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2006 Post Season – metsgrrl.com http://www.metsgrrl.com one girl, one team, one city. Mon, 17 Aug 2015 15:04:37 +0000 en-US hourly 1 A TRIP DOWN MEMORY LANE. http://www.metsgrrl.com/2011/01/17/a-trip-down-memory-lane/ Mon, 17 Jan 2011 19:17:02 +0000 http://metsgrrl.com.s90799.gridserver.com/?p=526 The reveal after assembly. They are on eBay now for less $$ folks. Go take a look.

So, our DVR is dying. Thanks to the wonderful quality technology that is provided by Time Warner Cable (that’s sarcasm, folks), this will be the third time in six years that we’ve had to replace the DVR. Unfortunately, that also means that we lose everything that’s on the DVR. This time, at least, we had some warning, so we started watching everything. My best friend’s band on Conan O’Brien and then on Jimmy Fallon. The 2006 Rock and Roll Hall of Fame when R.E.M. and Patti Smith were inducted (the original broadcast). Bruce Springsteen on Jimmy Fallon (which I was lucky enough to attend).… [more]

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The reveal after assembly. They are on eBay now for less $$ folks. Go take a look.

So, our DVR is dying. Thanks to the wonderful quality technology that is provided by Time Warner Cable (that’s sarcasm, folks), this will be the third time in six years that we’ve had to replace the DVR. Unfortunately, that also means that we lose everything that’s on the DVR. This time, at least, we had some warning, so we started watching everything. My best friend’s band on Conan O’Brien and then on Jimmy Fallon. The 2006 Rock and Roll Hall of Fame when R.E.M. and Patti Smith were inducted (the original broadcast). Bruce Springsteen on Jimmy Fallon (which I was lucky enough to attend).

And then, of course, the last two games at Shea Stadium, 9/27/08 and 9/28/08….which we had never been able to bring ourselves to watch after the fact.

The Johan complete game still had me on the edge of my seat. Still gave me goosebumps. Still had me wanting to stand up and cheer with every out. Talking about that last week at Shea when we were at every game (okay, I skipped the Monday when it rained), marveled at how much we still missed Shea, how loud it was, how earth-shatteringly loud. We started talking about all the people we knew there, none of whom are still residents of that ballpark across the street. The red-headed family with the twins. The sisters next to us. The retired LIRR workers in front of us. The father and son who sat to our right. Statler & Waldorf (who called Argenis Reyes “AR-ANUS” as loudly as possible) sitting behind us in the upper deck on Saturdays. Everyone priced out of the new place, or unable to fit in.

And then we watched the “Shea Goodbye” ceremony. Not the DVD, we watched the ceremony (not the game, we’re not gluttons for punishment) that we had taped back in 2008, with a little patience and prodding we got the DVR to play it for us. I swear to you I cried almost as hard as I did when I was standing there in the upper deck boxes. I saw things I couldn’t have seen that day, like certain players looking a little misty as they emerged onto the field. I saw things that still made me angry, like the police horse blocking Mr. Met taking down the number in the outfield, the hundreds of police who weren’t guarding the players but GUARDING THE FIELD THAT WAS GOING TO BE DEMOLISHED THE VERY NEXT MORNING.

But it was still just as wonderful as it was that day, just as bittersweet, just as heart-rending and sad and amazing to be there.

When it was over, I turned to TBF and pointed out that we had some money and maybe we should just finally buy our Shea seats… only to find that the Mets were no longer selling them… only to then find them for sale on eBay by the company contracted to remove the seats, direct, for $300 less, with no tax and free shipping. (Just go on eBay and search on “Shea Stadium seats” – there are still some left.)

And the box is open, with our own little piece of Shea inside.

They arrived today, and aside from the cat being a little spooked by them, we are thrilled to have a little piece of Shea Stadium in our apartment.

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well, that was a mistake http://www.metsgrrl.com/2006/10/28/well-that-was-a-mistake/ Sat, 28 Oct 2006 01:41:41 +0000 http://metsgrrl.com.s90799.gridserver.com/?p=280

When we were walking home from dinner, TBF floated the idea of checking out the game tonight. “It’s an elimination game, you know,” he helpfully provided, because I was not supposed to be paying attention to the game (and for the record, neither was he). This seemed okay to me; I figured I was over it by now.

