. But I doubt it.

So this is it, at least as far as the active Mets 2009 season goes. I always think I’ll have nothing to say in the offseason, but then manage to find more than a few things to talk about. I’ll still be around.

Thanks for your support and camaraderie over this very, very painful season. Wait till next year.

EVERYBODY KNOWS THIS IS NOWHERE. [9-18-09]

2009-09-19T03:10:31Z

Believe it or not, it wasn’t so bad after all.

For one, the park wasn’t deserted. It was Friday, and people were still showing up for their first time at Citi Field, judging by the endless photos and mall walking and gawking. I made it from the train to the Taqueria and up to my seat before the anthem had started. It wasn’t raining or freezing, I didn’t need the wool socks and rain shoes I had put on early this morning. It was Friday. It was payday. The train wasn’t crowded. It was Batting Helmet Night. Really, I was going to be positive about all of this.

Last night, I was chatting with Kristen of the Nationals blog We’ve Got Heart, who was joking that this series should be “fun”. I told her it was a guaranteed win for her team. She asked me if I’d seen her team play lately. I asked her if she’d seen ours. She insisted we were going to have the advantage. “Oh no,” I assured her. “Got anyone close to a milestone, or needs some MLB first? They’ll get it this weekend.”

Josh Willingham didn’t break any records, but two homeruns was enough achievement for me for one game, thankyouverymuch.

We had Wright. We had Beltran. We had Pelfrey. On paper, this all looks good, but like it or not, I went into this with no expectations. I got some advice from a Kind Commenter earlier in the day, that maybe I should try a different food stand, sit in different seats, try standing on the field level. I appreciated the suggestion and the spirit of it but the thing is, what I like about it is the ritual, I like sitting in the same seats, I like sitting in the same section. There is a comfort to it. My first season at Shea, when TBF was stuck working in Chicago for a good part of the year, the fact that every Tuesday and Friday that the Mets were in town, I got on the 7 train and walked up to the Mezzanine and sat in Row E, Seat 3 of Section 12 with the same people and watched the same game with the same rules was comforting. It was a refuge.

Citi Field has not been a refuge.

The one positive to the downturn is that it has separated the wheat from the chaff in terms of ticket holders. From what we can tell, from row 14 up to the last row in our general area is made up of former Tuesday/Friday ticketholders from Shea. At this point in the season, the people who are showing up are the diehards, the people who bought their seats to sit in them, not to resell or make a profit on. And given the ample seating in the section, people are gravitating towards each other and there are greetings and conversations and camaraderie, a thing that has been dreadfully absent this year. The lack of consistency in the plans made every game feel like the first week of school, even when we were in July, because you were there on Tuesday or Wednesday and then maybe Friday and oops, here’s a Thursday. At least we are seeing the same faces. At least we are now on nodding ballpark acquaintanceship.

It will be interesting to see who renews their plans next year.

On that subject, tonight was mysteriously awash in even more goodwill towards the fans. Mr. Met was introduced after the anthem (which should ALWAYS happen, he should be on the dugout for the starting lineups) and was down shaking hands on the field level. Then, at the top of the second inning, I hear someone say, “Hey, look who’s up here,” and whaddya know, it’s the big guy with the baseball for the head, throwing tshirts just like it was the upper deck at Shea.

These things were wonderful. Between-inning “entertainment” interludes which require the crowd to vote from three terrible songs to “enjoy” later, or that involve dancing to the Electric Slide, or embarrasing air guitar breaks to the accompaniment of KISS are NOT fan friendly. The fact that people engage in them does not mean that they like them and want more of them. They are insulting and banal.

(Listen, there are probably dozens of people in the country who are kids just out of college with sports marketing majors who are working for their Uncle Bob’s truck dealership or helping out Aunt Meredith selling Webkinz at the Hallmark Gold Crown and would kill or die for a chance to actually get to work in the industry they have a degree in. How about you take a chance and hire some of them and see what they can come up with? We live in the center of the universe. We are supposed to be trend setters. Instead, San Francisco and Milwaukee and Kansas City have better promotions, Cincinnati and Boston have better music, and someone who works for the Mets thinks that getting the crowd to do the Electric Slide like we’re at a wedding with a bad DJ is how you appeal to fans.)

