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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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My Money's No Good Here

“New York Mets ticket sales. This is Astrid, how may I help you?”

“Hello, I'd like to find out about prorated ticket plans, the kind that will allow me to purchase postseason tickets.”

“Certainly sir, we have those. I'll just need a little information.”


“First name?”


“Last name?”


“All right, let me just enter that…uh, sir?”


“Are you the Greg Prince who sat in the upper deck Sunday?”

“Why, yes I am.”

“Mr. Prince, I'll need you to hold for Mr. Minaya.”

“Uh, OK.”

“Hello, Greg?”


“Greg, this is Omar Minaya, general manager of the New York Mets.”

“Mr. Minaya!”

“Please, call me Omar.”

“Omar! I'm a little taken aback.”

“Why is that, Greg?”

“You're one of the most important men in the history of the Mets. You make the decisions that affect everything about the franchise.”

“Forget my job title, Greg. I'm just a New York kid and a baseball fan at heart, just like you.”

“That's nice to hear you say.”

“It's true. I've never forgotten what it means to be a fan.”

“That's comforting to know, Omar.”

“I'm glad you feel that way.”

“Listen, I'm a huge Mets fan.”

“I know you are, Greg. I read your blog.”

“You're kidding! You read Faith and Fear?”

“Absolutely. We keep tabs on our biggest fans and you're certainly one of them.”

“Gosh. I don't know what to say.”

“I also know why you're calling.”

“Astrid told you?”

“Yes. You're calling about a season ticket plan.”

“That's right. I want to buy them so I'll be able to purchase tickets for the playoffs.”

“I can't let you do that.”

“I'm sorry?”

“I can't allow you to buy those.”

“I can't buy tickets?”

“Well, we don't mind if you come to a game or two the rest of the way. We have a big lead and that allows us to try different things. For example, we might not be able to rest Pedro Martinez or give Mike Pelfrey a shot if we were in a tight race.”


“With a pretty substantial double-digit lead, we can afford a loss or two and it's not going to hurt us too much, y'know what I mean, Greg?”

“I guess. But what does that have to do with me buying tickets?”

“Greg, like I said we keep pretty close tabs on our biggest fans.”

“Yeah, you said you read my blog.”

“We do that. We also monitor your emails.”

“You do? How do you do that?”

“It's a matter of security, Greg. I really can't discuss it.”

“What do you mean you can't discuss it? Is this some kind of NSA thing?”

“Suffice it to say I learned a few things coming through the Texas Rangers organization when Mr. Bush owned the team. Let's let it go at that.”

“You're comparing running a baseball team to the 'war on terror'?”

“Greg, baseball is a big business and we can't be too careful. Thus, when we become aware of our biggest fans, we stay on top of their activities: their blogs, their emails, any bulletin board postings, really any evidence.”

“Evidence? What do you mean by evidence?”

“Greg, our operatives have obtained a copy of your Log.”

My Log? You mean my steno notebook where I write down the result of every Mets game I go to?”


“How on earth did you get that?”

“We have our sources.”

“What the hell kind of answer is that?”

“It's the only one you're getting.”

“I demand to know who gave you my Log!”

“I'm not at liberty to say. But I am at liberty to tell you cats are not very loyal animals.”

“You mean?”

“I mean we can do wonders with a can of tuna.”

“Hozzie or Avery?”

“I'm not at liberty to say.”

“OK, you got to one of my cats. But I still don't understand why you needed my Log.”

“Greg, I'm sure you'd agree this is a big year for the Mets.”

“Of course.”

“And we want to go as far as we can.”

“That's what I want.”

“I'm glad to hear you say that. You understand, then.”

“Understand what?”

“That we don't want you at Shea Stadium in the postseason.”


“Greg, this Log is terrible. We're 20 games over .500, but when you're here, we're 3-7.”

“And you're blaming me?”

“We've done our due diligence. Our conclusion is there's no reason beyond your presence as to why one of the best teams in baseball intermittently becomes one of the worst.”

“I respectfully disagree.”

“Greg, you were here Sunday, correct?”


“And how would you say we were doing before today?”

“Great. The Mets had won eight of ten coming into this game.”

“How many of those ten were you at?”

“Uh, none.”

“And now?”

“Oh come on! It's a coincidence!”

“Greg, I'm looking at our copy of your Log. You were here in April after we had won seven in a row and we lost. You were here the night after Pedro won his 200th — one of the most exhilarating nights at Shea in a long time — and we fell flat. You showed up the Sunday after we won back-to-back thrillers against Atlanta and we got stomped.”

“You can't blame me for that! You started Lima!”

“That's another thing.”

“What's another thing?”

“Because you keep track of which pitcher starts each game you go to, it was easy for us to detect a pattern.”

“What pattern?”

“The last nine games you've attended, we've had to start nine different pitchers.”


“Greg, does that seem likely?”

