As the champagne flowed, the parade of interviews began and the cigar smoke filled the visiting locker room of Great American Ball Park Saturday, a wave of emotions passed over you. Satisfaction, relief, pure elation, perhaps a tear or two; all appropriate.
You’ve been on air all weekend. It’s difficult to explain what you’re feeling to a non-Mets fan.
They don’t have a separate dresser drawer dedicated to shirseys that can no longer be worn in public.
For the first time in nearly a decade, the vicious cycle of April hope, July disappointment and September football has been broken.
You’ve been through the collapses of 2007 and 2008. You remember the Sports Illustrated cover in March of 2009, picking the Mets to win it all; only to witness everyone not named Daniel Murphy or Mike Pelfrey head to the revolving door that became the 15-day disabled list.
Dropped pop-ups, 3-2 curves, valley fever, the Oli folly, boxes of chocolates; you’ve been through it all.
Sure, there’s been some good times, but maybe outside of HI57TORY, you haven’t felt this good about Mets baseball since Endy Chavez robbed Scott Rolen at the “apex of his leap.”
You watched every meaningless game in the dog days of summer, cheered in a half-empty ballparks, all for the hope that a day like Saturday was on the horizon.
You’ve spent the last month counting down the magic number, not trusting that this dream season was a reality until it hit zero.
Few sports fanbases have suffered more in the last decade than Mets fans have.
Now October baseball is real; it’s happening.
Don’t worry about explaining yourself.
Just savor it, enjoy it–you deserve it.
