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Greg Prince and Jason Fry
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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Night at the Opera (Bravo! Bravo!)

Not that I wasn’t already succumbing to my more lachrymose tendencies, but what opened the floodgates good and wide up around my eyeballs where I couldn’t believe what I was seeing was the SNY camera shot of a mother holding a son of maybe five years old. They were smiling and they were cheering and I realized something about that kid:

If this happens, he won’t have to grow up with this.

To clarify the pronouns, the first “this” was the no-hitter Johan Alexander Santana was closing in on with two out in the ninth.

The second “this” I seriously doubt I have to specify.

Because it existed like hell for 50 years and two months and it has ceased to exist as of June 1, 2012, the night of the real and true First No-Hitter in New York Mets History.

Of course it’s an upper-case affair. It’s an up-in-lights affair. It’s an above-the-marquee event that will forever front this 51st season of New York Metropolitan baseball. Like Bill Haley & The Comets; like Bo Donaldson & The Heywoods; like Huey Lewis & The News.

Like the First No-Hitter in New York Mets History & The Rest of 2012.

Whatever comes along, the Mets have a pass. 29-133? Oh, that’s not gonna happen, but you know what I mean. Every season in which the playoffs don’t seem particularly possible, I make a little bargain with Whoever might be in a position to do something about it: Give me a no-hitter and I’ll accept anything else that befalls the Mets.

As if I had a choice. As if, for 8,019 games — the vast majority of which I have witnessed in one form or another — I had something to say about this most holiest of grails eluding our grasp. As if I could have revoked all those miserable clean singles. As if I could have turned Tarzan Joe Wallis around at the players entrance of Wrigley Field. As if I could have told Leron Lee to take off the Fourth of July forty years ago and have himself a leisurely Independence Day. As if I could have convinced Mr. and Mrs. Qualls to do no more than hold hands.

You’re a Mets fan. You don’t really need me to be specific about who and what I’m talking about here, either. Those names — Wallis from 1975, Lee from 1972, Qualls from 1969 — used to mean something to us. Paul Hoover, Kit Pellow, Cole Hamels, Ernie Banks, Wade Boggs, Keith Moreland, Chris Burke…the whole miserable club.

Those names mean nothing now.

The only name that matters now is Johan Santana.

Tom Seaver, who didn’t retire Jimmy Qualls or Leron Lee or Joe Wallis, matters, too, if only because a little before I saw that kid on TV, I made eye contact with Tom on the box his bobblehead came in a few weeks ago. “Tom,” I thought. “We just might finish this one tonight.”

“Might” was the operative phrase, because we’ve been living with “might” since at least July 9, 1969. How would we know if it was going to work?

I guess we know now.

Oh, the trail to getting there, though. We’ll skip over the first 8,019 games and all the first innings Pete Rose ruined and those three times a ninth inning went by the wayside. We’ll just worry about tonight, which I was so unworried about that…oh god…I declined a late invitation to attend Friday night’s game.

Kevin From Flushing texted me around 5:30 about an extra ticket. “Not able to make it tonite,” I claimed, which now that I think back to that decision, I wonder what the hell I was thinking. But y’know what? I don’t care that I wasn’t there to see it happen. I’m just glad it happened.

Usually I have a deck of Why This Could Be The Night factors shuffling around in my head once we get through maybe the second inning. And I very well could have started collecting them early as I watched on TV instead of from Promenade:

• Beltran was back (btw, my hunches suck);

• Wainwright of Game Seven infamy was throwing to Molina of even more Game Seven infamy;

• It was the world champs in the other dugout;

• The wind was kicking up in weird ways;

• Thole had just returned from his concussion in a mask he’d never worn before;

• I was in the same room as Santana two days ago for a press conference I arrived late for and found I wasn’t credentialed for but was waved in anyway — in person, Johan looks like an enormous Johan Santana mannequin, not quite lifelike because how could you possibly be standing in the same room as Johan Santana?;

• Wainwright was matching Johan with no hits for a while and the first hit he gave up could have been scored an error;

• I could have very easily been there had I had my act together at 5:30 when Kevin texted.