So I turned on the game when it was the top of the 6th inning, and turned the sound on at the top of the 9th inning. TBF is on the phone in the other room and is missing out on the festivities, as it were, and rejected my offer to put the game on pause.… [more]

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When we were walking home from dinner, TBF floated the idea of checking out the game tonight. “It’s an elimination game, you know,” he helpfully provided, because I was not supposed to be paying attention to the game (and for the record, neither was he). This seemed okay to me; I figured I was over it by now.

So I turned on the game when it was the top of the 6th inning, and turned the sound on at the top of the 9th inning. TBF is on the phone in the other room and is missing out on the festivities, as it were, and rejected my offer to put the game on pause.

I should have turned the damn tv off. Of course it was nowhere near as bad as it was that Thursday night for us, but it was some of the same feeling: pins and needles. edge of the couch. stomach hurting. whispered prayers – and they aren’t even my damn team! Knowing how it feels when you have the tying runs on base and your one last hope comes to the plate.

I am glad, though, in a way, that the baseball is over now for the year. Not glad, because I miss watching it, which is how I got roped into watching the game tonight, the rhythm of pitches and runs and hits – it felt so good to be seeing that again. But glad that the tension is over and maybe now I can get over the fact that I was supposed to be at the World Series this week.

Maybe.

—–

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beltran at the bat http://www.metsgrrl.com/2006/10/26/beltran-at-the-bat/ Thu, 26 Oct 2006 21:48:05 +0000 http://metsgrrl.com.s90799.gridserver.com/?p=278

I don’t know how I found this, somewhere through the server logs, and it is so very well done (although, of course, so sad; the fact that it is so well done makes it even sadder to me); the adaptation from a science fiction writer.

Some people blog when the Mets lose, others adapt poetry.

It is funny to see in the comments people who clearly do not realize that it is a loving tribute to this work.

[more]

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I don’t know how I found this, somewhere through the server logs, and it is so very well done (although, of course, so sad; the fact that it is so well done makes it even sadder to me); the adaptation from a science fiction writer.

Some people blog when the Mets lose, others adapt poetry.

It is funny to see in the comments people who clearly do not realize that it is a loving tribute to this work.

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he’s not watching, either http://www.metsgrrl.com/2006/10/25/hes-not-watching-either/ Wed, 25 Oct 2006 18:24:00 +0000 http://metsgrrl.com.s90799.gridserver.com/?p=272

This was the back page of El Diario this morning, which is the newspaper most widely read on the train I take to work. It did my heart good.

df07d1e5-90a8-4047-a42e-55776901c6e0

“Since 1972, Major League Baseball annually has presented an award which recognizes the player who best exemplifies the game of baseball, sportsmanship, community involvement and the individual’s contribution to his team.”

[Hey, St. Louis, take a gander. You might see something you don’t recognize.]

Childishly, I was glad to learn that, even though Delgado was in Detroit yesterday, he didn’t stay and watch the game – from Newsday: “Delgado didn’t plan on staying for the game because he found it painful to watch.… [more]

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This was the back page of El Diario this morning, which is the newspaper most widely read on the train I take to work. It did my heart good.

df07d1e5-90a8-4047-a42e-55776901c6e0

“Since 1972, Major League Baseball annually has presented an award which recognizes the player who best exemplifies the game of baseball, sportsmanship, community involvement and the individual’s contribution to his team.”

[Hey, St. Louis, take a gander. You might see something you don’t recognize.]

Childishly, I was glad to learn that, even though Delgado was in Detroit yesterday, he didn’t stay and watch the game – from Newsday: “Delgado didn’t plan on staying for the game because he found it painful to watch. ‘I think we were the best team in the National League,’ he said. “We just didn’t win the series that we needed to win. At the end of the day, St. Louis is going to say, ‘We won it and we’re in the World Series.’ We congratulate them, they played well, but in my mind, we were the best team in the National League.'”

