The Get Depressed Power Hour

(Note: The latest in our Section 423 column on the Knicks appears immediately below.)

Sick day for the Glass Man today. Hoping it's a cold but I didn't get a flu shot so you never know. So what've I done to fill the time? Well, I woke up around 11, and the most productive thing since is when I turned on the tube and flipped back and forth between Shawshank and Road Trip.

Funny thing about Road Trip -- I can't quite recollect the thought process exactly, but I was definitely thinking about that movie just the other day. And then today, of all the mornings and all the days when I might have been sick, there it was on television. Cosmic.

Anyway, about 45 minutes ago I found myself completely bored. Nothing doing on the tube, nothing doing on the internets, just nothing doing whatsoever. So I said to myself, "hey Glass Man, when's the last time you updated your power hour mix?" Too long boys and girls, too long.

For those of you unfamiliar with power hours, here's a quick overview. Basically, you get a bunch of people together, you buy a shitload of 40s and you hand everyone a shot glass. You fill your shot glass up with beer and every minute you take a shot.

The power hour was a defining element of my high school experience. Back then my buddy Avi had some program or another on his computer that allowed him to change the lengths of songs so that each would be exactly one minute long.

It adds another dimension to the power hour experience. At first you're tapping your foot, then you're saying how much you love every other tune that comes on, then by minute 45 you're liable to break out in song any time one of your favorites comes on. All in all, good times.

Or at least normally it's a good time. You see, creating a power hour mix today only requires one has iTunes on his or her computer. As users of iTunes may know, one of the pieces of information displayed about each song is the last time it was played in its entirety. And so it was that updating my power hour mix brought me back to the last power hour I had. The date was October 20, 2006.

If the date doesn't instantly click in your mind, I'm sure if you're reading this the emotions probably do. Friday, October 20 was the first day of the Mets' offseason.

Hours earlier Carlos Beltran had watched a called third strike sink into the glove of Yadier Molina, Mets fans at home had watched the Cardinals celebrate on a soggy Shea Stadium field, and Mets fans at the game, myself included, had seen stunned silence from a crowd that could taste the miracle waiting in the bat of Cliff Floyd or Paul Lo Duca or Beltran only moments before.

The next day, Friday, was a day unlike any I'd ever really experienced. I remembered the Mets losing in the World Series, and when they lost to the Braves in the NLCS in 1999, but nothing was quite like this. Perhaps it's because when you're 23 years old something you're passionate about can completely take over your life. You're old enough to have responsibilities, but young enough that something like the Mets can seem as important as anything else you've got.

I lived day-in and day-out with the 2006 Mets unlike any other team before it, and when they died on that drizzly October night, I was about as low as I've ever been. I stalked about the office with a gloomy expression plastered on my face, one that said "You can talk to me right now, but it's a waste of your time." Luckily my officemates understood.

I e-mailed my friends that afternoon. Most of them Mets fans, all of them sympathizers, they wanted to get drunk. I wanted to, too. That night, The Get Depressed Power Hour was born. Eight of us there, maybe ten, all of us huddled around a table talking about what might have been, and what was instead -- it was some depressing shit.

And that's the last full-fledged power hour I participated in. By this point I've put the 2006 season in its proper perspective. I can't get too bent out of shape about what happened anymore; I've internalized it and moved on.

And as I sit here a smile comes across my face as I recognize the possibility that the next power hour I have will likely be on the very day pitchers and catchers report to Port St. Lucie.

That's nothing intentional, just the way it worked out -- the last time my roomies were gone was Friday, Oct. 20, the day after the 2006 Mets died. Now my roomies are heading on vacation Friday, Feb. 16, the day the 2007 Mets are born.

Most power hours don't have names, but I think the forces at play in the universe are demanding one here. The Circle of Life Power Hour? The Great Latin Hope Power Hour? The Jesus Christ I Hope We Bury the Cardinals Power Hour? Tempting. But for me I think I gotta lean on an old favorite for this one:

The Next Year Is Now Power Hour.

Y'all know the name... Let's GO!!!

- A.F.O.M.G.

(Images courtesy of thecia.com and mlb.com)