- Faith and Fear in Flushing - https://www.faithandfearinflushing.com -

The Stuff of Urban Legend

“I’m tellin’ ya, I seen it.”
“You lie.”

“I do no such thing. As God is my witness, I seen it.”
“Ya couldn’ta seen it, ’cause it never happened.”

“It happened.”
“You are a blasphemin’ devil to spread such nonsense.”

“I speak only the truth.”
“The truth is it never happened.”

“Doubt me all ya want, but these two eyes seen it.”
“Not the ‘two eyes’ testimony again.”

“These two eyes, on a warm July day…”
“Ya sure? Ya sure it was July? Why not say it was December? It’s just as likely.”

“These two eyes, on a warm July day, situated almost directly behind home plate…”
“I can’t take it anymore.”

“You will take it, for you have questioned my honor, my recollection and the historical record.”
“History? History? There is nothing in history that reflects what you say you seen ever having happened.”

“What if I could produce a document that affirms my testimony [1]? What if I could produce witnesses?”
“I would say you are clever but dishonest, for it defies all we know about the nature of the beast. The nature of the beast is plain. The nature of the beast was to stand and swing and miss and sit.”

“But not this day. Not on this one occasion.”
“This ‘magical occasion’ of yours eludes common sense!”

“This world rises and falls on the uncommon occasion, and this, I tell ya, was a most uncommon occasion.”
“I am in no mood to indulge your flights of imagination.”

“There is no imagination. There is only what transpired. These two eyes, on a warm July day, situated almost directly behind home plate know what they seen.”
“If those two eyes seen what you swear they seen, then those two eyes were closed.”

“They were open, I tell ya. It is your mind that is closed to the reality of the happenstance.”
“You might consider realigning your storytelling. Reality is not your strong suit.”

“Your insults will not prevent me from knowing what I know, telling what I know. And I will tell it until my dying breath.”
“Which can’t come soon enough.”

“Insult. Mock. Go on. I have the truth on my side. I have these two eyes, from that warm July day, situated almost directly behind home plate — and these two eyes seen what they seen.”
“They seen an illusion.”

“NO! They seen the Mets score a run!”
“Preposterous.”

“Preposterous, perhaps. Improbable, for sure. But it was as possible as the day is long.”
“You’re the one who goes on too long.”

“It was a warm July day. I was situated almost directly behind home plate. It was the home third inning. There was an out…”
“I believe that.”

“Then that shaggy fella with the small letter to start his last name, he doubled.”
“This is where your fabrication drives me to distraction. You invent these ridiculous characters.”

“He was very real and very able.”
“And he pitched, right?”

“That he did.”
“He pitched and he doubled.”

“Yes. These pitchers could do that. They were permitted to try and they often succeeded. Not all the time, but these Mets pitchers could hit.”
“The Mets couldn’t hit.”

“It was the Mets’ position players who couldn’t hit.”
“Yet somehow you’d have me believe the Mets’ pitchers — the pitchers — generated what little hitting the Mets did have.”

“I wouldn’t have you believe that. The facts would.”
“Facts are very selective when you spout them.”

“Where was I? Oh yes, the shaggy fella with the small letter to start his last name doubled. And he was bunted over to third.”
“The Mets couldn’t bunt. When they attempted to do so, multiple outs occurred.”

“I understand your confusion. Mets who tried to bunt with a runner on third couldn’t…”
“The Mets didn’t have runners on third.”

“They didn’t often, but on this occasion, they did, after the bunt.”
“Of course they did. Whatever you say.”

“Your condescending tone notwithstanding, the Mets had a runner on third with two out.”
“And then there were three outs.”

“Normally, yes. But not in this instance. In this instance, a mighty swing resulted in a ball that bounced over the outfield fence.”
“Because, according to you, a Met hit a fair ball that wasn’t caught.”

“Because, according to what happened, a Met hit a ball that wasn’t caught. I am merely the conduit for this information.”
“According to your ‘information,’ a Met hit a ball that by ground rule turned into a double, thereby driving that runner on first…”

“Third.”
“Oh, pardon me. The runner on THIRD scored when the other Met landed on…was it second?”

“Yes. Man on third, two out, ground-rule double.”
“And the Mets scored a run.”

“And the Mets scored a run.”
“YOU LIE! THE METS NEVER SCORED A RUN!”

“I SPEAK THE TRUTH! THE METS SCORED A RUN!”
“Calm down.”

“I shall not calm down! It was in the bottom of the third inning on a warm day in July. I seen it with my own two eyes. I sat almost directly behind home plate and I seen the runner’s foot touch it and cross it. I seen a zero transform as if by black magic into a ‘1’ on the scoreboard. Grown men wept. Grown women fell to their knees in prayers of thanksgiving. Children who had never fully comprehended the purpose of home plate shrieked in astounded fashion. Raucous celebrations ensued. Ice cream was distributed without charge to all. A national holiday was observed the very next day.”
“I have grown exhausted from your fables. The next thing you’re going to tell me is that the Mets, having accomplished this unprecedented feat, went on to prevail in their baseball game by scoring more runs than their opposition.”

“What? No, don’t be silly. The Mets lost [2]. The Mets always lost. Ya thought they could have won? Geez, you’re crazy.”