I LOVE WHEN THE ROAD TO VICTORY INCLUDES A HOT DOG

There is a lot of evil in the world. There is war, famine and annoying pro se plaintiffs who insist on endless depositions. But, who can care about that when the Mets are up 2-0 against the Dodgers and, if their pitching holds, may just win the NL East?

Not too long ago, an acquaintance of mine wanted to buy me a birthday gift and lamented to several of my friends, “I just don’t know what to buy her. What does she like besides the New York Mets and SCUBA diving?” None of them were able to offer an answer.

I thrive on baseball. When Husband and I were dating, I told him my dream was to get married on the pitcher’s mound at Shea Stadium and then throw out the first pitch to start the game. He thought I was kidding (I wasn’t). While I will pretty much watch any team that is playing, the Mets are far and away my favorite team and that is why this year, the post-season is so exciting. There is no better feeling than watching your team play baseball in October.

When I think about it, so many of my happy memories are ties to the Mets. I do not remember my first baseball game (and neither does Father, I asked him last night), but I must have been very young. One of my only memories from the house in which I first lived (until I was 6) is playing on a swing-set in the backyard with Mother and singing “Meet the Mets” together. And then, in 1986, when the Mets were down in the World Series to the Red Sox and I wore a Mets shirt to school that day. A teacher bet me one dozen brownies that the Red Sox would win the series. The brownies he gave me were the most delicious I had ever tasted. And then, fast forward to 2000. Flying from DC to NY and walking across the LaGuardia tarmac to a footpath that led to Shea. Watching the playoffs with Father and the World Series with Sister. And now. Last night with Father, Husband and Sister: Cheering and screaming, singing the Jose Reyes song and watching Husband try to moonwalk in the stadium. It was awesome.

Cousin M does not understand this obsession. Whenever I tell him I am watching a game, his reaction is the same, “You could not come up with something better to do?” But, despite his implications, the answer, especially in October, is no. I can’t. Nor would I ever want to.