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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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Next Fear Is Here

Hope you had a happy Elster Sunday and that your boy got to every egg within his limited range.

Cripes, the real thing is a week away and panic is simmering in this

corner of Metsopotamia. Pedro's lower back. DeJean's right calf.

Cameron's nodding, if that, familiarity with his new position.

Zambrano's refusal to make the Kazmir trade palatable. Diaz's apparent

ticket to Norfolk. Reyes' excellent health (which has to be a set-up).

Our utter lack of a bullpen beyond Braden. How did April 4 get so close

with so much unknown?

These are the desperate hours. It occurs to me that the seventh, the

eighth, maybe the sixth innings — one-third of our lives — will be

trusted to people we barely know. Who is Dae-Sung Koo anyway? He's

looked fairly abysmal and

he doesn't know why he's here. Earlier in spring training, it was

reported that the Yankees had been interested in signing him. When

asked why he chose the Mets, he replied, “I'm not sure why my agent did

that.” Assuming nothing was lost in translation, we've got a

responsibility-ducker who can't pitch. It's Viola all over again.

Why do I keep hearing Chilly Willy, a.k.a. Manny Aybar, has no chance

to make the team? Sunday afternoon I wrapped myself in a blanket and

listened to him pitch two shutout innings. Ditto for your pal Heath

Bell who should have bladed his way onto the staff by now. He's no

lock. Nobody's a lock, except for Felix Horrendous and DeJean, whose

calf-baked career wasn't much before his injuries, save for like three

appearances last summer.

Is this what we're setting up with? Brrrrr…

Save Victor Diaz! Somebody's gotta bat right-handed off the bench and

hit one out. I'm of two minds on Galarraga, despite his recent pretend

power surge: 1) He's old and 2) He's decrepit. Not as a human being,

just as a ballplayer. I look in the mirror; I recognize old and

decrepit when I see it.

Why no bandwagon for Luis Garcia who looked/sounded good Sunday? A year

ago Karim Garcia was the starting right fielder and Danny Garcia was

our secret weapon. It was muchas Garcias. Now? Sic transit Garcia.

Glints of sun: John Pachot seemed particularly studly behind the plate

Friday night — move over, Hietpas. And the closer of future past,

Royce Ring, actually appeared on TV, pitching well if wearing No. 91

without a name. I guess the future will have to wait.

As you can see, I'm coping a lot better with the past lately than I am

with this particular present. C'mon man, make some snarky comment about

how Wayne Garrett wasn't a Great Met because he didn't charge Lynn

McGlothen one night in 1976. That I can wrap my head around. The New

Mets? They still elude me.

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