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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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Good Morning, Angels

Good morning, Angels. I hope you had a pleasant flight.

I have an assignment for you. Bosley has the file on the deadly enemy I need to you to quell, so as I describe each member of this venomous force, he will show you the last known pictures we have on them.

Angels, I'm going to ask you to don your protective goggles for this first foe. He is called The Captain. Do not look too closely right now because I'm afraid you'll be so turned off that when you actually see him, he will be too gruesome to get a fix on. Attractiveness is not his game even if he does have at his disposal a well-oiled publicity machine to give off the impression of attractiveness. But that's a distraction. Angels, I don't want you to focus on what he looks like, but what he does. I will need swift, sharp slides into second and fastballs that are high and tight.

Our next vicious opponent is the one they call A-Rod. Angels, be wary of him. He's smooth. Very smooth. Much as I insist you don't look too closely at the Captain, I don't want you to listen to anything A-Rod has to say. He will talk all night but say absolutely nothing. After he lulls you to sleep, he becomes very dangerous. I will need swift, sharp slides into third and fastballs that are high and tight.

The next piece of your puzzle, Angels, is Mo. Mo is slippery. He gave authorities the idea that he was through, done-for a year ago. He cleverly executed a brilliant charade of appearing unable to come through when he was most needed. Alas, it was a charade. When guards were let down, Mo came back and was as brutal to face as ever. You may be led to believe that you will not see Mo, that you will be able to work your way through a string of lesser combatants, but ultimately, it comes down to taking out Mo. Angels, swift, sharp slides will only work on bunts down the first base line and you will have no objects to throw at him. Remember to lay off the high stuff and he will be in a lessened position of strength.

The leader of this notorious band of thugs, Angels, is this man: Joe. Joe is as lugubrious as he is discomfiting. He can't hurt you with a bat or a ball or even a glove. His method for murder is an endless series of whiny complaints. He will try to make you believe that only his notorious band of thugs is inconvenienced by rain, that only his notorious band of thugs has to travel from one end of the continent to the other, that only his notorious band of thugs finds the starting time to be a disadvantage. Your mission, Angels, will be to drown Joe out with very loud bats and very accurate strikes.

We have uncovered a ring of secret operatives that have been deployed to aid our enemies, Angels. They are known as The Men In Blue. The Men In Blue effect an air of neutrality, but do not be taken in. They are not neutral and they are certainly not on your side. You will have to be definitive in your maneuvers, Angels. Leave no doubt on any play. If you want to be called safe, beat the tag not by a step but by two. If you want to get an out call, get the throw to the bag in plenty of time. And by all means, do not let it come down to a question of who is right, you or Mo. You will lose that debate almost every time if The Men In Blue serve as the allegedly impartial arbiters.

Angels, a lot of people are counting on you to take out this treacherous corps of hooligans. The well-being of much of the nation and a significant portion of our largest metropolitan area depends upon it. This bunch is very cagey. They've been thought to represent a decreased threat for the past year, but the more they stick around, Angels, the more they stick around. And that can only be bad news.

Bosley will now hand you their remaining dossiers. Good luck tonight, Angels. You will need it.

3 comments to Good Morning, Angels

  • Anonymous

    I'm still getting over the fact that I found myself rooting for the Antichrist as Houston and Atlanta played forever last night. I couldn't believe I was doing it, accepted that I was, and so tried to maintain my dignity by rooting for him and then saying vile things about him.
    “C'mon, Clemens!” I'd yell, then add: “You dick!” (And so forth in this vein.) If anyone had been home, they would have concluded I was having a “When Rabbit Howls” moment. (Which probably will happen eventually, but I'm hoping to make it into my 50s first.)
    During the division series (serieses? serii?) people kept asking what my bandwagon team was, and I said I didn't know, that I knew it wouldn't be the Yankees or the Braves, but couldn't say otherwise. I was confident it would reveal itself when the time was right, though. Well, I guess it's the Astros — I never minded Bagwell or Biggio, who deserve something for playing so hard for the same team in this day in age, and admire the courage of Lance Berkman for playing everyday in mascara. (No, not really.) I wish two of their three top starters were different people, but what are you going to do? You've always got to hold your nose a bit when it comes to bandwagon teams. That's why they're bandwagon teams.
    Maybe the White Sox will rise up to claim my loyalties instead, but yecch. I'd have to look past Timo Perez (run, dummy!), Carl Everett (Auggh! A tyrannosaur!), and their two former Yankee, wannabe-boat-people starters. That's a lotta look-past.
    Though of course the Angels and Cardinals could also somehow claim my affections. Because let's face it, a far-worse alternative is still a possibility.

  • Anonymous

    Hold on a second! If I remember that Charlie's Angels show — and I do, because I had the t-shirt with the three of them in these pink, well, never mind.
    Anyway, there was a lot of running around in skimpy underthings on that show. I'm not sure if I'm ready to see Bengie Molina doing that. And the jiggling with Bartolo Colon on the mound, well, it's not pretty.
    Oh hell, if they're beating the Yankees, I can take it!

  • Anonymous

    I am reminded of one of the lamer Archie strips ever, in which is mother says to his father, “I think Archie is growing up.” The father asks why.
    “Because he took down his poster of the California Angels and put up a poster of Charlie's Angels.”
    At which point, we saw several disembodied beads of sweat to indicate shock, surprise and distress.