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Tonight broke my heart, I think, more than Game 7 in 2006, more than 9/30/07. It broke my heart into millions of tiny pieces because it lifted me up so high and so far, in that moment when Delgado stepped up to the plate, 2 outs, and although we’re all on our feet we are tired and jaded and burnt out and we don’t believe it will really happen, one out, see, I told you, two outs, I don’t even know why I’m standing up – and then and then and then in a heartbeat the ball is hit and there is the collective intake of breath when we all realize IT IS – IT IS – IT IS – IT IS OUT!

That ball flies through the lights, cut through the night sky, buoyed on a million wishes, flying on a million hopes. The runners come home and we cheer and cheer and scream until our throats are sore and clap until our hands ache. I lock eyes with the 9 year old girl sitting behind me, accompanied by two rally monkeys and equal to her 8 year old brother in that they knew their Mets, I lock eyes with her and say, Someday, you’ll be able to say, “Yes, I was at that game against the Cubs, where Delgado hit the grand slam when no one expected him to, and gave us that glorious early lead.

Instead, she, and the 9-year-old girl hiding inside my heart – went home with extra inning inglorious defeat. The walk to the subway was a funeral procession, the 7 train was silent, dull, the wheels against the track a dirge.

For me, tonight was the turning point. Tonight was the deciding factor. Either they will come back fighting or, well, not.

See you in the upper deck again tomorrow.

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