The blog for Mets fans
who like to read


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 (Sorry, but we have no interest in ads, sponsored content or guest posts.)

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.

Our Morning in 4th Place

Well, it was fun. Now here we are in more-familiar confines: Last place, .500 record.

We were heading out to dinner and wound up behind a gaggle of depressed Brooklyn Heights Met fans who'd obviously just returned from the game: They'd stripped off their gear and were holding their Beltran bobbleheads glumly, like they wanted to discard them but were still holding out hopes of making the ticket price back on eBay. Kind of said it all.

What a nasty sixth inning. Bobble by Cameron. Benson has to put a ball in his pocket. Horrifying error by Offerman. (How many times did Red Sox fans get to say that? Why is he on this team?) Reyes doesn't get the tag down on a rare good throw by Piazza.

Come to think of it, the ninth wasn't a lot of fun either: Graves hit Encarnacion (whom we can't get out no matter what we do) and Anderson failed to execute an ill-advised behind-the-back flip. (I may be wrong, but to me it looked like he had time to turn and fire a conventional throw.)

In our half of the ninth, I officially gave up hope when Offerman strode to the plate and Gerald Williams moved into the on-deck circle. If you told me in March I'd see that combination in July, I would have assumed I'd be watching an old-timers game out of boredom. Nope, just the Mets letting the rotting corpses of last millennium's average players clog up roster spots that might otherwise be used to evaluate players under 30 who might actually have some use beyond this summer. (Such a shame Brian Daubach didn't get a chance to hit, while we're on the subject.)

We're nine behind the Nationals. It's getting harder and harder to say they can be caught. Though maybe if we bring up Benito Santiago and coax Mike Sharperson out of retirement….

3 comments to Our Morning in 4th Place

  • Anonymous

    A very close companion (and Mets fan) has hated Juan Encarnacion since seemingly the dawn of time. “Incarnation”, she insists it is. She also insists that he's always getting big hits against the Mets. I'd never really noticed much about him, but I respected the hatred nevertheless. Now, I gotta say, I'm really pretty down with it. I hate Juan Encarnacion….errr…incarnation. Met Killer.
    And please get rid of Jose Offerman before the joke about his last name stops being funny and starts just hurting…bad.

  • Anonymous

    The only thing I'd ever noticed about Juan Encarnacion before this weekend is he's the only ballplayer who looks a little like a cat. Needless to say, I found this endearing.
    I no longer find it so.

  • Anonymous

    Well, as we're paying Bobby Bonilla anyway, let's make him earn his keep. And Ryan Thompson might be a good fit. Couldn't hurt to ask him…
    There has to be a better way.