The blog for Mets fans
who like to read

ABOUT US

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.

Got something to say? Leave a comment, or email us at faithandfear@gmail.com.

Need our RSS feed? It's here.

Visit our Facebook page, or drop by the personal pages for Greg and Jason.

Or follow us on Twitter: Here's Greg, and here's Jason.

In St. Lucie, All Players Are Above Average

This is the time of year when one of two things is happening to your baseball team: Those coming back from injuries aren't doing as well as they would like (or are off getting MRI #1), or everyone is throwing well, getting along, adapting to their new positions and getting ready to hit .300.

So far (and my goodness it's early) we're the latter kind of camp — the “happy ball clubs are all alike” camp, if you don't count music. Which is a lot better than the “every unhappy team is unhappy in its own way” camp, except for the fact that, well, it means nothing.

Felix Heredia? Throwing well! Braden Looper? Throwing well! Dae-Sung Koo? Thr… you get the idea. Kaz Matsui? Looking surprisingly comfortable over there at second! It would save everybody a lot of time and trouble if Atlanta just gave us the keys to the division.

Unfortunately, as we know, there's a reason you play 'em — and a reason you scrimmage 'em and stretch 'em and every other thing. But right now, it's all good, even if it means nada. As you noted, we've been more or less no-shows on the back pages. In February that's a good, good thing.

So what the heck. Let's enjoy the intangibles that never even achieve not-showing-up-in-the-box-score status. Pedro has adapted wonderfully to his status as the lead dog in the clubhouse — who's heard a whisper from Glavine this year? Carlos Beltran has taken Wright and Reyes under his wing, and might even be able to reach young Jose about doing all those pesky exercises. It goes against the Met fan pedigree, but I'm going to try to just enjoy it all as a vicarious dose of Florida sun.

Though here's a memo to Bartholome Fortunato: Don't knock down Cliff Floyd, even in fun. He tends to break.

Comments are closed.