Times are tough all over and nothing seems to come easy any more…

What a difference a year makes, on the field, in the standings and in the hearts and minds of Met fans. A fan based spoiled by a dream season, only to wake up to find out that 2006 was the exception, not the rule. We fell in love with a team whose bloop hits seemed to find a way to fall and those bloopers from the opponents found dependable Met gloves. One season made us all forget the heartbreaks of all those coulda, woulda, shoulda seasons that defined us as Mets fans. The final painful moment of our star centerfielder jelly legged to a nightmarish curveball was dismissed and a pained fan base pushed it aside and expected another dream season, full of joy and exuberance, devoid of risk or fear.

The never say die, madding hot Phillies have provided orange and blue faithful with a much needed wake up call. The Mets, while still holding the edge in the NL East, are in a last week of the season street fight with a foe they had ample opportunities to bury weeks ago. So now here we are, forced to do it the hard way. Well not the hard way, we need to win five games out of our less six to insure an NL East crown against the cellar-dwellers of our division. Last year it would be too easy; this year: well…yeah…not so much…

It was suggested to me that I should just relax, not worry about it. To quote this well meaning adviser “if it happens it happens, don’t worry about it.” I started to think about that. How easy it must be for casual fans, able to watch the Mets without a personal stake in the outcome. I don’t remember not being emotionally invested in the Mets. Not doing so is to cheapen the experience of being a Mets fan, to think of the Mets as them, not us.

Baseball season is much like growing up in life. Every year a season starts full of hope, everyone has a shot and all in is good in the world. Everybody has an equal shot at the dream. One by one, teams fans come to terms with reality, that the dream isn’t going to come true, Santa isn’t real (or Hanukkah Harry for Jewish readers), except for that one team, for whom Santa is real, Rover really went to go live on that farm, and the really hot redheaded girl in school has a crush on them. I’ve only experienced that once; I was eight and ever since, I’ve wanted to feel that euphoria again.

But the Mets have some work to do first, the magic number is 5, we have six games left and we have a lot of nerve-racking baseball yet to play. I disdain the que sera, sera attitude of what will be will be; I choose to put myself in the proverbial foxhole. Where there are no baseball-God atheists in proverbial baseball foxholes, because, to paraphrase Jimmy Fallon in Fever Pitch, this is when they need me.

2006 is long gone, a pleasant vacation form the everyday life of a Mets fan. For a Mets fan, it’s supposed to be hard. Nothing comes easy. We wait until we’re down by two with two outs of an elimination game to make our move. I’ve read several authors that have grumbled that they aren’t in love with this team as they were last year’s version. I submit that these are the real Mets, love em or leave em. Think back to all the years we would kill to be in striking distance in late September and enjoy this season and it’s promising and terrifying last week.

I don’t begrudge you the option to wait and see of course. If you are faint of heart, pregnant, not of legal drinking age or suicidal, by all means wait and see, but your missing out. Those that are with me to the bitter end or glorious climax, hang on, win or lose, we’re in for a ride.