The blog for Mets fans
who like to read


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.

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.

And Down the Stretch We Go…

Granted, all the horses that matter are in front of us, but still. We had an off-day today; the next time we have one, it'll last for six months.

Tonight I watched football. High drama given New Orleans' situation and the celebrity appeals for help for the Katrina refugees and the weird pageantry of the Saints' supposed “home” game, and at least the prospect of high drama on the field, what with Aaron Brooks and Deuce McAllister and Joe Horn doing their damnedest to write a nice little story in enemy territory.

Back in my New Orleans summers and following I became briefly infatuated with the Saints (if you know nothing about football you can fool yourself into thinking John Fourcade will lead you to the promised land), so I watched until a few minutes into the fourth quarter, when it became clear that the tide had turned for good. And then I quit. Because, hey, it was just football. I'd only managed to give it about half my attention anyway, and I'd have flipped over to watch a meaningless Met game in a second. A nanosecond. A half-nanosecond. Even if Miguel Cairo and Jose Offerman were in the starting lineup, we got crushed early, and Ice Williams pinch-hit so Willie could bring Kaz Ishii into the game. A quarter-nanosecond.

Man, it's getting dark at like 6:30 and there were a couple of trees shedding leaves today and we've got 13 left to play. How can that be? It was only like a minute ago that Carlos Beltran was taking David Wright and Jose Reyes to the gym after workouts in St. Lucie. Wasn't it? It wasn't? You're sure?

Time to cling, kids; winter's coming. Sure wish there was a game on. Gonna be saying that a lot awful soon.

3 comments to And Down the Stretch We Go…