Hey, Carlos: in our minds, too.

—–

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say a prayer for the broken hearted http://www.metsgrrl.com/2006/10/20/say-a-prayer-for-the-broken-hearted/ Sat, 21 Oct 2006 03:02:43 +0000 http://metsgrrl.com.s90799.gridserver.com/?p=268

Last night.

What was it like, sitting up there, being at Shea last night? The upper deck shaking and the rally towels waving and the drums and the air horn and something that sounded like a washboard or spoons down on the mezzanine. What was it like, singing along to Bon Jovi and cracking up and smooching TBF because we both hate that song SO much, but last night at Shea, blasting out of the PA, it sounded like the best thing ever.

I want to describe how it felt so I can remember it, because I have never felt anything like that before.… [more]

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Last night.

What was it like, sitting up there, being at Shea last night? The upper deck shaking and the rally towels waving and the drums and the air horn and something that sounded like a washboard or spoons down on the mezzanine. What was it like, singing along to Bon Jovi and cracking up and smooching TBF because we both hate that song SO much, but last night at Shea, blasting out of the PA, it sounded like the best thing ever.

I want to describe how it felt so I can remember it, because I have never felt anything like that before. Anticipation and excitement and fear and pride and arrogance and ebullience. My cheeks are flushed, my heart racing, my stomach in knots. I can only imagine feeling this way at Game 7. Everything on the line. A season’s worth of hope, 6 years worth of anticipation, decades full of lost prayers.

Last night, it always felt this far from possible. Not once until the end did we have that sinking feeling of ‘we’re never going to pull it out’. Oliver Perez did what everyone said he could never, ever do. For the most part, we played well. We wondered where the bats were but believed they would be coming out any minute now. We may not have pitching, according to the experts, but everyone knows we can hit!

Watching everyone on the rail of the dugout: Cliff, Duaner, Billy Wagner, John Maine. Watching Maine and Wagner and Duaner high-five Perez every time he came back. Watching those jumps over the foul line. Watching his confidence grow every time he walked off the mound. Feeling like, we are going to do this. We are going to have to work for it but we’re going to do this.

The Endy catch. I couldn’t pick up my camera. It was slow motion of the ball going out and TBF’s face falling and then turning to watch as Endy leaped, came down, and threw the ball to second in time for the double play. The color returning to TBF’s face as he cheered like I have never seen him cheer before, not even for Bruce Springsteen. Watching him come back to the dugout and wanting to take a million photographs of his reception but wanting to watch it more.

Maybe the catch is what did us in. Because the catch made us feel like we had won, when it was still only 1-1.

And even at the end, the bottom of the 9th, when I know who is next in the order but I keep glancing over at the scoreboard as though I had never seen the lineup before, I still felt it was possible. And Jose and Endy brought us back to the edge of possible. Even the Cardinals fan next to us who was on the phone making his arrangements for next Thursday shut up for a few minutes.

((This was the same guy before the game overheard saying, “I just hope the game is close.” I thought he was talking about us and was going to admonish him for jinxing things until he put on his red hat.)

I would have loved for Cliff to be the hero but honestly just wanted him to get a base hit.

When that third strike was called on Beltran, the physical reaction was immediate, that of losing the ground underneath you. No! That’s it? It’s going to end like THAT? No. It can’t be over. It can’t be. I have tickets to three World Series games. No. We’re not going to lose here to them.

But we did.

By the time we got back to Greenpoint, TBF was at least vocal again. As we were walking down the street, I asked him:”Which is worse: to get this far and not go all the way, or to never have had a chance?”
“You can’t compare them.”
“Am I a moron for wishing that this had been the World Series? I feel like it would be okay if there was no more baseball.”
“No, you’re not, it would be much easier. It’s going to be very hard to watch the Cardinals play.”

I am not going to watch the World Series. As some of us were joking with Metstradamus this morning, we are hiding in the kitchen cabinet, and if Tommy Lasorda comes in to coax us out, I’m aiming for the ankles. He’s big, he’ll hit the ground hard.