Do I need to be talking about the game here? I hope I don’t. Either you watched it or listened to it or peeked at it on Gameday while you were in Temple or at dinner or pretending to be paying attention to something else on TV. You know, it was a game. It wasn’t any better than usual and it wasn’t all that much worse than usual, at least it didn’t feel that way to me. I think in some ways it’s less painful to be there than to be following it from a distance. And at the ballpark there are still people having fun, kids and their parents, loud happy drunk groups of men, women having girls’ night out at the ballpark. I like people watching always but I love doing it at the ballpark.

And then, just when we were sure we weren’t going to rally after that 8th inning debacle, there are signs of life. Cory Sullivan - Cory Sullivan? - walks. Angel Pagan walks.

We have base runners. We have RISP.

Luis Castillo singles.

Oh dear THE BASES ARE LOADED and the guy in 515 who hops up to start yelling LET’S GO METS at the slightest provocation is on his feet, his shiny batting helmet glistening. The woman in 513 who has been waiting to wave her foam finger all night starts doing so. I get to my feet and pick up the camera. “LET’S GO METS,” I began, when Mr. 515 halts his request. We don’t need the video board. We don’t need any prompting. I wish more people were on their feet (because they certainly got up with the goddamn wave made its feeble way through our section before rightfully dying out around third base). “Okay, David, you’re 0-4,” yells the woman in the bright orange - I mean BRIGHT ORANGE, she could moonlight as a traffic cone - sweatshirt behind us. “It’s time.”

David Wright singles, and we score a run.

I don’t want to say that the place went nuts. We’re tired. We’re burned out. It’s been a long year. (I know I have no right to complain, I haven’t been at this as long as anyone else reading this has been, and I apologize, but since I’ll never be able to catch up to you, can we just agree that I’m right here and this season has been long, agonizing and devastating and that anyone with a brain is capable of recognizing this and feeling it just as strongly as you might?)

And then Carlos grounds out but we still score another run and I’m back in “IT COULD TOTALLY HAPPEN” mode as though this isn’t the 2009 Mets and somehow this is a team that actually knows how to play baseball, and what I delusionally label ‘fight’ is just blind squirrel and nut syndrome. And then Daniel Murphy reaches on a throwing error, and we’re down by one run, and I’m mentally glaring at Brian Stokes, just as Jeff Francoeur grounds out and the game is over.

We have a game on Tuesday, and then our last one on Friday 10/2. I am not going Tuesday. We have three huge concerts next week (U2 on Wednesday, Marianne Faithfull on Thursday, and Bruce Springsteen and Elvis Costello on Friday). I get to skip a game. I get to get some sleep and rest for things I love and care about and are not likely to send me home heartbroken and dejected. I will be back on the 2nd for our last game - I am even bringing friends! - and we are already planning 2010 roadtrips, including a massive 10-day West Coast swing that takes us to games at every ballpark and what will likely be a very fun Tweet Up in Pittsburgh one weekend.

I know 2009 has been over for a long time, but not for me. It is, however, time to let go of baseball for the year. Usually I am wistful once the weather turns cool; this year I am just a tiny bit relieved - which of course makes me sad in another way.

I can’t win.

—
Of course there’s still a Flickr set from 9-18-09

THEATER OF THE ABSURD.

2009-09-18T03:46:25Z

I started to write something, about how when I realized I had a game to go to tomorrow my immediate reaction wasn’t enthusiasm, it was dread. It was dragging-my-feet, oh GOD it’s cold and it might RAIN and now I have to schlep all this crap to the office or I will be miserable at the game. It was realizing that I could go and suffer or I could stay home and be annoyed that I lost the money I paid for these tickets. If I go I’ll be miserable because the Mets cannot play major league baseball, and if I stay home I will start making Wilpon family voodoo dolls.

I can’t even take the tack TBF and I were going on with last week or the week before, about how it’s still baseball and we still enjoy it. There is nothing to enjoy in this right now. We will be crabby and we will be chilly. If I don’t go he’ll feel bad for leaving me at home alone. If I go I’m going to be angry at a million different things.

There is nothing noble in my support of the team right now. I don’t even think I’m supporting the team in the true sense of the word. I am tolerating them. I am abiding them. I am suffering silently.

I just want the season to be over.

p.s. We are already planning our 2010 roadtrips.

THAT GAME.

2009-09-15T02:23:17Z

I wanted to write, and then I didn’t want to write, and then this all came out as a comment over at Faith & Fear, and remembered that the reason I do not comment is because then my best stuff gets lost in a comment instead of a blog post:

I was heartbroken, a tiny bit. I was heartbroken in that it was Pedro, that - to quote someone I cannot remember on Twitter last night - when Pedro played for US, if there was a breeze blowing the wrong way in the dugout he was injured for weeks, but for Philly, he will go 120 pitches or whatever insane number it was - because that crowd stood and cheered for him as though he belonged to them, when he’s nothing more than a rental, a grand FUCK YOU to us, that the Keystone Cops that masquerade as on-air commentators treated this game and that moment as those it was the final out of the World Series.

And it just broke my heart again that we come close but then can’t find anything in us to rally and just fucking MAKE IT HAPPEN. And because I don’t see a way to fix this team and this organization for 2010. That I will have to renew my plan seats or watch my prime location go to scalpers. That the Wilpons lie to us and do not care about baseball. That San Francisco and Milwaukee and hell, Kansas Fucking City have better promotions than we do. That we are a laughing stock. That people think they can laugh at us because they think that one just changes teams like tshirts.

I still feel all of that, although a tiny bit less today. It helps that today is an off day, although before I realized that, I had dramatically declared that I AM NOT WATCHING BASEBALL TONIGHT.

Can’t blame me for trying.

p.s. Come commiserate with us tomorrow at the last installment of Amazin’ Tuesdays. Metstradamus is reading in public for the first time! Metstradamus! And Jeff Pearlman will be there for you to heckle.

p.p.s. as per the comments, there is now a bumpersticker.

NUMBER 9 DREAM. [9-9-09]

2009-09-10T03:17:51Z

You will ask me why I went to the last four Mets games, you will ask me why I bother, you will ask me why I care. People saw me mentioning the desperate need for a coffee stop on the way to the 7 and offered the comment that I had been to too many games lately. I usually enjoy these self-imposed bouts of diligence; it is honestly a very different experience to go two or three or more times in a row, and I always get something out of it, always feel like it helps me grow as a baseball fan. I can come to you from that pure, altruistic point, that baseball is baseball and you never know, maybe this is the game, or, to quote TBF in the second inning, “There’s still a lot of baseball to be played tonight,” even after the end of the first inning finds us down 4-0.

Ah, yes, Pat Misch. We thought that you would be different, but you’re just like all the other boys.

This year is so different than it was at Shea because we are not sitting with the same people at every game. We do not have any pleasantries to exchange or gossip to catch up on, or discussions to continue from a previous game. It is us and some random people or us and some empty seats or us and some French tourists or us and a family of four who want exactly their seats even though there are 50 empty ones around us and could you let us take an extra seat tonight? These days, we aren’t excited and burbling and eager for the game to begin and full of baseball tidbits and news to share. We don’t even print out the game notes any more to read on the way to the game. Nowadays, we usually sit there quietly for an inning or two, unless there are particularly egregious offenses on either side, like, oh, say the THREE RUN HR to the detestable Cody Ross, in which case our blood pressure goes up and our calm, placid demeanor vanishes. (TBF spent the rest of the game wishing Cody Ross would get plunked.) After those four runs, Misch seemed to settle down, except for, oh, hitting Chris Coghlan later on, and - well, if you want the box score, you could look it up.

