It’s hard not to get romantic about sports.
It is hard however to be a fan of the New York Mets. The team’s woeful lineup rivals most minor league teams, the offensive numbers are practically anemic, the team’s promising first baseman, Ike Davis, has been sent down to Triple-A Las Vegas, and oh yeah, the team’s lackadaisical owners haven’t really spent much time talking to media at all this season nor have they shown the fans they actually care about their ball club.
Despite these heartbreaking facts surrounding the organization, there was a bright spot in this first half of this season: for four glorious days, the Metropolitans ruled the Big Apple. That’s right, the scrappy underdogs from Flushing stood up to the Bronx Bombers for four consecutive days. The starting rotation of the Amazin’s, led by rookie sensation, Matt Harvey, matched up to the Yankee lineup and threw gems. A 2-1 finish here, a 2-1 finish there, capped with a shellacking at Yankee Stadium and a blown save by future Hall-of-Famer Mariano Rivera, the first of the season and the first time in his career where he didn’t record an out.
For four glorious days, the New York Mets were kings. They had swept the Yankees.
And then the Mets themselves got swept by the Marlins, the worst team in baseball. Twice. A series in which one game went twenty innings of embarrassing baseball with the Mets going 0-for-19 with runners in scoring position.
How bad are the Marlins? The Astros have more wins than the Marlins. How bad are the Mets for losing to the Marlins so much? In this fan’s opinion - awful. Terrible. A team perennially stuck in the basement.
It is hard however to be a fan of the New York Mets. The team’s woeful lineup rivals most minor league teams, the offensive numbers are practically anemic, the team’s promising first baseman, Ike Davis, has been sent down to Triple-A Las Vegas, and oh yeah, the team’s lackadaisical owners haven’t really spent much time talking to media at all this season nor have they shown the fans they actually care about their ball club.
Despite these heartbreaking facts surrounding the organization, there was a bright spot in this first half of this season: for four glorious days, the Metropolitans ruled the Big Apple. That’s right, the scrappy underdogs from Flushing stood up to the Bronx Bombers for four consecutive days. The starting rotation of the Amazin’s, led by rookie sensation, Matt Harvey, matched up to the Yankee lineup and threw gems. A 2-1 finish here, a 2-1 finish there, capped with a shellacking at Yankee Stadium and a blown save by future Hall-of-Famer Mariano Rivera, the first of the season and the first time in his career where he didn’t record an out.
For four glorious days, the New York Mets were kings. They had swept the Yankees.
And then the Mets themselves got swept by the Marlins, the worst team in baseball. Twice. A series in which one game went twenty innings of embarrassing baseball with the Mets going 0-for-19 with runners in scoring position.
How bad are the Marlins? The Astros have more wins than the Marlins. How bad are the Mets for losing to the Marlins so much? In this fan’s opinion - awful. Terrible. A team perennially stuck in the basement.
So think about the emotional roller coaster these past few weeks have been for Mets fans. Your team has beaten the Goliath of all crosstown rivals. Things were looking up. A five-game win streak. Then you see your team begin to lose. And lose. And lose some more. It’s like watching the first ten minutes of Up on loop. Or what old Private Ryan felt when he saw Tom Hanks’ grave. Or what it feels like to be a Game of Thrones fan these days.
But the Mets will still be my team. I will keep coming back to them. Maybe I won’t go buy tickets as my own silent protest of the front office and of ownership, but I will cheer them on forever and for always. Why? Because that’s my team. It’s the team I watched when my dad took me to my first baseball game. It’s the team I was rooting for when I caught my first foul ball. It’s the only professional sports team that lights up the faces of my family members when they talk about their championship runs.
And this is a team that has only won twice (in ’69 and ’86) and only appeared in the World Series two other times (a heartbreaker in ’73 and a short-lived series against who else, but the New York Yankees).
So why do I keep coming back to this team? Because it’s hard not to be romantic about sports. Because professional sports allow ordinary human beings to be part of something bigger than themselves, to be part of something truly great. Professional sports allow the die-hard fan to detach himself from the monotony and unpleasantness of his life and tap into the most incredible three hours of his lifetime. Even in its most fleeting moment, sports allow the common man to witness perfection. Sports allow fans to witness athletes rise above themselves and elevate their game to levels simply beyond most human capabilities. And perhaps most importantly, the game invites us in to be spectators to some of the greatest moments in history.
Don’t believe me? Ask any Mets fan to describe Endy Chavez’s NLCS Game 7 catch, “The Catch,” against the St. Louis Cardinals. The casual baseball fan probably doesn’t even know who Endy Chavez is. But Endy is enshrined in my heart and in the hearts of every fan of the New York Metropolitans.
Or ask a Mets fan where he or she was when Johan Santana threw his no-hitter on June 1, 2012. It was the first no-hitter in Mets history after 8,000-plus regular-season games. Now Johan’s career as a Met has been largely disappointing, but he achieved what every Mets fan has hoped to witness in his or her lifetime.
