The blog for Mets fans
who like to read

ABOUT US

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 faithandfear@gmail.com. (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.

Hosting a Hundredth

Heartiest congratulations go out to Carlos Carrasco, who used the occasion of the Mets’ 100th game of the season to notch the 100th regular-season win of his career. He was supported in his effort Saturday night at Miami by solo home runs from Jeff McNeil, Francisco Lindor and J.D. Davis and backed up by another […]

Beasts of the East

Jose Bautista will make history when he enters a game for his new team, becoming the first player to play for three separate NL East franchises in the same season. He hooked on with the Braves early in 2018, brought his talents to the Mets in May […]

(Almost) All The Way

You know you’re having a good night when you can get picky over what kind of mammoth win you’d like your team to post. For those of us who remained to the bottom of the ninth inning at Citi Field Wednesday night of an obviously settled affair — and why would you leave when your […]

Tick...Tick...Tick...

“This is the bad time.”
—Henry Hill, GoodFellas

If I may use the present tense while it’s still technically valid, Miguel Batista doesn’t so much throw pitches for the New York Mets as he contemplates them. Not that any Mets fan necessarily wants Miguel Batista to throw his next pitch unless it’s his last, but my goodness […]

Oh Hell / It's Miguel

From The Lesser-Known Haikus and Other Poetry of Miguel Batista, Vol. 4:

I throw a baseball
Then it flies the other way
But now much faster

Like Jon Niese the night before, Chris Young was good — one bad pitch in six innings, and he even contributed a double. Yes, that third time through the opposing order […]

Minor Things, Major Dreams

Matt Harvey is clearly ready. Or almost ready. Or not ready, but a better bet than the barely any longer ready for prime time Miguel Batista, which is what matters in the short term. I kept an eye on the Bisons and the Mud Hens last night from lovely, lonely Buffalo, and I can’t say […]

They Ran Our Swill Pen Through It

When the Mets receive a really good start, as they did on Tuesday night, or plate a whole lot of runs, as they did on Tuesday night — or if they do both (Tuesday night again) — then they’re pretty damn unbeatable. I guess you could say that for any club in receipt of those […]

The Little Team That Didn't

The fine print on doggedly determined underdog teams that rise up and take a bite out of dismissive expectations is they’re prone to getting rapped on the nose by those wielding rolled-up newspapers…or booming bats.

This was a lousy weekend to be the Little Team That Could once it became apparent they Couldn’t. This was a […]

And He's Not Off!

Seven scoreless from Jamie Moyer’s spiritual younger brother from another mother Miguel Batista…spectacular.

Daniel Murphy skipping a ball between Kirk Nieuwenhuis’s strides and through the shortstop hole Gary Cohen had detected a moment earlier…delicious.

Terry Collins ordering a squeeze bunt and Ronny Cedeño executing it to two-nothing perfection…wunderbar!

David Wright…superlatives implied.

So many marvelous morsels to chew on for […]

Frisking Through the Fog of Orr

To understand that headline, go back a day and read my partner’s rather awesome post about Monday night’s instant Mets Classic.

Monday night’s game — forever to be recalled fondly, except in the Papelbon household, as the Jordany Valdespin Game — was a tense, taut affair, about as beautiful as a baseball game can be. Confronted […]