You Just Gotta Believe
That’s the line that’s burned into every Mets fan’s heart. Being a Mets fan means living with disappointment, yet we keep coming back, asking for more. But sometimes, things break our way, making the victory that much sweeter.
Friday night we went to Game 5 of the playoffs. It was different from any other baseball game I’d ever attended. Usually, I tried a baseball game like casual picnic, where what I eat is almost as important as the score at the end.
But not this game. Friday’s game was intense. As we got off the subway, the crowd roared “Let’s Go Mets!” on the way to the stadium. Everyone was decked out in their finest Mets gear. We looked like we were attending a Mets-themed wedding. We were immersed in a world of superfans.
We were down 3-1 in the series, and everyone knew what that meant. Instead of the usual casual “Welcome to the ballgame, have a good time,” it kicked off with a video showing the Mets as supernatural warriors, ending with, “This is do or die time. It’s go big or go home.”1
We were all hoping this wouldn’t be the last game of the Mets’ season. We weren’t just down 3-1; we’d endured brutal losses in those three games. I almost didn’t want to go and even thought about selling our tickets. But where’s the fun in that? Being a fan—especially a Mets fan—is about being all-in, sticking with the team through the depths of despair to fully appreciate the thrill of victory.
All of this led to the wonderful intensity of the game, where every pitch felt critical, especially in the early innings. In each game so far, the team that scored first had won, never giving up the lead. So when the Dodgers had Ohtani and Betts on base in the top of the first, things were extremely tense. Each pitch felt like the last one of the season. And then, miraculously, strike three, and the Dodgers left two men stranded on base.
That intensity stayed for the next few innings. It’s quite something to watch baseball pitch by pitch with that kind of intensity. Francisco Lindor singled, one of the Mets’ best players getting his first hit of the series. Then Nimmo walked. And as I watched the pitch come in, Pete Alonso made contact. The ball went… went… went… Home run to center field!
The Mets never gave up the lead, but that didn’t mean we watched with any less intensity. The plays seemed almost mystical—like when Starling Marte hit a double, knocking in Pete Alonso and Jesse Winker in the bottom of the third. Or later, when Francisco Lindor hit a triple down the right-field line into the corner, driving in Francisco Álvarez. Finally, with the Mets up 10-2 at the end of the 4th we could relax a little.
This level of intensity and being on the cusp of losing the whole season slowed down the whole game. Every pitch and play became sharper, more vivid—like teetering at the top of a water slide, fully aware of the plunge ahead.2 The earlier tension turned into an exhilarating rush, creating memories that felt larger than life. That’s the magic of being a Mets fan—riding the highs and lows, feeling every moment intensely, and, in the end, always finding a reason to believe.
Sometimes, you just gotta believe.
- Or something like that. I was too engaged in the video to write everything down, and the Mets aren’t sharing these clips online. ↩︎
- Watching night’s game had the same adrenaline-pumping intensity as speeding down a water slide. Every moment was sharp and vivid, much like the flashes of excitement I wrote about in this article. ↩︎
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