Normally all of the above, from pregame to like the fourth inning, would have congealed into a big blob of superstitious conditional thinking. But despite listing those above stray thoughts, it didn’t. I refused to let it. Johan’s pitch count was stacking up and haven’t we all heard enough about pitch counts to make us wish we’d never sat through arithmetic in the first grade?

The Mets took a 2-0 lead somewhere in there. It got windier, it began to rain, no hits continued to be generated and I was in the kitchen stirring sliced strawberries and bananas into some non-fat, plain Greek yogurt as the sixth was beginning when I overheard two things from the living room:

1) “One swing could win it for New York!” which I took to mean they were showing Carlos Beltran’s greatest hit, the home run that beat St. Louis in that magical summer of 2006.

2) Some low-level commotion, which I was afraid to check in on.

I did a little rewinding of the DVR. Sure enough, there was vintage Beltran helping the Mets crush the Cardinals. And then there was contemporary Beltran hitting one just foul. Except in real time on the broadcast, the Freeze Cams and such were revealing third base ump Adrian Johnson — and isn’t it interesting how we never bother to learn the umpires’ names unless they become Angel Hernandez? — absolutely, positively blew the call.

Well, I thought, them’s the breaks, Redbirds.

Beltran didn’t argue, but ex-Met Jose Oquendo went ballistic. Mike Matheny flirted with nuclear. Adrian Johnson appeared a little embarrassed. But guess what — no replay on dubious foul calls, just as there was no way of fixing Jim Joyce’s egregious safe call on another Venezuelan pitcher, Armando Galarraga, who had another no-hitter…a perfect game, at that…going two years ago tomorrow night.

Then Beltran grounded to Wright and the first serious bullet had been dodged. Two batters later, there was a disturbing popup Ike grabbed with one hand. I’d wished he used two, but consider that one ghost of many slain.

Nine outs remained. The elephant was in the living room with me and my quickly inhaled yogurt. There was no denying what was going on. But it wasn’t worth congealing the ball vis-à-vis all the reasons This Could Be The Night. It was too late to war game this in my head. Either it was going to happen or it wasn’t.

It became a 5-0 lead in the bottom of the sixth after Lucas Duda’s three-run homer, a crucial blow in terms of taking the pressure off our pitcher (Seaver’s 8⅔ innings of no-hitter ruined by Wallis was in a zero-zero battle), but probably the easiest-to-forget turning-point three-run homer in a shutout victory we’re going to have for a while.

The game passed from baseball into opera in the seventh as the winds swirled, the mists blew and none other than Yadier F. Molina prepared to ruin everything with a deep drive to the left field wall with one out. Of course Yadier F. Molina. Of course. Yadier F. Molina isn’t booed nearly enough by the crowds who are too busy doing waves and texting wrong answers to inane quizzes to know when the devil is in their midst. And the devil was doing it.

But then he wasn’t doing it, because a Mets fan came running across Northern Boulevard to remove the blotch from Endy Chavez’s night of a lifetime.

Who else but Mike Baxter would preserve the First No-Hitter in New York Mets History? Who else but Mike from Whitestone? “Hello, Steve? First time, long time. I want to talk about how I’m going to grow up and be a crucial part of my favorite team’s history.”

Welcome aboard, Mike from Whitestone. Welcome aboard to your shoulder crashing into that W.B. Mason sign with the strength to be there. Welcome aboard to holding on to that ball, baby. Welcome…and thank you, young man.

That was two ridiculous breaks working in our favor, the lousy call on Beltran and the sublime catch against Molina. By now, it was 6⅔ innings of no-hit ball in suspended animation while Ray Ramirez tended to Baxter…and Johan stood on the mound hopefully not stiffening up…and what was his pitch count again…and Torres is coming in and moving Nieuwenhuis to left…and Torres misplayed a ball terribly two nights ago…and didn’t Kirk drop a ball against the Giants in April…and who’s Matt Adams and what are the odds it’s this guy I never heard of until tonight who ends the dream?

Except he didn’t. He grounded to Ike to end the St. Louis seventh.

Opera, I tell you.