[I would like to admit that I finally understand why people get into fights at sporting events. I wanted to throttle the Cardinals fans next to us. I wanted to “accidentally” fall into the woman next to me so that her phone fell down onto the mezzanine. And hearing about what the Cardinals were singing in the clubhouse makes me understand rage on the level TBF has against Roger Clemens. He uses words to describe Roger Clemens that he never, ever, EVER uses. Not that I care, it’s just totally out of character for him.
Now, I get it.]

The Flickr feed is HERE

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congratulating perez on another successful inningPA190054.JPG
PA190071.JPGperez jumping over the foul line
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my banner from last night http://www.metsgrrl.com/2006/10/20/my-banner-from-last-night/ Fri, 20 Oct 2006 14:51:08 +0000 http://metsgrrl.com.s90799.gridserver.com/?p=266
vivaendy
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only love can break your heart http://www.metsgrrl.com/2006/10/20/only-love-can-break-your-heart/ Fri, 20 Oct 2006 03:04:36 +0000 http://metsgrrl.com.s90799.gridserver.com/?p=262

I was going to blow off posting and go hide on the couch with the cat for a little while, but this is not how Mets Grrl rolls. No.

It was there. It was so close. We had every chance in the world. Endy rescued us from the pit of gnawing despair with the one of the best catches you have ever seen, the kind of catch Cliff Floyd would have made when he could have, a miracle catch. Watching TBF’s face as that ball headed towards the Cardinals’ bullpen, seeing his heart sink, and then explode as Endy made that catch.… [more]

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I was going to blow off posting and go hide on the couch with the cat for a little while, but this is not how Mets Grrl rolls. No.

It was there. It was so close. We had every chance in the world. Endy rescued us from the pit of gnawing despair with the one of the best catches you have ever seen, the kind of catch Cliff Floyd would have made when he could have, a miracle catch. Watching TBF’s face as that ball headed towards the Cardinals’ bullpen, seeing his heart sink, and then explode as Endy made that catch. “He saved the season,” his best friend sends in a text message.

And I was there in the front row of the upper deck boxes with TBF, just behind the Mets dugout, fantastic, fantastic seats. It was perfect. I was even singing along to Bon Jovi like I meant it – hell, tonight I DID mean it. The vantage for photographs was fantastic. (And some day I will likely feel like putting them online. Some day. Just not now.) We should have won this game, easily. Easily. Even at the end, snatching victory from the Cardinals in true New York fashion when we loaded those bases and came back to the top of the order… the fairytale ending had written itself.

Except it wasn’t a fairytale and the ending was less than happy. And with that, the season is over, we leave Shea for the last time in 2006, and life goes back to normal.

At the end of it all, TBF was standing there at the railing, looking at the field. This is the same guy who leaves road games we are losing in a tearing hurry, he doesn’t want to see the other team celebrating.
I grab his hand.
“Come on.”
“No. I need to see this.”

I vaguely recall that he and his best friend had a tradition about sitting and watching all the award presentations for playoff games. That is fine and dandy when it is not your team that has lost and when it is not happening in your house. I did not want to sit through that, and rationally, I knew he didn’t either. So I pack everything up and then when I am ready, I grab his hand again. All this time, I have not looked at the field once. I am not going to look at the field, and I do not regret that I did not. I finally managed to coax him out of the box and up the stairs and onto the concourse and through the sea of humanity and onto the 7 train, where I sobbed like a 12 year old boy and TBF sat there stunned and we held hands because we couldn’t fucking SAY anything.

I finally said: “You know, I have no idea how to handle this, I have never been through this before. You kind of have to help me here.”
“It’ll take a few weeks,” is all he said.

Now, here is my vent:

The worst thing about the night was that there were two Cardinals fans next to us. I could have dealt with it if they had had some guts and stood up and supported their team. They only got loud when things picked up, and the girl next to me was a pink hat girl: not that she was wearing one, but she was exactly the kind of girl those hats are made for. When we applauded Oliver Perez as he ran out towards the bullpen, she turns to me and says: “Who’s that? Why are they clapping for him.”
“He’s the *pitcher*.”
“Oh.”
Who the FUCK goes to a playoff game AND DOESN’T KNOW WHO IS PITCHING FOR THE OTHER TEAM??
And, again, I could have dealt with it if she had just been a Cardinals fan. But she would clap for the Mets and then clap for the Cardinals, get angry at bad ump calls against the Mets and then get angry at dumb things various Cardinals did, even though it was so clear she had no real idea what was going on.

