Discover more from Meditations in Panic City
January 26, 2021: But Why?
Why Not Four Years Ago? Or Never?
Above: The first and only remotely accurate Google hit for ‘Mr. Met shrug.’ The second result is the middle finger pic.
I’m starting this newsletter to create my own Mets Hall of Fame that just has folks who don’t give me a stomachache. So Joan Whitney Payson, Tom Seaver, Ed Charles, David Wright, Curtis Granderson, and Matt Reynolds. Congrats to them and their loved ones.
Also, I want to show I am more than just a GIF machine and the original Gunther on
And I would like to start my own thing, unbeholden and not associated with anyone else. To share my personal point of view as a Mets fan.
I would like to examine why I almost winced when I wrote I am a Mets fan before.
There it is again.
I want to come from a place of positivity. I am aware that is not coming across so far.
I want to write a book titled
Dispatches from Panic City
. It would be a memoir about my Mets fandom.
Wow. Okay. Please leave right this second.
I have thought a lot about this. I have done a lot of probably pointless but bemusing research so far. I thought I finished the first chapter (“1983”) recently.
It will be about the Mets, and about the nature of fandom when you have a functioning conscience, clinical depression, and general anxiety. Also ethics about video journalism.
I am required to say
A Fan’s Notes
is an influence. Will Keith Hernandez be my Frank Gifford? Scooter? Your guess is as good as mine.
So this newsletter will keep my writing muscles flowing, along with my work at
and my other newsletter I’m already tired of. I feel better after I write.
I used to imagine myself as the next Gary Smith, taking months and later years at a time to write masterpieces of sports journalism. It turns out I ain’t no Gary Smith and I need constant gratification.
TL;DR this is all about me feeling better.
IS THIS THE ANNIVERSARY OF SOMETHING IMPORTANT?
YES! 16 YEARS AGO
New York Mets
, who failed to sign
who was snatched up by the
yesterday, quickly fill the void at first base by trading three
Boston Red Sox
Gold Glove Award
I c & p’d the above, but I can correctly spell Minky’s given surname anytime, anywhere.
Back-to-back humblebrag alert:
I had excellent seats at Shea for a 2005 game when Mike Piazza walk-off walked.
Mientkiewicz was playing first for the Mets, so I didn’t even have to say it was a 2005 game, because Delgado was kitty-corner from the hot corner for New York (NL) from ‘06 until over .500 seasons were a distant memory.
My friends and I kept yelling “MINKY!” and at one point he had the nerve to turn around and look at us. A player heard us and acknowledged our existence? What kind of crap is that?
If my memory is working right, we were more 22 years old than drunk.
I also remember Mientkiewicz talking the ear off of every single runner on first base.
Most people will remember him for securing the final out for the Boston Red Sox’s clinching win over the Cardinals to win their first World Series in 86 years. I remember him being a chatterbox and an eavesdropper.
IS IT SOMEONE SPECIAL’S BIRTHDAY TODAY?
Andrés Torres is 43 years old now. He came in to play center in the Nohan game after Mike Baxter got hurt, moving Kirk Nieuwenhuis (also spelled that right without looking it up) over to left. I remember Torres made a major faux pas probably only I care about: after Santana purposely struck out so he can relax and sit down and not think about how he was three outs away from a fucking no-hitter, Torres came up and swung at the first pitch, grounding out to end the inning. The Mets were up 8-0! Take a damn pitch! Tie your shoelaces! Argue with the umpire over the best place to get a slice. Stall dude, stall.
It all worked out though. Happy Birthday.
A SONG WHICH MAY OR MAY NOT BE RELEVANT TO THE TEXT ABOVE THAT KICKS ASS