I can talk about the meditations of being a Mets fan, of being an insane, stubborn fan who refuses to eat $25 or $30 worth of tickets, who will stubbornly trek out to the ballpark on a school night and sit through nine innings of pain. I can tell you how I head out to the game with diligence, settle into a resigned “Why are we here, again?” and then, somewhere around the third inning, start to bargain. We’re only down two runs or He’s not doing THAT badly, he can settle down and get back into it, or some similar refrain, something I am sure you have murmured quietly to yourself at some point over the years, when you have sat in a half-empty ballpark watching your team play out the year. While I thought 07 and 08 were horrific because they caused us such exquisite agony, hanging on by the proverbial thread, I can tell you with complete confidence that this feeling is worse, the feeling of helplessness and hopelessness and resignation.

And within that spectrum, there are ranges, and I confess I get annoyed if someone is too positive or too perky or too stupid or too blind or too negative or too fatalistic. I know, everyone’s experience is unique, but tonight I was thrilled when the brilliant baseball analysts who have the four seats behind us got up and went somewhere during the third inning, because as much as I am sadly disappointed in Mike Pelfrey, I really don’t want to hear someone else calling him a dickhead (this is an exact quote). I know, this is hypocritical; I have done my own share of namecalling; I have stubbornly refused to accept Jeff Francoeur as a Met, I have refused to jump hysterically onto the Daniel Murphy bandwagon, there are probably scores of other offenses I have committed that have made you walk away from this website for a few days, if not longer.

It just seems harder now. Like I have my fandom delicately calibrated and if you go and stomp all over it, the balance will be lost and I will feel the pain and loss of this year too acutely, and then I won’t be able to watch or go to games or take photos or be involved, that I will end up stepping to the side and letting the year go by me. There are people who have done that, who can’t bear it any more, who aren’t watching, aren’t paying attention, couldn’t tell you what number Lance Broadway wears (okay, truth be told, neither could we; when he was warming up in the bullpen, despite the help of binoculars we couldn’t remember who the heck was #35). That, to me, would be worse.

The thing I was struck by the most tonight was how people were so ready to cheer at the slightest reason to cheer. Even in the 8th inning, when some people were leaving in droves (‘droves’ being relative in a ballpark already 75% empty), people in our section were getting up and starting LET’S GO METS. They started CO-RY, CO-RY, when he came up to bat. They kept it going. When one person would stop, someone else would start. We didn’t need the video board, we didn’t need the PA system, we didn’t want any of that. It was just us, a motley bunch of Mets fans, sitting in the stratosphere behind home plate, acting as though the game counted, as though the game mattered, as though the players could hear us, as though our cheers meant something. It wasn’t the sarcastic cheering that we had a month or two ago, it was 100% honest. It was wanting to cheer, it was wanting to have a reason to cheer, it was trying to remember what it was like to cheer for the 2009 Mets. We are cheering because we still can, because there are still baseball games to go to, because on a Wednesday night in September we had tickets to see Mets baseball and we came to see Mets baseball and we were going to cheer Mets baseball.

We sat there during an 8th inning pitching change, singing along to “Hungry Heart” as though we hadn’t heard the song hundreds of times, as though it was this great novelty, and we look at the lineup and say things like, “Wright, Beltran, Murphy up. That’ll get us the three runs we need,” and I yell things about RALLY TIME and refuse to safely put my camera away so I can grab the bag and be down the stairs and headed toward the exit after the last out before most people know the game is over.

And then it is. I sigh, put away the camera, pick up my bag, and head for the train, genuinely saddened by the loss. We share earbuds to listen to music, just so we don’t have to listen to the happy chatter of tennis fans and the resigned chatter of the Citi Field vendors and the random chatter of the people who go to a few games a year and this one was just another game.

Three more games to go and then 2009 will be over for us. Will you think I am insane if I am sad about this in some fashion, and that I am already starting to daydream about a Spring Training trip and our roadtrips for 2010?

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Photoset from tonight’s game