We Boo, Therefore We Are: The Voice of the True New York Mets Fan
It has been suggested by other writers on this forum, and I'm sure countless local writers, and sports talk show hosts, that if you are critical of your team, you are somehow less of a fan. As if somehow anything less than an unwavering show of support for your team, even in it's most disappointing state, is somehow being disloyal.
To Any Mets fan who feels this way, please do the following:
Please proceed to any Mets game of the final homestand of the year, and make sure you sit near some die-hard season ticket holders for this one. Next, wait for our bullpen to predictably blow yet another lead in the 7th, 8th, 9th inning.... take your pick. Finally, as Aaron Heilman/Pedro Feliciano/Joe Smith/Luis Ayala et al, is walking off the field after surrendering 5 runs in .1 innings, blowing a 3 or 4 run lead, yell this at them in full-throat:
"Thats ok (insert pitchers name), maybe next time!!!!!"
"Way to go (insert pitchers name), cant win 'em all!!!! Shake it off big guy!!!"
"Good try (insert pitchers name), we'll get 'em in the bottom half!!!"
At this point, if you think you are leaving Shea alive you are either a pregnant woman, or actually holding a child.
You see, these are reassurances reserved for your kids. It's something you expect to hear at a Little League game. But this is the real world, and this is real baseball. If you continuously screw up your primary job function at whatever company you work at, does you boss come in and say anything close to "shake it off" or "no biggie"? Of course not, because when you are an adult and you screw up, someone is going to tell you about it.
So if you feel the need to scream, whine, and yell all the way till the end of this season about a team who should be up by 8+ games, has a $138 Million payroll, and put you through a sports-induced coma that took 6 months off of your life last year... then by all means, boo your head off.
They are grown men, this is their job, they can take it. You are rooting for professional players on a professional baseball club, not your 10 year old son whom you pushed into little league. The one who would much rather be playing Mario Smash Brothers and watching Spongebob instead of loping around an overgrown right-field on a 96 degree July afternoon, praying he doesn't have to field a ball, or even move for that matter.
As Mets fans, our anguish is what makes us beautiful. Instead of eternally existing in hell such as Cubs, Phillies, and Indians fans... our boys periodically give us something magical. Those all too brief moments of ecstasy make us crazier and more passionate than those who have never tasted victory. This is the basis of our avidness, and the source of our venom.
If you blow it, you're gonna know it. This is why we are Mets fans.
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