A League, Not a Cause

My name is Lauren, and I’m a NY Mets fan. Phew. I feel so much better now that I’ve said it aloud. Allegiance to the Metropolitans isn’t an easy thing. Admitting an allegiance to the Metropolitans to the (tens of) readers of this blog, is even less easy. In case you haven’t followed baseball at all for the past– well, ever, let me give you a primer: The Mets suck. Since their inception in 1962 the Mets have won 3, 748 regular season games. They’ve lost 4, 093. In that first season in ’62 they won 40 games. And lost 120. Yes, 120. Even if you know nothing about sports, you can probably figure out that that’s, uh, really really really bad. They finished 60 1/2 games back of the NL-leading San Francisco Giants. After 1962 the Mets continued to suck, compiling a bunch of sub-500 seasons before the miracle of miracles happened in 1969 – for real, the team was nicknamed “The Miracle Mets.” The Mets won the 1969 World Series. Then they went back to sucking, albeit not nearly as bad as before. In 1986 the second miracle happened. The Mets won another World Series. Since then, there’s been mostly more sucking. In 2001 the Amazin’s made it back to the World Series, and lost. In 2006 they made it to game seven of the NLCS. And then, bottom of the ninth, down by two, bases loaded, 0-2 count, “here’s the pitch…”, and Carlos Beltran does nothing. Strikes out. Looking. The next year the team didn’t make it to the post-season, courtesy of one of the greatest collapses in baseball history. In 2008– ah, nevermind. You get the idea.

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“True Believers” or a Rambling Case for Supporters Clubs

As a high school kid there were two things in my life that mattered to me; punk rock and soccer. Two things at odds with each other in my suburban high school but two things that had formed a bizarre synergy for those older and wiser. And most of what I learned about life I learned in equal parts on the field and in VFW Halls, Elks Lodges, firehouses. This is mostly about soccer. About fan support, or the lack thereof. But it starts with music, because, well, why not?

Some of the best concerts I’ve been to have been defined as “best” as much by the overall atmosphere as by the music.

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A World Cup Thank You, Written “The Day After Ghana” at an Airport Gate in Jersey

The 2010 World Cup is in the rearview mirror now. It’s there, and you can look up and catch a glance of it, and smile. And no, things didn’t work out exactly like we’d hoped – but perhaps like we’d [secretly] realistically expected. The car’s continuing down the road. Soon a mere fond memory among a summer of soccer. But before we go around another curve and South Africa twenty-ten disappears from view, let’s take a moment.

A moment to say thank you.

Thank you for keeping us on our toes, for never a dull moment.  

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Smoking Section at the Rose Bowl

I started in a way I imagine so many others started; in second grade, signed up for the local rec. league.  I was the smallest kid on the team, never played before.  So obviously (?) the coach decided, I should be the goalkeeper.  I didn’t have gloves, my ‘keeper jersey a pinny or an old t-shirt that had to be knotted at the waist to avoid being tripped over during the game.  And I loved every minute of it.  Now, I don’t know if it was an actual ‘love of the game’ or if it was the prospect of being able to do something on a weekly basis that scared the crap out of my mother that my seven year old self loved.  But it didn’t matter, I was hooked.  We’d practice once a week, have a game on Saturday, repeat.  Fall soccer, spring soccer.

As the seasons went on, my position changed; sweeper, stopper, fullback, midfield.  “You want me to play center halfback?!  That’s like, all over the field!”  I remember the first time I was able to run a full lap around the field. The first time I thought ‘maybe I CAN play center halfback.’  I tried out for traveling teams, made it, got cut, went back to rec., repeat.  Switched to forward, ‘trained’ in my backyard with my neighbor, doing sprinting drills and trying to learn scissors and Maradonas and setting up cones for dribbling drills.    I played on teams so bad I could have a five goal game and we’d end up on the wrong end of a 10-6 decision and on teams good enough to bring home first place trophies and go undefeated.

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