Ok here we are again. Another October where us Mets fans get to watch Altanta getting ready for the playoffs. This is like 15 years in damn row. Most of those years they’ve owned us. One heartbreaking, back breaking, spirit crushing bad loss after another. And they don’t do anything in October. i’m not sure if that makes it better or worse. I guess it’s better, but the continued mindless tomahawk chopping their idiot fans are still doing after over a decade of playoff nothingness somehow adds to the ignominity of being perpetually inferior to these redneck slobs who can’t sell out playoff games. And guys with names like Chipper keep killing us. Bigots like John Rocker own us despite us knowing we’re better then him and that every one who rides the #7 has more class in their ethnic and homosexual pinkies than he does behind his entire sloped forehead. It doesn’t matter the cast of characters its just a baseball axiom. The Braves will beat us.
I know this is not my usual identity on this site. Here I’m mainly politically passionate and thoughtful movie-culture analysis guy. But if you want to know me you should know this: the Mets and me go way friggin back and our connection is as deep and dysfunctional as many families and relationships. It exists on the level of metaphor as well as the prosaic. Baseball itself is the subject of a library of literature as well as most of the best sports movies ever. It is so because it runs deep and those who know it and grew up with its measured cadences and arythmic perturbances know how it reflects life. We know how truly American this game once was even if America is now being characterized better by X Games and Arena Football.
I think only people on Mets boards like the one where i post and find the most knowledgeable fans anywhere at NYFans Only via Scout.com can truly understand the spirtual emtiness and colossal weight that I feel every October as the Braves prepare for yet another playoff appearance. It makes me want to hate the game. Give it up for good. It makes me feel like god is a lunatic or that the baseball part of my reality is being played out in one of Dante’s nine circles. I just want it to end. Every year I hope and see valid reasons and yet know they’ll be there. And they are. And it goes on and on and on and on…
06 will be no different. They’ll be there again. you know it, I know it, they know it, and the Mets know it. Some night after another brutal sweep at their horrid little stadium I can easily imagine Rod Sterling stepping out of the bullpen as the lights dim and doing a monologue for both sets of fans that kind of explains our collective pain that is simultaneously never ending and yet so dichotomous as we suffer their greatness in comparison to us and they in turn see how meaningless it is every October as they fall meekly.
And if they should somehow make it to the Series and upset this delicate Twilight Zone balance that keeps both our realities so precariously intact, well I don’t even want to think of the consequences. it’s just too much to even…no forget it, I shouldn’t have even… I mean, oh nothing I just love the Fall so much. So Tired.
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