Here are a few rules I’ve tried to live by in my years occupying this space:
I will never — ever — tell you how to spend your money. I will never try to make any fan feel guilty about empty seats in stadiums, arenas, rinks, racetracks. I will never tell you that it is any kind of federal regulation that you defend whom you root for and why; if steroids don’t bother you, you shouldn’t have a scarlet letter “S” stitched to your old No. 22 Roger Clemens jersey. You want to change your affiliations? No paperwork necessary.
So, I am not going to tell you that you have any kind of duty — civic or otherwise — to take a trek, across the next seven days, out to Citi Field, where the Mets will play host to the Angels and the Athletics. There’s a chance you have made a pledge to yourself to no longer support the men who own the Mets with your dollars. I respect that. It’s the only armament a fan has, the last line of defense, the ability to take your money elsewhere.
Maybe you simply believe that what the Mets have given you the past few weeks is a mirage, that it’s not sustainable, that you’re holding true to Pete Townshend’s vow to not get fooled again.
The Mets have given you a thousand reasons to stay away.
But suddenly, somehow, They also have given you a reason to reconsider. And it’s the best reason of all:
They may not yet be a truly good baseball team. But they’re playing awfully good baseball.
They reached .500 for just the second time since the sixth game of the season in Atlanta on Wednesday night, and maybe there’s a part of you that refuses to give a team — especially a New York team, with all the built-in advantages and resources — too many hosannas for merely breaking even. Again: your prerogative. And as a Mets fan, you are certainly entitled to your ennui, especially if you endured last night’s excruciating 9-8 loss that dipped them back below .500.
But if you haven’t chosen complete detachment yet, the Mets that come home tonight are worth a moment of your time, a few hours of your attention. And maybe even a drive out to Flushing.
Call it a test-drive.
“I can’t promise the fans certain things,” manager Terry Collins said on the first day of spring training, back in Port St. Lucie, long before we saw how well this team would take to his guidance and how smart he is with the Xs and Os and relationships that define his job. “I won’t say we’ll win X amount of games. But we’ll be a professional baseball team. That much I can promise you. You won’t have to apologize for rooting for the Mets.”
Even at 5-13, you didn’t have to do that (unless you were Fred Wilpon, that is) because Collins wouldn’t stand for it. He did his best work of the year then, refusing to let go the rope, refusing to let the Mets give in to the negativity flowing within and without the organization.
Do they play perfect baseball now? As last night’s endgame proved: No, they don’t. Angel Pagan forgot to slide the other night in Atlanta, and bunts tend to be an adventure, and as splendid as Daniel Murphy’s bat has been he still looks to often like he and his mitt aren’t on speaking terms. But the Mets pitch, and they have hit, and they take extra bases, and there is Dillon Gee making a play for Rookie of the Year, and Jose Reyes making a run at the MVP, playing so well you can almost believe the Mets can’t let him go.
Look, it’s a tough call deciding to care again. Unless you’re the 1986 Mets or the 1998 Yankees, a baseball season is a very fragile thing. Today’s feel-good story can become tomorrow’s lost cause with one bad streak. Ask the Marlins. And baseball logic dictates that if the cavalry doesn’t arrive soon, dropping David Wright and Ike Davis back at Citi (to say nothing of Johan Santana), the house of cards can flatten at any second.
Maybe. That’s one reason to stay away. There are others. And there is only one compelling reason to resist that urge. Is good baseball enough?
Across the next few days and nights, we’ll see about that.