I must admit, I am somewhat a Facebook junkie. I check statuses constantly. I want to know what my friends are up to, I want them to know what I am up to – short of opening a Twitter account. I love that I can reconnect with people I haven’t even THOUGHT about in 20 years. It was Facebook that led me to be arranging the pixels you see before you at this moment. I find it’s a good way to have a brain dump without annoying everybody around you. I can dribble my oh-so-clever aphorisms all over the place, secure in the knowledge that they won’t be preserved for posterity. An outlet like that – and this blog – will be what keeps from having a stroke as I grow older. I can vent freely, as I did the other day, in the aftermath of the Mets’ dreary home opener. “How can you look SO deadassed at your home opener?” I railed. “[They] Had the tying run every frikken inning and could they get one of ’em home? No. Of course not. Damn.” The very first comment to this status update was from my friend Cindy, who sympathetically stated, “It takes a lot to be a Met fan.”
I couldn’t agree more.
From the moment Carlos Beltran let an infamous curveball flick past him on chilly October 19, 2006, the Mets have taken on an almost Jobian countenance. If you’re reading this, you know the litany: the hubris of April & May 2007, when NOBODY was gonna catch ‘em; the troubling June & July when something – and we’re still not sure what – seemed missing; the righting of the ship in August & early-September, including the triumphant return of Pedro!; 7-up-with-17-to-play, but the magic number never dipping below five; the acquisition of Johan Santana in the off-season – NOW we got ‘em!; the cashiering of Willie Randolph in July, 2008; the demi-collapse and the sour-note closing ceremony of our beloved Shea; the acquisition of Francisco Rodriguez – now we REALLY got ‘em!; the identity-less – if not soulless — opening of Citi Field; Tony Bernazard’s ravings and the embarrassment of the Omar Minaya press conference that followed; the wave upon wave of spirit-crippling injuries and subsequent pillorying of the training/medical staff; the acquisition of Jason Bay – see above!; Rodriguez belting around his baby-mama’s daddy; more injuries, more disillusionment, more disappointment, less bottoms in the seats, less enjoyment.
It’s all been commented upon AD NAUSEUM in the vaunted MSM & sports-talk radio – where the narrative “If it’s Mets, it’s bad” overarches all, of course. It’s been commented upon whenever there’s a Mets reference on my Facebook page by my many Yankee & Phillie fan friends. In fact, the comments can even be created from whole cloth. The other day, a friend of mine gave me a fresh goose egg, and I’m not speaking metaphorically. He knew someone who owns a farm, and she gave him a genuine fruit of a goose. So I cooked it up for breakfast on Sunday – delicious, by the way – and posted about it on Facebook. “[I] discovered a new breakfast delicacy today: a goose egg. Richer thana [sic] chicken egg and the yolk is HUGE…,” I wrote. This elicited a response from one of my phan phriends: “Are you talking about the Mets????” Droll…very droll…
And finally, from the “Ya Can’t Make It Up” file: I ordered myself a throwback Darryl Strawberry batting practice jersey from MLB.com for a birthday present. Hey, they were kind enough to give 15% off for that specific purpose, so I obliged. The package arrived yesterday, was opened by me with great anticipation to reveal…a PHILLIES throwback batting practice jersey.
Needless to say, this has all been duly noted – and commented upon – on Facebook.