Johan was due up in the bottom of the inning. Any idea that Terry Collins wouldn’t let him hit would have caused a riot in that I was planning to storm my television and choke him into another dimension if he didn’t. But Johan stayed in to bunt. He received, as Gary Cohen noticed, a “smattering of applause” for his pitching to that point, though to be fair, it seemed his mere showing up in the on-deck circle elicited a strong ovation. Maybe somebody put down their mobile devices for a while after all.

The Mets added three runs in the seventh. We are taught to like that sort of thing. I forced myself to like it Friday night. Being against tack-on runs is dangerous karmic behavior. But c’mon already and get Johan back on the mound before somebody does something stupid like demonstrate concern for his ongoing recovery from shoulder surgery and take him out for his own good to our everlasting sorrow.

The second batter in the top of the eighth was Shane Robinson. He was the first guy I announced out loud as the guy who was going to end the bid. I mean, Shane Robinson?

But he didn’t. Nor did the walking Rafael Furcal. And nor did Carlos Beltran, whoever he used to be.

“EIGHT INNINGS!” I shouted in case anyone didn’t know. “EIGHT INNINGS!” I slapped a wall, hyperventilated, paced around and scared the hell out of the one cat who dared to hang in there with me until now.

“You’re scaring Avery,” Stephanie said, though she knew that was going to be the collateral damage. She did her part by continuing to futz around with her Nook. She’s walked in on too many no-hit bids not to be considered culpable in the total reaching 8,019. (Then again, hadn’t we all?)

Johan came up again in the ninth. Did his mannequin impression. Struck out not just looking but standing perfectly still. Best at-bat of his career since that 12-pitch home run against the Reds.

Never mind never thinking there’d be a no-hitter. I never thought I’d see anything like Johan Santana shutting down the Marlins when everything was on the line, when he couldn’t, just couldn’t, leave the mound — if Johan Santana handed a slender lead to the 2008 Mets bullpen, it would evaporate, so Johan obliterated his pitch count and pitched the game of a lifetime that September Saturday when Shea was about to die.

Now the stakes weren’t nearly as intense…but, no, that’s a lie. They were every bit as intense. Johan hung in and beat the Marlins, and Jason and I embraced manfully and the Brewers lost to the Cubs and the Mets stayed alive for one more day until they and Shea came tumbling down. And if they’d ultimately succeeded? I would have witnessed the third world championship in New York Mets history, which would have been every bit as marvelous as that sounds, based on having witnessed the other two.

But I hadn’t yet seen the First No-Hitter in New York Mets History. Nobody had. Nobody ever would, went a strain of our cultural thinking. We talked about it at the Hofstra 50th anniversary conference. Phil Humber — traded with three other fellows for Johan Santana, it occurs to me — had just pitched his perfect game. Tom Seaver pitched his no-hitter with the Reds. Al Leiter, Hideo Nomo, Nolan Ryan, Dwight Gooden…everybody had pitched a no-hitter before or after their Mets tenure. But everybody missed the mark. Nobody did it where we would have loved and adored them for doing it.

One of the favorite parlor games in which we Mets fans indulged for our eternity was “who could do it?” or “who would we want to do it?” I haven’t had a definitive guess since I insisted it would be Bill Pulsipher, so what did I know, but I always rejected the notion that it couldn’t or shouldn’t be “some journeyman”. Some journeyman? If his journey took him to the Shea Stadium or Citi Field mound and he pitched a no-hitter in a New York Mets uniform, I think we’d immortalize him without hesitation.

Even if it had been T#m Gl@v!ne, for whom I rooted with most of my heart and soul on May 23, 2004, which was a story I was telling the other night at the game where Jeremy Hefner homered (which takes a back seat as novel episodes go this week). I heard Gl@v!ne going for it as Stephanie and I entered a theater to see a show. I manipulated the radio in my ear as long as I could, until the orchestra was playing the overture to Bombay Dreams, until Kit Pellow stopped the bid.

