by Adam Rossi

After a week full of cussing that would make the Osbourne household look like an abbey, throwing of inanimate objects across a room, and numerous haymakers to innocent pillows I re-introduced myself to a feeling that I hadn't felt since October 23rd of last year. A feeling of pure heartache, like the kind you get when you realize a great relationship is about to come to an end. Everything that could have gone wrong went wrong. Any break that could have helped didn't happen. The signs were all there; a ball rolling down the third base line only to stop right near the foul line, looking up and slapping every Mets player and fan in the face. A call by an umpire on an unnecessary play to end the game and negate what could have been the tying run. A monumental comeback that seemed to vanish in the blink of an eye. These signs all pointed to one thing...it's over. It didn't matter whether the Mets were still in first place or not, things did not look good.

It was a feeling I had felt countless times before. The same feeling I had back in 1999, after being swept by the Braves in a key September series leaving the Mets in a deep hole. Or when the NLCS rolled around and the Mets were quickly on the wrong side of a 3 games to 0 series. Or again in Game 5 of that same series when the Braves took a lead in the 14th inning. Then again the very next night, when the Braves got off to a quick 5-0 then 7-2 lead. The same feeling I had last year as I watched Yadier Molina hit a long fly ball over the left field wall. It was as if someone had taken my heart, smashed it with a hammer, then ripped it apart like a picture of an ex-girlfriend. But at the same time, I never gave up hope because for some reason I knew it was not the end. I stood by the motto that every Mets fan has grown up living by, "Ya gotta believe". And then it happened...the Mets came back in 1999 and won the Wild Card. They battled back against the Braves to get the series to 3 games to 2. They rallied in the bottom of the 14th inning to win Game 5. They overcame the large deficit in Game 6. They loaded the bases in the bottom of the 9th last year. Even though some of the final outcomes ended in even more heartache, it just goes to show you that nothing is over until the final out is made and all the games are played, and no matter how grim things look, you cannot give up on this team. That's what it means to be a Mets fan.

To be a Mets fan you have to be tough. You can expect success, but you must be able to accept failure. More often then not, this is the case. The names Jim Fergosi, Bobby Bonilla, and Mo Vaughn all remind us of that. We don't have the fortunate history of our cross-town rivals. We don't have the luxury of boasting about historic names like Ruth, Mantle, Gherig, and DiMaggio. Instead, we take joy in looking back at the performances of players like Ron Swoboda, Mookie Wilson, Todd Pratt, and Endy Chavez and we feel disgusted when we hear names like Nolan Ryan, Amos Otis, Jason Isringhausen, and Scott Kazmir. The team may be looked at as the "baby brother" of the New York baseball world, but to the fans they are the kings. And despite countless feelings of disappointment, we never give up and we always come back. Being a Mets fan shows a lot about who you are as a person. You're thick skinned, prepared to take on whatever challenge life brings you, and while you may have may doubts you still have faith that you will succeed.

So as the Mets leave from a disastrous series against the Phillies in which the baseball gods clearly said to us fans and the players "You cannot win" and head to Atlanta, which might as well be the depths of Mordor for them, I only have one thing to say...Ya gotta believe!