My dad was a NY Giants fan, never even considered the Yankees when the Giants left for SF. The Mets were made for him and the so many others like him. It’s a been a long hard road, with a few moments of glory along the way, arguably more than many other teams have enjoyed, but the painful failures in the clutch moments define what it means to be a Mets fan. My dad is getting on in years now, this is likely the last time he’ll get to experience the high of winning the pennant. As we expected, his expectations were low, so his joy was great and mostly undiminished by the eventual return to reality in the painful 9th inning of game 5. I’ve been a reluctant Mets fan all my life, the ’69 Series was my first real memory so I’ve struggled with the reconciling that magic season with the harsh reality of rooting for the Mets. This amazing year, I made sure to share the ride with my kids (teenage girls) and I tried to temper their youthful optimism with a small dose of the likely outcome they blissfully ignored. Thanks for your story.