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I am coming up on that time of the year that brings one of the most permanent memories of just how far I took my love of a stupid baseball team. That relationship began in 1967, five years after the team was hatched and just over seven years after I was, and when their imprrobable ascension to world championship came two years later, the distraction got a place on my Permanent Record Card in elementary school:
I have not returned to quite that level of obsession in the past few weeks, but it is certainly not absent. Although I have not been to a single game all year or watched more than a few innings of the handful that were available on Apple or HBO, I’ve spent a lot of the past few weeks listening to the play-by-play on my phone, in the car and under the pillow. That was particularly the case over the past two evenings, when the Mets played their eighth and ninth consecutive road games, almost all of them must-win affairs to avoid elimination from the postseason.
Wednesday, particularly, was a long workday and entertainment night for me, interspersed with the calls of Howie and Keith on the radio. It was my second run of the week out to Rochester, both primarily to continue an effort to keep my one current pro bono client from losing his house in a foreclosure. I stopped at his house on Monday to try to get him set up for online billpay of his mortgage now that he is in a repayment plan through a bankruptcy. I didn’t get anywhere with that because the only online option seem to be doing it by smartphone, so I decided to go back and bring them to one of his branches to see if they could set him up on my computer. We were ultimately successful. We also went over his bank statements and discovered that some scammer had signed him up for a $25 a month unlimited car wash plan, debited directly from his account. I sent the following message to the scammer:
If you're going to trick an elderly person into paying for your $25 a month subscription for unlimited Delta Sonic car washes, don't do it to an elderly person who is
(a) legally blind;
(b) owns one beater car that hasn't been moved, much less washed, in the past 18 months;
(c) has a lawyer who notices these things on his bank statements; and
(d) also has a federal bankruptcy trustee who also notices these things and has the US marshals on speed-dial.
Since I was back in Rochester again, I decided to stay for a few songs from a radio friend of mine who is also in a local band. They had just released the CD of their live performance homaging a dozen or so famous episodes of the Twilight Zone, and while I didn’t get to hear any of them performed live there, I did stay for a nice tribute they did the one of the most famous songs by Kris Kristofferson, who just passed away earlier in the week.
The Mets, meanwhile, had qualified for the playoffs on that previous Monday afternoon; I'd listened to the final pitch of that clinching game in Atlanta while sitting at my client's kitchen table, trying to figure out his online banking. That sent the team right back to Milwaukee, where they had finished the original regular season schedule a day earlier. Now they would face the Brewers in a best of three elimination series, all on that other team’s field. We won that first game on Tuesday in rather convincing fashion, which meant a win in the second game Wednesday would advance the Mets to the next round. That was the game. I was listening to the whole way home from the concert, and again the good guys were pretty good shape when I arrived home a little past nine. I was just too tired to keep listening at that point, and the Mets wound up blowing the two run lead I left them with, forcing a winner-take-all final game last night.
----
I have seen, or at least listen to, any number of miraculous moments in my almost six decades of following this team. I’ve seen Cubs cursed on field by stray black cat, I’ve seen shenanigans with shoe polish in a climactic World Series game, I’ve seen highlight reel catches in the Shea Stadium outfield from the 60s to the oughts. After the move to Citi Field, I've seen down years and bounceback years, I was there in person with my longago high school science mentor "Pistol Pete" Palazzo and his family the night "Polar Bear Pete" Alonzo broke the Met team record of 42 home runs in a season. I was watching from home three Octobers earlier when the Mets and Giants, then only playing one game to advance to the Division Series, sent dueling pitchers out to an eight-inning 0-0 standoff before the Met relief pitcher blew it in the ninth. Last night echoed that memory, as the Met and Brewer pitchers were both stellar and scoreless into the eighth...
until, in the bottom of that frame, our shaky overworked closer Edwin Diaz surrendered two straight solo homers to put Milwaukee ahead 2-0 and only three outs away from advancing. I couldn't watch. No, literally: ESPN had the game and we don't have that service. We were enjoying Agatha All Along anyway, and I headed off to bed with me beginning to write my fond farewells to the season. We weren't even supposed to contend this time. Injuries, bad calls and an ill-timed suspension, we gave it a good shot.
I had to listen, though. The first clue of shifting karma was when the pitch clock machine hiccupped just as the Brewer closer was getting ready for his first pitch. It threw him off a bit, giving the Met leadoff hitter an advantage to work out a walk. First Met baserunner since early in the game. Then an out. Then a clean single, putting the tying runs on base and that same Polar Bear Pete, mired in a less than stellar season before hitting free agency, having a chance to drive them in.
But for him to homer and drive himself in as well? Too much to ask?
Nah.
The shattered Brewers closer proceeded to hit a guy and then give up an insurance run that made the final half inning much less nail-biting. A Met starter relieved Diaz, who somehow got the win when no Brewer crossed the plate bottom nine. The Mets fanbase- a few in the Milwaukee stands, 6,000 watching on the Citi Field video board, thousands more online or in front of sets, sharing a moment of joyful Mets Magic. Today we rest; it all starts up tomorrow in Philly, and there will be at least one more game in Queens this coming Wednesday night.
