Given those circumstances, baseball fans—or, at least, reflective baseball fans—experience both sides of a weird dichotomy. We can—and do—get all riled up about any given game. We invest heavily in the outcomes of single at-bats, innings, games, and series. On the other hand, we feel these feelings in view of the obvious fact that each of those events is essentially meaningless. That is, none of those singular events considered in isolation, however dramatic, can ever really tell us much of a story—let alone an accurate story—about a player or a team; those wee little phenomena are simply not generalizable.
So, most of us know this. Most of us know that, in baseball, it is foolish to get too worked up about the outcome of a single game, or a single series, or a lousy week, or a lousy month, even. Most of us know, deep down, that the truth of a player’s or a team’s story doesn’t really begin to unfold until some pretty substantial time has passed. And that’s incredibly frustrating sometimes, because we’re hard-wired to REACT and DRAW CONCLUSIONS from phenomena, however anomalous or insignificant (stupid sexy amygdala!).
Fellow Mets fans, I have been considering these things, and I have fought to keep myself in check over these interminable recent years as our Mets persisted in wallowing in their crapulence. Despite my efforts to keep an even keel, I have alternately suffered and reveled in the emotional rollercoaster provided by this most current version of our team. By turns, the 2014 Mets have looked terrible, terrific, and meh; and my fleeting emotional experiences have followed suit in direct proportion.
None of these recent intrigues really matters, though, in terms of the overarching narrative of the Mets—and it is the arc of the story that has been on my mind of late. I’ve been saying to myself, “What does this mean? Where are they going with all this?” The emergent answer is one I simply cannot shake (though I’m a little nervous to say it). Namely, I think the Mets are on the brink of a Golden Age in franchise history.
I think the Mets are on the brink of a Golden Age in franchise history
I cringe a little when I write that—Golden Age—because it sounds like the kind of ham-fisted,Ray Ban Wayfarer Sale, click-bait, sports-talk hogwash that doesn’t really mean anything. I’m not sure I know exactly what a Golden Age is, and I certainly don’t know how to quantify one, to say nothing of the fact that I could be completely wrong.
I really don’t think I am, though. I think I’m right about this, whatever it actually is.
My reasons are simple and (likely) familiar. Broadly speaking, they are: