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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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Suppan Under Glass

Let’s be clear on one thing: It’s never too late to hang Jeff Suppan on the wall.

It would have been nice — nicer — if the Mets had gotten into the swing of things against their old nemesis before he became their old nemesis, but better 204 days and 4 innings later than never…not that anybody here’s still counting forward from October 19 or has that date seared on his skull. Life didn’t stop with the conclusion of the National League Championship Series. Those who won it will always have it in their permanent collection but those who won it, for the most part, are having a Next Year problem as concerns their old nemeses, the New York Mets.

Those who were World Champion Cardinals in 2006 now stand a meager 2-7 against those who are high-flying Mets in 2007. St. Louis itself was swept three if not necessarily avenged at season’s start; Suppan couldn’t lift the otherwise soaring Brewers last night; and Ronnie Belliard’s new team is 2-3 to date in Metly matters. When it is left to a pesky Nat to carry your flag for you (Washington being the only team in N.L. demonstrably worse than St. Loo to this point), you know it’s Next Year.

So happy the Mets aren’t dwelling on or living in the past. That’s for me to do. I do that a lot. Friday afternoon, I did it to the extreme. Culture Week continued as Stephanie and I visited the Metropolitan Museum of Art as part of our 20th-anniversary festivities (if it’s important to her, it’s important to me). The draw was Barcelona and Modernity: Gaudí to Dalí, an exhibition with several pleasant surprises, including the work of the following artists who caught my eye:

Ramon Casas…he played behind Picasso but everybody said he was a great guy to have in the clubhouse.

Gaspar Homar…noted as a valuable utility painter with exceptionally fast brush strokes when most needed, even if Gaspar managed but one Homar during his orange and blue period.

Josep Puig…only the hardcore patrons of the arts remember him.

I guess that’s why they call this joint The Met.

We moved from Modernity to Ancientness, ambling through the New Greek and Roman Galleries. The piece that stood out for me was Marble Head of an Athlete. It seems to have inspired the Heilman Movement of 2007 A.D., specifically the failure to adequately grasp a Rickie Weeks ground ball in the eighth inning last night prior to surrendering a far longer ball to J.J. Hardy. No harm, no foul in the end, but talk about a rockhead play.

Don’t know when we’ll be back at The Met, but there is much to recommend another visit. For example, they’ll be reopening The Wrightsman Galleries come late October. It’s mid-May and Wright’s The Man already. If he keeps it up, there’s no telling what else we might see on display this fall.

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