“I suppose it isn't, but…”

“We've had one of the most unstable rotations in the league, and it seems highly unlikely that it's coincidental that every time you show up, somebody else is pitching: Zambrano, Lima, Glavine, Soler, El Duque, Pedro, Maine, Trachsel, Pelfrey. We consulted with our SABR people and they say it's a statistical impossibility that one team can go through that many starters in consecutive games that one particular fan attends.”

“But it's not like we lost every one of them. Pedro, for example…”

“Against the Reds?”

“Yes, against the Reds. He got his…”

“Last win?”

“Uh yeah, I guess it was his last win.”

“Greg, after you watched Pedro win, Pedro went to Boston, had his worst outing and hasn't pitched since. We came home from that tremendous road trip — how many of those road games did you travel to?”


“Yes, you came to none and we won eight in a row. Anyway, we came home on an eight-game winning streak to play Baltimore and what happened?”

“We lost.”

“Yes, Greg. With you in the house, we lost to Baltimore. For that matter, you went to Baltimore last week, and who lost?”


“And who was the losing pitcher for Baltimore?”

“Kris Benson.”

“You show up somewhere and even an ex-Met pitching for the home team loses. See what I'm talking about?”

“You're going to tell me you've analyzed the attendance data and discerned the only fan who's had this kind of impact on your won-lost record is me?”

“I can't reveal that. But yes, it's your fault.”

“It was my fault Sunday?”

“Greg, didn't Pelfrey look great for an inning or two?”

“Sure did!”

“What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that maybe this would be…”

“You were thinking no-hitter, weren't you?”

“I didn't say that!”

“It doesn't matter. We know what you were thinking. We monitor that, too.”


“Greg, you write like a jillion words about the Mets every 24 hours. You're not that hard to figure out. But yes, we monitor your thoughts and we know you were already thinking about Pelfrey pitching a no-hitter.”

“And it's my fault he didn't?”

“No. But it is your fault he lost.”

“How do you figure THAT?”

“Greg, in ten games you've attended at Shea, we've scored 3.3 runs per game. And our opponents have scored 6.7 runs per game. Hell, the Pirates scored 11 in one night with you here. Face it, you're bad news for us.”

“I knew my record wasn't that good, but…”

“It's not that it's not good. It could be detrimental. We're looking at playoff games. World Series games if we're lucky.”

“I was hoping to go.”

“I know. And we were hoping you simply wouldn't be able to get tickets. But then we made this big ticket-selling push and somebody didn't check all the variables and we got your call.”

“You have to keep me out?”

“We're trying to do everything we can to limit our liability. For example, remember the All-Star Game?”

“You mean the way Trevor Hoffman blew home-field advantage for the NL?”

“That was no accident.”

“It wasn't?”

“Let's just say certain arrangements were made.”

“How come?”

“One fewer home game means one fewer chance you'd get in.”


“Now like I said, we feel secure enough for you to use the tickets you already have the rest of the year. There will be games against Washington and Florida we'll probably be able to permit you to see.”

“But the NLDS?”


“The NLCS?”


“The World Series?”

“Greg, what is your fondest dream?”

“For the Mets to win the World Series.”

“That was a rhetorical question. We monitor your dreams. We know you want more than anything for the Mets to win the World Series.”

“How do you monitor my dreams?”

“We know how you dress. We know you wear only Mets t-shirts. We know you obsess on which Mets cap to wear. We know that you leave your cable box on Channel 60 every night just in case there's a day game the next afternoon. We don't really have to monitor your dreams. But we do.”

“OK, so you know I love the Mets.”

“We also know you love the Mets so much that you wouldn't want to get in the way of our success.”

“I guess not.”

“So you'll just drop this request? I mean you could probably publicize what we're doing and bring a lawsuit, but that would just distract your favorite team from the business of winning a championship.”

“I wouldn't want that.”

“I know you wouldn't. You're a good fan. You're just not a very successful one.”

“But I wanna see the Mets in the playoffs! And the World Series!”

“Greg, I'm going to reconnect you to Astrid and she's going to take care of you.”

“What does that mean?”

“We're going to set you up with one of those Dreamseats, you know the ones I'm talking about.”

“Those cushy chairs you put down the left and rightfield lines? With the Mets logos?”

“Yes. And we've arranged with your local P.C. Richard for you to have a new flat screen delivered to your home.”

“Really? It'll be connected to the cable and the DVD?”

“So you can watch Mets Fast Forward by 9 AM.”

“Can you make it 5 AM?”

“Sure. Your fridge will be stocked with all the beverages you need, you can have every giveaway item we're giving out the rest of the way…”

“Even the Wright bobblehead? That's only 14-and-under.”

“Even the Wright bobblehead. And Willie will even consent to read one of your rants about how Aaron Heilman should be starting.”

“Oh, I'm off that now.”

“But you'll be back on it soon. We monitor your future thoughts as well.”

“Of course.”

“Greg, we recognize you as one of our most loyal fans in the world and we will do everything we can to make this the most special season and postseason you've ever imagined.”

