I’m heading off to Citi Field tonight with my longtime friend and fellow Mets/Jets self-punisher for what is sure to be a thrilling tussle with the San Francisco Giants. The Mets send experienced starter (ahem) Bobby Parnell to the hill. I happen to really like Bobby, but his first career start last week lasted 2.1 innings (OK, so what if he was on a pitch count) and included four hits, two runs and three walks. That’s Mets reality, circa August 2009. Luckily, Carlos Delgado is set to come off the DL…oh, wait…riiight. I’m straying from the point here, a familiar and quite obvious point but a thesis nonetheless. I am a Mets fan. The Mets are losers. Therefore, by the transitive property of fandome, I am a loser. My wife did the favor of reminding me this both last night and this morning.
Since the Mets relatively recent skid into complete irrelevancy, my dear sweet companion has been on me like white on rice. She’s like Cramer on Mad Money but on speed. Her vocabulary, when it comes to anything Mets-related, is limited to three words. Sell, sell, sell.
My wife is a sports fan. She gets it…to a point. She’s actually been sucked into the Mets abyss as a byproduct of linking up with me and has, for all intents and purposes, abandoned the Evil Empire. There are many reasons I should be apologizing to her. However, my season tickets and continued patronage of the Mets organization in the form of a healthy slate of August and September games (we don’t go to all, but I’ve still got 6-8 left on my personal schedule) seems to be the main sticking point and focus of her protest towards me at this juncture. She has…umm…aggressively(?) shared a few questions/insights(?) recently which I came up somewhat short in answering.
- They’re done. They’re terrible. Why are you going?
- Aren’t they 10 games back of Philadelphia at this point?
Actually, dear, they’re 12 games back of the Phils. But we’re only 10.5 out of the Wild Card!
- Are they giving away beer these days or is it still $9 a pop?
OK, now you’re just being vindictive. No, they are not giving beer away, and I believe a 16-oz is only $7.50? Can’t recall as I’ve consumed enough to numb the brain when sitting through this team’s “performance” this season.
- Can’t you just sell them on StubHub? Get rid of the Phillies and Cubs, they’ll sell.
Uhhh, yes and no. Will they sell. Yes, likely. Sell for face? Probably not.
- Wouldn’t you rather just go out to a nice dinner (for the cost of tickets to these games)?
At this point, yes. I love food, and it probably makes more sense and will be infinitely more enjoyable than watching the likes of Sullivan, Tatis, Cora and crew.
So, the ultimate question on her lips – and in my head – is why. Why do I do it? Why do we do it? Being a fan is frequently completely illogical and dysfunctional relationship, particularly when your allegiance lies with the teams for whom I choose to root. The simple and incredibly insufficient answer to that question is because we are fans. Personally, I blame my mother. She was the first to expose me to these teams. It’s now a lifelong cross to bear. Someday I will forgive her.
Here we go Parnell, here we go. /unenthusiastic clap-clap
Filed Under: Uncategorized
About the Author: Cecilio's Scribe is the founder of The Legend of Cecilio Guante and a generally pessimistic fan of the Mets, Jets, Knicks and Rangers. A fine NYC-based gentlemen who hones his marketing skills as his primary trade by day. Husband, chef, father of a newborn and after-hours blogger by night. Proud alum of the mighty Big Red of Cornell. University. Hot sauce devotee. Staunch protester of the continued wussifcation of American sports. Sometimes I rhyme slow, sometimes I rhyme quick.