Last week, I lamented the Mets' mediocrity, and — while I still rue every single member of that organization — my life is made infinitely more miserable by Yankee fans. Even though the Yankees had an early exit from this year's playoffs at the hands of some guy named Fister, I still hear it from my Yankee−fan friends because the Mets are constantly cast in the shadow of the most successful sports franchise in history. Our cross−town rivals outclass us in every way: legacy and championships, not to mention those fancy pinstriped jerseys. After each Yankees victory, Frank Sinatra's "New York, New York" (1977) can be heard booming from the PA system. It doesn't get classier than that. Do you know what they play after the Mets win? Me neither, 'cause I've never seen it actually happen, but I'm pretty sure it's in Spanish.
The Mets are so bad, they have to regurgitate the mantra "YaGotta Believe!" just to sell some tickets. The Yankees could tell their fans to shove it, Jeter could flip everyone in Yankee Stadium the bird each time he blasts a home run and A−Rod could shoot up steroids in the on−deck circle, and the Yankees would still sell out every home game.
To illustrate my point, there is an advertisement for Manhattan Mini Storage that is plastered throughout New York City that reads, "Why leave a city that has six professional sports teams, and also the Mets?"
The owners of Manhattan Mini Storage share one of two mindsets by running this advertisement: (1) No one is more self−deprecating and critical of their own ball club than Mets fans, so they will totally get a kick out of this new line of advertising! Or, (2) Mets fans are so sparse and insignificant, we really don't give a s−−t if we alienate each and every one of them!
The fact of the matter is: The owners of Manhattan Mini Storage have a point. The team known as the "Amazin's" has played more like the A−insert fart noise−in's. The closest I have come to ever tasting a World Series title was in Game 7 of the 2006 NLCS, when Carlos Beltran watched — as if a Marvel supervillain had shot him with a freeze−ray — as an Adam Wainwright breaking ball cut right over the heart of the plate on an 0−2 pitch with two outs, the bases loaded, in the bottom of the ninth inning of a two−run game. Only an inning earlier, I felt like we were a team of destiny when Endy Chavez (of all people!) robbed Scott Rolen of a home run with a miraculous snow−cone catch you only see in kid−friendly baseball movies.
I still feel like the 2006 Mets were the best team in MLB that year, but I have no trophy to cite as evidence. Instead, my fondest Mets memories boil down to Robin Ventura's "Grand Slam Single" and a Jay Payton extra−inning, hit−by−pitchwalkoff.
On the other hand, any season in which the Yankees don't win the playoffs is shocking to Yankees fans. The Yankees constantly feel like the favorites simply because they are the Yankees. As much as it pains me to say it, the Yankees breed winners. It's a self−fulfilling prophecy: potential superstars and big−name free agents want to play on the Yankees because of the legacy. When players put on the pinstripes and walk out on that field, they see the numbers of DiMaggio, Ruth, Gehrig, Mantle and Berra and they realize that they are a part of history. So, they begin to play like their boyhood heroes. Mets players play like their boyhood heroes, too … if their boyhood heroes were Mario Mendoza and Michael Jordan, when he tried the whole baseball thing.
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