The Spirit of 1986 called. It sounded a lot like Lenny Dykstra. I think it was chewing tobacco.
Here is the gist of what the Spirit had to say:
• It, too, is sick of being the most recent Met world championship . “Dude,” the Spirit told me, “it’s about bleeping time we can give it a rest.”
• It didn’t mean to fall behind two games to none to the Red Sox, but the current team should take any inspiration where it can. “I mean, Dude, we did it, and half of us were…ah Dude, I can’t tell you if you’re gonna put it in your bleeping blog.”
• It approves of Terry Collins canceling the off-day workout between Games Two and Three, “just like Davey woulda done, Dude. That dude was nails.”
• It thinks Noah Syndergaard is “totally nails, Dude.”
• It called me Dude repeatedly, actually.
• It referred to the Kansas City Royals as something unprintable, even for a blog.
• It called Mike Moustakas “Mike Moustupid…whatever, Dude.”
• It said don’t worry about what happened in Kansas City, “that bleep is so bleeping over.”
• It said a National League champion is capable of winning four out of five from anybody.
• It said “they better bleeping win tonight, Dude. What the bleep are they waiting for?”
• It began to hit me up for a loan, but I hung up before it got to the ask.
Dude, I’m with the Spirit of 1986. Let’s go get ’em, Let’s Go Mets (go)!