Our heartfelt congratulations to Steven, the winner of our Why I Love The Mets contest! I’ve also decided to reward the other two finalists, John and Larry, with $25 Gift Cards to Amazon.com because all three of them were winners! Thank you to everyone who participated!
In the spirit of the season and in the kinship we share as part of the Mets family, have a blessed and happy holiday season! And now, a second and very worthy look at this year’s winning entry. Enjoy…
Why I Love The Mets
By Steven Colasanto
I love the Mets so much and I owe it all to my dad, but not in the way you would think. After he died tragically in 1996, I was devastated and wasn’t really handling it as well as my older brothers and sisters. I was named after him, and everyone always called me Stevie instead of Steven. I hated baseball growing up and I wasn’t a big sports kid at the time. I was addicted to video games and no matter how hard my dad tried to get me to go out with him and have a catch, I always found some way to get out of it. Today, I beat myself up over it whenever I think about it.
He was a huge Mets fan and would always talk about them. My dad would never miss a game, even when my oldest sister got married. The catering hall had a bar with a TV and he’d keep going back there to watch the action to the dismay of my mom. When the game was on at home, we all knew never to disturb him, I mean he was totally addicted to the Mets. Unfortunately, he was killed in a car accident while driving home from work less than five miles from home. It was raining and a witness said he swerved to avoid hitting a dog and lost control of his vehicle.
About a year after his death I was home alone and had gotten into a big argument with my girlfriend that day. I was still upset and turned on the TV to get my mind off of it. It was the third or fourth inning of a Mets game and they were playing the Pittsburgh Pirates. Instead of changing the channel as I would normally do, I kept watching. It was weird, but I felt like my father was sitting there with me. It felt good and I just kept watching. All that you could hear in my house was the game, and it was a good one. It drew me in. During a break in between innings, I grabbed a Coke and hurried back to watch as the Mets were three outs away from winning the game as they headed into the top of the ninth ahead 9-7. I couldn’t believe how exciting this all was to me. I grabbed the remote and raised the volume to watch the end.
But then the unthinkable happened. The Pirates came roaring back with two runs to tie the game. I don’t know why, but I moaned something inaudible in frustration as the tying run crossed the plate. I didn’t know who John Franco was at the time, a Met I’d grow to love, but at that moment I started yelling at my TV and cursed this poor guy out. The Mets didn’t score in the bottom half of the inning and so it was onto the tenth, further adding to my anxiety.
At this point I was totally engrossed in this game. I wanted to to see the Mets win. I wanted so desperately to see them come back and beat these Pirates for my dad. And wouldn’t you know it, I was going to experience my first ever Mets miracle – my first taste of Mets magic.
In the bottom of the tenth, Carl Everett hit a three-run shot that just cleared the top of the fence to beat the Bucs 12-9. I jumped up and yelled “yes!!!” at the top of my lungs just as my mother was just coming home. “What are you screaming about and why is the TV so loud!”
“The Mets won! The Mets won!” I said. “You should have seen it, mom!”
“Since when did you become a Mets fan,” my mom asked. I thought about it and said, “just now.” That was the first day of my Mets journey.
My dad left behind a huge collection of books on the Mets for me to catch up on all their history. He also left me his Mets baseball card collection which was now all mine. One day, while going through some of the cards and reading the backs, I discovered a note from him in one of the boxes of cards. It said, Dear Stevie, I hope you’ll enjoy these as much as I have. Love, Dad. I was so shocked that this note from my dad was sitting in one of those old boxes for all this time.
He was probably waiting to give them to me, if I had only gone out and played that game of catch with him. So this is why I love the Mets. They are a bridge to my dad who I miss so much. But also because they taught me how to believe in miracles. I love this team.
Lets Go Mets!