To make things worse, she talked ALL FUCKING NIGHT, the exact kind of nightmare girl every guy dreads: she talked non-stop about everything except the game, and when the guy she was with didn’t pay her what she felt was the right kind of attention, she would get upset and pout and make a big deal out of it.

YO! GIRLFRIEND! YOU’RE AT A FUCKING BASEBALL PLAYOFF GAME! IT CAN WAIT, WHATEVER IT IS! Trust me here.

She complained that she had no place to put her phone. She complained that she was hungry. She complained that hot dogs made her stomach hurt. Several times. And then went out and came back with a tray of nachos, because, you know, that won’t make your stomach hurt.

Thank god they both left as soon as the game ended, because I could not have dealt, not that they had the temerity to try to trash talk.

===

Sitting on the 7 train, I called our friends in Seattle, like we have after every other win this year. TBF was not talking and I had to talk to SOMEONE, and I figured if I was talking to Alan TBF would finally relent and get on the phone, which is exactly what happened. I hear him say, “It’s only five months until Spring Training,” and I perk up. I have been talking about going to Spring Training since last year and this is the first time TBF has professed any interest in going.

The train ride would have been better if people had been quiet. Getting on the train would have been better if the NYPD were not assholes. And the whole thing would have been better if losing tonight meant all baseball was over for the year.

I will put up the pictures from the game, because I got some gorgeous shots, and I am proud of that. But, not tonight. Now it is time to go hide on the couch with the cat.

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I’LL BITE YOUR LEGS OFF! http://www.metsgrrl.com/2006/10/19/ill-bite-your-legs-off/ Thu, 19 Oct 2006 12:29:57 +0000 http://metsgrrl.com.s90799.gridserver.com/?p=260
HolyGrail017
This photo on Toasted Joe’s blog this morning got me thinking how very apt it was: the Mets really are the Black Knight of MLB this year. If you are one of the four people who has never seen Monty Python and the Holy Grail, let me explain: King Arthur meets the Black Knight in a forest. He has to fight the knight to cross a bridge. Arthur cuts the knight’s arm off, and thinks that’s the end, that he’s won.

You can find the script here if you are unfamiliar with the scene.

ARTHUR [LA Dodgers]: Now stand aside, worthy adversary.

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HolyGrail017

This photo on Toasted Joe’s blog this morning got me thinking how very apt it was: the Mets really are the Black Knight of MLB this year. If you are one of the four people who has never seen Monty Python and the Holy Grail, let me explain: King Arthur meets the Black Knight in a forest. He has to fight the knight to cross a bridge. Arthur cuts the knight’s arm off, and thinks that’s the end, that he’s won.

You can find the script here if you are unfamiliar with the scene.

ARTHUR [LA Dodgers]: Now stand aside, worthy adversary.
BLACK KNIGHT [Mets]: ‘Tis but a scratch.
[Joe Morgan] : A scratch? Your arm’s off. You lost Pedro!
[Mets]: No, it isn’t.
[NY Post]: Well, what’s that, then?
[Mets]: I’ve had worse.
[Daily News]: You liar!
[Mets]: Come on, you pansy!
[ARTHUR chops the BLACK KNIGHT’s right arm off]
[Grady Little]: Victory is mine!
[Mets]: Hah! [kick] Come on, then! Have at you! [kick]
[Nomar]: Eh. You are indeed brave, Sir Knight, but the fight is mine.
[Mets]: Oh, had enough, eh?
[Joe Buck]: Look, you stupid bastard. You’ve got no arms left. You have no starting pitching!
[Mets]: Yes, I have.
[Pujols]: Look!
[Mets]: Just a flesh wound. [kick]
[MLB]: Look, stop that.
[Mets]: Chicken! [kick] Chickennn!
[David Eckstein]: Look, I’ll have your leg.
[ARTHUR chops the BLACK KNIGHT’s right leg off]
[Mets]: Right. I’ll do you for that!
[Scott Spezio]: You’ll what?
[Mets]: Come here!
[Tony La Russa]: What are you going to do, bleed on me?
[Mets]: I’m invincible!
[Bob Klapsich]: You’re a looney.
[Mets]: The Black Knight always triumphs! Have at you! Come on, then.
[ARTHUR chops the BLACK KNIGHT’s last leg off]
[Mets]: Oh. Oh, I see. Running away, eh? You yellow bastards! Come back here and take what’s coming to you. I’ll bite your legs off!

