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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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Wake Me Up When Last September Ends

Maybe it was my seat location, only the slightest of strolls from Upper Deck Box 746B. I could see it from Upper Reserved, Section 12, Row C. And I could see all over again what I saw when I sat in 746B on September 30 last.

I saw the end of 2007 — the end that won’t conclude. It’s not Groundhog Day with these Mets. Groundhog Day was funny. This is a team that plays a week late and many dollars short. This is a team that makes me sad.

Remind me all you want that it’s only six games. I can count. I own several calendars and earned an A in logic when I was a college freshman. It’s not logic that draws me magnetically back to Shea Stadium season after season, April after September, ticket price hike after breathtakingly epic decline. It’s not the chance that the Mets might make up a net deficit of one game in the standings and then go on to achieve what they haven’t achieved for more than 21 years. After the first decade without, you stop setting your expectations by world championship possibilities.

Six games deep, a fine, fine season is still possible for 2008. A long winning streak could begin to unspool as soon as Wednesday night, and Tuesday afternoon would go into the books as an unpleasant stumbling block that had all the staying power of Matt Wise. Three or four consecutive Mets batters could each collect a hit; a series of Mets relief pitchers could record scoreless innings in rapid succession; simple ground balls could be transported without incident from the first baseman to whoever’s covering second. A festival of competence and even enthusiasm could break out among the players. The manager’s imagination might possibly stir.

It’s baseball. Anything could happen. Doesn’t mean it will. After the first Home Opener in ten attended that had me returning on my shield instead of with it, I’m not in a mode to see where anything outstanding will happen except for Johan Santana starting every five or six days.

Sorry. Can’t shake September 2007. Can’t watch the 2008 Mets play listless, ineffectual ball and not see much the same cast I saw from a couple of sections over six-some months ago. They were limp then. They’ve failed to stiffen since.

What a downer. What a downer after hours of uppers. It was such a good day there for a while, from the efficiency of the new and surprisingly improved transportation hub to my first-ever experience feeding off somebody else’s meticulously executed tailgate bash to sittings with and sightings of old and great Mets friends to five innings of warmth before the sun ducked toward Corona to the shockingly classy tribute to Bill Shea, the Shea family and everything Shea. They honored the bejeesus out of the man, the clan and the stadium, that sweet Final Season logo plastered on everything from the popcorn boxes to the copiously consumed Bud and Bud Light bottles (there was even a countdown component — life imitates blog?). I wasn’t fazed by the fights, the boos, the annual stilled escalator or the I dunnos from those who couldn’t tell you a blessed thing about the potential replenishment of their merchandise supply. I didn’t even mind the looming presence of that glassy space invader over the outfield fence whose mission it is to plow under for parking everything I’ve held dear across 36 springs, summers and falls. For now, I think of wind-curdling Citi Field as Shea Stadium’s generally benign answer to the B&O Warehouse. As they eerily coexist, I can even imagine the understudied two-ballpark plan regaining traction because, really, if you put aside what’s wrong with Shea, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with Shea.

But the hollow Mets brought me and anybody who didn’t wear a red cap down right quick on what’s supposed to be and usually is one of the happiest days of the year. Losing would figure to do that, but there’s losing and then there’s playing, acting and being utterly defeated. It wasn’t a brand new season full of hope we saw take shape on Tuesday. It was September 31, 2007. And it was damn depressing to watch.

12 comments to Wake Me Up When Last September Ends

  • Anonymous

    Great post.

  • Anonymous

    Don't get crazy about this team gang, just let it happen..Hopefully it will.

  • Anonymous

    Numerous times here last year I said that 2007 felt like a protracted continuation of NLCS Game 7… so far in 2008, you've nailed it… it's still September.

  • Anonymous

    Could be worse…..we could be the Tigers!

  • Anonymous

    On the plus side, how 'bout that handsome devil with the Kingman jersey SNY had onscreen in the top of the sixth? Too bad Ollie's meltdown interrupted… maybe a little more screen time for me, and more importantly I would have liked to hear what Keith had just started to say about Big Dave being at Shea.
    Not a lot to say about the game, ugh. CitiField looks great, and it's kind of a cool effect the way it encloses the park – it seems smaller, cozier. Beer is now $8 (!) and parking $15; I may need to take a second job.

  • Anonymous

    Not to try and defend the bullpen or anything but where the heck is the offense? Our starters not named Santana need to pitch deeper in games , Feliciano was not available(he says he was) but I wonder would Randolph have gone to him first, he's not one of Willie's guys if I remember correctly.

  • Anonymous

    One of my all-time favorite Opening Days was 2003, when we got utterly embarassed by the Cubs. The beat-down wasn't pleasant, but I found it at least courteous of the Mets to not waste any time in letting us know, “yeah, it's going to be 2002 all over again.” I knew from that first inning on, “I don't have to get so crazy over these guys this year. It's just not going to happen. I can take it a game at a time.”
    I wish I could feel the same way about yesterday, but I cannot repeat 2007. It would kill me.

  • Anonymous

    That day was awful… where the hell did all those Cub fans come from? Running around yelling “woo!”, mocking us… I could only chant “1908” so many times.
    The way this team looks right now (small sample disclaimer here) I think we'll be lucky to be in the same position we were in last year – contending for division and wildcard races on the last weekend in September. The non-Johan starters are just OK, the bullpen mediocre, the lineup not clutch at all. To come out flat in front of the biggest Opening Day crowd ever is weird; to only put up 2 runs vs Grandpa Moyer is unbelievable. One of the veterans has to grab this team by the neck and rile them up. And if the older guys aren't up to it, young David might have to assume that role a little earlier than we'd prefer.

  • Anonymous

    Same old Los Mets

  • Anonymous

    After yesterday, I've come up with a new catchphrase: TFM. Typical Fucking Mets. I'm very very afraid that I'll be saying it often this year.
    We can still turn it around… I gotta keep remembering that.

  • Anonymous

    Check the racism at the door, please.

  • Anonymous

    “September 31, 2007″
    I love you, man.