I Am, I Am, I Am.

I'm a Mets fan. Year after year, shadowed by the fashionable Yankee NYer or a guy named freakin Chipper from early April to a cold, sad day at the end of September. The END OF SEPTEMBER. But, we'll have no more of that.

I was there, at Shea, the last day of the 2007 collapse. Just that word, collapse, makes me feel weird. I watched the culmination of the Yankee dynasty in 2000. I saw "two Mets stars during the 1980s throw no-hitters for the New York Yankees in the twilight of their careers: Dwight (Doc) Gooden on May 14, 1996 and David Cone (a perfect game) on July 18, 1999" (wikipedia.com). I saw The Amazin' Mets win in 1986.

I didn't decide to be a Mets fan. I never walked into a Modell's and stared at the hats and decided which colors I preferred. My grandmother loved Mookie Wilson, my uncle went to Spring Training. Hence, my father was a die-hard, so I'm supposed to believe in what they believed, right? Exactly Right. I suppose I do bleed electric blue and orange. It is, in fact, in my blood. So, here in 2008, ya gotta believe.