Those who had to suffer through ’07 deserve this
C INCINNATI — This was for all those nights in the fall of 2007 when you tried to steal an hour of sleep here, an hour of sleep there, when all you could do as a fan was stare at the ceiling and wonder when the madness would stop. IF it would stop.
This was for all of those nights a year later when the same awful thoughts would crowd into your brain and invade your nervous system, when the losses mounted and the opening of the bullpen gate would invite fullblown horror movie screams, when the slope grew ever slippery. Maybe you were at Shea Stadium on that final Sunday of the season, trying to enjoy your memories even as your stomach soured.
This was for all the nights since, you bet it was: all the nights when you would drag yourself in front of a television screen, or tune in the car radio even though the Mets were 10 under and 15 back. This was for all the times you kept watching, kept caring, even as the games grew unwatchable and the investment seemed like such a grand waste of time.
Yes. This was for you, this night when the Mets stomped on the Reds and the Phillies slammed the Nationals on your behalf, when the magic number melted away to one, clinching a tie in the NL East with only the inevitability of one more win (or one more Nats loss) keeping you from making your postseason plans.
When that happens — when the Mets finally eliminate the Nats and earn the sixth firstplace finish in franchise history — THAT will be for the players, whether it happens Saturday or Sunday here in Cincinnati, or next week in Philadelphia. That will be for the manager, who has waited a long time, a baseball lifetime, for this, and for the general manager, who put this team together on the fly, and for the men who own the Mets, finally delivered a platinumplated moment after so many years of selfimposed austerity. But this? This 125 win over the Reds, this night when you could breathe free and easy for hours waiting for the final outs to come? This was for you, same as October will be for you. Because there is only one active player who was here for the rollercoaster toggle between heaven and Hades in 2006, and for the dual tumblings of ’07 and ’08 — David Wright, who must be about as happy as baseball allows its practitioners to be. But there are millions of you. There are millions of Mets fans who endured the collapse of ’07, which is why it didn’t matter that logic insisted this was a different team, one that should be immune from the sins of the father. But you know that doesn’t matter. You know that to endure that kind of slow, torturous collapse — whether your team is the ’51 Dodgers or the ’78 Red Sox, the ’ 64 Phillies or the ’12 Braves — is to carry a scar that can only be healed by taking to the side of the mountain again. And scaling it this time. So yes: after all these nights in 2007 and 2008 when you won dered why you bothered, why you cared so much for such an unrequited game, there was this Mets game, 40 early, then 60 and 90 and 120, with Lucas Duda finding his stroke and Noah Syndergaard looking virtually untouchable for 7 ²/₃ innings.
But there was also some slapstick happening in Washington (and how many laughs do you recall from 2007?). There was Michael A. Taylor — the beneficiary of a Little League home run a few weeks ago when his line drive slipped under Yoenis Cespedes’ glove and slowly crawled to the wall — returning the favor, making the same mistake Cespedes did, letting Aaron Altherr’s sinking line drive elude him and giftwrap four runs to the punchless Phils — simultaneously doing the very same thing to the Mets exactly 525 miles away.
That game was 41. Then 62. Then 82. No bleeding ulcers this time. Not this night.
“It’s time to take care of business,” Mets manager Terry Collins said at game’s end. “I kinda like the way we’re sitting.”
He’ll have his chance to savor, and celebrate. No need for you to wait. You’re on the doorstep. Crack open a cold beer. Pop open your bubble. Call a friend. Have a blast. You’ve earned this.