We all have those types of stories, but this one comes back to me suddenly, not just ’cause it came up the other night but because without Gl@v!ne’s signature implosion on the worst day in Shea Stadium history (in my view), the Mets don’t make every effort to trade for the best available pitcher on the market in the offseason that followed. They don’t wait out the Yankees and the Red Sox and they don’t pony up Phil Humber, Kevin Mulvey, Carlos Gomez and Deolis Guerra to the Twins and arrange all kinds of zeroes to lure Johan Santana to the their ranks in time for 2008.

Santana was a reasonable facsimile of the American League version his first year, until the last few starts, when he was all that and an oversized bag of chips. He was sort of that on and off in 2009 and 2010 except he was aching and we weren’t very good for very long and before we knew it, he was out for a year and his contract was a Beltranesque albatross and maybe we can trade him, huh?

Maybe not! Maybe Johan works his broad shoulders off as well as the rest of his anatomy and he’s starting on Opening Day as Gary Carter is remembered and he’s succeeding without actually winning for several starts thereafter and he’s shutting down the Padres so effectively last weekend that if he hadn’t given up a few hits, you could have sworn he had no-hit stuff.

And then eight innings of no-hit baseball are in the books for a Mets starter for the first time since that September afternoon in 1975 when I listened to Bob Murphy describe Tom Seaver trying to keep hope alive in 0-0 combat. It wouldn’t really be a no-hitter if he got Wallis, Murph explained, but it would be nine no-hit innings, and when I was twelve years old, that would be plenty.

But Wallis singled and the Mets lost in extras and I continued to grow up with this.

I will not, however, grow old with it.

Because Torres caught a blooping liner from Matt Holliday. And because Nieuwenhuis handled a fly from Allen Craig. And David Freese — the guy who cost the Texas Rangers their first world championship — struck out.

Johan Santana pitched the First No-Hitter in New York Mets History.

It happened. It really and truly happened. I shouted and I cried and I hugged my wife and we drank champagne from the same Mets mugs with which we toasted the 2006 N.L. East championship, none of which will show up in the box score, but I always wondered what I would do if it happened, and now I know.

We can all go count something else now.

36 comments to Night at the Opera (Bravo! Bravo!)

  • John Barron

    Thank you Greg. This moment wasn’t truly official until I read what you had to write here. Perfect.

  • dmg

    i am so happy that johan — with all he has been through and all he has had to come back from — did the deed, i’m misting up.
    you may have forgotten (doubtful — you forget nothing), but he pitched that next to last game in 2008 with a torn meniscus in his left knee, as tough a stud as anyone who has ever pitched for the mets.
    he needs to take care of himself — he’s coming back from shoulder surgery, after all, and just threw the second of two straight shutouts. except this one was a little bit better.

  • In all my imaginings, I never imagined I’d be sitting in the ESPN Club at Disney World in Orlando, the only guy aware of what was going on and who cared about the outcome. I was sitting with a friend of mine who was a Yankees fan and didn’t know what was going on except that I was acting very strangely for the end of an 8-0 Mets lead. I didn’t explain. For obvious reasons.

    But more about that some other time. For now, no, I wasn’t where I wanted to be, but where I found myself was absolutely the right place to be.

    And when I’m stupidly rich? I’m gonna pay the ESPN Club to put up a fucking plaque.

  • kd bart

    Great job by Johan. Great by you. My money was on Zack Wheeler sometime in 2014 as the first Met no hitter. Oh well. Maybe it will be the first Met perfect game.

  • Mike Neureiter


    This is one blog entry I thought I would never read. Damn happy I was wrong. Last time I teared-up like this was when Messier held the Cup. Thanks for doing God’s work.

  • Well-Meaning Phils Troll

    Congrats, guys.

    I got to listen to the 9th (thanks, XM) AND enjoy it, since it A- wasn’t against the Phils (I’ve been absolutely CERTAIN it would be for the past ten years), and B – against the godsdamned Red Birds (the only better outcome would have been to have Molina at the plate whiffing his team into the fuzzy end of this particular historical Lollypop).

    With your Ace on the mound and a swinging K for number twenty-seven to boot.