“And all I have to do is…”

“Stay the hell away from us.”

“Omar, I want us to win. I really do. But I'm a Mets fan. I go to Mets games. It's what I do.”

“Did I mention you get to vote on who goes into the Mets Hall of Fame?”

“I've never been to a World Series game.”

“You get to design the Mets Hall of Fame in the new ballpark.”

“The one thing I've always wanted is to be there for the big moment.”

“You get to BE in the Mets Hall of Fame.”

“I do?”

“Yes, you'll be enshrined as the fan who was selfless enough to NOT buy a season-ticket package that gave him postseason purchase rights and, by staying away, ensured that the New York Mets won their third world championship in 2006.”

“All right, then. I'll do it! If it means that much, I won't try to attend a playoff or World Series game. I won't even drive on Northern Boulevard between now and November. You don't have to give me the chair or the TV or the plaque even. You just have to go out and try your best to win the World Series! That'll be reward enough for me!”

“Greg, that's wonderful. You really are our biggest fan.”

“Thank you, Omar.”

“Just one thing.”

“What's that?”

“You owe us a $7.50 surcharge per every ticket that you're not buying.”

16 comments to My Money's No Good Here

  • Anonymous

    This brings up a philosophical question: Would one consent to being in the Hall of Fame if the only condition was not to show up ever again…even for his/her own induction?

  • Anonymous

    I want to thank nobody who is here today…

  • Anonymous

    If it's any comfort, at like 11:30 I turned to Emily at Shake Shack and told her Pelfrey was pitching a no-hitter today.
    They'll get to me through the boy. He already sells me out for lies and poor behavior daily.

  • Anonymous

    Hahahahahahahahaahhahah. Brilliant.
    That is all.

  • Anonymous

    And that's Classic Greg…

  • Anonymous

    I was at the game as part of my '86 six-pack. I confess, I had the same fleeting thought – could I actually be attending our first no-hitter? Pelfrey looked that good early on, and the Astros are that bad. Oh well.
    First stinker of the year for me in person – I was 6-0 going into Sunday. I wish I had had the foresight to keep a log when I started regularly attending games in the early 80s.

  • Anonymous

    The Nature or Nurture Conundrum comes full circle: Is Greg the greatest fan of New York's most star-crossed, consistantly disappointing, regularly underacheiving yet most lovable baseball team or are the Mets New York's most star-crossed, consistantly disappointing, regularly underacheiving yet most lovable baseball team because Greg is their greatest fan? That is to say, would the Mets have won many more championships in wholly less satisfying manners if Greg Prince did not follow (and record, it seems) their every move? Would Lorinda DeRoulet now be enshrined in Cooperstown as one of the great owners in baseball history if not for Greg and his unwitting accomplices (myself included) making the long train trips to Shea Stadium each summer? Would Mettle the Mule be the ubiquitous symbol of the Mets long-term superiority, seen on T-shirts across the nation and usurping Michael Jordan and Tiger Woods as the worlds most recognized icon, if not for Greg L.W. Prince's undying affections?
    So many questions, too much to consider, unable to fathom all the coulda-beens. But the question has to be asked…Has Greg Been Holding Us Back All Of These Years?!?!

  • Anonymous

    Excellent question. For an answer, I refer, as ever, to the Log.
    Over the course of the highly successful period of 1999 and 2000, regular season and postseason, I rolled up a record of 46-16. With all that overwhelming success on my side, the Mets' front office did not see fit to seat me for the World Series…which they lost.
    1) My presence is beneficial and detrimental in cycles.
    2) It's always Steve Phillips' fault.

  • Anonymous

    Classic post, Greg. Love your site.

  • Anonymous

    This should go down as one of the best posts ever.
    Absolutely brilliant.

  • Anonymous

    “I demand to know who gave you my Log!”
    “I'm not at liberty to say. But I am at liberty to tell you cats are not very loyal animals.”
    “You mean?”
    “I mean we can do wonders with a can of tuna.”
    As to your question, of course it's always Steve Phillips' fault!

  • Anonymous

    When I first starterd reading it, I thought it was going to end with you getting comped for the post-season.
    Silly me…

  • Anonymous

    No, but if you want to make that happen, be my guest.

  • Anonymous

    In my absolute perfect world, I hereby request the following:
    1. I want to attend each and every entire Mets home post-season game;
    2. I want to watch each and every entire Mets home post-season game from a luxury suite;
    3. I want SarahH (the Mrs. — detests baseball) & my Dad to be there with me;
    4. I want to travel to and from Shea Stadium as a passenger in a stretch limousine;
    5. I want it all to be for free.
    I don't think that's asking too much, do you, Greg?

  • Anonymous

    Can you put a clause in there for some wins? As long as your wishlisting this, go nuts.

  • Anonymous

    I (almost) never pray for wins: I just always figure if they play like they're supposed to, the wins will take care of themselves.
    (And this from a man who was at the Todd Pratt game…)