Last night I go to my wife, “Holy shit, the Mets are in the Whirled Serious.” And she goes, “I know isn’t it so awesome?”
And it is, for so many friends and relatives and wonderful people I know who root for the Mets–and who have rooted for the Mets, through it all. What’s not to like about that? It’s great for the city. Truth be told, this is about as likable a Mets team as this non-Mets fan can imagine. Love Grandy, of course, and David Wright, and my favorite, Lucas Duda (Duda’s my favorite because The Wife and I randomly went to Spanish Appreciation Night and Dominican Heritage Night at Citified a few years back and the announcer had a particular way of saying Duda’s name–LooooKas Doo-Dah–sounding just like Ricardo Montalban).
I mean, I’m still rooting for the Royals, but it’s awesome for the Mets and if they win it, good for them (I know some Mets fans are prickly about the idea of any Yankee fan rooting for their team, but lighten, up, Francis, you know? We can be happy for you, if it’s as clean as that–if it’s about something else, I can see the beef).
The real pickle would have been in the Mets played the Blue Jays. Then, for the first time in my life, I would have actually felt–even privately–some real pain at Mets pain, and that would have perhaps been too much to handle. Being forced to be a Mets fan. Even if I didn’t tell anyone, just by circumstances. Because believe me, after the Yanks’ painless exit, I was rooting harder for the Jays to lose than I’ve rooted for anyone to win.
I just hope the Mets and Royals play a long series, maybe some extra inning games. Hopefully nobody will be a Bill Buckner Goat on either side–got to say a littler prayer for that. I like the Royals, they’re fun. The Mets are fun. No matter who wins, I just hope it’s one to remember.
Let’s Go Base-ball!