We were never explicitly invited to this so-called Wild party the League was throwing for its “in crowd,” you know. You want to say we crashed it, fine. Somebody left a back door open; we wandered through when we heard the music blasting; and nobody asked us to leave — at least not at first. If anything, we became the life of this shindig for a while. Everybody acted as if they loved having us in the middle of things. We brightened up the atmosphere for damn sure. Nobody knew who we were or what we were doing here, but everybody appeared overjoyed that we’d shown up.
Now they’re checking the guest list and noticing something’s awry. Our names aren’t on it and never were. It appears we’ve been found out and are about to be asked to leave. Suddenly, nobody’s particularly Wild about us anymore.
We don’t wanna go. We like it at the party. We love it at the party. Next to the doldrums we were stuck in before we snuck through that back door, this party is heaven. Everything we’ve been doing at this party has made us feel alive in a way we never expected we could feel at this stage of our existence. That conga line we joined — the one that snakes around the room over and over, each of us chasing the other — that’s been more fun than we could have imagined. Even when we all more or less stand in place, simply trying to be heard over the beats, just the sense that something could happen is incredibly energizing.
No wonder they call it high society.
But they’ve figured us out, that it’s not our party. Somebody’s nudged security and we’re edging to the back door from whence we came, lest it be revealed we have no business being here. God, that would be embarrassing. We could have done a better job of fitting in. We could have looked like we knew what we were doing once we got settled (the guy who led us in here turned out to be incredibly clueless). We could have belonged for real. Alas, that may not be the kind of people we are deep down. Maybe we’re just not good enough for this crowd. Maybe we’re just not Wild enough to keep the music playing.
We’re not all the way out, though. Let’s hang around a little while longer, for as long as we can. I understand we can’t really dance all night, but I’m not quite ready to go.
Don’t worry – there’s another door around the back. We just have to cut through the Diamondback’s place and pass up a couple of the other guys guarding the top step. Might be tough, but worth a shot.
Gonna need a couple of belts first. And definitely a better bullpen.
10-4
After which it became 11-10, which is how the party grew out of hand.
^^This has to be the best reply ever.
The good news in this debacle of a day for the Mets, Jets, and Giants is that the Cyclones won game one of their 3 game league championship series 2-1 vs. Lowell. The next to games are at Brooklyn and one win will give them their first outright championship since they entered the league in 2001.
My alma matter lost Saturday afternoon as well, so it was a truly crummy weekend to watch sports that I watched anyway.
We are slated to have a correspondent on hand in Coney Island tonight. May he report long overdue championship news.
Unfortunately, that brief and heady visit to the Wild party will leave us thinking that we’ll be invited back to next year’s Wild party. Me, I’d rather we did what we could to get invited next year to that party for the A-listers… you know, the one they hold in places like L.A., Atlanta, and The Bronx. Alas, we’ll continue to wish and hope and think and pray and dream (but not really plan) that, if everything goes right, and we’re lucky, maybe, just maybe we’ll get another invitation to that Wild party.
Sorry, I didn’t hear you over this intoxicating music that’s been in my head since late July.
You can still hear that music? I have to get my hearing checked.
In my head, I can. Fainter than it was, but if I close my eyes, it’s loud and clear.
Gotta close those eyes real tight.
Thanks for writing about the game without actually, you know, writing about the game. That would have been way too painful. PS – I’m thinking that the kid who led you is not just in the wrong party – he’s in the wrong neighborhood altogether.
I would’ve written about the game, except I’m pretty sure it’s still going on and on and on and on and…
hmmm.
if we had a decent manager, i’d say we just need to slip the bouncer a mickey.
alas, a slipping mickey (is there any other kind?) is much of the reason we all got to the party so late.
we can now only hope the hosts pass out before we’re shooed out the door…
sWeep or sLeep!
Oh Mickey.
I suspect that sometime in the next four nights, Wilmer Flores will do something definitive to administer the final killing blow to the Mets’ Wild Card chances.
He’ll be there for us.
This has been my nightmare ever since we could see the Wild Card in view -the Revenge Of Walk-Off Wilmer. (Whispers underneath the loud music…if we can’t go to the Party, I’d really like our Friend to go in our place).
Wilmer will never dug at his Diamondbacks wordmark the way we he did his Mets, partly because on those uniforms, who can tell which part is the wordmark?
The party ended because the neighbors were complaining and called the baseball police. Apparently lots of loud guys running around shirtless or something…
You’d figure it would be quieter without all the noise shirts make.
The way I figure, we’ve got 20 rounds left in this drinking game, and if we drink more than four more times we’ll be be under the table.
But yes, the next four rounds are with a friend who moved away.
After last Tuesday night, I’m surprised we didn’t all apply for lifetime membership in the Jim Beam Club.
