A Letter to My Son: Four Life Lessons From The Mets World Series Run

Worlds collided on a couch dusted with chip flavoring, optimism, and the sound of fingernails being chomped.  A letter from a father to his son, after coming together for the Mets World Series run. 

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Dear Max:

I want you to always remember the month of October 2015.

It was your introduction to the Mets, and to playoff baseball. I enticed you into this by using the players’ superhero nicknames. However, I must now confess, Noah Syndergaard was not Thor, Matt Harvey was not Batman, and there is no such thing as SuperMurph or Murphtober.

I enjoyed every minute with you, laughing, screaming, pouting, and the millions of calories from potato chips, guacamole, hummus, and fruit snacks which we ransacked. It is a tradition passed down from your Pops. He and I watched many games together over the years. Nana and Mom have lost us to many hours of watching, waiting, and hoping. Somehow, this became our time.

For you, it was an opportunity to stay up late; you had the better of the argument to your mother that this was “Mets time.” For me, it was an opportunity to introduce you to baseball, to sports, and to the excitement of a championship run. Wonderfully, our worlds collided on a couch dusted with chip flavoring, optimism, and the sound of fingernails being chomped.

Every time you jumped on the couch with a bag of chips, you did make an awfully difficult mess to clean, but I enjoyed watching you make that triumphant mess, in celebrating this 2015 Met team. Though you did not yet have insight or knowledge of baseball, you followed and mimicked my facial expressions, craving to be a part of this amazing season. Each morning you would check in, “Daddy did the Mets win?” So many sunny days, the answer was yes. Unfortunately, this week, there were four mornings where the answer was unfavorable.

Oblivious to the impending defeat, you were always optimistic that the Mets would return. (Even after the Royals won the title.)

You hoped, you dreamed, you believed…..and I couldn’t be prouder.

Our heroes as a child are of our choosing -and they can change- but I am thrilled that over the past month, Thor and Batman have jumped to the lead. I am in no way forcing you to become a Mets fan; that is a lifestyle decision, and an irrational one at that.

Your grandfather tried to raise me a Pirate fan, given he and I were both born in Pittsburgh. One day in 1979, we were at a Met-Pirate game, and I was clad in a bright yellow satin jacket, and Willie Stargell hat. They played “take me out to the ballgame”, at which time, I declared adamantly, “Dad, we’re rooting for the wrong team!” My epiphany that the Mets were in fact the home team was tacitly accepted by Pops, your grandfather (named after a certain 1B of that Pirate team). I had always followed in his sports fanship footsteps, but the Mets were my conversion, and have become our team. They were terrible until I turned ten, and then by the time of my bar mitzvah, World Champions. My sign-in board was a picture of me with my head caricatured over a Gary Carter uniform and stance.

This 2015 Mets team was the stuff of myth and magic, in the end defeated, but such is life. We strive, we yearn, we hope, we pray……we lose, and in some minds, we fail. There is only one winner each season. We came in second best, and that was good enough. In sports and comics (and perhaps religion), we believe in an entity greater than ourselves for a few nights, months, years, or lifetimes. We embrace the concept that anything is possible, the universe is malleable, open, and opportunities abound like grains of sand on an infield diamond. Things happen which are inexplicable, we believe in the powers that float and flicker above us, and in front of our very eyes. We hope to capture their magic, and make it a part of us.

Myth teaches us that there are opportunites to be seized, lessons to be learned, and faith to guide us down the darkest of roads.

♦◊♦

Here are some amazing life lessons which I want you to remember from the amazing Mets of 2015.

1) Loyalty

Mets shortstop, Wilmer Flores, was traded in July.  Upon finding out the news, he was caught on camera crying. He had signed with the Mets as a 16-year-old, and spent his entire life with the organization. Though they were on the verge of trading him to Houston, the deal ultimately did not go through. But he learned through some over-zealous reporting on social media that the deal was done and his New York career was over. He thought he was being forced, against his will, to leave his family. And he cried, on national television, and then world television.  The trade fell through, the city embraced him with open arms, and standing ovations.  He had a clutch home run against division rival Washington, which ultimately propelled the Mets on run resulting in their first playoff birth in nine years. 

Remember, when leaving someone causes you tears, don’t leave them. Travel, take a hiatus, separate, depart, have wanderlust, go to the West coast for college, move away from your mother and myself. Yet, when it comes to a lover, friend, or family, above all, stick with them throughout. It may appear that they are leaving, or you are leaving, but fortune is a treacherous wind, and never to be trusted. Those who love you deeply and dearly will always love you, and always stand alongside you.

Be loyal. I saw that in you each night of the playoffs, you tried so hard to stay awake, and eat chips with me. Always be by my side, and I will always be by yours. It is the bond between us as father and son, between you and your true friends, family, and those who matter in your life. You give generously, and above all, have a dedication to those who walk down whatever path you choose with you.

