[1]Author’s baby picture, before author discovered shirts and pants.
So I’m born on the last day of 1962, the same year the Mets came into this world, and now it’s 62 years later, and I’ve turned 62. This feels a bit like a Mets fan’s Logan’s Run endgame.
Yet I will go out on a limb and predict there’s more to come in the year the Mets reach their 63rd birthday and that I’ll keep rooting for them and writing about them, if never quite enough for my satisfaction. I end every year with stories not yet fully pursued and wonder why the hell I didn’t pick up the pace and take up the chase.
But that’s what next year is for, right?
Thank you for 2024 at Faith and Fear. The Mets part turned out something close to great [2] on the field, but it wouldn’t have been the same without you here.