  • I have been watching Mets baseball on the tube since 1965 and I have been calling myself a fan since 1967..I saw Seavers 3 bids.I have lived with this. I have wondered about this. I have had fantisies about this..And now I have witnessed this..
    I never thought I would in my life see it, but I did, it happened!
    JUNE 1st 2012..
    I’ll be God damned!!

    Congrats to all you loyalists..

    Rich P

  • Rob D.

    I cried my eyes out last night. Not ashamed.

  • Tom

    We’ve lost some of our uniqueness, a piece of our identity now.
    But I’m glad we can ditch that badge.

    Your posts are a joy to read. Thank you.

  • Gary/Jane

    Today, Saturday morning, it feels like the year ONE A.D.
    Or whatever you would call the delineation of a new era.

  • […] Faith and Fear In Flushing: Night at the Opera (Bravo! Bravo!) […]

  • Brian Lennon

    You have to assume with those 8 runs and 8 hits that The Kid had a hand in this somehow.

  • Jim Haines

    I missed it. What happened?

  • LarryDC

    Of the many things you wrote that were meaningful to me, the one that stood out, that best captured what I was trying to convey to my friends last night, is how this one game, this remarkable achievement, redeems (if that’s the right word) what we all sense is going to be a forgettable era in Mets history. I haven’t bought and can’t really buy into our winning 2012 record because of all the obvious missing parts (though, feel free to prove me wrong, Mets!). But, suddenly, 2012 is not a Season We’ll Likely Forget. It’s jumped all the way to a Season We’ll Always Cherish. Amazin’ what can happen in the space of 27 outs.

  • […] Greg Prince has a must-read operatic recounting of the night, capturing the emotions of Mets fans as only he can. […]

  • Dennis

    Great as always Greg and an absolutely beautiful night for Mets fans everywhere!

  • roger kowalski


  • Ken K. in NJ

    Jason, don’t fret, Josh Lewin missed the game too (daughter’s graduation). It would have been much more ironic, of course, if it was Howie who missed the game.

    Gary Cohen was great and gracious when he said on SNY that he couldn’t wait to hear Howie’s call (Ron seemed a little taken aback at that remark). Then Gary and Howie spent a totally enjoyable 15 or so minutes on the radio side. Two long-time Mets fans talkin’ baseball.

    Wow. What a night on so many levels.

  • Joe D.

    Hi Greg,

    Though I always felt frustrated about us never having pitched a no-hitter, I never thought I would experience such joy and euphoria when it would. I never felt it was a burden upon my shoulders now I feel like a burden had indeed been lifted!

    I remember something Ron Swoboda said during the game five celebration in 1969, that it would never feel the same way again (when referring to future world championships). Indeed that was true for me in 1986 and will be again for me when the second no-hitter in Met history is thrown. There will never be a another momemnt like there was at nine forty-five PM on June the first, two-thousand and twelve (thanks Lindsey).

  • Kevin From Flushing

    I kinda feel bad for offering the ticket! But take solace in 3 things: 1) you’re one of several who turned the ticket down, 2) you still witnessed it on tv, forever eliminating the fear so many of us had that the moment would come after a two hour rain delay on the west coast, and 3) you were, like Jason, where you needed to be. I kicked myself for a long time at having turned down tickets to Game 5 in 1999, but I’m not entirely sure I’d want to give up the memories of where I was during that game.

    I consider myself incredibly lucky to have been there, fittingly on National Donut Day. I was thinking no hitter after 4 as rain was threatening. I was begging for no hits in the 5th and a downpour to follow. I’d have taken it.

    Into the 7th I was thinking about Rick Reed against the Devil Rays, his 6 and 2/3 the longest I’ve witnessed one. After 7, “well, this is the furthest I’ve gone. There’s always that.” After 8, “even if it doesn’t happen, this is Seaver territory and incredibly special.” After 3-0 on Freese, “not Molina. NOT MOLINA.”

    After 9… A yelp, a jump out of my seat, and then staring in silence, holding my head in disbelief. Tears. And then I had to sit down.

    Time will tell if I rank the experience higher than Game 162 in 99 or Game 161 in 08, but I know for sure that game will be hard to top in my Citi history.

    Lastly, I wish the newspapers used my girlfriends choice of headline: “NO-SHITTER!”

