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Greg Prince and Jason Fry
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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Yeah, Moe…

…that team sure did suck last night. They just plain sucked! I've seen teams suck before, but they were the suckiest bunch of sucks that ever sucked!

— Homer Simpson

Truth be told, you could see this one coming. Heilman came out looking frightened, immediately balked, gave up a run-scoring single to Jeter, got a gift when Sheffield was called out (he wasn't), and then gave up a run-scoring single to A-Rod anyway. It's fair to say he sucked. Then Ring did OK, though it took another nice play by Marlon Anderson, whom I was just maligning not so long ago. More or less a welcome respite from suckage. Roberto Hernandez? Well, he was more lucky than good — Floyd was positioned well and made a nice running grab on what looked like a fatal dunker by Bernie, and Sierra scorched one that Beltran caught up with. Basically, Roberto sucked and got away with it. And the whole time I'm writhing around on the couch and looking in the bullpen and thinking, “Jesus, don't bring in Bell, he's got gopheritis recently — get it to Looper.” And then I'm thinking, “Get it to Looper?”

Well, we got it to Looper.

Back under .500. No sweep. Phillies coming in Tuesday. Still some work to be done out in that bullpen.

Dammit, I wanted this one.

4 comments to Yeah, Moe…

  • Anonymous

    After I pick up all the stuff I threw across the room, I'm going to puke.

  • Anonymous

    There is just no way this guy could close for me…EVER. If I'm Willie he NEVER gets the ball from me. No stuff, no guts, nothing…nothing…nothing….

  • Anonymous

    If you were in my living room any time after the walk, and you had buttons, then on this, the morning after, consider yourself fortunate if you still have those buttons. And blessed if they still do anything remotely productive.

  • Anonymous

    Loopers' ninth sent me back…no, not to any one of the litany of big games that Armando blew, worse: 1999 Game 6, NLCS, bottom 11. Three on, the visceral sense of impending doom, but nonetheless every ounce of me praying for a K. Looper didn't walk in the run, but he might as well have: at this point I have as much confidence in him as I do in Kenny Rogers.