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.

The Last Time (This Time)

I finally got to the point I wish I could hurry along to in bad Mets seasons: the moment where the disappointment and anger drain away, I’m just sad things didn’t go better, and I remember that I should try to enjoy what little season is left.

On Wednesday night Emily and I used the last two ticket vouchers I had left over from one the summer’s many rainouts, which the Mets rather decently allowed to be exchanged for much better seats than the ones I lost out on that night. So we sat somewhere new to me — down the left field line, not far beyond the pole where the protective netting ends — to watch the Mets tangle with their age-old, endlessly frustrating nemeses the Miami Marlins.

(By the way, I don’t particularly recommend that swath of seats. They aren’t angled quite correctly and the rise between rows feels smaller than it is elsewhere, meaning a lot more craning your neck to look around inattentive/rude/large people’s heads in front of you so you can actually see the batter.)

Despite my equanimity about what’s become of the season, the night didn’t go particularly well. First off, we were surrounded by a crowd that was amazingly uninterested in the fact that there was a baseball game in their midst — they were busy talking over each other, corralling wayward children, standing up to get drinks, not sitting down after getting drinks, taking selfies, looking at their phones, talking about what they’d seen on their phones, talking about getting more drinks, standing around dotting i’s and crossing t’s about the getting more drinks process … you get the idea. To check if I was exaggerating — which I’ll admit happens now and again — sometime in the third inning I asked Emily to look around and locate someone who was actually paying attention to the game, and she couldn’t.

Granted, it was the Mets and Marlins with garbage time upon them, so the stakes weren’t particularly high. Still, Taijuan Walker was out there pitching a very fine game, with all of his pitches working in ways they mostly haven’t in the season’s second half, and Michael Conforto broke the stalemate with a missile of a home run into the center-field seats, 469 feet away — the longest home run hit by a Met in 2021, we were told. Bryan de la Cruz didn’t even bother turning around after Conforto made contact; Conforto bashed forearms with Pete Alonso and beamed in a way he hadn’t in some time. Some of our neighbors even took brief notice.

Walker soldiered on into the eighth and gave way to Seth Lugo, one of too many Mets to go from asset to liability in 2021. Lugo surrendered a run-scoring double to cut the Mets’ lead to 2-1, struck out pinch-hitter Nick Fortes, and then gave up a little parachute single over the infield to Miguel Rojas that scored two, erasing the Mets’ lead and Walker’s chance for a win. Rojas was tagged out trying to advance to second; as the Mets trudged off the field “Piano Man” started to play, and if I didn’t already detest that song, well, that juxtaposition probably would have done the trick.

It was 3-2, but it felt like 30-2, and that was the way my final in-person look at the 2021 Mets ended. Still, it was a crisp and clear fall night, there was Mister Softee with blue and orange sprinkles, we got Seinfeld shirts, and there was even baseball in the middle of all that — even if most of our seatmates seemed at best peripherally aware of that last fact. The baseball part didn’t go the way I would have wanted it to, but hey, welcome to the 2021 Mets season. Given the brewing labor war, I have no idea when I’ll see the Mets again, or what the team will look like when I do. But I’ll be glad when I do.

Maybe they’ll even win.

7 comments to The Last Time (This Time)

  • open the gates

    Well, like I reminded my son, it took five years for Nelson Doubleday to turn the Mets into a winning team, and seven years for a World Series. And that was with the right guy running the organization from the get go, which is clearly not the case here. The good news is, once Steve Cohen cleans house, he has the resources to turn things around much more quickly. Still, I guess we need some of that patented Met fan patience moving forward.

    On the bright side, now you know which section not to sit in next time.

    • mikeski

      Headed to CitiField tonight for the final home curtain on this debacle.

      I look forward to being able to say that I saw the last game managed there by Laughable Luis.

  • Seth

    Gary Cohen is the consummate pro, and probably has had a rough season trying to make it sound exciting, hopeful, and optimistic for the postseason. I thought it was very telling when Seinfeld was in the booth, that he seemed to break character for an instant and admit the season was a “disaster.” You don’t often hear judgments like that from Gary.

  • Eric

    I agree, best savor what’s left of the season, despite the unpleasant flavor, more than usual because of the pending uncertainty.

    On the radio side, Randazzo has been unusually critical of the Mets, too, over the past week. I wonder if he’s speaking for the rehabilitating Rose.

    I assume the team noticed the indifference in the home crowd, which is worse than booing. I hope it serves as incentive moving forward to regain the crowd’s rapt attention and its favor.

    Neat AL wildcard race going down to the wire. The Cardinals post-clinch loss after their 17-game bull charge to the 2nd wildcard was like an indulgence celebrating a job well done. Kudos to the Braves for taking care of business finishing off the Phillies, whose tragic number is down to 1. Downside is the Braves might well have nothing at stake either in the Mets season ender.

  • Iowa Pete

    Yep. Could certainly see why Rojas opted for Lugo. After all, Walker had already thrown all of 90 pitches and needs to be ready for next April.
    Only 4 more potential early hooks from Looie the Gasbag.
    Thank God!

  • DAK442

    The Missus insisted we cut our tailgating short to ensure we got the free shirt. So I missed out on retail-price beers for a shirt I can’t imagine wearing. A Netflix logo on the front, and “Seinfeld” on the back? And to add insult to indifference, the kid at the entrance insisted all he had were size Large, which were too small for half our party, too big for the other half.