Wednesday, January 30, 2008

“YOU THINK YOU A CONTENDER NOW?”

In a development like few others in franchise history, the Mets have put themselves in position to change the dynamic of their team, their upcoming season, their place in the New York sports spectrum and their foreseeable future.
—Marty “Eternal Raincloud” Noble

So this is what it feels like?

I was walking to the train last night with a undeniable spring in my step, which had arrived about the same time as the USA Today story. I sat at my desk at work, trying to concentrate, and doing the happy dance in my chair.
JOHAN SANTANA!
I sent text messages to friends that read OYE COMO VA.
I started receiving congratulatory text messages from non-Mets friends.

“Wow, is this what it feels like when the team gets someone good?” I asked TBF.
“It’s similar to how it felt when we got Beltran,” TBF said. “Or Pedro.”
“I’m buying a shirt AS SOON AS THEY ARE AVAILABLE,” I say.
“You’re buying a jersey?”
“It depends on how long the contract is. But if it’s long enough, yes I am. For sure, I’m getting a goddamn t-shirt. Tomorrow if I could.”

On the way to work this morning, I see a crowd of guys on the street, maintenance workers and supers and elevator operators for the buildings on my block. I see one of them - wearing a hat for that team in the Bronx, being jostled. I see two other guys wearing Mets hats. I hear the words “Santana” and raucous laughter.
As I pass them, I hold up my hand at one of the guys in the Mets hats. “Johan Santana!” I say, and we high-five.
More laughter in the direction of the Yankees fan. “You see that? You see that? Women know about Johan Santana!”
I turned around. “Let’s try ‘baseball fans’.”
“What? What’s the big deal?”
“You didn’t care about Santana,” I say, “You just didn’t want the Red Sox to get him. Well, now we got him.”
“So what? You think you a contender now, or something?” Yankees Fan asks.
“I don’t think it, I know it.”
Howls of laughter as I walked away and into my building, BIG smile on my face.

It’s so silly, I know, and it’s just one pitcher and there are still 162 games to play. But the winter got a little brighter, a little less grey, a little closer to green grass and blue sky and what it feels like when that pound of bricks I carry around all day falls off my shoulder as soon as I walk through the turnstiles. It’s all about hope, and hope is what we got a little extra helping of right now.