Still don’t believe me? Ask any New Yorker what they felt after Mike Piazza hit his famous home run. Which one of his 220 home runs as a Met? How about the one he hit just ten days after the September 11th attacks, in the first professional sporting event in New York City, to give the New York Mets a 3-2 lead over their bitter division rivals, the Atlanta Braves. The city was looking for some sense of normalcy, something to smile about. And Mike Piazza delivered. In true storybook fashion. Because it’s hard not to get romantic about sports.
So the next time you question why fans get so excited for their teams, whisper “Matteau” to a New York Rangers fan. Or watch Michael Jordan’s game-winning jumper in the ’98 Finals. Or ask a Buffalo Bills fan what the greatest comeback in NFL history is.
And the next time you chide a fan for getting too upset over the outcome of a game, for uttering the words, “it’s only a game,” ask a Mets fan how that NLCS Game 7 ended. Or ask a Patriots fan what the conclusion to their perfect season was. You could also ask a Chicago Cubs fan how they feel about a gentleman named Steve Bartman. You could even try to bring up professional basketball to a fan of a Seattle-based team which will be left nameless. If you’re especially daring, walk up to a burly Vikings fan and utter the name, “Gary Anderson.” I mean, come on, John Starks at the free throw line still haunts my dreams and the dreams of other Knicks fans.
But all of those people still stick with their teams (except those Seattle folks). Because for every awful moment in their team’s history, there’s a greater moment that they witnessed. Because that tear of pure joy is infinitely more powerful than that tear of sadness.
Because it’s hard not to be romantic about sports.
But the Mets will still be my team. I will keep coming back to them. Maybe I won’t go buy tickets as my own silent protest of the front office and of ownership, but I will cheer them on forever and for always. Why? Because that’s my team. It’s the team I watched when my dad took me to my first baseball game. It’s the team I was rooting for when I caught my first foul ball. It’s the only professional sports team that lights up the faces of my family members when they talk about their championship runs.
And this is a team that has only won twice (in ’69 and ’86) and only appeared in the World Series two other times (a heartbreaker in ’73 and a short-lived series against who else, but the New York Yankees).
So why do I keep coming back to this team? Because it’s hard not to be romantic about sports. Because professional sports allow ordinary human beings to be part of something bigger than themselves, to be part of something truly great. Professional sports allow the die-hard fan to detach himself from the monotony and unpleasantness of his life and tap into the most incredible three hours of his lifetime. Even in its most fleeting moment, sports allow the common man to witness perfection. Sports allow fans to witness athletes rise above themselves and elevate their game to levels simply beyond most human capabilities. And perhaps most importantly, the game invites us in to be spectators to some of the greatest moments in history.
Don’t believe me? Ask any Mets fan to describe Endy Chavez’s NLCS Game 7 catch, “The Catch,” against the St. Louis Cardinals. The casual baseball fan probably doesn’t even know who Endy Chavez is. But Endy is enshrined in my heart and in the hearts of every fan of the New York Metropolitans.
Or ask a Mets fan where he or she was when Johan Santana threw his no-hitter on June 1, 2012. It was the first no-hitter in Mets history after 8,000-plus regular-season games. Now Johan’s career as a Met has been largely disappointing, but he achieved what every Mets fan has hoped to witness in his or her lifetime.
Still don’t believe me? Ask any New Yorker what they felt after Mike Piazza hit his famous home run. Which one of his 220 home runs as a Met? How about the one he hit just ten days after the September 11th attacks, in the first professional sporting event in New York City, to give the New York Mets a 3-2 lead over their bitter division rivals, the Atlanta Braves. The city was looking for some sense of normalcy, something to smile about. And Mike Piazza delivered. In true storybook fashion. Because it’s hard not to get romantic about sports.
So the next time you question why fans get so excited for their teams, whisper “Matteau” to a New York Rangers fan. Or watch Michael Jordan’s game-winning jumper in the ’98 Finals. Or ask a Buffalo Bills fan what the greatest comeback in NFL history is.
And the next time you chide a fan for getting too upset over the outcome of a game, for uttering the words, “it’s only a game,” ask a Mets fan how that NLCS Game 7 ended. Or ask a Patriots fan what the conclusion to their perfect season was. You could also ask a Chicago Cubs fan how they feel about a gentleman named Steve Bartman. You could even try to bring up professional basketball to a fan of a Seattle-based team which will be left nameless. If you’re especially daring, walk up to a burly Vikings fan and utter the name, “Gary Anderson.” I mean, come on, John Starks at the free throw line still haunts my dreams and the dreams of other Knicks fans.
But all of those people still stick with their teams (except those Seattle folks). Because for every awful moment in their team’s history, there’s a greater moment that they witnessed. Because that tear of pure joy is infinitely more powerful than that tear of sadness.
Because it’s hard not to be romantic about sports.
Hang in there, Scottie.
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