October Illness

With the Mets in the playoffs for the first time in 6 years, I have been sick.

I have a new Mets hat which I've been wearing all the time (to replace the one Sascha stole from me about 10 years ago), I talk about the team going all the way, and in what is perhaps the most troubling - and most evident - sign of the disease, I have been reading the sports pages. That's right, a section I never, ever read. I startle people with information about the batting lineup and bullpen relievers; I pretend to know what I'm talking about. It's fun.

Yes friends, I have Mets Fever. It was last diagnosed in my system in October 1986. I missed school the day after the Mets won the World Series, and my father wrote me a note to bring to homeroom. It read something like this:

"Please excuse Rachel's absence yesterday. She was home with a case of Mets Fever."

20 years later, Dad brought us to Game 2 of the NLCS at Shea last night. I was hyper all day long, in eager anticipation of another Mets victory over the Cardinals. They were up 3-0, then 3-2, then before I knew it, the score was tied 4-4. And that's when I felt a queasy feeling in my stomach that I didn't quite identify at first. Was it the Nathan's hotdog, 87 peanuts and an entire package of crackerjacks roiling through my system? Was it the obnoxious and at times x-rated outbursts of the drunken fans behind me in the nosebleed section? I suddenly realized what was troubling me: I care about a team in the playoffs. It is HARD to have a team in the playoffs, people! I've watched the World Series every year without any stress or worry - except of course in 2000 - and now gosh darnit, I'm stressed. I'm not even sure if I can watch Game 3 tonight, I'm so upset that the Mets lost last night. Here's a picture of Dad and me in happier times (after Delgado hit one of his homeruns.) This was before the Cards tied it up and then took the lead. I knew I was severly afflicted when a young fan, seated in the row in front of us, who had impassively been watching the game turned around when the Cards moved up to 7-6 and said "this is really turning around." The little 8 year old punk is a Yankees fan, so he came to root against the Mets. I almost kicked him in the teeth, he was so smug. See? I'm ill.

To make matters worse, the A's just got swept in the ALCS tonight, and there is a very depressed fan moping about Sterling Place. Although I have to say, he's coping farely well. At least we won't have to face the spectre of an A's-Mets World Series. That would be trouble.

Stay tuned.