The Legend of Cecilio Guante
Don't Miss

Missing the magic of postseason: Benny and the Mets

Ah, the magic

Ah, the magic

Ah, the magic

The chill — and the chills -of October. The crowds. Postseason slogans. Waving towels. Drama. Storybook tales. I love every minute of it. I also miss it horribly.

As I’ve managed to sneak in a few minutes here and there of the initial contests of this 2014 baseball postseason, it’s reminded me about all that makes playoff ANYTHING so amazing. And while one can argue the merits of baseball versus hockey versus hoops or football, I can’t run from my true love. It’s those miserable Mets. For better or worse, ’til death do us part. So my mind naturally wonders as I take in these games.

Time and time again that wondering mind ends up in one place. There have been some good moments for me as a Mets fan. Games I’ve experienced in-person all the way back to Gaem 3 of the NLDS in ’86 with unforgettable home runs from Strawberry and Dykstra that left me hugging a complete stranger. A nine-year old with his head all but disappearing in the clutches of a woman (and her bosom) who probably weighed 300 pounds. I knew this playoff baseball thing was glorious back then. Sure, the World Series games versus the Yankees were something. So was the Wild Card walkoff from Tank Pratt and a handful of others.

However, it was Hawaii 5-0 part deux that still brings me back unlike any other. Thirteenth inning. Just graduated college. Hangover already starting to set in as the beers had stopped flowing innings ago. A severe chill in the air. Up in the drafty mezzanine of Shea Stadium down the right field line. The game that seemingly didn’t want to end and had Mets fans predictably predicting the worst. And then…

I love October, but I sure do miss it.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.