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ABOUT US

Greg Prince and Jason Fry
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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In Our Old Familiar Place

Welcome to Flashback Friday: Tales From The Log, a final-season tribute to Shea Stadium as viewed primarily through the prism of what I saw there for myself, namely 402 regular-season and 13 postseason games in total. The Log recorded the numbers. The Tales tell the stories.

9/28/08 Su Florida 17-18 Perez 18 218-184 L […]

Bless You Rays!

Where are my manners? I've been so caught up in my own post-September 28 sorrow and self-pity that I've completely forgotten to thank the Tampa Bay Rays for ensuring that this October sucks just a tiny bit less than last October and every October in these parts since 1995. That tiny bit, however, cannot be […]

Your Soul…$41,000

A conversation with Laurie has raised between us a very good question:

Why are the Mets selling Tom Seaver's locker?

I know why: because they can. For $41,000.

Why would the Mets sell it, though? Why wouldn't you preserve the locker of your only indisputable Hall of Famer and display it somewhere at Ebbets Faux? Why wouldn't you […]

The Legacy of Yadier Molina

The last man to touch a baseball in a postseason game at Shea Stadium turns out to have been Adam Wainwright’s catcher, Yadier Molina. That’s really too bad, but really quite appropriate. Molina, you might recall, set the stage one half-inning earlier for everything bad that has happened to these Mets since he caught Called […]

It's Not There

I couldn’t leave. Eventually I did, but for a few moments, I just could not. I was a runner caught off second — frozen, absolutely frozen. My intention was to turn and exit the Upper Deck, the kind of task I’d accomplished with aplomb who knows how many times on how many levels of where […]

The Little Game 7

I won't claim it's an original thought, but as the final outs ticked down today, I mused to myself: It's 2006's Game 7 in miniature.

There was Oliver Perez, a scarily unknown quantity, pitching on three days' rest and acquitting himself very ably indeed. There were the bats, not being heard from enough. There was Endy […]

Magical Misty Tour

“It’s time to be a MAN.” — Johan

A long time ago I lived in a group house outside Washington, D.C., and the male housemates had a running joke. The premise was that the world’s men had formed a union, and our president was Steve Young, then the never-say-die quarterback of the San Francisco 49’ers. If […]

It's Either Sadness or Euphoria

O, Death
O, Death
Won’t you spare me over ’til another year?
—Ralph Stanley

O, Mets. That’s all I keep saying to myself this week. O, Mets. I won’t know what it means ’til after Sunday’s game. Maybe later.

Maybe much later.

It is not out of the question that Johan Santana’s mastery of the Marlins goes down as every bit […]

Rooting for the End

I love the Mets because I love the Mets.

I don't love the Mets because they are such a well-run organization filled with the kind of people whose baseball acumen translates to a satisfying sense of your fate being in good hands. Only the Pirates and their sixteen consecutive losing seasons sit between the Mets and […]

Hello, Hangman

The rain stayed away. It might have been better if it had come.

If it were May or June, this would be one of those drab, no-show games that you immediately toss down the memory hole. Being late September, it was like having cinder block after cinder block piled on top of you. Chris Volstad keeps […]