Meet MJ.

At first, Mets games were about hanging out with friends and simply watching the game for her. But after her dad passed away four years ago, the Mets became an escape for her and helped her get through that difficult time.

Tell me your full story. 

When my dad passed, it was the distraction I needed. The time leading up to baseball, life felt like it stood still. It was hard to be me. It felt dishonest to maintain a smile, to put on that brave exterior when inside, I was falling apart. I felt like a burden to people. There were times when I wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, stay home and have no contact with the outside world and cry, just cry. That feeling of not being able to move, everything just felt so heavy.

My dad knew when things were bothering me. He was the guy that loved me unconditionally. He was the guy who asked me why I was crying when I came out to my parents. When I responded with “I didn’t think you’d love me anymore,” he responded with “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say.” The next day, when I came home from work with Nancy following behind me, he gently moved me aside, walked passed me and gave her a hug. I remember it so vividly.

He hugged her and said “Welcome to the family.” I think back on it during this quarantine and it was as though, 24 years ago, he knew that she was THE one. He was the one I watched games with growing up. As an adult, we’d attend games together. He was my hero. He was who I patterned my work ethic behind. He was who I wanted to make proud…whether in sports, in school, my career or in life. So, when I lost him, it felt like a huge part of me was gone, the sorrow was intense. When you lose someone, everyone else moves on while you continue to mourn, stuck in that one place and feel alone even when friends are there for you. It hits everyone differently. It hit me harder than I thought even though I had tried to prepare myself as he deteriorated during his fight with Parkinson’s.

Baseball season came along and it was the distraction I wanted and didn’t truly know I needed. I started to look forward to weekends and being at the stadium. It allowed me to slowly feel connected, to yell and scream, even if only for a few hours. The players, our Mets family, the staff, they all, without knowing it, helped me through my healing process. I had a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes OD that year in the stands. Just being there and missing him, I was overcome with emotions. I opted not to go to the Father’s Day game because the internal pain on that specific day was unbearable. I watched it at home, again with the same lump and even more tears.

Life completely got flipped once again when my father-in-law was diagnosed with lung cancer in mid-July of that same year and given six months to live. Your mourning process gets derailed and being left alone with your own thoughts can be so intense. It was my love for this team, and everyone we know affiliated with the team, that truly prevented me from completely losing myself, from falling into a deep depression. It was what I needed to manage the overwhelming emotions, to cope with my grief in a different way, to not feel as hopeless (although some of the games did feel that way, ha!).

Wow! That is a lot to deal with, especially close together. I am so glad you had the Mets to help you get through it. Something tells me though that there’s more to it than just going to the games that season though… 

Yes! In September of that year, due to a great group of friends and an awesome group sales rep, Carla, I ended up winning the MLB Mets fan of the year contest. I always thought that if I won, it would be because of my dad. That he’d have some hand in it. Carla called me at work to tell me that I had won and my first thought was “I can’t wait to tell my dad.” In as quick as that thought entered, it quickly reminded me that I couldn’t call him. I was trying to maintain my composure at the office as I was surrounded by the excitement of winning, the sadness of losing him and the simple fact that it was my first thought, to call my dad. This honor felt like the exclamation to what that year was like for me. Waves of raw emotion, hitting you hard but you manage to get back up because of him. Because of them.

I am sure your dad would have been so proud to know you won MLB Mets Fan of the Year! 

He would have loved meeting the fans we’ve met at the stadium and would have understood why they have such meaning in our lives. If he knew that some of the guys knew who we were and acknowledged us, he’d smile and talk about it over and over. He met David Wright once, he talked like they were best friends. (Glad I got the chance to tell David what the one moment of kindness meant to my dad, meant to us.)

Any last thoughts you’d like to share with others who may be in a similar position to you? 

The Mets and baseball got me through it all. Through the pain, I found friendships. Through the pain, I found a whole new family. Through the pain, it helped me manage my grief. It made the weight on my chest less heavy and it allowed me to breathe again.

Do you have a story you want to share about how the Mets helped you through a difficult time? We want to hear it – DM us on Twitter.