What Being A Fan Means

I turned last night's game off in the 7th inning, and every 5 minutes I felt like a crackhead fighting the urge to flip it back on. I didn't flip it back on until the Bottom of the 9th. I watched Endy Chavez ground out and turned it right back off. It's true that this season is going terribly wrong. It's true that most of the venom being displayed by the fans isn't misguided. And it's true that last night I looked around my house and felt like getting up and smashing each piece of Mets memorabilia I own. Their play is making me sick, the manager looks like he's sick, but I'm a fan. A die-hard fan. And so are the rest of you.

When the Mets lost last night, I had no intention of going to the game tonight. But when I woke up, it was a new day. Santana is on the mound. It's 10 bucks to sit in the bleachers, and pretty cheap to sit in the upper deck. I want to go, I really do. I'm sure there are lots of other fans who are feeling dejected, fans who have no desire to go. We can't become like them. We need to go tonight. We need to attempt to infuse some positive energy into a ship that looks like it's sinking. It's a nice May day, which will turn into a nice night for a game.

Watching this season has felt like a second job, felt less fun than any season I've watched - ever. Let's get back to enjoying baseball. Let's go tonight, grab a dog and a beer and cheer on our team. Let's sit directly behind Nick Evans and encourage the kid. Let's stand and cheer instead of sitting on our hands or booing. Let's go out to the ballgame tonight.