...not with a bang, but with a whimper -- or rather, a bat held on the shoulder while strike three of the third out in the bottom of the ninth with the winning run on base whizzes by you.
I didn't watch all of it. I was watching the game with some friends while we mailed invitations to the kickoff party for this, and when not even Endy Chavez' -- ok, I'll say it -- Amazin' catch in the sixth, against a sign that read, fittingly, "The Strength to Be There", wasn't enough to get the Mets' offense going, I had a feeling that this just wasn't going to be the Mets' night. So since I had to get up and actually go to work today, I decided to record the rest of the game -- just in case -- a case I felt in my bones wasn't going to be necessary.
In any game, someone's going to win and someone's going to lose, and baseball is a game of inches. I could say that given the circumstances in the bottom of the 9th, even with Aaron Heilman giving up a 2-run home run in the top of the ninth after Willie Randolph, obviously loath to bring in "Heart Attack Billy" Wagner again, left Heilman in just a pitch too long, there's no excuse for striking out with the bat on your shoulder. But Mets fans are not Yankees fans. Unlike Alex Rodriguez, who in all likelihood will be shipped out of town rather than have his very life at risk for a similar "offense", Beltran will still be able to walk down the streets of New York. When the dust settles and the disappointment starts to fade, Mets fans will remember what Carlos Beltran did all season -- and just as they forgot 2005 once he started hitting in 2006, they will forget that last at-bat in the 2006 NLCS. We will do that because we know that even when the puppy poops on the brand-new carpet, you may be angry, but you still love that puppy.
It's easy to forget that the Mets weren't even supposed to get this far. It just doesn't happen that you lose your #1 starter AND your most reliable postseason guy, cobble together a postseason rotation consisting of a 40-year-old (even one who's a future Hall of Famer), a kid who was a throw-in in what was otherwise an awful trade, and a guy with the ignominious distinction of being on the scrap heap of the pathetic Pittsburgh Pirates, and get to the ninth inning of game 7 of the NLCS. But that's what the Mets did. Yes, there was the Trachsel debacle, but one can hardly blame Willie Randolph for wanting experience in there until proven incapable.
It would be a crime to dwell on one pitch gone wrong when Aaron Heilman has eaten innings like John Pinette at a buffet table. It would be a crime to dwell on one at-bat given the importance of Carlos Beltran to this team. And it would be a crime to focus on these things to the exclusion of recognizing just what Oliver Perez did last night. This is a guy against whom opposing teams batted .293 this year; a guy with the highest ERA of any starting pitcher in postseason history, a guy with a 3-13 record and 6.55 regular season ERA this year -- and last night he proved that sometimes you go out there a kid, but you come back a star.
The emergence of John Maine and Oliver Perez as big-game pitchers this postseason makes an otherwise dire pitching situation as we look ahead to 2006 look not quite so dire. Pedro is still out until midseason, Trachsel is gone, and how long can El Duque go before he remembers he's in his mid-40's? But with two guys who have earned at least a very close look in spring training, and guys like Heath Bell and Royce Ring and Brian Bannister in the offing, and a Frank Cashen-quality baseball man in the front office, the future for this team looks so bright I gotta wear shades.
Thank you, Mets, for providing some diversion for a little while from our relentless march to fascism. Thank you for reminding us why we love baseball. Thank you for a great season. See you in Port St. Lucie in February.
We now return you to our regular schedule of Bush Administration follies, foibles, and disasters.
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