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ABOUT US

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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They're All Gone, We're Still Here

Now, you listen to me! I want trading reopened right now. Get those brokers back in here! Turn those machines back on! TURN THOSE MACHINES BACK ON!

—Mortimer Duke

The first time I woke up today (my attempt to hibernate the entire winter away proving as futile as any nine Met batters against Jeff Suppan), I found myself thinking about 2000. No, not the World Series — the election. There was going to be a recount right? I mean, seriously, all those people in Palm Beach County didn't intend to vote for Adam Wainwright.

Just one more swing…that's all I want.

Two bits of housekeeping:

1) Congratulations Cardinals. Congratulations Tigers, too. I am reminded again how hard it is to get where both of you have gotten no matter how much you do to get there.

2) This was our 205th consecutive day of blogging. It was our pleasure, believe us, but even unshakable Faith requires a bit of a break. FAFIF takes a holiday this weekend but returns Monday and on a recurring if not necessarily daily basis through the long, dark, cold, gaping maw of an offseason.

Seriously, they can't get everybody back on the field? It's just one swing.

14 comments to They're All Gone, We're Still Here

  • Anonymous

    Kudos to the F&F squad. For the many hours of interesting reading. For two voices that could appreciate the mental workings of their fellow are-you-really-that-serious fans. Metsblog was my Drudge for the season; Faith and Fear was my Taranto/Noonan.
    I'm alternating between staring blankly and wandering aimlessly. I guess it's time to wash my ridiculously dirty Reyes jersey. Food stains like you read about. No need to wash my home-viewing Floyd jersey, but I'll be wearing Floyd proudly this winter and hope he comes back. And I'll enjoy feeling my division champ roster t-shirt get softer and softer with washing as the years go by.
    Greg and Jason – we roll about six deep on the Tue/Fri plan (since 2002) and cook before AND after always. You have a standing invite to grab a burger, sausage, pork chop, chicken skewer, steak slice or whatever's cooking. We even have cute girls (usually). Construction be blessed (can't say damned), we'll still find a place in the main lot for cooking in 2007.

  • Anonymous

    That's kind of you, thanks — we'll make that happen in '07, construction willing. (Hey, I've never let a steak slice go by that I had an invite to grab.)
    I saw my black away jersey and custom Mookie shirt (same ensemble as worn for Game 6, don't need to tell anybody who reads this blog why) in the hamper this morning and was briefly and thoroughly depressed.
    But like a lot of other things, they'll be back in action.

  • Anonymous

    Two things I've never done in 34 seasons of going to Shea is sit in the bleachers (which weren't there until '79) and tailgated. We'll look for you for sure.
    As of tonight, nobody, including myself, cares what I wear, but for the record, I brought the 2006 Shouldabeen Met to the fore for Game Seven, donning No. 13 for Mr. Alfonzo (and to send a little love Billy's way; I'm sure Edgardo wouldn't be proprietary). Wouldn't you know that Howie announced Fonzie himself stopped by the booth between innings, that he still has a home in Little Neck and that he's planning on playing winter ball as prelude to a comeback.
    In the end, neither Alfonzo the player or ALFONZO the t-shirt had much luck in 2006. But they'll both give it a shot again in 2007.

  • Anonymous

    There are few things that can make being a Mets fan more fun than, well, being a Mets fan, but reading this blog is one of them. Thank you both so much for all the pleasure you've given me.
    I will lay me down and bleed a while (actually not too long — I'm picking the Tigers in five), and then it's Minaya time. Ya gotta believe. And I do.

  • Anonymous

    I love the name, retire17, and echo that particular sentiment. That's my uniform number on the company co-ed softball team, and I wear it proudly.
    But if they do retire 17 (and 8 as well, I say), they'll have to print up all new F&FIF t-shirts.
    Tigers in 6, I say. But whatever.

  • Anonymous

    thank you mets for a great season.
    i beg mets fans- no booing of beltran in 2007. the guy played his heart out.

  • Anonymous

    Are people actually blaming this on HIM?!
    For crying out loud. Blaming the guy who made the last out is like blaming the last domino when the whole row falls on top of it. The stupidity of some Met fans, and their need to always pick a scapegoat is a constant source of amazement to me. It never even entered my mind to blame Beltran… or Cliff or Heilman or anyone else, for that matter. The loss of game 7, with a couple of exceptions (like Oliver Perez and Endy), was a team effort. No one player can be held responsible for it.

