An Exercise in Empathy

In a parallel universe, I am a Marlins fan.

In a parallel universe, I moved back to Florida after graduating from college and grew detached from the Mets.

In a parallel universe, I was elated when we got an expansion franchise.

In a parallel universe, I fell in love with the Marlins in their very first year of existence, as soon as Charlie Hough threw our first pitch.

In a parallel universe, I took great pride in our finishing ahead of the Mets in our inaugural season of 1993.

In a parallel universe, I experienced conflicted feelings in 1997 when my old team, the Mets, put up a good fight for the Wild Card against my new team, the Marlins, but ultimately I was overjoyed when my Marlins went to the playoffs instead of the Mets.

In a parallel universe, one of the happiest moments of my life came October 26, 1997 when Edgar Renteria drove home Craig Counsell with the winning run in the seventh game of the World Series, making my Marlins champions of the world.

In a parallel universe, Bobby Bonilla maintains my undying gratitude for putting us on the board in the seventh inning of that seventh game versus the Indians.

In a parallel universe, I developed a love-hate feeling for Al Leiter and Dennis Cook, guys who helped my Marlins win that first championship after they moved on and thrived with my old team as our owner conducted an insidious fire sale.

In a parallel universe, I came to resent the Mets' whining about being overshadowed by the Yankees considering they still had a pretty immense payroll and my Marlins were always being stripped for parts.

In a parallel universe, I couldn't root for the Braves to beat the Mets in the '99 NLCS, but I couldn't quite get behind the Mets either because it annoyed me how many of their fans routinely showed up in our stadium for our games.

In a parallel universe, I never liked Mike Piazza because he could have insisted on staying a Marlin but left us cold.

In a parallel universe, I didn't watch the 2000 Subway Series because I always hated the Yankees but found it impossible to root for the Mets, lest their stupid ex-New Yorker fans be even more of a pain in the ass to me at Pro Player Stadium than they already were.

In a parallel universe, I love our stadium, even though I see its limitations.

In a parallel universe, I'm thrilled that with the demise of Shea Stadium, we have the only orange seats left in baseball.

In a parallel universe, I think teal is beautiful.

In a parallel universe, I see those sacks of Soilmaster in the dugout that the camera picks up on TV and find them kind of a charming throwback to simpler days when fans were allowed to stand behind a rope in the outfield.

In a parallel universe, I'm relieved we got the new downtown ballpark approved because it means my team won't be going anywhere, but I have to admit I've grown attached to where we were born.

In a parallel universe, I had a great big laugh at the Mets' expense when we clinched our Wild Card spot against them the last weekend of 2003.

In a parallel universe, I felt kind of bad that Moises Alou couldn't catch that foul pop in Wrigley Field during the '03 playoffs, since he was such a big part of our '97 championship, but otherwise I enjoyed the Bartman play almost as much I enjoyed the Buckner play, back when I was still a Mets fan.

In a parallel universe, Josh Beckett shutting out the Yankees to seal the 2003 World Series is as big a thrill as any I've experienced as a baseball fan.

In a parallel universe, I tell Mets fans I know that we had no problem winning in the Bronx in October when we had our shot — and that losing to my Marlins seems to have kept the Yankees out of any World Series since.

In a parallel universe, I'm not shy about mentioning that our two world championships — in the face of horrible ownership — in a span of seven seasons is as impressive as anything the Mets ever did.

In a parallel universe, I cackled when Carlos Delgado chose us over the Mets in 2005.

In a parallel universe, I loathed Delgado for being traded to the Mets in 2006.

In a parallel universe, I remember 2006 fondly for our confounding expectations and competing for a playoff spot well into summer.

In a parallel universe, I'm still convinced Joe Girardi got a raw deal.

In a parallel universe, I can't tell you what a big kick I got out of the way we eliminated the Mets on the final day of 2007.

In a parallel universe, I can't tell you what a second big kick I got out of the way we eliminated the Mets on the final day of 2008…as they closed Shea Stadium, no less.

In a parallel universe, I seethe that Hanley Ramirez and Dan Uggla don't get nearly the attention they deserve — and insist that they deserve a lot more than the overrated Jose Reyes and David Wright get.

In a parallel universe, I can't help but point out over and over that even with Johan Santana being paid more than any fistful of Marlins, we still have better starting pitching.

In a parallel universe, I'll take Fredi Gonzalez over Jerry Manuel.

In a parallel universe, I have mixed emotions watching the Mets with Luis Castillo, Gary Sheffield and now Livàn Hernandez, players who helped win me World Series in '97 and '03.

In a parallel universe, I eventually resent the way guys like those and Leiter and Cook and Bonilla and Alou and Mr. Marlin Jeff Conine all become Mets.

In a parallel universe, I root for whoever winds up in a Marlins uniform and against whoever the Marlins play, including the Mets, even if I grew up with the Mets.

In a parallel universe, I am a Marlins fan, no matter what anybody says about my type and my team.

In this universe, however, I am a Mets fan. And I can't fucking stand the Florida Marlins.