ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS. . .

. . . is a reason to love the Mets organization in 2010. Wait that's asking too much.
. . . a reason to respect the Mets organization in 2010. Wait, that's even harder.
. . . a reason to like the Mets organization in 2010.

I follow the Mets because it was the first game I went to as a kid. It was 1985 and I was in 2nd grade. I had chicken pox (there's a vaccine for it now. How different would my life be. . . ), so I didn't have to go to school then next day, and got to stay out late. The team was exciting. I got to see Gooden, Strawberry and this awesome veteran 1st baseman Keith Hernandez, who was a great fielder and had a batting stance that I tried to copy endlessly for years after. The crowd was into the game and the Mets won that night. It was a perfect day in an otherwise very uncomfortable two weeks.

I also went to one Yankee game that year. The Yankees were a psychotic mess, with Steinbrenner needing three different managers to get through that season. They were a very good team, but not the day I went. It was a sleepy day game. The Yankees lost. The energy was totally different.

We now know that the crazy energy of the Mets of the mid 1980s was indeed crazy. It was a violent sex and drug fueled pyrotechnic display that burned out what was an amazing collection of talent. Darryl Strawberry, Dwight Gooden, Lenny Dykstra and Kevin Mitchell all on the same team? No sane GM would want to replicate something similar, even if they could. For the young uns, think of it as having Barry Bonds, Milton Bradley, Oliver Perez and Gary Sheffield all on the same team. Add Zack Greinke prior to him getting his head on straight and every other dysfunction player you can think of from baseketball and football. Then it might approach the '86 Mets.

Oddly enough, what cemented my relationship with the Mets is that during the bottom of the 10th of the infamous 6th game of the '86 World Series I was up late (Thank you again, dad!).

I was praying. The irony is no longer lost on me. I was a Gary Carter. Ugh.

Then the ball went through Billy Buckner's legs. It was the biggest example in my life of prayer providing instant gratification. The only other time that happens is when I misplace stuff and I find it after a quick plea upstairs.

In retrospect, maybe I wouldn't slightly less messed up baseball fan and a better Catholic if John McNamara had made a defensive substitution.

Because the Mets are the only professional sports organization (I use the term 'professional' and 'organization' in a purely technical sense here) that I care about. I have developed a deep (unhealthy) emotional attachment to the orange and blue. I miss Shea. A lot. I've even bought a brick in the Sh!ttyField FanWalk for my son, who hopefully will be one of those rare well-adjusted Mets fans that I often pretend to be.

I can never truly hate the Mets organization, no matter how incredibly awful they are. Even though there have been years where I have shut the Mets out of my head, I don't usually follow any other team other than intellectually or statistically.

But after having what I know to be all of the flaws of the Mets upper management exposed in detail this year, coupled with the total lack of responsibility the Mets organization has shown in either acknowledging or improving their fundamental flaws, I will end today's post by saying:

If the Mets were my girlfriend this is the first year that I would want to see other people.

Explanations will have to wait until next week.