  • Anonymous

    Of course not.
    But he should have swung the @#$#@%#@ bat.

  • Anonymous

    Tonight I was dropping my daughter off at Universal Studios' Halloween Horror Nights. Not my favorite kind of crowd, but it's a fun night out for a Goth-ish teenager.
    In the elevator from the parking garage, a young man who looked to be a college freshman, or maybe a high school senior, got in, wearing a new Mets cap. (To me, “new” means a black background, not blue, and a border around the “NY”).
    I smiled and said, “Nice hat.” He looked at my old-school 1986 cap, which was surely older than he was, smiled sheepishly, and said, “I hate Carlos Beltran.”
    No amount of “we wouldn't have gotten there without him” or “he had one bad at-bat at a very unfortunate time”, or a stat-by-stat recital of how his numbers stack up against any single season that any Met has ever enjoyed, could convince this young man that he should not hate Carlos Beltran.
    At least six players in that lineup Thursday night came to bat with a reasonable chance to do something special, and none did. I would guess that this young man's opinion was not unique; the exuberance of youth is sometimes accompanied by stubborn irrationality.
    Any ideas out there on what to say to the haters out there? I would think if this young man was that upset, he wouldn't have had that cap on in the first place, would he?
    Kids. Who can figure 'em out?

  • Anonymous

    Can't we at least still have a parade?

  • Anonymous

    I'd just tell them it wouldn't have even BEEN the third out if two more players had not made outs before him. Him being up with two outs was the luck of the draw… would everyone still blame him if he'd made the FIRST out? (Then I'd ask, “Quick… who made the first out?”) And I'd tell them that if he'd swung and missed everyone would be just as pissed, because he would have struck out anyway. And I'd say that blaming the guy who makes the third out is like blaming the person who drank the last two drops of the milk for there being no milk left. Or, in a baseball sense, blaming a closer for coming in and giving up hit, even though someone else loaded the bases before him… turning what would have been a harmless single into two runs. It's all relative, kids. You have to look at what led up to that Beltran at-bat to find the real culprit here. And that was 7 hitless innings, followed by two OTHER outs.
    I'd venture to guess that anyone who says they “hate Carlos Beltran” because of one at-bat is a newly minted Met fan who hopped on this year because he heard the Mets were “supposed to” win, and ended up disappointed that he was not now associated with the “winner” he was promised when he hopped on. He thought he was going to be a part of something that guaranteed him bragging rights, but instead he got all excited for nothing, and he's going to blame the last person he saw… because to an amateur baseball fan, the guy who makes the last out is the guy responsible for the loss.
    I figured everyone would be blaming Heilman.

  • Anonymous

    Make no mistake, that loss had many fathers, starting at the top of the order with the combined 0-9 of the first two hitters and reaching all the way down the lineup to Chavez, who stranded five runners, and nearly everyone in between, not to mention that Heilman gopher or Willie's romantic but deeply flawed idea that Floyd could do a Kirk Gibson on request.
    But no matter how you get there, when you're down two with the bases loaded and two outs in the ninth, you can't leave the bat on your shoulder — especially after Beltran just saw that same curveball eat up Floyd. If he strikes out anyhow, at least he — quite literally — went down swinging.

  • Anonymous

    No one is ever allowed to criticize Endy Chavez again. He will be glorious and magical and airborne forever, no matter how many times he strands the bases loaded.
    Though, man… I suppose I would love him even more if he had gotten a hit that last time. What would it feel like to love someone with more than your entire soul?

  • Anonymous

    Endy did get a hit that last time!! And I agree, he is untouchable forever. (I already loved him with more than my entire soul…)
    And Endy doesn't make that catch, it's 5-1 in the 9th. Sure would've taken more than Carlos swinging the bat with two outs to fix THAT mess. So yeah, he may have left men on base, but he made it possible for us to even have a shot at winning, too… and he was on base when it ended.
    Heilman gave up a late dinger. Cliff also struck out looking in the 9th. NOBODY GOT A HIT FOR 7 INNINGS. In other words, there's lots of “blame” to go around; if you really find you need to blame an entire game on someone, there's a compelling case to be made for several Mets. Happily, I don't feel that need. When pretty much everyone underperforms in a game, I just chalk it up to “s**t happens,” as opposed to blaming the last person who appeared on my TV screen.