The Bee Chair Debates...

BCD’S METS: THE TEAM, THE TIME, THE HEART ATTACK

By Kristen

I’ve been a New York Mets fan since 1986, when Hall-of-Fame catcher Gary Carter took my cousin to the bathroom. They did something else that year, but a decade of Atlanta NL East titles has slowly, surely erased my recollection of it, not to mention my will to live.

Since then, there’s been lots of Good (Coney, Johnny Franco, Piazza, Ventura, Agbayani, the best defensive infield ever, Grand Slam Single) and plenty of Bad (Doc, Straw, Vince “Firecracker” Coleman, Armando “Why Did He DO That?” Benitez, the Class of ’02, coke problems [them, not me]).

Now, the Mets are back. The players are relatively young, darn good, and holy lord – they really, really like each other. They won their division decisively, and are up 2-0 in the NLDS against a rejuvenated Dodgers team (aka the 2003 Red Sox). Every analyst is predicting they will go to, and possibly win, the … I won’t jinx it.

So, why am I nervous? Why do I cover my eyes during a game where the Mets are up 4-1? Why do I catch my breath every time All-Star closer Billy Wagner jogs in from the bullpen? Why do I curse the heavens when Willie Randolph leaves a middle reliever in to bat for himself?

Maybe it’s the injuries to Pedro and El Duque.

Maybe it’s the Mets’ end-of-season swoon.

Hey, maybe it’s me.

No, it’s definitely me.

I’ve got to relax. I’ve got to take another, level-headed look at this team.

Individually, Reyes, Glavine, Wagner, Floyd, LoDuca, and (especially) the Carloses are all fairly-to-mostly awesome. John Maine was a nice surprise in Game 1, and Endy Chavez (besides being my favorite person named “Endy”) is a neat little rally-starter. Willie’s been almost Torre-esque so far. Jose Valentin even has the New York Mets Moustache of Victory, which is absolutely key in propelling them further in the playoffs (see: Hernandez, Keith). David Wright just had a plane named after him, ferchrissakes.

As for chemistry and intangibles, they have victory dances, secret handshakes, and I suspect, foosball tournaments where the games are called entirely in Spanish. They have lefties with power, righties with speed, and the most unoriginal, yet strangely endearing mascot in the majors. (“How about … we take a guy … and give him a baseball for a head?” “FANTASTIC idea, Jones! You’re hired!”) They have most of Puerto Rico on the field, half of Queens in the stands, and at least one reserve first baseman who will be AARP-eligible in 2008.

My dad likes these Mets. My office likes these Mets. My Yankee-faithful friends, who bleed pinstripes, even like these Mets.

I like these Mets. I LOVE these Mets. Just gimme a minute to get with the program.

On to Game 3.

posted by Kris at 3:32 PM