On Being A Mets Fan

My dad grew up rooting for the Brooklyn Dodgers, who broke his heart when they left for Los Angeles. For a while, he didn’t root for any baseball teams and certainly not the Yankees! But, then, in 1962, he found a new home team when the New York Mets played their first season. They became his team and, of course, they became my team, too. It was a rocky start, for sure, with only 40 wins in their first season, which remains the worst regular season record in Major League Baseball. But after only seven years, they were playing in the 1969 World Series! Sister Damien, our fourth-grade teacher at Sacred Hearts of Jesus and Mary School actually allowed us to watch the day games in our classroom! I can remember Ron Swoboda making that incredible diving catch, Jerry Koosman winning two games, and the euphoria of the ticker-tape parade. My family, like the rest of the country, had seen its share of heartaches in the sixties, so what better way to end the decade than with the Miracle Mets becoming World Champions. I knew how happy it made my dad and it amped us all up when he started taking us out to Shea Stadium in the early seventies. As city kids, seeing the green of the field in person was such a vivid experience and standing along the railing during batting practice was a thrill.

In those days, I would take the schedule out of the yearbook, tape it to my bedroom wall, and diligently record a “W” or an “L” each day, along with the score. On my bed, I had a Mr. Mets pillow doll and when I was old enough to take the bus to A&S Department Store by myself, I bought a gray “Property of the Mets” T-Shirt with #41 on the back. I actually wanted #3 for Buddy Harrelson, who was my favorite player at the time. But they didn’t have one in my size, so I had to settle for Tom Seaver, which isn’t a bad substitute considering he is the only Met to enter the Hall of Fame as a Met.

The 1970s brought the arrival of my next favorite player, Rusty Staub. I was really taken by that red hair of his and years later, when I was dating my husband, he brought me to Rusty Staub’s restaurant, where I got to see Le Grande Orange up-close, in person! My husband, a Yankee fan, knew the way to my heart was through my stomach – and Rusty Staub.

Now, anybody who is a Mets fan knows full well that we usually feel like second-class citizens. If the Mets win and the Yankees lose, the Mets still don’t get top billing in the New York tabloids. While we don’t often get respect, there were some years when the Yankees were not in contention and not winning one of their 27 World Series. During those years, the Mets really were the only team in town. That was back in 1969, of course, and in 1973 – the year of Tug McGraw’s rallying cry, “Ya Gotta Believe!” – when they won the National League pennant, as well as in 1986 when they won their second World Series. When the Mets clinched it in ‘86, my sister Lisa and I threw bags of confetti out of our bedroom window in celebration. And then there was that Subway Series in 2000 between the Mets and the Yankees, but I’d rather not talk about the outcome of that one, although the rivalry was great fun, as were the Mets and Yankees cupcakes from my beloved College Bakery.

And now, here we are in 2015, and there is no Yankee news to be found in the papers this fall. There is only the Mets. While I may not follow the Mets as religiously as I did back in the day, I am swept up in the fever of this post-season, the first for the Mets in nine years. Last week, as you surely know by now, the Mets won the National League pennant by sweeping the Chicago Cubs, a team they didn’t beat once all season! I stayed up to watch all those late night games, hanging on to every pitch and clapping like crazy. Even my husband was rooting for my team, cheering for Daniel Murphy, and hi-fiving me after each game! I really felt bad for those Cubs fans who have been waiting a mere 107 years, but not bad enough to want their team to win, mind you.

And now the Mets are playing in the World Series. I’ve got a new shirt and banner that my husband bought me from Modells. I’ve got yet another favorite player, Wilmer Flores, who, granted, might not be the best player, but I’m a sucker for a man who loves New York and the Mets enough to cry at the thought of being traded. Today I woke up singing “Meet the Mets,” checked out Mr. Met dancing along with the Metropolitan Opera on Youtube, and quickly scanned and liked all the Facebook posts by my fellow Mets fans. I feel like there’s a real buzz on the streets of Carroll Gardens. When I see someone wearing a Mets shirt or cap, I find myself calling out “Let’s Go Mets!” and giving them a thumbs-up. I’m not usually that outgoing and while these people may be perfect strangers, I know we share an unbreakable bond: our love for our team, the team that Casey Stengal long ago called amazin’ – our Amazing Mets!