Did we? Make it, I mean? Yes I think so. We made it. Short days of gray concrete-sky Winter have come and (hopefully) gone, and it seems Spring is here. Baseball is the physical marker that helps me recognize when Spring has crept around the corner; the real-life metaphor for the changing of the seasons. That old baseball GM BART-something said it really well. Something about baseball breaking your heart.
I haven’t written on this thing for a long time. Baseball broke my heart a few too many times last year and I sort of couldn’t muster enough creative interest in the game once the Metsies slid downward into the spinning wind-tunnel that seemed to toss them around in May. June? June was death. Literal, unadulterated jump-out-the-window death. I don’t remember any games from June last year but I do remember a sort of lumpy black fog suspended overhead, does that help?
But now we have a Brodie. I don’t think I knew what a Brodie was before last October, nor do I think I could explain what a Brodie would do for the Mets after finding out what a Brodie was. But now I am very excited to have a Brodie. We are the only team in baseball that has a Brodie, I believe. How many more times can I say Brodie?
What a Brodie has been mostly good for, it turns out, is changing the conversation. Sort of Don Draper-ish. Metsies in the Sandy era always seemed a tad out of touch or out of step with whatever was going on around baseball. It always seemed sort of murky and foggy as to where they were going or what they were doing. Now with a Brodie in our pocket, things seem sunny and golden-graham-y.
Evenings with the Unbored 