[With apologies to the Monty Python troupe.]

During the playoffs, I have been meeting TBF at Grand Central for dinner, since he works in midtown. Last night, after deciding we were done with the Grand Central food court, we decided to meet at Goodburger on 2nd Avenue. I walked from the 6 train, wearing full game regalia, and was suddenly a moving target. I am usually accustomed to being ignored.
“St Louis!!! Go St. Louis!”
“Mets are going DOWN tonight!”
“[unprintable]”
“Pujols is the MAN!”

Now if this came from individuals wearing red birds and red shirts or red soul patches, I would have taken it like a woman. Fair is fair. But it didn’t. It came from random people, several of whom were wearing Yankees hats. What was striking was how they took such PLEASURE in their vehemence. Suddenly, we’re the bad guys in this town? I’m being taunted by YANKEES fans because now I’m the bad guy/gal? I mean, really, what is it? Now we’re doing well and we can’t be told we suck, but you [taunting fan] can’t actually admit that we did something right to get where we are, because that would question your own taste and judgement, since your team isn’t in the playoffs, and hasn’t been for a long time now, despite your payroll and your intangibles and your sacred ground and your rings.

Now, let’s move on beyond the local color: let’s talk about the media coverage. I once read NY Post rock critic Lisa Robinson the riot act in person as she was walking into a concert, because she phoned in a report from a Who concert and called “Baba O’Riley” “Teenage Wasteland”. But these sports commentators get shit wrong and NOTHING HAPPENS. You have to publicly abuse a blind guy AND then offer a racist remark before anything can possibly happen to you, apparently. But beyond the moronity and the blandness of the commentary is the overwhelmingly patronizing and condescending attitude of, well, they have no business being here. They’re not the YANKEES, after all. Or worse, they’re just the Mets and how DARE they be playing October baseball without Pedro and without El Duque and without Cliff and and and. GO away, you pesky, annoying insect. I haven’t paid any attention to your team all season and now you are making me work by having to learn something, or make me look like a fool when I run my mouth off and don’t, either way I don’t like it much. So lose already, please. Don’t you understand, you’re NOT supposed to win. So could you please lose already because I have the story written and ready to go and I want to go home and watch football. You know you’re going to lose, what’s the point in continuing this charade?

Even the guy who is answering the MLB mailbag on Mets.com is acting this way. It’s not just that he’s obviously a closet Cardinals fan, it’s that he clearly has no respect for the Mets at all whatsoever. He is huddling around his sheets of numbers and trying to take solace in his numbers: “Mets have no starting pitching. Mets will lose. Mets will lose and I can go home, or go write about something more interesting.”

Even to a newbie like me, it’s obvious that playoff baseball goes far beyond the numbers. Not just for us. This is the time where people see what they are made of. This is the time when you might as well try to go far beyond yourself and watch what happens. This is not hard for us; we do it all the time, and we did it all season. When they interviewed Delgado last night post-game, (who is an incredibly articulate man – not just well-spoken, articulate, without having to heavily rely on standard baseball cliche) he made the point that his attitude was to go out there and have fun, because the alternative was to get nervous about the situation and when he gets nervous, nothing happened. No one expected the Mets to do anything this year, so they went out and had fun and look at where that got us?