  • Jerry Z

    Me and my brother were at last night’s game. I was in disbelief as the late innings rolled around. My heart in my throat 9th inning, could this actually be happening? Then it happened… the crowd let out a massive roar. One not to be forgotten.

  • Rebecca G

    Loved reading this—your words help make it real. Santana’s words seal the deal, “Yea, baby, Believe it!!”

  • I honestly find myself wondering what’s it going to be like to live in a post-no-hitter world. It’s been such a part of the Mets fan’s consciousness, living without it, while obviously good, will nonetheless be radically different.

    No more wondering every day if this will be the day.

    No more groaning every time I hear that some other team has had a no-hitter.

    No more announcers re-opening the discussion every time a pitcher gives up his first hit some time past the second inning.

    No more nagging, endless reviews of how many pitchers threw no-hitters for some other team either prior to or after their Mets tenure every single time anyone anywhere throws one.

    This must be how Red Sox fans felt after winning the World Series in ’04. We finally got the monkey off our backs, but it’s a monkey that was part of us. This is going to take some getting used to.

  • Made in the Sheade

    I feel you Greg – I had to turn this game off in the bottom of the fourth as the Friday evening sun set… too early for the usual “no-hit schpilkes,” but late enough to mention to my neighbor that it was a double no-no when I left my house. So after 36 years of watching my Mets and thinking it would never happen, I ended up learning about it from the NY Times this morning.

    And, truthfully, no complaints here. Wish I had been able to watch or at least listen live, but I’m just glad it finally happened.

    My son and I just watched innings 5-9 on and here I am artifically reconstructing what I would have done had Johan worked his magic on, say, a Thursday night. So my experience could not be deemed complete until I stopped off here. Great work (as usual).

  • BlackCountryMet

    UN-BE-LIEVABLE!! As a recent entrant into the Mets world(11 yrs since 1st game but true fandom in last 5 seasons) I would never claim this meant as much as those who were born following this team and liveand die with our fortunes but Im bloody PUMPED!! Was working Sat am so unable to watch live so switched on my phone when I woke up and checked the at bat as always, more hoping than expecting a win. When I saw the box and saw Jo-No went 9 i thought, “OK,that’s good” When I saw the no hitter, a shiver ran down my spine and a shout of emotion erupted. If anyone deserved this, it’s us Mets fans who’ve waited so long. Have listed and watched over & over again(ya gotta love MLBTV and YouTube) and still getting the chills,great calls by Gary & Howie.As Gary said in the F&F book, EVERY game of baseball,something can always happen and in this one, dreams came TRUE. God Bless No-Han, an immortal Met. My headline choice by the way, “NO HIT-STORY!!” Looking forward to a 7 Line T shirt

    LGM,Always Blue & Orange!!

    Mets in England

  • Sometime in the sixth inning, my brother called. I picked up the receiver and he said, “He won’t make it through the seventh,” No greeting, no hello, we both knew exactly what we were doing and exactly what we both were thinking.

    So with two outs in the seventh, I suddenly was too nervous to continue watching and changed the channel. When my phone didn’t ring again (with my brother glumly saying, “Told ya,”) I cautiously put the game back on and saw that “it” was still intact.

    We are such a wildly superstitious bunch. I inexplicably got it in my head that if I watched the third out of the eighth, “I” would ruin “it.” So again, with 2 outs in the 8th, I changed the channel. Still no phone call from brother Joe, so I switched back to the game.

    Two out in the 9th and the phone rings. NOOOOO!!! My heart sinks as I answer it and flip back to the game. But I see everyone is going bananas and my brother is yelling (excitedly) into the phone. I switch the channel as fast as I could. “Why aren’t you watching?” Joe asks. “I didn’t watch the third out in the 7th or 8th,” I say and immediately he understands. No further explanation is necessary for any superstitious act. “Well, I can TELL you what’s happening, right?” I said I guessed that would be okay, as long as I wasn’t watching it live.

    Naturally that last out had to go to 3-0 with Yadier f–king Molina waiting on deck. Chest pains. But the instant Joe yelled, “HE DID IT!” I could breathe normally again and turn on SNY to enjoy this (maybe) once in a lifetime occurrence. I yelled, I screamed, I cried.