It is not enough to share your potato chips; loyalty is sharing your heart.

♦◊♦

2) Tenacity

The Dark Knight, Matt Harvey, tore a ligament in his elbow and was forced to recuperate from surgery for over a year. His career may have ended, he may never have thrown again. He fought back, and rehabilitated; his velocity decreased minimally, and he began the season on time. His team provided him with minimal run support through much of the year, yet he prodded on. He continued with tremendous determination.

Towards the latter months, he was told by his agent that he should only pitch a finite quantity of innings. The media attacked him, he flubbed a spontaneous press conference (recommended by his agent) where he appeared to be selfish, and more pre-occupied with his long term income potential, then his team’s short term playoff hopes. There were torrents of hate from media personalities and fans alike depicting him as Harvey Two Face and not the Dark Knight.

Nevertheless, he held confident in the pending dividends of his many months of dedication, and how far he had come after surgery and rehabilitation, to throw many quality starts. In the playoffs, he had an electrifying start in game 1 of the NLCS vs the Cubs, and one of the best World Series performances in history (8 scoreless). In the end, he was probably fatigued, but he refused to relinquish the baseball, despite his manager’s subtle request.

Harvey demanded the ball; more importantly, he demanded the love of NYC back. His gesticulations, demeanor, and laser focus, were inspirational to his team-mates and a raucous city. He was tenacious in his ability to fight through the recuperation from Tommy John surgery (thought of never pitching again), a media circus (accusations of selfishness), and perhaps a fatigued arm (highest pitch counts in his career by November 1st).

He is stubborn, dedicated, and relentless. His teammates all supported him, and the hearts and minds of the Met fans were eventually won back. The Dark Knight had been a beacon of hope to Gotham, and inspirational to all who followed the beam of his intensity, from his first start as a rookie to his most recent start in the World Series.

Captain America, David Wright, came up as a rookie when your mother and I were dating in 2006. He also went 2 for 5 on the night you were born. He has always been the face of the franchise, upbeat, optimistic, encouraging to the younger players. Age, and narrowing of the bones in his back, had sapped him of some of his power. He began the season with a hamstring injury, which was in fact, directly related to his back. After MRIs and multiple doctor visits, they determined that he would need a prolonged period of time (which was so vague that no one expected him to return) of rest and recuperation.

After working out in California for the majority of the season, David returned. He smacked a home run deep into the outfield versus the Phillies (his first game back). He smacked a home run in the first home game at CitiField in the World Series. It would have been exceedingly easy for him to have surgery, miss the season, and come back stronger the next year. He fought through endless speculation, questioning, and doubt, and he returned to his place as the Captain. His leadership was integral in their return to the playoffs, and despite an error or two (which several writers have vilified him for), he was the face of strength, determination, and tenacity for a city with eternal tachycardia.

Always hang in, despite any adversity, be tenacious, and when your goals are set, do not let anything interrupt you or derail you.

Focus, try, try, and try some more; that is the most direct route to success; you will fail, you will falter, you will fall, the scars heal, and remind us of our struggles. From our struggles, comes experience, and from experience we derive wisdom; but we must be tenacious, to fight through our struggles, and start that pathway.

♦◊♦

3) Spirituality and Faith

Daniel Murphy was always a devout Christian; he reads the bible daily, and in post game interview thanks God and Jesus frequently. When his wife delivered their first child, he took time off from his job to assist, and be by her side (yes your daddy took off a few days and tried to help despite what you may hear).

As an advocate, he spoke to the President and at the Working Families Summit on behalf of paternity leave:

“When Noah asks me one day, ‘What happened? What was it like when I was born?’ I could have answered ‘Well, Stephen Strasburg hung me a breaking ball that day, son, and I slammed it into the right-field corner,’ ” Murphy said. “But I think it’s going to go so much further in that I’m the one who cut his umbilical cord. And long after they tell me that I’m not good enough to play professional baseball anymore, I’ll be a father. And I’ll be a husband. So that was a reason on the front end that I wanted to be there for my wife and for my son.”

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This is one of my favorite quotes, and his dedication is amazing, to his family and team-mates.

Murphy is a firmly religious person, and eventually the Met fans developed faith in him. He was a career doubles hitter with some occasional home run power. Between game 3 of the Mets Dodgers series in the NLDS and Game 4 of the NLCS versus the Cubs, Murph had seven straight games with a home run setting the all time record. He became an instant legend in New York, and the media focused on him. He maintained humility throughout the process. The fans began believing in him, and there were subtle religious references to his superhuman feat. Despite it all, Murph held fast with a belief in himself, but the grace to attribute faith in his team-mates and his religion. Ultimately, it is not our religious faith, but our spiritual faith that allows us to be part of something greater. Whether it is faith in your team-mates, family, or co-workers, the ability to believe in something greater often propels our minds to achieve the utmost of our potential. It helps us with confidence and optimism, that is difficult to create spontaneously. The entire Met nation had faith every night that Murphy would hit a home run, and for seven consecutive nights he did.

