Let Go, Mets: Part II

History repeats itself, so this blog repeats itself. To quote from the April 14 entry: "It's hard living in a city where your favorite team isn't the hometown one." Over the past few weeks, I found myself urgently leaning into the car stereo, trying to parse each Mets game on WFAN amid the crackle of a station broadcasting from more than 200 miles away. (Who cares about a team with as luxurious a record the past decade as the Sawx?) When Carlos Beltran hit the game-tying, two-run home run in the bottom of the sixth Sunday, I shouted so loudly in the car that the drivers around me and the people walking down Mass. Ave. on the other side of the road thought I was screaming in maddening anger. It felt so wonderful to hear such good news. "Let go, Mets," I said several times. (Again, I'm not sure what that means.)

To continue quoting from the April 14 entry: "After the truly excellent core of Jose Reyes, David Wright and Carlos Beltran, the line-up is mediocre and aging fast. The starting rotation is far above average, especially if Pedro can pitch injury-free and dashingly for the second half of the season (will there be a better pitcher in my lifetime?), but the bullpen again appears to suck." Well, Carlos Delgado, while aged, joined that excellent core, but, ironically enough, that line-up became surprisingly young at times and bewildering -- when did the Mets sign Ramon Martinez let alone make him the starting second baseman on the weekend's final year? Pedro wasn't up to the task, but the starting rotation was quite good. And the bullpen sucked dead frogs like they were lollipops. It was beyond tragi-comedy how manager Jerry Manuel could only average two-thirds of an inning per pitcher once the starter left. The Mets imploded as expected: The bullpen yielded the season-ending runs.

Better the suffering end sooner rather than later, I suppose. What to do now? Jump on the Sawx bandwagon, as hard as it is to run at the front, thought little compares to watching in Spirit last year Manny's game-winning home run against the Indians -- an electrifying, incomparable adrenaline climax to an otherwise soporific game.

Joshua Robinson also had a nice piece in today's Times about yesterday's defeat also being Shea Stadium's last game. The description and photo of Mike Piazza and Tom Seaver, the two best Mets ever, were poignant, though it's hard to romanticize a ballpark that didn't have much to romanticize, unless you're a fan of auto-body repair shops and landing and departing planes, of which there were many beyond the centerfield wall and overhead, respectively. I went to my last game there in August -- ironically enough a superbly pitched game by Oliver Perez against the Florida Marlins. It was perfect.