    Looking forward to watching the last third of the game tomorrow night on SNYs special encore, with a huge smile on my face! Yay, Johan!
    LGM Mets.

  • […] piece on Johan and history is here. For Faith and Fear on regular-season game 8,020, go here, then here, then here, then here, then here. From the world outside F & F, two Johan pieces I particularly […]

  • dykstraw

    i was in greece, asleep.

    hopefully i didn’t miss the biggest moment of the 2012 mets.

  • Feel left out

    I missed it and it was my fault. I explained why on other blogs so don’t feel like going through that pain again. Replay had a lot of moments especially because I knew none of the twists and turns going in. But still not the same and I feel that I am still waiting to experience the Mets pitch a no hitter. From now on gushing reminders during slow games will be rough and having a no hitter broken up in the late innings will be much more painful. Hopefully I do get to see a non-spoiled Mets no hitter before I leave this earth. You never know but I believe that if it happens and I believe it will it be great even though to the rest of the Mets universe while not not ho hum it just won’t compare in any way to Friday. Just as the “blown call” made no difference because it was the first time the fact that for the rest of world it will be 2nd fiddle won’t matter to me because it will be my first time. Would like a nice to have story line around the Mets second time but even if it occurs on the road during last week of the season in from of 2,000 fans won’t matter and the extra waiting and the extra bizarre things in my “curse” might make it better who knows.

    I went through all the rigmarole above because I disagree that the Mets should be given a pass based on the no hitter. Wins and losses and the personality and hustle of the team of the team are much much more import and then no hitters or lack thereof. That Mets lack of no hitters was an anomaly a freak thing and not a curse. The Phillies went longer then the Mets, 58 years without a no hitter. True their drought started after 4 no hitters but generations of Philly fans grew up before they saw one and I sure a some pitchers recorded them before and after they left town. Even the Yanks while not in the Mets league have had droughts(Larson in ’56 to Reghetti in ’83, none since Cone in ’99) The Mets had a lot of people pitch no no’s before and after they left NY not due to a curse but because a lot of the drought years were in the free agency era.

    I was affected by “missing” the no – no because I am human. I don’t like it, but when people are so effected it is bound to translate to me. If so many other Mets fans are affected deeply by the droughts end of course I am going to get a bit jealous because when I “miss” it because I made an error (no hex). I do want to watch a non spoiled mets no-no out of curiosity because so many mets fans think it’s nirvana and because I will be reminded on occasion that I missed it.

    The importing thing is what a change the Alderson-Collins era is from previous errors. Nobody says they are “bored”, are arrogant, collapses or shows up opponents, fires mangers at 3AM nowadays.

    • Still Feel left out

      Now I can add Wilson Betemit and B.J. Upton who broke up R.A.’s no hitters and especially some official scorer in Tampa Bay to the Leron Lee’s and Jimmy Qualls as I continue to wait to see a Met pitcher throw a no-hitter. As R.A. did his thing at the time it seemed so close I could taste it but in truth it was so far away wasn’t it? We know Santana’s injury was not caused by the no hitter. After 2 bad starts immediate post no hitter he had 2 good ones before the horrendous ones post ankle injury. Maybe Santana did not acknowledge his ankle injury because he did not want people to think he could not handle the after effects of the no hitter thus making it worse. In reality he probably took one for the team because the bullpen is so bad. It does make one wonder though. Some fans have stated maybe this is a case being sorry for getting your wish. If they feel that way how do you think I feel just seeing the bad after story after missing the euphoria. What ever the reason the chances of me seeing a for the first Met pitcher throw a no hitter soon if anytime has gone down very much. They seemed to have figured out R.A. and more importantly what Met manager is going leave in a pitcher is working on a no hitter but has reached his pitch count after what we have seen with Santana? I very much wish the ump made the correct call Beltan’s shot down the 3rd base line.

      But as a Met fan we try to see the optimistic side. Nice to see the team still have fight while their pitching staff is repeatedly sabotaging them.

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