Please Allow Me to Reintroduce Myself

“Hi Justin. Great game!”
“Thanks.”
“I don’t think we’ve met. I’m a big Mets fan.”
“No, we met.”
“I don’t think so. I’m a huge Mets fan, and I know who all the Mets are. I never saw you before the other day.”
“That’s not accurate. We really did meet.”
“No way! I’d remember.”
“Well, we did.”

“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. It really sticks out in my mind.”
“When did we meet?”
“Last summer. On the West Coast trip.”
“Oh, the West Coast! That explains it. I got real depressed by the Mets by the time they were on the West Coast.”
“The Mets were still pretty good before they got to the West Coast, so while I was there, you wouldn’t have been in that dark a mood just yet.”
“Well, you know how it all blurs together.”
“Perhaps, but that doesn’t change the fact that I was there, on the Mets, and if you’re a Mets fan, it means we met.”

“The West Coast? It was late. I was probably asleep.”
“Maybe the night games. But one of them was a day game. I played the whole game.”
“Day game? I was at work.”
“It was a Sunday.”
“I see. Well, no offense, but it probably wasn’t much of a game.”
“It was an incredible game, actually — the one where we benefited from the bad call at home plate in San Francisco.”
“Oh. Well, I do kind of remember that. What did you do, again? Get announced as a pinch-hitter and then come out in a righty-lefty switch or something?”
“I started at second and had five at-bats. Got my first hit as a Met.”
“Really?”
“I just told you I played the whole game.”

“You were that guy they brought up when the Mets needed an extra player, right?”
“I can tell you’re groping. The transaction you describe could apply to any minor leaguer.”
“So?”
“So, honestly, I find people like you rude.”

“Rude? What’s so rude about a Mets fan forgetting a Met?”
“From less than a year ago? It’s incredibly rude. It sends the message that I’m not worth remembering.”
“Geez, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I don’t care how you meant it. I worked hard to get back to the big leagues. I put on the uniform of your favorite team. I tried to help them win. And then you act as if I didn’t exist.”

“Why won’t you let me off the hook on this one? Why can’t you just abide by the social compact that instructs us to nod and smile when someone has obviously forgotten meeting you, and then go through the simple ritual of offering your hand anew?”
“Because when you let people forget you, there’s every chance they’ll never remember you. Next thing you know, you’re being sent down after getting only the briefest of chances in the middle of July. Then they don’t bring you back in September. Then they ostentatiously overlook you in Spring Training, ignoring whatever you can do because they’re worried about losing the flavor of the month on some technicality.”
“I didn’t do all that. I just couldn’t recall seeing you with the Mets last year.”
“It’s symptomatic of what’s wrong with society. And it kept me off the roster when there was no good reason I shouldn’t have been given every consideration to be on it.”

“Justin Turner?”
“Yes?”
“Hi, I’m a big Mets fan. After watching you contribute lately, I’m sorry I didn’t notice you sooner. I’m sorry your introduction escaped my shallow memory. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you insisting you make the club on Opening Day instead of some nonentity Rule V pick. But mostly I’m glad you’re here now, that you’re playing a lot, and that you homered and drove in five runs to power the Mets past the Astros on Sunday.”
“Hi. I’m Justin Turner. Glad to know you, too.”