The long-suffering Mets fan

As a Division I cross-country runner, I have become adept at recovery. After consistent 85-mile weeks this past summer, including one week of 105, I have learned how to fully recover so that my body and legs can continue to train at a high level.

But there is one thing I have never been able to recover from.

The New York Mets.

It’s October 26, 2000. Mike Piazza, representing the the tying run, flies out to the deepest part of Shea Stadium at the stroke of midnight in Game 5 of the World Series to Mariano Rivera and the New York Yankees. A 5-year old me in Mets garb sees the misery in a New Jersey house raised by a Queens-born mother.

Fast-forward to October 29, 2006. An 11-year old me who stayed up way past his 8:45 curfew watched Endy Chavez make one of the greatest defensive plays in postseason history, robbing Cardinals infielder Scott Rolen of a home run in Game 7 of the NLCS. The Mets pitching staff, plagued by season-ending injuries to Pedro Martinez and Orlando Hernandez, relied on Game 4 winner Oliver Perez, who the Mets got at the trade deadline, in the deciding seventh game. “Ollie” went six innings, and thanks to Chavez, allowed just one run. But in the top of the ninth in a 1–1 game and a runner on first, Yadier Molina took an Aaron Heilman first-pitch change-up deep, giving the Cardinals a 3–1 lead.

My heart sunk.

But these were the 2006 Mets, and they weren’t going to go quietly. A team that had the best record in the National League that year at 97–65, the Mets put their first two batters on, and eventually loaded up the bases with two outs. Carlos Beltran stepped into the batters box.

First pitch change-up from Adam Wainwright. Strike one.

An 0–1 curveball fouled off of Beltran’s foot. Nothing and two.

With the Mets down to their final strike, Wainwright threw the best curveball of his career on the outside corner for a called strike three. The Cardinals won the pennant, and eventually the World Series over the Tigers after just an 83–79 regular season. The Mets’ season was over.

And so was mine.

If that wasn’t enough torture, the 2007 and 2008 seasons got the job done. A year removed from the NLCS against the Cards, the Mets had a seven game lead on the Philadelphia Phillies with 17 left to play, but lost 11 of their next 15 games. On the second to last day of the season, John Maine took a no-hitter into the 8th inning, striking out 14 Marlins in a 13–0 victory. The next day, in a “win and your in” situation, Tom Glavine allowed seven first-inning runs. The last place Marlins would go onto win 8–1, spoiling the Mets’ season.

The middle school me with orange and blue braces cried myself to sleep that night, unbeknownst to my parents, who thought I was the toughest kid in the world for “staying strong.”

The 2008 campaign was nearly a replica of 2007, as Johan Santana tossed a complete game, three-hit shutout on the second to last day of the season. The next afternoon, the Marlins spoiled the Amazin’s season yet again, winning 4–2 and giving the Wild Card to the Brewers.

The 13-year old me, a month removed from my sports (and mostly Mets) themed Bar Mitzvah, cried myself to sleep again. The 13-year old me still wore my Billy Wagner jersey and the lefty glove my mom bought me proudly for Halloween just a couple of weeks later.

I’m still trying to erase the six years after the back-to-back collapses. From 2009–14, New York never reached 80 wins, something it had experienced the previous four. I had to watch the Phillies win the pennant two straight years, and even worse, watch them play the Yankees for the World Series in 2009. Times were tough.

But finally, my prayers of a winning season were answered. The Mets had the pitching to be successful in 2015, and Sandy Alderson made the right moves at the trade deadline by getting quality hitters and clubhouse leaders. They took down the Dodgers in five, and the Cubs in four. This time, there was no unhittable curveball. This time, a last place team couldn’t spoil the fun on the last day of the season.

This time, it was Daniel Murphy who hit .529 in the NLCS. This time, it was the Mets on the long end of a called strike three to end a series. This time, everything went the Amazin’s way.

This time, it was the New York Mets that won the pennant.

Four jerseys hang in my closet at home to always remind me of the mid-to-late 2000’s; Jose Reyes, Carlos Beltran, Billy Wagner and Pedro Martinez. They are memories and reminders of what every other die-hard Mets fan went through those years.

Running 105 miles in a week in the middle of July? Tough. Recovering from the last 15 years as a New York Mets fan? Nearly impossible.

But with four more wins, it’ll be a little easier.

Bring it on, Royals. I’m ready.