All right brain, you don't like me, and I don't like you. But let's just get me through this and I can get back to killing you with beer.
Tom, we've had a strange relationship for five seasons. I made no secret that I never wanted you to be a Met and you always gave me the impression that the car to take you to the Delta terminal was idling out front. But you stayed and I learned to respect you. I celebrated your 300th victory along with everybody else, and when — on that day they gave you 300 golf balls — you said you understood how we had felt about you because you had felt the same about us, I found myself truly liking you for the first time.
So we're in this together, you and me. I know you're a cool, calm customer, I know you've pitched World Series games and won them. I know you pitched some big playoff games right here last year.
This is bigger than all that. This may be the last time you pitch for us. It's surely the first time I've felt you're pitching for me. There is no distance between us any longer. You're my favorite Met today. You're my man.
Go pitch the way Tom Glavine can. Do it for us one more time. Do it for me this once. If other occasions arrive in the near future, we'll deal with them then, but for now, there is only today. There is only you. You and me, Tom. We can do this.
Let's Go Mets. Let's Go Nats.