There was a GM in Gotham who sent his manager to the Midwest to win two out of three, and in a little while the manager came back, pale and trembling, and said, “Omar, just now when I was in the Midwest I was jostled by a man wearing red in the stadium and when I turned I saw it was Death that jostled me. He looked at me and made a threatening gesture, now, lend me your horse, and I will ride away from this city and avoid my fate. I will go to Shea tamarra [sic, sorry] and there Death will not find me.”
The general manager lent him his horse, and the manager mounted it, and he dug his spurs in its flanks and as fast as the horse could gallop he went. Then the GM went down to the Midwest and found Death standing in the stadium and he came to him and said, “Why did you make a threatening gesture to my manager when you saw him tonight?”
“That was not a threatening gesture,” Death said. “It was only a start of surprise. I was astonished to see him in the Midwest, for I have an appointment with him in Shea tamarra.”
— With fervent apologies to Arab storytellers, W. Somerset Maugham, and all of you for whom faith still outweighs fear.
(and to John O'Hara)
I remeber another Game 6 at Shea, another 3-2 deficit and another Cy winner on the opposite lineup card….here's to seeing one roll between Albert's legs….
That's the spirit. Keep it coming, folks. I need it. I suspect we all need it.
Christ. If I can resist the urge to jump out my window, there's another game tomorrow, and one we're sure as hell not supposed to one. This is the stuff that the legends are made of.
Say it with me now… Game 6… Game 6… Game 6… Game 6…
I have two tickets to game 7.
And now I can root to use them.
Let's go, Mets.
Hope my friends. It is the companion of Faith.
Keep your fear at bay.
Carry the hope throughout the day.
That is what I will do.
Tonight they win,
And play another day.
And more after.