Collin McHugh's debut fell on deaf ears to Met fans in search of salvation.

PitiField

By Thomas Scherrer

Allow me to be quick and to the point with all of this.  Anyone who knows me knows that I love baseball (yes, even more so than bowling).  Where I draw lines when it comes to writing baseball stems from a simple fact that there are hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of baseball writers who are better at it than I might ever be at giving you the intricate details of the game.  After all, they've been around 50 years and will tell you categorically that today's players are overpaid, don't appreciate the game, fail to run out ground balls, or do not even understand the history of the past.  They are like sacred cows to some extent: we cannot slaughter them for the purpose of their words because they carry meaning that go far beyond the scope of just baseball...they speak to our American culture.  If you are a baseball fan, you more than likely have a team to root for.  A team you live and die for.  It is truly at times, a blessing and a curse.  A good baseball team is an everyday constant reminder of supremacy.  You walk a little taller, a little broader in the shoulders, and a little faster in your steps.  Your biceps look bigger, legs thicker, abs firmer, chest protruding out of your shirt.  Translation: you are in the peak of physical prime every day for at least 6 or seven months.  Granted, someone else might have a better physique come the end of October but you know that for more than half a year, each and every single day, people notice you and talk about you in respectful terms.  True, you might have an off day at the gym or fail to stretch after a workout or cheat a little bit on that downward dog in yoga class but you are still high on the food chain.

  

Having a bad baseball team?  It is like an uncle with seasonal terminal cancer (oxymoronic of me, but still).  You watch them with near fatalistic eyes, hoping for a scintilla of hope or a breakthrough to perhaps better days yet around August of September, they have taken a turn for the worst and you know the end is near.  There is no turnaround, no cause to spend wildly on treatment...you only hope that the season ends with a few memories and promise that we can learn going into the next season/uncle.

Being a Mets fan?  Being the uncle with terminal cancer, seeing your wife eying the constant reminder of supremacy (Yankee fans) with cougar eyes.  Damn it all...

Yesterday, I attended the Mets-Rockies game to see a familiar script play out: a well-pitched game (Collin McHugh's MLB debut, which was sensational), countered by a lack of hitting in big spots (0-10 with RISP), fundamental blunders (Mike Baxter getting forced at 2nd base on a easy to read bloop single, plus the trials and tribulations of Jordany Valdespin), and pure heartbreak (David Wright's bullet dying into Charlie Blackmon's glove in right field to end the game).  It was a 4-game sweep by the Rox further putting the Mets into their abyss of a second half.  All good things that came out of the series mean nothing to Met fans.  Wins matter more.  You cannot escape the haplessness or the anger or the vitriol.  You can only try to understand it.  If you are a Royal fan or an Astro fan, you know your pain but don't ever tell a Met fan that you can relate.  Impossible.

Admittedly, I have been slightly removed from it.  After spending 3 years in Massachusetts, I saw the Mets on a small basis.  You only know so much by highlights and post game box scores, Facebook/Twitter posts, and second hand accounts of the game from knee-jerk, over-reactionary fans.  Now that I've seen them play for 2/3rds of a season, I can understand the pain.  Somewhat.  I can understand the cries for change.  Somewhat.  I can sense the anger and understand.  Somewhat.  You have heard all the same stuff before coming in the form of the Wilpon family needing to either a) invest money into the team b) find a few minority partners or c) outright sell the team.  While I cannot argue any of those thoughts, what bothers me is how Met fans have gone about it.  Yes, you care.  Good.  I care too.  I would love to see a winning and fun product year-round (funny how fans casually forget that when the Mets had a surprising first half they were still a horribly flawed team in the bullpen and defensively, meaning that we can shape our excuses to why we watched to fit our own needs) and contend for October baseball.  I wish I could go to more games and help support the team in any way possible.  I am a person who is either fully supportive of the team they root for or fully apathetic.  If you truly like David Wright and R.A. Dickey and how they've performed this season, then you have watched the other 23 guys around them.  I enjoy watching Ruben Tejada and Jon Niese.  I have been very impressed so far with Matt Harvey.  I was impressed with Lucas Duda and equally upset about his demotion (in retrospect, GM Sandy Alderson's most questionable decision this season.  Better to have him get 500 AB's and reps playing in right field than having him face AAA pitching and playing other positions or hit DH), and will never EVER forget Johan Santana's no-hitter.
  

Maybe I'm gullible for that and maybe I'm happy to be back in the fold.  Don't fool yourself.  You cannot be pleased with an 11-29 stretch of baseball with nothing going right.  You wouldn't be a fan if you weren't pissed off.  Still...this now comes down to you, the fan.  How do YOU feel about this season?  If you say it is unacceptable, nobody would argue with you.  But now I ask you what you think the excuse is.  If you said answer c) from the last paragraph, then you are telling the Wilpons to cash out.  Trust me, everyone has.  Then I ask you (everyone), what is the simplest means to achieve that end?  The answer is simple: apathy.  Don't go to the games, don't turn on SNY (even if for 15 minutes because that counts as ratings and ads and yes, money), don't turn on WFAN to rant to Mike Francesa (just ask him yourself, he doesn't need Met fans to keep his ratings #1...he'll just count all his Diet Cokes as viewers), or Steve Somers or Joe Benigno, don't go onto mets.com, and don't buy anything with an MLB logo on it.  In this generation, saying and doing nothing speaks louder than even being morose and negative toward your team.  That is life in the 21st century sports world: if you are upset about what you see, vote with your wallets and eyes.  Eventually, you'll win the war against upper management.  Until you can truly make that decision, then I suggest you support the uniform.  Baseball is ultimately, a game of failure.  Great hitters fail 70 out of 100 times.  All teams lose 60 times a season, save for the real special teams.  Fans can fail too if they don't know how to say 'enough is enough'.  Feel free to slash my orange and blue tires.