So I watched the Mets game today that I sadly thought I would attend in person. And I realized how insane fan I get. Here I am in the middle of my living room, half naked, talking to myself and riding on every pitch. Being in Massachusetts, I get my share of questions being a New Yorker about my loyalty to New York sports teams. For the most part, I'm mostly indifferent. I mean I enjoy sports but growing up, New York teams were mostly lackluster. I grew up being more attached to personalities then teams.
So there was Magic Johnson (my dad called me at school to tell me about the HIV. I cried in my cereal the next morning). And Emmitt Smith. And Frank Thomas. And Alonzo Mourning. I was kind of a Yankee fan when I went to school in the Bronx and they ripped off their late 90s run. And I did go to the Rangers parade and watched that whole series cause I really liked Brian Leetch. But the Mets were always there in my mind. I cringed during the no name years when Todd Hundley and Benny Agbayani were the heroes. And I leaped out of my skin when Robin Ventura hit his grand slam single against the Braves.
So starting last year or actually the year they got Kaz, I subconsciously decided that I would hop back on the bandwagon. I'm glad I beat the rush. Here I am screaming at the TV because Mota bloody pitched the same damn changeup that Nomaaaaaah was waiting for. Cursing Billy Wagner and yelling and the fans at Shea for not showing the appropriate enthusiasm and support. So forever I will be a Mets fan.
From this point on, I pledge to be a Mets fan. Wherever I live, I will baptize my children in the waters of Flushing Corona Park. I will learn the intricacies of the minor league system and hope for the draft waters to turn up promising prospect after promising prospect. I wish they didn't wear blue and orange, but my blood will bleed those colors (though I will be wearing the black and orange as often as possible)
LONG LIVE THE METS
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