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.

You Never See It Coming

Can we talk about the Angels?

I’ll grant you that the entire AL West is essentially uncharted on my personal baseball map, but the Angels are the true terra incognita. This shouldn’t be — the Angels are essentially us, a mere year older thanks to the AL pushing to the head of the expansion line. But they must rival the Padres and Rangers for most years without a real identity, having cycled endlessly and fruitlessly through uniforms, logos and even names until recently, when they stopped after achieving a subtly amazing level of focus-grouped anonymity. Today’s Angels look like the Cardinals wearing spring training uniforms, and the franchise name might be the worst in all sports — “Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim” is a bizarre formulation that no commissioner worthy of the position would have ever allowed. It’s equal parts deeply cynical and laughably spineless, a blunderbuss of quarter-assed marketing that once ducked leaves you embarrassed for all involved, yourself included.

To be clear, I have nothing against Angels fans or the guys wearing their thoroughly unmemorable uniforms. The Angels are practically our brothers, I sympathize with the second team in town thing, and their park is no classic but tries hard — it’s gleefully overstuffed with Angeliana in a way I wish the Citi Field braintrust would copy. And hey, any sporting event that lets you watch Mike Trout do what he does is worth the price of admission. But for all our inglorious and fitfully embarrassing history, the Mets have at least avoided spastic branding reboots — the shade of blue has wandered, the script briefly sprouted a tail and black jerseys ruled the land for a while, but a New Breed fan transported from 1962 to any other year in Mets history would immediately know what team she was rooting for. The Angels are in their fifth decade as a spastic branding reboot.

Which was honestly kind of perfect for the start of a strangely early West Coast swing, with the first game of course rumbling into extra innings and the New York night.

There are extra-inning games that keep you engaged, trying desperately to outguess the baseball gods but feeling certain that somehow you’re going to win. There are extra-inning games where you keep waiting for the snick of the guillotine and wondering why you haven’t heard it yet. And there are extra-inning games that turn into a sort of baseball Eastern Front, where eventually all you want is for it to be over.

This one was somewhere between the second and the third case — though before things got weird there was a rather entertaining and more or less conventional baseball game to watch. Josh Satin got the start at first and delivered a two-run double, making me wonder if Terry Collins will soon declare that Lucas Duda is the starting first baseman, Ike Davis is the regular first baseman and Satin is the everyday first baseman. (After which he’ll look faintly amazed that the beat writers need this explained.)¬†Travis d’Arnaud cracked his first home run of the season, and while Dillon Gee was so-so, the Mets’ bullpen was surprisingly capable, as it has been for a week or so. (When will we stop being surprised? I dunno. Maybe July.)

Plus you got the spectacle of Scott Boras in his suite behind home plate, like the Banquo’s Ghost of Embarrassingly Low Payrolls. Boras, I noticed, observed each of Ruben Tejada‘s at-bats standing, so the center field camera got a group shot of Tejada, Angels catcher Chris Iannetta/Hank Conger, spatially challenged umpire Manny Gonzalez and Boras. I swear to God Boras was doing that deliberately, perhaps in the hope that one of the New York tabloids would use a screen grab for a front page after some Tejada-related disaster. It was a little bit funny and a little bit irritating, and what I really wanted was for SNY to pixelate him, like in Japanese porn.

With the game becoming a stalemate, I kept waiting for Trout to beat us — and winding up startled when it didn’t happen. Carlos Torres struck him out with two on and two out in the sixth. Kyle Farnsworth rather wisely walked him with two on and two out in the eighth. And then¬†Jeurys Familia gave up a two-out single to him in the 11th, but it wasn’t fatal.

My second thought was that Albert Pujols would beat us — Pujols who’s been through a lot in Los Angeles or Anaheim or whatever municipality is being catered to at the time, but to me remains a name to conjures terror and despair. But that didn’t happen either. Farnsworth got him to ground out to David Wright with the bases loaded and Familia retired him with two on. Sorry, Albert.

(By the way, what would you have said a few years back if I told you there’d soon be a baseball player whom you’d be glad to see walked so a retread reliever could pitch to Albert Freaking Pujols?)

Anyway, Trout didn’t land the fatal blow and neither did Pujols and it was the 11th and the Mets had to load the bases with one out and so of course Familia hits Conger with a 2-2 pitch, shades of Daryl Boston winding up with a ball in his shirt. Not what I saw coming, but you generally don’t see it coming in affairs like this one. They just end, with a mutter and a shrug in the middle of the night.

9 comments to You Never See It Coming

  • Scott M.

    I’m up pretty early for work – didn’t even see first pitch – but from reading about it, it sounds like it was a pretty painful game…

  • dmg

    when it went into extras, it seemed like the mets’ long sprawl of travel was having an effect. after a game that featured many signs of life, to lose it by a walk-off hit-by-pitch? oy.

  • Ken K. in NJ

    And what’s with those fake mountains behind the fences? It looked like Trout and d’Arnaud’s home runs landed inside a Cabela’s store.

  • Harvey

    Last night’s game was the 4th time the Mets had a chance to reach .500 this season. They lost all four. The good news is they have moved up to 29th in team batting average, inching over the Mendoza line and passing the Astros!

  • metsfaninparadise

    The storyline was Collins keeping Gee in after 90 pitches. Identical results 3 games running. Get Torres in one or 2 batters earlier and you don’t have to worry about getting down to guys like Lannan. By the way, I HATE Japanese porn!

  • Dave

    I think the Mets’ all time record on first games of West coast trips is about 4-597. Exacerbated by a night game in Atlanta on Thursday that according to Gary and Ron’s discussion, the Braves may have refused to move to daytime.

  • chris in FL

    why is it that all of these extra innings west coast games happen when i have to go to work the next day?that dodgers game that ended at like 4am last year was a real killer

  • dmg

    thank god for recker. a loss tonight after the blown save would have been a crusher.

  • The Jestaplero

    “Three run lead, Valverde’s got this.” -Picasso’s last words.