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ABOUT US
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.
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What'd I Say?
by Greg Prince on 13 September 2006 9:32 pm Bellowed unironically a few minutes ago for the first time since the 1996 World Series:
GO BRAVES!
Atlanta's up 5-0 in the the 3rd in the opener of a doubleheader. Kyle Davies has homered.
Two wins for them and one for us tonight and magic gets a whole lot more magical.
Still don't like them, but who cares? They're just some team playing the Phillies.
UPDATE: In the minutes since I shared this with you, Davies loaded the bases, Howard drove one over the fence that Andruw Jones reeled back, turning it into a monumental sac fly. And then Mr. Marlin Jeff Conine singled home two. Davies is out and it's 5-3 and Oscar Villarreal is in and there's a long way to go.
Did I say GO BRAVES!? I'm sure I meant to hell.
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It's okay, Greg. The Bravos just needed to remind you that it's just plain unnatural to root for them.
I'm really going to hell, because I just read your note that Andruw took a grand slam away from Howard, and said “Shit!” Because, um, Howard's on my fantasy team, and, um, I'm in the playoffs, and, well, it's inveitable and…no, there is no excuse. I'm off to hell.
Say hi to Richie Hebner while you're there ;-)
Yeah, my impulses are all programmed to root against everybody in this game. Worse yet, I'm sitting here about five minutes from needing to leave on some unavoidable co-op business, thinking, OK, maybe they'll get this done in the next little while and I can count down to two and click on the right buttons before I have to leave and…FUCK! THE PHILLIES TOOK THE LEAD?
Just keep telling yourselves it's all a formality.
He says 'hi' back. Wants to know when he can get his unconditional release. Never, I told him.
NEVER!
My son's concept of rooting for a 27 inning game is definitely the way to go.
It's gonna be tough to ever clinch if we keep having to face these infernal, rookie lefties. Damn you, Scott Olsen.
When we clinch in Pittsburgh, can Xavier come over to the clubhouse for some chapagne?
It pained me to do it too, but “rooting” for the Braves in '99 was necessary too.
In '96 I was kind of noncommittal. Truth be told, I hadn't yet recovered entirely from the strike and wasn't exactly fervent in my baseball interest. I wouldn't say I was rooting for the Yanks, but I didn't much mind them winning.
By '99 it was a different story, I was tomahawk-chopping.
And in '01, I jumped around like a lifelong D-Backs fan (as long a life as a 10-yr-old franchise could have, anyway). They say Mike's HR on 9/21 was a great moment for a desperate city, and they're right. But Gonzo's blooper was almost as cathartic for me. This business about “everyone” rooting for New York in that series is romanticized BS.
Hey KingmanFan: My sentiments exactly.
And mine, on '99 and '01. Especially '01, which was one of the most glorious, liberating moments in sports history. The reign of terror was finally over.
In '96, I was totally chopping.
I have rarely been as disappointed in my fellow Met fans as I was at the D-Back's first game at Shea in 2002, when pretty much no one joined me and the Missus in our standing ovation for Luis Gonzalez, baseball hero of the new milennium.
By the way, that is one dopey feeling, being the only one standing up and cheering a visiting team no one cares about, while wearing a Mets shirt. My explanations to section-mates were met with shrugging, apathetic “Oh, yeah”s.
You're a couple after my own heart.
You were not alone. For the Friday night Snakes game that eventually got rained out in August '02, their first appearance at Shea since '01, I wore my World Champion Diamondbacks shirt and Mets cap. On Saturday I wore a Mets shirt and my Diamondbacks cap, which Stephanie gave me in November 2001 for our 10th wedding anniversary (10th being the schadenfreude anniversary). I got funny and slightly resentful looks from Mets fans with short-term memory loss. I wanted to beat all of those AZ-holes, of course, but I also wanted to thank them for their remarkable rescue work from the previous autumn. Only got one of those missions accomplished as that was the doubleheader when Armando gave up the homer to Counsell, et al, but it was a small price to pay.
Two years later, I applauded the Juan Pierre, Luis Castillo, whoever was left Marlins for their own humanity-aiding accomplishments of October 2003. Wanted to beat them, too, but you have to acknowledge those who do great things for the betterment of others.
I think the problem in '02 is that we stank from the get-go and the previous year's World Series was played in a different lifetime. For the Mets/Yankees series (specifically, the “Estes-misses-the-Rockette's-posterior” game) I wore a Mets jersey over a Diamondbacks t-shirt. I cannot tell you how many Yankee fans I angered because my outfit reminded them that they were no longer the World champs (in 2004, however, they were the “World Chumps,” but that's a different story for a different time).
As an aside, I passed Gonzo on the street one day in 2002 when the Diamondbacks were in town to play the Yankees. Being the typical New Yorker, I didn't acknowledge that I knew who he was. But our eyes met, and I felt immediately that he knew that I knew exactly who he was and that he understood that I wanted to thank him for saving us from the long national nightmare that was the Yankees' Reign of Terror.
and now we hear that the dbacks are not going to re-sign gonzales. so now we know how much they value their heroes out west.
sure hope the mets invite him to camp next spring.
Gosh, that doubleheader sucked! Counsell's HR was pretty much the nail in the coffin that year. And as I recall, it was excruciatingly hot. My family had a great time ridiculing me for sweating completely through my clothes.
We had to find ways to entertain ourselves by Game 2. We had seats way down the RF line, second row. The kids in the front row were from a camp, or home or something. Most were Yankee fans, and spent the day loudly berating the Mets, patricularly our right fielders. I took it upon myself to ride them in turn, especially the morbidly obese loudmouth who was treated to my regular renditions of the begining of the Fat Albert theme: “Bwoomp Bwoomp Bwoomp Bwoomp… Hey Hey HEEYYY!”.
Yep, making fun of orphans. Nothing beneath me in defense of my Mets.
Not an orphan, Kong-o-phile.
A fat, Yankee fan orphan.
You did what needed to be done; you did your duty.
I salute you.