"I can only be so entertained while I'm working. It's probably better that way. When 1:10 PM rolls around, even if the Mets are playing, I'm usually supposed to be engaged by what's on this screen, not distracted by what's on that screen."
"This September, which isn't just any September, because no September is just any September when something is riding on the outcome of every game, whatever day it's scheduled, whatever time it starts. In other Septembers, it's almost a badge of honor, however perverse, to engage in your team's evaporation from sight. "You're gonna go see the Mets today? Why? They're out of it!" In those Septembers, the horizon is barren."
I usually catch midweek day games from my office's angled TV, which I can only glance at because it's set inside an old entertainment center. On a September afternoon when each game affects playoff chances, I chose to attend a Mets-Padres 1:10 PM game in person. The stakes elevated an otherwise casual detour into something important, as every late-September contest felt consequential for the 2025 Mets' Wild Card hopes. On the Jamaica platform, a young child and his father headed to the ballpark, exemplifying the ordinary joys and significance of baseball attendance amid postseason tension.
Read at Faithandfearinflushing
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