Hopefully, even though years ending in 7 and 2 have produced zero Mets titles, it won’t result in a series of bad trips.
I wrote that on January 5, slightly smug in the notion that for once, we would see a year that ends in a 7 or 2 produce a playoff season.
I was wrong. Sorry about that.
But I hope the weekly milestone-anniversary visits to the Met past that we call Flashback Friday helped take the edge off throughout 2007. Thought I’d round ’em all up one more time for your holiday viewing and chronological referencing…even if we have learned that no Mets fan can ever expect to fully enjoy a year ending in 2 or 7.
(And stay tuned for Flashback Friday: Tales From The Log, debuting in this space in two weeks.)
First Person: A tribute to my sister on what may have very well been the birthday directly following her 49th.
My Giants: My love affair with the franchise that skipped town before I could see them.
Let’s Go Who?: The Mets dig themselves an early hole, but at least they did so as Mets.
The Changing of the Guard: They don’t make yearbooks the way they used to.
Never Ending Torre: If you had told me when I was four years old that he’d be in and out of my life for the next four decades, I would have asked, “what’s a decade?”
Retire 24: The greatest player to possibly do so dons a Mets uniform.
Me and Julio: I was never going to grow up to be the world’s oldest ballplayer anyway.
Where in the World was Tom Seaver?: Woolworth’s in San Luis Obispo, it turned out.
The Baseball-Card Mines of McCrory’s, Lake Grove, N.Y., 1976: My math-challenged, milestone-apathetic partner reaches back 31 years to explore his cardboard-obsessed roots.
June 15, 1977: Only the worst date in Mets history, that’s all.
Bringing Myself to See Our Kids: Baseball not remotely like it ought have been.
A Very Mazzilli Thanksgiving: My family and baseball try to get along.
Through The Years: I wear a Mets jacket and am mistaken, somehow, for a Mets player.
Expectation & Disappointment: As regards the arrival and Met career of George Foster.
Spring Awakening: My date with Al Lang, Ken Landreaux and maybe somebody else.
I Love You, You’re Perfect, Now Change: Sometimes it’s folly trying to improve a champion.
A Great Catch That Didn’t Show Up in the Boxscore: For one night, the Mets take a back seat in my life.
Wrong Date, Pretty Boy: Keith Hernandez didn’t spit at anybody at Shea on June 14 — or in Montreal in the week that followed as far I know.
Every FAN Needs Its Rose: A beacon of logic and clarity clears his throat amid a torrent of otherwise worthless static.
Terry and the Pirates (and then some): How many ways can you find to not repeat?
Sitting in the Car with Tom and Howie: Buying my first (and to date only) new car coincides with a Hall of Fame election.
Bigger Than The Game: The legacy of Jackie Robinson Night.
The Ground Floor: My first hint that this year won’t be like all the other years directly before it.
For Real: A six-game winning streak confirms that the Mets are not only not bad, but that they are, in point of fact, good.
Treasure This Season, Gang: It’s high summer, indeed, when you’re taking six of seven from the Wild Card-leading Marlins and the first-place Braves.
Wanna Look at My Vacation Pictures?: We hit the road for Cooperstown and Camden Yards while the Mets get a little lost.
Long Shot: Carl Everett keeps hope alive.
The Crying Game: The best damn 88-74 season ever comes to a close.
Our Day of Jubilee: On Opening Day, even the presence of Robbie Alomar can seem promising.
Mo Hit One For Casey: Let me tell you about my cats.
A Quiet Met’s Quiet Departure: Without anyone realizing it at the time, Edgardo Alfonzo packs his things.
It’s My Party and I’ll Met If I Want To: All I wanna do is have some fun the only way I know how.
The musical portion of Flashback Friday is counted down here.