The mind can achieve anything you have faith in it to accomplish, and allow you to have the confidence in your heart to believe in yourself. Max, believe in yourself, have faith in your heart, and spirit. Ultimately, have faith in your world to be better, and be the change to make it so, every day of your life.

♦◊♦

4) Equally Meet Triumph and Disaster

Rudyard Kipling wrote my favorite poem “If” in 1895. It is a tale of lessons from a father to a boy coming of age. There is a line:

“If you can dream – and not make dreams your master, If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim
If you can meet with triumph and disaster, and treat these two imposters just the same”

The ultimate goal in all sports is winning; however, that is defined.

The Mets came within a few outs of achieving a World Series title. Along the way, they had many losses. Over a course of nine years, we saw two September first place implosions, and a ton of mediocre or sub par seasons. The Mets have always been the little brother, and the uglier duckling, compared to baseball’s all time winningest franchise, the Yankees. This year was a sea change for the Metropolitans. They had many games where they were beaten by a significant differential.

There were family realities to give this team perspective. Terry Collins, the Mets manager’s father died during the season. Noah Syndergaard’s mother inspired him with a battle with breast cancer. Losing games, and losing loved ones are not comparable. The majority of Met nation felt sickened, devastated, and demoralized on November 2nd, 2015. There was a triumphant moment when the entire stadium stood and held up names of loved ones who are battling cancer in Game 3. Noah pitched, and had a tremendous game.

Sports can have parallels to life, we battle, fight, hope to achieve, and in the end someone loses. However, our goal is to always play with dignity, and live with dignity. When I awoke this morning, morbidly depressed, I saw your enthusiasm and energy. Your sister, and you had no idea what happened, but sensed that the gravity of my countenance pulled my chin below my chest. Your smile, despite the fact that I was crushed, radiated that life moves on. When I told you that the Mets would not be on tonight, you seemed disappointed. Some small modicum of this was the fact that bedtime would be re-instated, and there would be no tomfoolery, or potato chip binges at 930 pm. Yet, I think you were sad that your heroes would be unavailable for a long while (I don’t think your four year old brain comprehends the off season, hot stove, or months as yet). You seemed disappointed that the Mets were over, and in fact, this version of them is. The stardust has dissipated, the moon-glow has waned; the smoldering star of the 2015 Mets has flickered out, and not with a bang, but a whimper. Although somehow, this is comparable for how the universe works, and shows us that life, our time, and our planet is a finite experience; there is an origination, a termination, and perhaps some energy in the middle.

Before I seem too morose, please know that this 2015 Mets team was the embodiment of an over achievement. We started the season with extremely low expectations. After some mid-season trades, and a momentum swing beyond description, there was the thought that the Mets might go somewhere. Their collective spirit will live forever; they will never be immortalized for winning. They will be remembered as the losing team. Yet, can we view their triumph as the fact that they truly did overachieve.

In life, we are only given one body, one mind, one opportunity. We attempt greatness, we attempt to live and play with dignity, we attempt to achieve our goals, In the end, most of us fail. The endeavor, the process, the journey, is ultimately which defines our triumphs. In the end, we all teeter on the verge of victory and valor or the plummet to failure. It is balancing loyalty, faith, and tenacity which allows us to maximize our potential.

When we look back at this season, remember it for what it was, not what could have been. It was a team ablaze in destiny, with unrelenting will, fervor, and confidence.

♦◊♦

In the end, we may be judged by statistics; but how this translates to being a father, I do not know. You will be the final line of the equation, and your ability to pass on this tradition to your child will be the eternal curves maintaining infinite love. For as each child finds inspiration, in sports, heroes, and magic, they will believe in something grander, greater, and eventually apply that to themselves .

Remember me too, for who I was, not for what people believed me to be, or whatever perceptions, myths, or expectations people had. I hope you will always remember me with a warm heart, and realize how inspired I am at this moment by you and the 2015 Mets. Although we both hope that your superheroes and my Mets can pull off at least one title before you read this. Having so many nights this past month to spend together, believe in a higher power that we could directly see, wish for success, and more so laugh, dance, and jump on the couch together was one of the greatest experiences in my life. More so, I hope the 2015 have inspired you to strive for something extraordinary, if nothing else, something which induces a smile on another’s face.

I cant tell you how contagious your energy and smile has been, and how your joy and wonder throughout the playoffs made me believe in the better aspects of this life. We overachieve like the Mets when we share our hearts, our dreams, our joys, our triumphs, our failures, and we look them square in the eye, and smile.

I just want to let you know, whenever you do read this, that I hope to be there with you for all of those big moments listed above (as you were with me). I will always be with you, on some galactic couch, cushions filled with chip dust, star dust, determination, and love.

Love,

Dad

♦♦♦