‘Twas a night in midwinter,

And all through the house,

Not a creature was stirring,

Not even a mouse

When all of a sudden,

Lying asleep,

I heard a strange sound,

Barely more than a peep

Waking from slumber,

I searched for the source,

I reached for my phone,

As a matter of course

In fact, it was ringing:

Not loudly at all,

I read the display,

Then I answered the call

A voice spoke to me,

A man I did not know,

With no introduction,

He let the words flow

“The season approaches,”

He said at the start,

“And although you deny it,

There’s doubt in your heart.”

“You sit there and think,

That we may not win.

Let me promise you this:

We’ll be more than we’ve been.”

“We’ve got solid young pitching,

And yes, even more:

Our GM has developed

An outstanding core.”

“Our lineup is youthful,

Our bullpen is primed;

You may not believe it,

But this is our time.”

I thought for a moment,

Then spoke to the man.

“I hope you’re not selling,

A new ticket plan.”

He laughed at that one,

Then spoke again,

“Please, pay your attention,

And I won’t pretend.”

“I’m not selling or buying,

Nor running a scam,

I’m here to remove you,

From your mental jam.”

“Mets fans are loyal,

That’s always been clear.

Now we want you to know,

That there’s no need to fear.”

“I can tell you this,

From the depths of my heart,

We’re primed for October,

Straight from the start.”

In sudden silence,

The phone line was dead,

And I sat bewildered,

Alone on my bed

Had that been the truth?

Were my Mets really there?

Could they get to October?

And breathe playoff air?

Thus quite bewildered,

I fell into sleep,

Some hours later,

My alarm clock beeped

According to habit,

My first move of the dawn,

Was to open Safari

To metsblog.com

I saw the first item,

My heart gave a lurch,

It said, “Still no news,

In the Mets shortstop search.”

So now who was right?

The man on the phone,

Had said seeds to victory

Were already sown

But now I’m being told

That there’s no shortstop present?

And none of our options,

Is particularly pleasant?

Well that doesn’t fit,

I silently opined,

We’ve got some young talent,

Who knows what we’ll find?

We’ve got Wilmer at short,

And he may yet be great,

So let’s give him a chance,

Let’s not get irate

My point to myself

Was that nobody knows,

We’ve all yet to experience

The highs and the lows

Not reporters, nor even

Duquette on TV

Knows what kind of hitter

Wilmer Flores will be

Nor do they know

How this team will contend,

With the season approaching

From right ‘round the bend

The dire predictions,

Disheartening news,

The stories that give us,

The Mets-induced blues

They have no affect

On the season for now,

All will be decided,

But no one knows how.

So my message to you,

As you reach the end,

It that negativity,

Is never your friend

We don’t know what will happen,

Nor in what way,

So can’t we just try

To be happy today?

The anger, the sadness,

The clamorous din,

At least can’t it wait

‘Til the season begins?

Welcome everyone, and welcome Mets fans especially, to the Shea Bridge Report.

Mets fans, as a group, are seen in society, as a general rule, as lunatics. We root for a group of perennial losers, and our boundless optimism is unnerving even to the most devoted optimists. But while polite society – which banned us long ago – sees this unending positivity as pure insanity, we know better. We understand the lessons that true Mets fans have learned.

Mets fans take a lot of flack for putting too much stock in the history of their team, but we give out an equal amount of flack to ownership for not honoring history enough. We stand at the farthest extreme on the spectrum of nostalgia – while most casual fans are happy to see clips of their team winning a World Series, we flock like crazy to the nearest TV screen any time any chance appears of seeing 30 seconds of highlights, whether it’s a World Series win or an inning of a game from May 2004. Here at the Shea Bridge Report, history will never lose its meaning – our namesake, or the namesake of our namesake, should show you how we value history. The present is where our attention is focused, but how can we look at Noah Syndergaard without comparing him to Tom Seaver, Pat Zachry, Doc Gooden, and Bill Pulcipher? We must remember the past, if only to know where the present is leading us.

In our lifelong exercise in futility, Mets fans have also learned another important lesson: the need, as the original Mets fan Tug McGraw put it, to believe. The majority of Mets teams have been and, if history is any indication, will be, mediocre or worse. But Mets fans have a unique ability to find the good in any – and I mean ANY – situation. At the end of 2014, we were certain that when 2015 began, an upgraded shortstop would have been acquired. When it became clear, however, that this was less likely than Jason Bay winning the 2015 NL M.V.P., what happened? Lesser fans would have complained; they would have grumbled about management, the front office, and anyone else within grumbling range. But we are not a lesser fan base; we’re Mets fans.

At the Shea Bridge Report, good and bad are subject to change, and nothing is ever over: prospects will always be one step away from becoming stars, grisly veterans will always have just enough for one last successful hurrah, and a four run deficit in the ninth inning will always be just a few runs short of a win. Mets fans are not rational, or logical, or anything of the sort: after experiencing the miracles of 1969, 1986, and 1999, as well as the more miserable moments in 1977, 1988, and 2007, we’ve seen too much that defies logic to put any faith in it. We take the bad with the good, and if we can, we come out smiling.

That’s not to say, of course, that we don’t differentiate between winning and losing: we do, perhaps more than anyone else. As Mets fans, we take every loss, every strikeout, and every robbed home run like a direct personal insult. When Ruben Tejada boots a double play ball and costs the Mets the game, we turn on him with ferocity unmatched. But just as quickly, we wake up the next morning and take to our various media outlets, expressing our sorrow at our vicious jibes, and our hope that the source of whatever discontent previously existed goes on to atone for his mistake by coming up big and getting the Mets a win. We will, from time to time, become angry: that, when you’re around the Mets, can’t be avoided. We take it personally just like everyone else. The Mets fan difference, however, lies in the fact that we, unlike other fan bases, can – and will – eventually swallow our anger, offer forgiveness, and continue rooting for our guys – the Mets, each and every one of them – with all our hearts.

So, if you find yourself in our description, consider yourself welcome here. If you booed Chris Young when he came to bat but cheered when he got that elusive hit, you’ll be right at home. If you find yourself experiencing rapidly shifting emotions directed at certain young athletes based on actions none of us could perform ourselves, come on in. If you take it more personally than anyone else, but you always manage to keep on believin’, the Shea Bridge Report is the place for you.

Lets Go Mets!