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Jason Fry and Greg Prince
Faith and Fear in Flushing made its debut on Feb. 16, 2005, the brainchild of two longtime friends and lifelong Met fans.

Greg Prince discovered the Mets when he was 6, during the magical summer of 1969. He is a Long Island-based writer, editor and communications consultant. Contact him here.

Jason Fry is a Brooklyn writer whose first memories include his mom leaping up and down cheering for Rusty Staub. Check out his other writing here.

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The Willies

Spring training being spring training, the papers basically had two stories today — Mike Piazza Is Contented and Willie Randolph Is Not Art Howe. You're right — why on earth do they all write these things on the same day? If they're going to do that, why not just use a pool reporter?

Re Piazza, I have to wonder if any team has ever upgraded its first-base defense the way we have going from Mike to Mientkiewicz. (No insult to Mike, who would probably agree he shouldn't have been over there in the first place.) Who followed Dick Stuart at first base for the Pirates?

Does Mike's marriage mean Alicia gets to drive the World's Gayest Vehicle around Miami Beach? (I'm using the seventh-grade sense of that word, naturally — no gay man I know would come within a mile of this disaster.) Note that I tried and failed to find a picture of Piazza staring in horror at the actual truck forced upon him in last year's cruel ceremony. I fervently hope he made his agent's assistant sell it on the spot. Poor Mike. It's been a tough couple of years.

As for Willie, the most interesting thing to my geeky little eyes was, naturally, the Daily News' discussion of how he wound up with #12 instead of #30 — as you knew immediately, it's in homage to Ken Boswell. A quick check of Jon's Mets By the Numbers confirmed my memory that Shawon Dunston also wore #12 to salute K.B. Since it would be cynical to suggest Cliff Floyd's digits might be up for adoption soon enough, I'll confine myself to wondering at the seemingly outsized influence of Boswell on the youth of Brooklyn in the late 1960s.

(Art Howe's number should have been an homage to Terry McDaniel. Rimshot.)

Following up on yesterday, the Guy Swearing You'll See Him in July is Orber Moreno, whom I feel kind of bad for forgetting about even though he's probably destined to be the next Jaime Cerda.

News about The Holy Books* — the fairly anonymous Chris Woodward somehow already has a Met card, from the very cool retro Topps Heritage set. One wonders if that will be the highlight of Mr. Woodward's Met career. Meanwhile, the player most likely to be the Guy Who's a Holy Books Problem (though not of an Al Schmelz level) has got to be the just-signed Francisco Campos. Who? Wha? From where?

* Note for anyone else actually reading this: The Holy Books are Jace's two binders full of baseball cards chronicling the history of the Mets. Each player gets a card (or a photo, if no card is available), arranged according to the year of their Met debut. Al Schmelz, Class of '67, is the only member of The Holy Books to lack at least a decent photo. And yes, Jace is insane.

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