Meet the Mets, Beat the Mets, v.2005
One of the after-effects of last year's
World Series ALCS loss was having to listen to the insipid bellowing from Mets fans. You would think that fans of a team that has suffered from LOSER status for so long would think twice about berating fans of a team that actually made it to the league championships, but Met fans were never really known for their genius.
I mean, how ridiculous is it for you spend a winter doing the Nelson Muntz at me when your team has been a blazing disaster for so long?
And this is why I loathe the Mets more than the Red Sox, more than the Cowboys, more than Duke, more than any team in all of sports, world wide, professional or amatuer. Why I hate the Mets with a broad, sweeping hatred that knows no depth nor width, that is endless, black and unforgiving. Because their fans - my dear father included - tend to be assholes. Raging, hemorrhoidal assholes.
Of course, that's just part of the reason I hate the Mets. As I've mentioned before, there's also Gary Carter, George Foster, Howard Johnson, Keith Hernandez, Len Dykstra, Roger McDowell, Doug Sisk, Lee Mazilli and 1980's era Strawberry, Gooden and Cone. Old shit? Yes, but rivalries run deep. Oh, it started before that. Way before that. Approach me with the phrase You Gotta Believe and I'll vomit in your Mets cap. And how about that Mr. Met? Why make a mascot that just begs to have his head smacked in?
All of the above is why I take such great pleasure in walking up to my father and saying How 'bout them Mets?
By the way, you can go voice your opinion on the Greatest Yankee Ever, over at Coalition of the Darkside.