We take pleasure in answering at once and thus prominently the communication below, expressing at the same time our great gratification that its fitful author [1] is numbered among the friends of THIS BLOG:
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“DEAR FAFIF: I am several decades old (and then some).
“Some of my middle-aged friends say there is a Santa Cohen.
“Sources say ‘If you see it on THIS BLOG, it’s so.’
“Please tell me the truth: is there a Santa Cohen?
“METS FAN
41 SEAVER WAY.”
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METS FAN, your middle-age friends may be wrong. They have been affected by the unfounded optimism of an otherwise skeptical age. They believed what they yearned to see. They thought that it was comprehensible that the team of which you are a fan could be whisked upward to new heights by an owner who would fling a sack off of his shoulder and purposefully empty its contents, which were surely to be revealed as many, many millions and millions of dollars that were no doubt to be directed toward the improvement of the team they were supremely confident he was going to own.
Yet, METS FAN, there may not be a Santa Cohen. We cannot at this time be certain one way or the other, but based on recent reports [2], it would be irresponsible of THIS BLOG to convince you Santa Cohen exists.
Santa Cohen may not exist as a cure-all to the array of your team’s problems.
Santa Cohen may not exist as the devoted cash cow you have envisioned.
Santa Cohen was never a sure thing, METS FAN. When you first became aware of the specter of Santa Cohen [3], all you saw, probably, were the sugar-plums that danced in your heads. A sugar-plum who pitched. A sugar-plum who patrolled center. A sugar-plum behind the plate who could both credibly catch and hit. Enough sugar-plums to overcome the perceived paucity of sugar-plums that had marked the enduring experiences of too many Mets fans like you. Everywhere the eye could see: sugar-plums! Santa Cohen wouldn’t ask how much the sugar-plums cost. Santa Cohen would simply deliver.
Alas, METS FAN, it has become clear you can’t absolutely count on Santa Cohen. Santa Cohen likely won’t shimmy down the chimney in time for Opening Day, or the Home Opener, or anytime in the season ahead. You should have realized that, METS FAN, when you first took note of Santa Cohen, because Santa Cohen never said explicitly announced he was coming this year. Actually, Santa Cohen laid low and left it to others to say he’d be along in five years if all the merry gentlemen were in agreement on the details of his arrival and what they would entail. Everything else — especially the notion that five years was TOO long for Santa Cohen to wait; and that there was NO way a figure as robust as Santa Cohen would lurk in the shadows while the team he owned continued to operate its dreary business as usual — was a product of childlike imagination.
Believe in Santa Cohen? You’d be better off believing in Polar Bears, Squirrels and Buffaloes. At least you’ve seen those.
To be fair, METS FAN, we don’t know with incorruptible certitude that Santa Cohen won’t magically materialize at some unforeseen date. You shouldn’t necessarily give up hope, because, METS FAN, you ARE a Mets fan, and hope is your eternal light, no matter who owns your team. But we have to admit that as of right now, Santa Cohen isn’t walking through that door let alone shimmying down that chimney.
As for the Wilpons, they live and they live forever. A thousand years from now, METS FAN, nay ten times ten thousand years from now, they will continue to make sad the heart of Mets fandom.
Or so it appears again.