So I asked TBF about this last night over dinner. Why it was like this. Was it the Mets hatred leftover from the 80’s? (Because if you ask me, St. Louis are the pond scum this time around). Is it a New York thing? WTF is up with this?
“It’s a New York thing. People hate New York. The Mets/Yankees World Series was the lowest-rated WS ever.”
Now, this is truly astonishing.
“And, yes. it’s also a Mets thing. We’re not supposed to win.”

That, more than anything else, is what it feels like to me. We’re not supposed to win. We’re supposed to roll over and play dead because that’s what the NUMBERS say we should do. It doesn’t take into account fortitude and spirit and heart and street fighting scrappiness that wouldn’t be out of place on in a Canarsie stickball game. None of this should be a surprise to anyone who is from this town, because THIS IS THE TRUE SPIRIT OF NEW YORK CITY. Nothing is for granted. Nothing is given to you just because you have the degree or the pretty face or your mom thinks you’re talented. When you fall down, get back up. When you get pushed, push back. And never, fucking EVER, give up.

LET’S GO METS.

]]> won’t get fooled again http://www.metsgrrl.com/2006/10/19/wont-get-fooled-again/ Thu, 19 Oct 2006 02:51:27 +0000 http://metsgrrl.com.s90799.gridserver.com/?p=258
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Tonight, I would have been happy if we’d gotten to Shea at 4pm. I just wanted to get there, because I felt like the sooner I got there, the sooner the game would start, and the sooner we would know the outcome. My stomach hurt, I couldn’t concentrate on work (as if you couldn’t tell), and I just wanted the clock to say 5:15 so I could leave.

Shortly before noon, the phone rang. It was TBF, and he starts babbling to me about Will I sit in section 18 row H and I have no idea what he is talking about.… [more]

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PA180015.JPG

Tonight, I would have been happy if we’d gotten to Shea at 4pm. I just wanted to get there, because I felt like the sooner I got there, the sooner the game would start, and the sooner we would know the outcome. My stomach hurt, I couldn’t concentrate on work (as if you couldn’t tell), and I just wanted the clock to say 5:15 so I could leave.

Shortly before noon, the phone rang. It was TBF, and he starts babbling to me about Will I sit in section 18 row H and I have no idea what he is talking about.
“World Series game 5.”
I am still confused. Is this someone he found on Craigslist? He has been a human RSS reader, keeping up with all the action on that site.
“No, no, I won the lottery.”
“BUY THEM.”
What he didn’t tell me until later that night is that he didn’t get an email from the Mets telling him he’d won. He just kept logging into his Mets ticket account on a consistent basis: “Maybe there would be a screw-up. Maybe I would miss an email. You never know.” And today, just before he was leaving to execute our Game 3 for Game 4 trade, he tries the web site one more time and was greeted with information about his World Series ticket opportunity and got us into Game 5.

This, of course, so greatly assisted in keeping my mind on track.

We got to Shea a tiny bit early because I was supposed to meet up with the blogosphere: Matt from Metsblog, homegirl Zoe, Anthony from Hot Foot, Metstradamus, and Toasted Joe and Brooklyn Met Fan all showed up for some nervous pre-game chatter. By 7:30 everyone was antsy and wanted to head for their seats. I had to make it from far right field level all the way over to mezz section 14. As I headed for the ramps, I could hear the beginning of “Won’t Get Fooled Again” begin the pre-game entertainment. It’s a long song; I knew I could probably make it to my seat by the time the song ended, and this suddenly becomes irrationally imperative: I needed to make it to my seat by the time of that last Daltrey power scream. The Who and I are on the outs at the moment ($256 ticket prices is part of it), and I haven’t felt that emotional oomph I should be feeling when their songs are used at Shea, but tonight is different. Tonight, it works: just enough nervous tension and excitement. I reach section 14 in time to play air guitar with TBF as the song ends. Time to hang up my sign, set up the camera, and pray.

