The blog for Mets fans
who like to read


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.

Got something to say? Leave a comment, or email us at (Sorry, but we have no interest in ads, sponsored content or guest posts.)

Need our RSS feed? It's here.

Visit our Facebook page, or drop by the personal pages for Greg and Jason.

Or follow us on Twitter: Here's Greg, and here's Jason.

Red as Blood

They even shot Tommy in the face so his mother couldn't give him an open casket at his funeral.
— Henry Hill,
Absent a handy black hole or Superman determined to blow off Kal-El and pull Lois Lane out of a ditch, you can't turn back time. All the Clydesdales in the world won't put those rings back in their cases or put the ball back in Adam Wainwright's hand and give Carlos Beltran another chance. It's over. What happens in April 2007 won't change what happened in 2006.
But it might have something to do with what happens in 2007.
Anticipating Braden Looper, last night I told Emily I wouldn't be satisfied with anything less than 10 earned in a third of an inning against our former closer, mock-“Jose” chanter and embodiment of 2004's horrors and 2005's frustrations. That didn't happen, and I didn't hear Looper escape mostly unscathed — I was at Varsity Letters, where I'm proud to report that the crowd was mostly Met fans and raucous cheers greeted the news that the Mets had finally broken out on top.
With Varsity Letters complete, I headed into the night and turned on my trusty radio for the first time in 2007, enjoying the brief stumble of remembering what button does what, since the labels have long since worn away. Fortunately I figured it out, had batteries, and got Howie and Tom on just in time to hear Julio Franco elevate the score from comfortable to ridiculous. And accompanying it was a wonderful sound: Cardinals fans booing.
Booing? In St. Louis? But I thought they didn't do that! I thought they cheered and cheered and cheered, when they weren't busy carrying newly acquired utility infielders through the streets on their shoulders or building housing for the indigent while offering each other very nice compliments. Naaaah. You know what Cardinals fans do? They boo and mock-cheer beleaguered relievers and leave stadiums in droves when things don't go their way even when it's just the third game of the new season and they're once again celebrating a brand-new world championship. Can “The Best Fans in Baseball” now join the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus on the list of things we gently explain to our children are very nice ideas but not actually real?
Of course, a fan's patience is tested when you've just been torched 20-2 in a three-game sweep, never held a lead for a half-inning, seen your bullpen and outfield exposed, and watched your superstar go 1 for 10. A fan's patience is tested when the final game of that three-game sweep is an absolutely pitiless beatdown of the variety that more-sheltered Midwesterners assume happens to anyone unwise enough to set foot in New York City.
Cardinals fans are fine fans compared to everything but their own myth. But last night wasn't the night for being reasonable — last night was the night for glee at the pain of others. When Jose Reyes took third and drew Yadier F. Molina's ire, I clapped madly. (This was around Lafayette and Canal, and people looked at me anxiously.) When Reyes came home on the slow roller to Rolen, which also probably didn't make Y. Fucking Molina happy, I yelled and pumped my fist. When Wright's long drive to open the ninth was caught, I moaned in disappointment. (This was on the Brooklyn Bridge, so I had no audience but myself.) This was a closed-casket game — no quarter and check your mercy at the door.
In April 1986 the Mets, then 7-3 and rounding into form, went to St. Louis with fans still muttering about being edged out by the Cardinals in 1985. They beat the Cards 5-4 in 10, then administered a 9-0 pasting, then won 4-3 and 5-3 for a four-game sweep. The Mets didn't retroactively go to the playoffs in 1985 because of that, but in 1986 Whitey Herzog and Company were never a factor again. A lot has changed since then — we're no longer division rivals and have just four games against each other remaining, so we won't have a lot to do with the Cardinals' fate one way or another. And a regular-season beatdown means nothing, as all of us still cringing over the 1988 NLCS remember all too well. But while the past is past, I think it's safe to say we've made our point about the present — and sent a clear signal about the future.

7 comments to Red as Blood

  • Anonymous

    Well you know I am not going to be cocky about booing fans (gee, wonder who ours are going to boo during introductions on Opening Day? Slots are still open, this weekend should fill them). But yeah, the whole thing was incredibly satisfying. Even Pollyanna here had not an ounce of humanity or pity throughout the entire series. Always nice to see a fraud exposed. And this team is a FRAUD. They should give back the rings, banner and trophy.

  • Anonymous

    Nice prose baby. I love “moaning in disappointment” when Wright's drive was caught.
    This was a good test of the “best fans in baseball” maxim, and guess what? I think they failed with low-flying colors. I don't think you can boo a World Champion, I don't care how bad they looked, you can still chalk it up to a hangover or something (though as I write this I'm now thinking we so need to get rid of the “championship hangover” concept, especially when it supposedly manifests 4-5 months after the fact). You can't boo a champion until they lose at least, let's say, ten in a row. AND they show lack of effort and all the rest of the booable offenses.
    In 2007 consider the Cardinals, both the teams and their fans, overrated.

  • Anonymous

    Have to disagree a little bit, T.A.N. — you can and should boo obvious lack of effort and utter boneheadedness, even on championship teams. They should get a pass on haplessness and honest mistakes, the kind of stuff that can happen to anybody. But when they aren't trying, aren't thinking or aren't professional, I say boo away, rings or no rings.

  • Anonymous

    I would like the Cardinals to go home and get their fucking shine box.

  • Anonymous

    We'd have blasted holes in their feet, but they took care of that themselves.

  • Anonymous

    “Can “The Best Fans in Baseball” now join the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus on the list of things we gently explain to our children are very nice ideas but not actually real?”
    Can't fit it on a T-shirt or coffee mug, but if we could, we'd be zillionaires. So, so tired of hearing about how much Saint Louie fans love baseball, compared to those nasty, icky ill-mannered people up in New York.
    Note to Mets management: if we win it all this year, let's do the banner/rings thing in a half hour, and get on with the business of winning again as quickly as possible.

  • Anonymous

    Well, we are nasty, icky and ill-mannered! Fifteen minutes at Shea will verify that.
    But I'm down with the rest of it. I will be mortified if we win it all and next year we spend three days putting on a Dalmatian and Clydesdale show like that. That was just unseemly. Thank God we didn't have to witness it all… just hearing about it made me want to spew.
    And then they get SWEPT!! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! Oh, there is a God.