That Baseball Mood

Spring Training, at least for me, has been mostly a study in the mundane. I barely know what's going on with the Mets; I don't particularly care whether or not they win or lose, just so long as the players that need to play well do so and there are no significant injuries. The less there is to talk about, the better.

That being said, since it's now merely two weeks until Opening Day, I figure I ought to get back into the swing of things, and there's a spate of new literature for me to go through in preparation for the season. With apologies to Greg Prince, whose book was unavailable during a recent trip to The Strand (hardly a good excuse on my part), my current reading material is the latest offering from our own Ron Darling.

I've always been a fan of Darling's analytical abilities; perhaps I'm biased from having not only watched him in my youth but also having listened to him broadcast the Mets for the last decade. This of course comes forth in his writing, his first book offered up a study of specific games in his career as opposed to a particular memoir. This book is more of a memoir, but condensed into his life approaching, and during, Game 7 of the 1986 World Series.

You'll of course remember the result of the game. Most tend to forget that Darling started for the Mets but was long gone by time things were decided. He's the first to admit that under the harsh glare of the World Series spotlight, he didn't have a very good game, lasting only into the 4th inning and departing down by 3 runs.

But in reading this book (aside from learning the odd fact that Darling lived on 33rd and 3rd, while I, 7 years old at the time, resided at 36th and 3rd and on occasion frequented the same Italian restaurant on 34th Street owned by former Red Sox pitcher Jerry Casale) I kept drawing the parallel between Darling pitching in the 1986 World Series and the crazy ride that we followed the Mets through last season. Probably because I've been carrying it around with me all Winter. Not so much the ride to get to the World Series, but particularly the way it ended, and that final Sunday Night where the bottom fell out so quickly.

The end result is usually what's remembered more than the journey that gets you there, particularly when it comes down to a Championship series, and yes, perhaps even if the Mets had won that final game, they could have just as easily lost the next one and had their season end with the same result. Darling talks about being too much in his own head going into that 7th Game, and feeling out of rhythm, and out of sorts, and those such things can wreck a pitcher's night. It doesn't detract from the fact that he had a generally good career and is remembered fondly among Mets fans, although maybe if that 7th game had ended differently, that might not be the case.

And this is the sort of stuff I've been thinking about all winter, because consider that 5th Game against Kansas City and what ended up happening to Matt Harvey. The prevailing thought, what everyone remembers, is that Hotheaded Matt Harvey demanded to stay in the game for that 9th inning and blew it, and the Mets lost (and they suck and Harvey sucks).

I sometimes have a tendency to over-romanticize games like this but while most of the talk this Winter made a punchline of Harvey, I don't think what happened in that game up to the 9th inning should be overlooked. I've gone over many times about Harvey pitching angry, and how he's at his best when he has that look, and for 8 innings, he had that look. The Royals couldn't touch him. Harvey was pitching with smoke coming out of his ears. You know that's what's going on when he comes charging off the mound screaming at the end of a key inning. By contrast, when you consider the fragility of an athlete's psyche in a big spot, Darling allowed himself to be psyched out. Harvey had no such problems.

But in the end it's the final score that determines everyone's perception of the game. Mets 8, Red Sox 5, and Darling is a footnote. Royals 7, Mets 2 (12), but Harvey shit the bed.

Sometimes the perception of the players can bother you just as much as the end result. Particularly when you're on the losing end of things.

Who We Are

I've never met Greg Prince, though, after reading his new book, Faith and Fear in Flushing: An Intense Personal History of the New York Mets, I kind of feel like he's someone I've known for years.

The book, written with the same grace and eloquence as his blog, certainly justifies its title; it's a glimpse into the life of a man who has lived and died by the Mets, through moments of joy and pride, moments desperate and harrowing, gut-wrenching, heartbreaking and beyond.

Any Mets fan can't help but feel some kind of relation to Greg as they read this book. It's this particular attention to detail, the ability to remember the highest highs with the same clarity as the depths of despair, that the beauty of this book lies.

