The Passion Of The Damned

Today is the 25th anniversary of what has forever been dubbed “The Scioscia Game“. Game 4 of the 1988 NLCS is something I can go on and on an on about. Dwight Gooden’s outing. Darryl Strawberry and Kevin McReynolds hitting back to back home runs (and Gary Carter inexplicably bunting right after that … he did this often.) The Scioscia home run to tie the game off Gooden. Kirk Gibson hitting a home run in the 12th off Roger McDowell. Jesse Orosco of all people getting Strawberry on a pop-up in the bottom of the inning, and then Orel Hershiser coming out of the bullpen to end the game on a McReynolds looper that if John Shelby was playing just six inches further back, the Mets would have had a three-one series lead.

Looking back, it was probably the tipping point in my fandom. Up until the McReynolds pop-up, my mind was wired to believe that anything was possible with the New York Mets. When Scioscia hit the home run, the first thought in my head was … and this is totally serious … “well good, this means Kevin Elster will win the game in the bottom of the ninth.” See, when I was seventeen years old, the sky was the limit. Setbacks only existed to set up the eventual elation. That’s how my mind worked, believe it or not. Now after a home run like that, I put tin foil on my cat. And I do this because of what happened between the time when I was 17 and sitting in the upper deck during that game, and when I turned 18 three days later and learned about disappointment. The Mets lost to the Dodgers in Game 7 that day … my 18th birthday … when I thought that kind of loss wasn’t possible even though they were going against the best pitcher in the free world that night. It’s what I alluded to when I talked about the Tampa Bay Rays earlier this morning, and how they always get the most out of every drop of their limited resources. That team in 1988 might have been better than the ’86 team. And if they had won the Series that season (and I do think they would have beaten Oakland), history might have shown this to be true. A team that talented should have been champions. And would have been, had they gotten every ounce out of their potential (even after Bobby Ojeda cut off his finger gardening … or being drunk depending on whether you believe wikipedia or not.) But they didn’t, and I watched my birthday cake melt as Howard Johnson struck out against Hershiser to end the game, and the Mets era of dominance in the process.

“You’re a man now. This is what life is going to be like from here on in.”

I’ve been thinking a lot about passion lately as I’ve been watching this year’s playoffs. I see the Pirates fans go nuts after not being there since Francisco Cabrera broke their hearts. I watch the fans in left field after Juan Uribe’s home run knocked out the Braves.

And then there’s this:

http://youtube.com/watch?v=
4AxtaOuyGcw[/youtube]

After the Mets got knocked out in 2008 … after the last game at Shea Stadium, I’ll never forget the Wilpons giving interviews at some party they were at after the game. Imagine that … a damn party after being knocked out of the playoffs. And a reporter asked Freddy: “What is there to celebrate?” Fred’s response: “We’re getting a new stadium.” I learned a lot about the Wilpons that day. Every fan who was at that game hoping and praying that it wouldn’t be the last game ever played at Shea Stadium had the double whammy of seeing the Mets knocked out of the playoffs, and losing their home. Then Freddy whips it out and pisses all over us with that comment, and by offering up toasts just hours after Ryan Church’s flyout to end the season. For all the things to hold against Freddy and Son, that’s at the top for me. That one comment. Not to mention everything else that family has done to sap the passion out of this fan base. And when I see the above video where a team actually celebrates and cherishes their misfit ballpark, it makes me mad at the Wilpons all over again.

Let’s go back to 1988 for a second. Here’s the game that I was at. Don’t torture yourself by watching the Scioscia home run, or the Gibson home run. Go to the one hour mark exactly:

http://youtube.com/watch?v=
bbY0_7IqvJ0[/youtube]

That Strawberry home run still gives me chills to this day. Listen to the crowd. Go to 01:02:41 and listen to it again without Al Michaels. I still swear to this day that I can pick out my voice in that insanity. There wasn’t a “blackout” gimmick. There wasn’t any signs of being spoiled after having gone to the World Series just two years earlier. It was the most natural, friendly mob scene I had ever been a part of. And it was 12 freaking degrees outside. Twelve!

It could be like this again … even in a new ballpark. Pirates fans proved that. Only question is when. And how. And how much of that passion is merely dormant, and how much of his has been scraped away by years of Wilpon abuse.