The Story So Far

(Note: Cheddar Ben runs down the N.L. East immediately below this final offseason salvo by A.F.O.M.G.)

Policy Adjustment

Not many people know this about me, but generally speaking there is one day every year when I am absolutely fine with the Mets losing: the other team's home opener.

Now god knows I don't like to see it happen, but take the 2005 season opener, which was in Cincinnati against the Reds. You remember the 2005 season opener, don't you? Pedro's first start as a Met, the most dominant outing of his Met career when he struck 12 batters out in 6 innings.

It was also Carlos Beltran's first day as a Met, and believe it or not, things actually looked great for Beltran that first day of 2005. The Mole Man had 3 hits including a long home run to right center field.

It all looked so promising, but then Willie handed the ball over to Manny Aybar, and then he handed it over to Braden Looper, and by the time the dust settled the Mets had suffered what was really quite a devastating loss, 7-6, on a walk-off home run by Joe Randa.

When it was over I was upset, but as the hours went by I grew calm, calmer than I ever would have been if it had been game 48, say.

The reason is that for one day and one day only I can take some satisfaction in the happiness of an opposing team's fan base.

I know how much baseball means to people. I know how long the offseason is and how anxiously people look forward to their team's home opener.

There's just that extra element of electricity on day 1, you know? There's the pomp and spectacle of it all, the red, white and blue trim on the stadium walls, the fireworks displays, the reading of names to introduce the players -- it's a special day. And if, on that one day, the team's home fans go home happy, there's a little part of me that can appreciate that that's probably for the best.

But this year? This year I say fuck all that. Fuck all that and fuck the Cardinals, those World Series-winning, Mr. Glass-mocking, last cookie-eating bastards. I don't care how nice Sip says the people there are, for my money their championship last year is the answer to a future jeopardy question asking "Why was the three-division format in Major League Baseball abandoned?"

Their title was a fluke, a lark played by the baseball gods in which an altogether undeserving team was allowed to win. Never again will I find satisfaction in the opening day pleasure of their fans. No, the 2006 World Series Championship banner adorning whatever crevice of their stadium it is has spoiled all that. For now and forever.

So yeah, these three games to open the season in St. Louis, I don't want the Mets to win, I want them to dominate. I want them to send a message right off the bat to the Cardinal faithful. And why? Cuz next year is now, bitches. Let's go!!!!

* * * * *

So Here We Are

Now that I've gotten that out of my system, let's focus on the positives. Baseball is back. Thank god baseball is back.

What a long offseason it's been. The recurring nightmares about curveballs down the middle, of Yadier Molina rounding the bases, of Braden Looper (Braden Looper for god's sake!) mocking my favorite player... all of it left a bad taste in my mouth.

And it was such a shame too. 2006 was such a pleasure for me. I had never seen a Mets team dominate like that, and to see it in action was a really special thing for me.

I will always love the Mets, and I'll always support them and live and die with them through the good years and bad, but last year, for the first time in a long time, I was really proud of them again.

And so was the entire city. Everywhere you looked you'd see crisp Mets caps, the beautiful look of fresh orange on blue. You'd see your fellow fans out and about and if you were an outgoing type or if you'd had a few beers, you'd say hello and talk about the team for a moment. I can't tell you how many times that happened to me last year, and it never got old.

And then it all came crashing down so suddenly. I remember that rainy October night at Shea Stadium and the numbness of the train ride home. I remember how I was depressed for basically the next month. I took the loss pretty hard.

But here we are now and it's all set to start again. The days at the office with my attention split between my work and the game I'm following on ESPN. The nights watching games with my roomies, my friends, or with complete strangers. The trips to Shea, good old Shea, and the rush I get out of being with the crowd. It's all starting up again, and no matter what happens in the months that follow, the simple fact of having baseball in my life will make me a generally more happy person.

But that said, I'm confident going in to 2007. My prediction is the Mets win 93 games, slightly less than last year, slightly more than what most other people seem to be projecting. We probably won't win as many 1-run games this year, but here's betting we don't lose as many games to lefty starters this year either.

These are heady times, Mets fans. It's a championship we want, it's a championship we've been thinking about since last year ended as devastatingly as it did.

As we head into another year of Mets baseball, I want to take one final trip to the end of 2006. I leave you here with an e-mail I received the day after the Mets were eliminated, October 20, 2006. The sender is one of my sister's good friends from college, a huge Red Sox fan. His letter meant a lot to me then and I find it motivates me now.

"I'm sorry, [A.F.O.M.G.]. I'm sorry.

However, quick story: In Game 7 of the 2003 ALCS I sat in the upper tier at Yankee Stadium with my best friend Max, the bended brim of our Sox baseball caps pulled down below our eyes, our hearts and minds with Pedro, the man we grew up idolizing together. We sat next to these two guys from Nebraska (late-20's) who had been huge Sox fans since they were little kids. After Boone's homerun disappeared into the left-field bleachers I was crying as hard as I ever have in my whole life, just sobbing uncontrollably, and one of the guys, Jake, looks at me and says, "Don't worry, we are going to be back here next year. Same place, same situation. Theo's got us going in the right direction and we will be back." At the time, it meant nothing, and I left the Bronx that night embittered with baseball, Grady Little and the Red Sox. Sure enough, I stayed in touch with those guys over the next year, and after Game 7 in 2004 that we both attended we met outside Yankee Stadium and reveled in our joy together.

Look, I know this means nothing now, but the Mets will be back. Wright, Reyes and Beltran provide them with such a good core, all at such important positions... They will be back. I am telling you. Ya still gotta believe."

And that's really what it comes down to, you know? Ya gotta believe. "Ya gotta believe" means let the Phillies talk. It means let the Steve Phillips' project us to finish in 3rd. Fuckembabe. We have the heartache of last year, sure, but we also have our Mets, we have each other, and all of us here, even pessimists like Sip, all of us believe.

Now let's start the show.

- A.F.O.M.G.

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