For the past several weeks I have seen a multitude of stories from the wild world of sport that have struck me as something about which I wanted to write and set my brain whirring.
Before we get too upset at not winning the World Series, let us ask: Was there a Mets fan anywhere when the season began -- or in late July -- who wouldn't have been ecstatic with the team winning National League championship?
During Game 3 of the World Series Friday night, there will come a point bigger than the game itself. Potential will take on a new meaning when 50,000 people in a baseball stadium symbolically "stand up to cancer."
The series switches to New York. For the Mets, it couldn't have come at a better time. It is still early, but for any player with a pulse, it must be a gut check to have a squad beat your horses two nights in a row.
Baseball groundskeepers rely on a phenomenon of color science called gonio-appearance to confuse our eyes into thinking we see two different colors of grass. In this case, the grass really is greener on the other side.
The narrative that the Mets are lovable losers has probably been seen by people outside New York as one of those strange New York things like saying "on line" instead of "in line," walking fast or knowing a good bagel from a bad one.
I was born a Mets fan, and now that I think about it, I just might have been conceived the night they won the World Series in 1969, which was almost exactly nine months before I was born. Mostly, it's been a long slog for my 45 years.
As you get older, a Catholic boy like me comes to realize three depressing things, as he drags his bat back to the dugout after yet another strikeout: God does not distribute hitting abilities evenly among his people, God probably doesn't care about baseball, Maybe there isn't a God.
With Games 3, 4 and 5 expected to turn Wrigleyville into an even bigger madhouse, the average secondary market price for Cubs NLCS tickets across all three games is $1,218.42.
My friend Michael has a saying about the Mets each year: "Just get me to football season." After eight long painful seasons, the New York Metropolitans not only got him (and I) to football season, but have now become the must see sport of October.
As the 2015 Mets clinched the division title, their first in nine years, a drought similar to the one I experienced as a young boy, I can't help but look back and wonder, "Why did I become a Mets fan?"
The Mets pitching staff is nothing to be grim about, and despite Max Scherzer no hitting the Mets, Matt Harvey struck out 11 and gave up just one run in six innings.
We tackled some heavy and fun stuff in Part II of my interview with Austin Basis. Now for Part II.
The amount of vitriol unleashed on Matt Harvey for wanting a long, healthy career is stunning to me. We have derided the old days of the reserve clause when players were treated like chattel, yet we condemn a young man for heeding the word of his doctor.
Being a Mets fan (and similarly loving them) means you know all too well that many times the story does not end the way you want. But it doesn't change your ability to believe in the happy ending, no matter how much you hide that belief.
I have been a baseball fan for nearly 40 years and I can tell you I have never seen anything like this before. We often see professional athletes as rich businessmen heading to the offices rather than as 23-year-old kids trying to live their dreams.