It was hard to not jump into the first car of the rollercoaster the minute Reyes hit that home run. I want to be cool, composed, not invest too much hope into anything – it’s just one run – but tonight I HAVE to go for the happy ending from the get-go. I have to be thinking happy thoughts, shaking fairy dust, screaming and praying and yelling and acting like my team was going to win. I put my camera down every time the Cardinals were up and picked it up when the Mets were at bat, as though there would of course always be something worth photographing. (I am disappointed in what did come out – the small distance between section 12 and section 14 was just enough to remove enough detail to make them interesting.) I am always too excited by what is happening in the game to get the big action shots: do I want to be focusing on home plate to catch Reyes sliding across it or do I want to watch all the action on the field?? The problem is usually I opt for the latter.

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Maine was fantastic. And Shawn Green finally came through, which I attribute to the laser of Jewish guilt I was aiming at him all night. “LET’S HEAR IT FOR THE JEWS!” I yelled when Mr. Green got his hit. (Note to Shea: we need to stop overusing the whole ‘Green Day’ thing, okay?) We left more guys on base than I ever would have wanted to see, and Wagner makes me nervous, but everyone else did what they needed to do.

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The guy next to us tonight was keeping the box score on his Palm Pilot. TBF at first acted interested, and then reverted to curmudgeon mode – but kept revising his opinion between every at-bat. While this interests me as a holiday gift possibility, I do not ever see him giving up the manual scorecard, especially since he has his own personally designed scorecard that he keeps updating and changing every year for the last 7.

Other notes:

  • Most over-exposed celebrity: Stop showing Trump on the smooch cam. It was funny the first time. Now it’s not.
  • Best anti-Cardinals chant: “Shave your chin!”
  • New sponsor promo movie: “The Carlos y Carlos Express” was awesome. Even better was that they didn’t use old white guy music as the background. It was something you could see them dancing to in the dugout.
  • Sign overusage: Note to fans — No one next season is allowed to bring a sign when John Maine pitches reading “THE MAINE EVENT” or any derivative thereof.
  • Tonight’s intentional commentary via music: “Head Games” when our old friend Braden Looper was on the mound. Welcome back, buddy!
  • Sign that we should frown on, but enjoyed: “HOW’S THE VIEW, A-ROD”
  • Ceremonial first pitch: Matt Dillon, did a great job, and I’m glad he’s a Mets fan, but to me, he will always be Cliff Poncier.

Flickr feed is here.

And tomorrow, as they say, is another day. Front row, upper boxes, thanks to TBF’s mom, who entered and won the ticket lottery for us.

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NOT IN OUR HOUSE http://www.metsgrrl.com/2006/10/18/not-in-our-house/ Wed, 18 Oct 2006 18:22:53 +0000 http://metsgrrl.com.s90799.gridserver.com/?p=256
It’s a little slow today at work – the company I work for is winding down, hence all the job interviewing activity – and reading various Mets-related sites made me wish I had made a sign for the game. We always talk about doing it, and then never get our act together.
Usually, I would ask one of our designers to help me make something cool. They can put something together in 15 minutes that would take me hours, and even then anything I did would look like crap. However, at this point, we have one designer left, and he is a Yankees fan – a nice guy, not an arrogant idiot, but still, a Yankees fan.… [more]
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It’s a little slow today at work – the company I work for is winding down, hence all the job interviewing activity – and reading various Mets-related sites made me wish I had made a sign for the game. We always talk about doing it, and then never get our act together.
Usually, I would ask one of our designers to help me make something cool. They can put something together in 15 minutes that would take me hours, and even then anything I did would look like crap. However, at this point, we have one designer left, and he is a Yankees fan – a nice guy, not an arrogant idiot, but still, a Yankees fan.
I finally decide just to ask him, if nothing else maybe he will loan me a copy of Illustrator so I can do it myself.
“How would you feel about helping me make a sign for tonight’s game?”
*pause*
“What do you want it to say?”
I tell him.
“When are you leaving?”
I tell him.
“Okay, I’ll do it.”
“If you don’t want to, I will totally respect that.”
“No, it’s fine.”
Five minutes later I catch him on mets.com.
The result below – look for us on the mezz tonight:
sign

When he was done, he asked me: “Are you really prepared for tonight?”
“Yes.”
“No, are you REALLY prepared? To see your team lose?”
“Win or lose, I’m there until the end.”

Either way, it’ll make me feel glad to be alive.

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