Denver, CO–Here it is. For 5 long years Met fans have suffered. Suffered like no other time in the team’s history. Suffered the indignity of punchlines, insults, crooked ownership, incompetent on and off field management. Losing is always part of the deal when you’re a Met fan. Comes with the territory, the pact Met fans sign when they forsake mental well-being and devote themselves to the orange and blue.
But this past half-decade has been so utterly soul crushing that Met fans deserve more. Now. The brutality of loving this team has reached unimaginable levels. You grow up a Met fan in New York, and you know what it feels like to be the little brother, the red headed step-child to Sports’ most famous and most successful team in history up in the Bronx.
On June 15, 1983 I was sitting in my parents’ living room. I had just arrived home from UB a couple of weeks earlier after another year of late night studying, Blue Bird riding and Nancy Lerner worshiping. Short Matt had just finished trying out his new shaved head-by choice at that time. I had just gotten home from another day of my prestigious summer internship with the famed New York City Board of Education, department of Buildings and Facilities. Well, not really an internship. And not really prestigious. I waxed floors, cleaned toilets, and swept up everything that moved (and things that could no longer move as well) inside the hallways of P.S. 111 in Long Island City. I was living the dream.
I hadn’t had a chance to check the internet, and my smartphone failed to give me any Bleacher Report alerts so when my Father told me the Mets had acquired Keith Hernandez that day-the old trade deadline date-I was blown away. And I didn’t believe him. All it took for the Mets to get the .300 hitting, gold glove first baseman was Neil Allen and Rick Ownbey? Shut the front door! But it was true! And after 7 straight losing seasons, the Mets suddenly had a future. And a star! Two years later, the Mets acquired the great Gary Carter to go with Doc and Daryl, and it all came together when Mom sang along.
Late last night, the Colorado Rockies found a team even dumber than they are. The Toronto Blue Jays, believing somehow that pitching is unimportant, acquired Troy Tulowitzki in exchange for Jose Reyes. Pitching be damned I guess, but the Jays are taking on double the money that was owed to Reyes in bringing in Tulowitzki. Tulo makes Reyes look durable by comparison. And despite their Rogers Center home field being a bandbox, it is nevertheless at sea level, and likely to impact Tulo’s output.
So here it is. The Rockies are rebuilding and are likely to flip Reyes for a package of prospects before Friday. The opportunity is there to bring Jose Reyes back home to the Mets. Back to where the homegrown wunderkind brought excitement and joy and a level of talent greater than any other in the franchise’s 54 year history. This is the chance to right the wrong. No one wanted to see Jose leave New York. Most of all, Reyes himself. Bring home the prodigal son, Sandy. All can be forgiven. Can you imagine the electricity that a Reyes return would generate? I can. In fact I can get over all of the bad stuff of the past decade. Imagine Reyes leading the charge for this suddenly resurgent franchise. Bring him home. Bring back Jose Reyes.
Do you agree? Should the Mets bring their home grown star home? I’m all in.