Given too little attention when we discuss kids-not-allowed-in-party at all are old friends hot-hitting Wilmer (given away by Brodie) and Travis (ditto), and I won’t even mention one of AL’s best closers this season…Robles. When people discuss Brodie they invariably say, yeah, he made some real boo-boos but–Davis! Ramos! Yes, Davis has been great, tho still is a clanker in the field. As for Ramos: yes, a plus there (I think) but…even so….Brodie made TWO mistakes with D’Arnaud–wasting money signing him, then giving him away with only .220 Nido in the system. And then consider: Ramos has been horrid in the field all year. The passed balls…pitchers not wanting to throw to him entire first half of year (and you still have to wonder if he has contributed to some of their surprisingly bad stats even now)…and has the worst caught stealing pct. of any starting catcher in majors. Yesterday he didn’t even try to make throw most of the time…and before you blame it all on the pitchers–DeGrom never had an issue until this year…. Finally, D’Arnaud has hit more HRs and driven in almost as many runs in far, far fewer ABs, and his OPS just a shade less than Ramos–AND he has thrown out 31% of runners, actually above league average, and more than double Ramos’ rate. So, yes, I love the Buffalo but he has vastly added to team’s fielding (and perhaps to some extent pitching) woes.
And if you can’t be with the one you love, honey
Love the one you’re with
Love the one you’re with
Maybe if we offer to send that polar bear guy out for some pizza or wings or on a beer run or something, they’ll let us hang around.
Ain’t no party like a Polar Bear party.
Mariners just called up Justin Dunn, the other main piece with future superstar Kelenic in Diaz/Cano deal. His stats on year: 3.55 ERA, 1.19 WHIP, and 158/39 K/BB ratio in 131 2/3 innings. After Kay’s terrific first may be more torture in store.
Don’t worry! Those folks who have been at the party since the beginning are going to get weary. They are going to need a nap.* They are going to fall asleep and when they are not looking, we are going to sneak right back in the middle of things and play SHOUT! by Otis Day and the Knights from Animal House and wake everybody up. And pretty soon, the party will be rocking again, and everyone will be going crazy and doing silly stuff like tearing their jerseys off, and banging on pots and pans…
*The folks I am referring to here are the Diamondbacks. They need a four day snooze. LFGM.
Better yet, the Mets should be taking a disco nap now so they’ll be alert later.
Exactly 50 years ago tonight, the fate of the Chicago Cubs’ season was sealed when a black cat found its way onto the Shea Stadium turf and bedeviled star Ron Santo, who was on deck, and the whole Cubs team, warily looking on from the dugout. The Mets beat Chicago that evening and soon were on their way to the Promised Land five weeks later. I was a 17-year-old vendor that night, selling soda in the Upper Deck. I cleared a cool $20.80 that evening ($144.36 in today’s dollars). But, more to the point, I actually saw a black cat on the field before the game (that cat?), something I had not seen before. In any event, it was an Amazin’ night during an Amazin’ season! Let’s Go Mets!
9/9/69: Black cat.
9/9/19: Squashed Snakes.
I hope the following link works. In any event, it’s a nice story of the black cat incident from the perspective of the Chicago Cubs batboy that night (who shared duties with the local kid who usually did the job for the visiting team). Click on the “Black Cat” link:
Black Cat
I am routinely asked whether I am fun at parties, which always already implies the answer.
Same when common German people find out that your greatest pleasure is watching players whack a ball with a stick for three hours (or four-and-change). “And that’s fun?”. Answer implied.
This game obviously was not fun. It was the very opposite of fun. My fault. I squealed too loud on those early homers, which – fun fact – were not even surrendered by Boom-Boom Diaz! “Boom-Boom” because that’s the sounds the ball makes off the bat and as it blasts a hole into the facing of the second deck .7 seconds later. Then somebody somewhere dares to ask “Well, who could have seen that one coming?” … answer implied.
In 1980, the Mets had a pitcher named Mark Bomback. His nickname was indeed Boom-Boom. Same reason.
0.9 HR/9? Mets fans sure were picky during those dark days, weren’t they? =) Boom-Boom Diaz can’t make himself an omelette without an egg getting swatted across the plate…!
It wasn’t so much the quantity as the sound and fury of those home runs.
Great piece — thanks.
And I don’t want to be a party pooper but it does seem like maybe there ought to be a law forbidding these kind of party crashers. I mean, if you play as well as some of the teams that got an actual invitation, is it really just that you may wind up playing some guys playing bad beer pong way too many nights who managed to not get thrown out b/c they’re kind of charming?
[…] Party On, Mets » […]
The Mets just got their act together too late. Since they started their run at a wild card berth in earnest, August 9 vs the Nationals, they’ve been basically a .500 team while mostly playing contenders. Good enough to compete on par with play-off teams, just not good enough to climb out of the deficit they made for themselves. If they had just banked a few of those winnable games earlier in the season … oh well.
[…] revel in examining them, you may have noticed over time, but for the purposes of this surprisingly ongoing playoff chase, I have taken the position that there is no yesterday, at least in the sense that it’s worth […]