Going away to college, for me like many others, can be an exciting yet nerve-racking experience.

Out of high school, I didn’t know where I wanted to go or what I wanted to study, so I chose to stay at my mom’s house and go to community college and work my part time job.

I had a great experience in community college, and took several journalism and communications classes, which helped me decide that I wanted to delve into that field for my career. My part time job also helped me grow as a person and matured me, so for the fall 2015 semester, I transferred to SUNY New Paltz, about an hour and a half north of the place I’ve lived my entire life.

Upon getting there, I hardly knew anyone. There were a few folks scattered around town who I knew from over the years growing up, but no one I was particularly close with.

Moving into my dorm room on campus, I was assigned two random roommates, so even there, I had to start from scratch.

When my mom and my aunt helped me unpack my things on the day I moved in, we then went to grab a bite to eat, but they had to ultimately leave, which was one of the hardest things at the time I ever had to deal with. Living in an unfamiliar town, with unfamiliar people.

At the time I transferred, it was late August, and the Mets were in a postseason chase for the first time since 2008. In ’08, I was only 13-years-old. After their collapse that season, and their subsequent years of futility, there wasn’t much to celebrate as a Mets fan.

But in 2015, it seemed as though New York had a chance to return to postseason ball for the first time in what felt like forever.

Each night, I would take myself upstairs to our dorm building’s communal lounge. No one else was around most of the time, so I would turn on the Mets game and watch each night.

This gave me a sense of home, family and made me feel less lonely in a strange world I was now living in.

Slowly but surely, guys in my dorm building would start watching the games with me. The first, ironically, was a Yankees fan, but I was just happy to have someone who would talk baseball with me and didn’t mind watching the Mets.

Then some more dudes trickled in, this time, thankfully some Mets fans! Before I knew it, we had a solid group of guys who were in there every night watching the games together.

We then did everything together. Hanging out after classes, getting dinner, playing cards and video games, I finally felt that sense of community I so desired when I originally transferred to New Paltz. It gave me a chance to get my feet wet, and later opened the door to meeting so many other people and doing some awesome things on campus and in my community.

I remember vividly the day the Mets clinched the division against the Cincinnati Reds. It was an overcast, early fall Saturday in New York.

The Mets and the Reds squared off in a matinee match up, and I was filled with nervous tension. I went to the lounge and met up with my friend Eric, and said “well, here we go.”

We were glued to the couch and clung to our seats for each out. Thankfully for us, the Mets routed the Reds 10-2, and once the game ended we each screamed and were hugging each other while jumping up and down.

The excitement only continued through the NLDS, especially Game 5. I was filled with the same nervous tension as I was for the NL East clincher, only this time, it was escalated tenfold.

But once Daniel Murphy hit that home run, and Noah Syndergaard came on in relief, I felt like it was finally a real possibility we were going to advance.

This time, the room was filled with all of our friends from the last month.

When Jeurys Familia came in and closed out the game with a strikeout, the entire room erupted so much so that an RA had to come to the lounge and make sure everything was under control. We didn’t care. The Mets won a frickin’ playoff series!

The Cubs series was a blast, and after sweeping them, I remember feeling a weight lift off me and a feeling of euphoria like I’ve never felt before.

In 2000, I was only 5-years-old, so this was my first experience really ever seeing the Mets in the World Series.

Unfortunately, we know how this story ends. I didn’t get to see the Mets capture a World Series championship.

In Game 5, a Sunday night, the Mets fell down 7-2 in extra innings and most of the room cleared out, but I remained.

Wilmer Flores struck out and I just sat there with my face buried in my hands for 20 minutes, completely beside myself.

My friends Ben and Katie came to check on me, and later told me they could cut the tension in that room with a knife.

I had to step outside to call my mom, and once I heard her voice, I burst into tears.

The next few days were brutal, but I found a new sense of hope for the franchise I hadn’t felt in nearly a decade.

While we never got to go back to the Promised Land, I will forever be grateful for my experience that season. The friends I made, the memories I will forever keep, and a time I wish I could re-do over and over despite the outcome.

Baseball is a beautiful game that brings people together, and I’m so glad I’m a Mets fan.