As I read the book, I couldn't help but feel that Greg and I are very similar as people. We come from fairly similar backgrounds, discovered the Mets at basically the same age (his true fascination coming just at the right time, mine beginning a tantalizing year too late) and even had parents who seemed happy to indulge our interest in the Mets despite not fully sharing it themselves. And we seem to remember everything when it comes to the Mets. I would venture the guess that if you put the two of us in a room together, we'd probably have a 3-hour discussion...about the 1999 Mets.

But this isn't what the book is about. Though Greg's knowledge of the history of the Mets is indisputably vast, the book is written for any fan and every fan of the Mets. It's not simply about history or knowledge, the book offers some insight into what it is to be a fan of the Mets. Though, of course, not every Met fan immerses himself with the same voracity that Greg does, we can all relate to his experiences. We've all had that one great moment, as fans, where we saw something or watched something that will stick with us forever. For the Mets fan, it's never about saying, "We're better than you," or "When was the last time your team did..." Mets history is steeped in words like "Believe" and "Miracle." Words that inspire thoughts of the little guy who rose up and did something great. Not all the time. In fact, sometimes, it's been downright humiliating. But for those moments, we continue to root, we continue to believe, and we keep coming back. Certainly, we have our rivals. Greg wholeheartedly admits a dislike for all things Yankee or Brave. We believe in things like superstitions and karma. I used to follow the same route every time I went into Shea Stadium, buy my program from the same vendor, take the same escalators, etc. Greg, in 1999, lashed out against the Braves while watching this game, and then felt the need to praise them for karma's sake. But these things, too, are all a part of being a Mets fan.

More than anything else, however, Greg is a Mets fan with the gift of eloquence. Memories of the Mets are interwoven with personal anecdotes as smooth as Kevin Elster used to look out at SS. Certainly, the book isn't flawless. But I feel that many of the problems are merely matters of opinion, my own opinion of historical moments, certainly not problems with the writing. Greg does a fine job of telling us his life story as a Mets fan without being too schmaltzy, without being too forceful and with great care for his own personal life. Basically, you should read this book, if you're a Mets fan at all. It's one thing to read about Mets history. It's readily available in many different forms. Greg gives it to you from a fan's perspective, good or bad. It's truly a worthy addition to any Met fan's Library.

Written Traditions

Before Keith Hernandez plied his trade on television, becoming a maven of unintentional (and sometimes very intentional) comedy and general smarminess, he was one of Baseball's greatest on-field minds. To watch him at the plate was to appreciate his strategy: Lie in the weeds, then attack. To see him field was like watching a Gene Kelly dance routine: Graceful and flawless. Both of these traits about Hernandez are made evident in the first of two books he wrote about Baseball, "If at First..."

With Pitchers and Catchers set to report to Port St. Lucie tomorrow (Johan Santana among them), it is almost time for me to pull out my dog-eared, raggedy paperback copy of "If at First..." for my annual Spring Training reading. I have read this book every march for the past 5 seasons as a way of getting me primed and ready for the Baseball season from a thinking man's standpoint.

The book, a journal-style chronicle of the Mets 1985 campaign (the paperback has a final chapter regarding 1986), gives you a great deal of insight into how Keith dealt with a lot of the outside circumstances in his life. 1985 was not a particularly good year for him off the field, with a messy divorce and the Pittsburgh Drug Trials taking place at various points during the season. Hernandez handles it all with class, never allowing it to greatly affect his performance on the field. "On the ballfield, I'm free," he says before Opening Day. Minor details that might have been missed to the general public are discussed. Hernandez discusses his relationship with the other players on the team. Tough on young Darryl Strawberry, who will eventually battle the same problems Hernandez had earlier in his career. Chummy with Rusty Staub, the newly-acquired Gary Carter, Ron Darling and Jesse Orosco. Moments are mixed in with anecdotes from his prior days coming up through the Cardinals system. Of course, his relationship with his father, who was tough on him to the point where they wouldn't speak for several weeks on end. Although I am too young to remember the 1985 season with any great detail, having read this book makes me feel like I was there for every game.

It's just about time for me to pull it off the bookshelf once again. It's a nice reminder of what to look forward to.