The abbreviation for this season has been OMG. Last night was definitely the OMGiest of it all.
I have not returned to quite that level of obsession in the past few weeks, but it is certainly not absent. Although I have not been to a single game all year or watched more than a few innings of the handful that were available on Apple or HBO, I’ve spent a lot of the past few weeks listening to the play-by-play on my phone, in the car and under the pillow. That was particularly the case over the past two evenings, when the Mets played their eighth and ninth consecutive road games, almost all of them must-win affairs to avoid elimination from the postseason.
Wednesday, particularly, was a long workday and entertainment night for me, interspersed with the calls of Howie and Keith on the radio. It was my second run of the week out to Rochester, both primarily to continue an effort to keep my one current pro bono client from losing his house in a foreclosure. I stopped at his house on Monday to try to get him set up for online billpay of his mortgage now that he is in a repayment plan through a bankruptcy. I didn’t get anywhere with that because the only online option seem to be doing it by smartphone, so I decided to go back and bring them to one of his branches to see if they could set him up on my computer. We were ultimately successful. We also went over his bank statements and discovered that some scammer had signed him up for a $25 a month unlimited car wash plan, debited directly from his account. I sent the following message to the scammer:
If you're going to trick an elderly person into paying for your $25 a month subscription for unlimited Delta Sonic car washes, don't do it to an elderly person who is
(a) legally blind;
(b) owns one beater car that hasn't been moved, much less washed, in the past 18 months;
(c) has a lawyer who notices these things on his bank statements; and
(d) also has a federal bankruptcy trustee who also notices these things and has the US marshals on speed-dial.
Since I was back in Rochester again, I decided to stay for a few songs from a radio friend of mine who is also in a local band. They had just released the CD of their live performance homaging a dozen or so famous episodes of the Twilight Zone, and while I didn’t get to hear any of them performed live there, I did stay for a nice tribute they did the one of the most famous songs by Kris Kristofferson, who just passed away earlier in the week.
The Mets, meanwhile, had qualified for the playoffs on that previous Monday afternoon; I'd listened to the final pitch of that clinching game in Atlanta while sitting at my client's kitchen table, trying to figure out his online banking. That sent the team right back to Milwaukee, where they had finished the original regular season schedule a day earlier. Now they would face the Brewers in a best of three elimination series, all on that other team’s field. We won that first game on Tuesday in rather convincing fashion, which meant a win in the second game Wednesday would advance the Mets to the next round. That was the game. I was listening to the whole way home from the concert, and again the good guys were pretty good shape when I arrived home a little past nine. I was just too tired to keep listening at that point, and the Mets wound up blowing the two run lead I left them with, forcing a winner-take-all final game last night.
----
I have seen, or at least listen to, any number of miraculous moments in my almost six decades of following this team. I’ve seen Cubs cursed on field by stray black cat, I’ve seen shenanigans with shoe polish in a climactic World Series game, I’ve seen highlight reel catches in the Shea Stadium outfield from the 60s to the oughts. After the move to Citi Field, I've seen down years and bounceback years, I was there in person with my longago high school science mentor "Pistol Pete" Palazzo and his family the night "Polar Bear Pete" Alonzo broke the Met team record of 42 home runs in a season. I was watching from home three Octobers earlier when the Mets and Giants, then only playing one game to advance to the Division Series, sent dueling pitchers out to an eight-inning 0-0 standoff before the Met relief pitcher blew it in the ninth. Last night echoed that memory, as the Met and Brewer pitchers were both stellar and scoreless into the eighth...
until, in the bottom of that frame, our shaky overworked closer Edwin Diaz surrendered two straight solo homers to put Milwaukee ahead 2-0 and only three outs away from advancing. I couldn't watch. No, literally: ESPN had the game and we don't have that service. We were enjoying Agatha All Along anyway, and I headed off to bed with me beginning to write my fond farewells to the season. We weren't even supposed to contend this time. Injuries, bad calls and an ill-timed suspension, we gave it a good shot.
I had to listen, though. The first clue of shifting karma was when the pitch clock machine hiccupped just as the Brewer closer was getting ready for his first pitch. It threw him off a bit, giving the Met leadoff hitter an advantage to work out a walk. First Met baserunner since early in the game. Then an out. Then a clean single, putting the tying runs on base and that same Polar Bear Pete, mired in a less than stellar season before hitting free agency, having a chance to drive them in.
But for him to homer and drive himself in as well? Too much to ask?
Nah.
The shattered Brewers closer proceeded to hit a guy and then give up an insurance run that made the final half inning much less nail-biting. A Met starter relieved Diaz, who somehow got the win when no Brewer crossed the plate bottom nine. The Mets fanbase- a few in the Milwaukee stands, 6,000 watching on the Citi Field video board, thousands more online or in front of sets, sharing a moment of joyful Mets Magic. Today we rest; it all starts up tomorrow in Philly, and there will be at least one more game in Queens this coming Wednesday night.
The abbreviation for this season has been OMG. Last night was definitely the OMGiest of it all.