This is an official jersey. That means this clown purchased this jersey, which costs about $200. That means he spent actual money to purchase this jersey. I find his presence at Citi offensive on many levels.
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We Were Never Warned
ABOUT ME
I love the Mets. I love watching them on television. I love going to see them at home and on the road. I love watching pre and post game analysis. And I love talking about them with friends and strangers. In other words, they are one of my biggest passions in life. Some find this endearing, others annoying and others just plain bizarre. But all who get to know me and listen to my opinions about the Mets, come away asking the same thing: Why am I so angry? They question how I can I be such a fan, when I so often speak of my team in such a negative manner. The answer to that is simple: I am a child of the ‘80s and that makes me part of a very unique generation of Met fan; one that grew up among a period of New York Met Dominance in New York City.
In the 1980’s New York City bled blue and orange. It was a time where American League baseball was an afterthought, played by another team that nobody seemed to really care about. It was the Mets who ruled the back pages, who reigned supreme across Madison Avenue, who were on multiple televisions in sports bars and restaurants, and who filled their stadium night after night. And the Met fans of my generation- the generation of John Hughes, Weird Al, and NBC’s original Must See TV- had no reason to believe that things would ever be any different.
As it turned out, the 1980s were an anomaly. It was a time where the stars and the universe were aligned in a different way than usual, yet I was too young and ignorant to realize it.
The Mets won the World Series in 1986. I was eleven; old enough to truly appreciate and talk baseball, but too young to understand- or to really care about- their history. I just loved watching Daryl and Doc and going to Shea with my dad and 50,000 close friends. At that innocent time I had no comprehension of what it would truly mean to be a Met fan. Never could I have anticipated all the pain and madness that would come from pouring my heart and soul into this franchise - not to mention the inferiority complex that would be caused by that annoyance in The Bronx.
I was never told that I should not expect a lifetime of aggressive hard nose baseball, branded by tough talk and backed up by not just winning, but BEATING our opponents. I was never warned that feelings like Sciocia would be more the norm than those like Buckner. In other words, I was lied to. And this makes me angry.
Categories
- Current Darkness (3)
- fever pitch (1)
- Retire 17 Campaign (4)
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