Without a doubt, my favorite part of the 2015 season was seeing my son becoming more and more of a Mets fan. 

It all started with that Spring Training game when he heard Gary Cohen make an excited call for a Lucas Duda RBI double. To my amazement, he screamed “Duda!”  Soon, every night after his bath he wanted to watch Mets games with his daddy. We watched nearly every game together. 

My wife and I got him his own tee-ball set. He worked on his swing. For some reason he prefers to bat left-handed. I think it’s because his favorite players are Duda and Daniel Murphy. Once the weather turned warmed we went to a few Mets games. It was at Citi Field, he learned how to hit a homerun. 

  
   
We got to see Steven Matz‘s first major league game. We got to enjoy a game with the whole family. We were there on the last day of the season to celebrate the NL East Championship. 

During the season, he would begin learning the names and positions of the different Mets players:

 
This was better than I ever could have imagined. In some ways, I actually started to think it was going to be different. You see since my son has been born everything has been better. For some reason I thought that would extend to the Mets as well. 

As the playoffs started, it appeared that way. He loved all the Murphy homeruns. He would jump up and down screaming homerun. His excitement carried on even when he was at home watching the game with my wife. I really did thinks things were different. 

They weren’t. As the top of the twelfth was unfolding it occurred to me. I was bringing my son into all of this. This was the reason a good friend of mine jokingly said he should turn me into Child Services for raising him a Mets fan. 

I was taking the loss really hard. Then my son, who was asleep since the fourth inning, woke up and came over to me. He saw I was upset and said, “what happened?”  I informed him the Mets were going to lose. He was defient. He said, “Murphy homerun!  Duda homerun!”  It was not so much a plea as it was a demand. 

Unfortunately, Murphy and Duda were not due up, so they could not heed their orders. The World Series ended. Neither he nor I said a word. Instead, he just gave me a hug.  He then laid down next to me and went to sleep. At that point, I wasn’t as angry. I wasn’t as upset. I was just a Dad in awe of his son. 

It was at that point I realized I made the right decision in raising him to be a Mets fan. Being a Mets fan builds character. It’s not always easy being a Mets fan. You deal with tough times. Things don’t always go your way. That’s life. 

The type of person you become is how you respond to these situations. So far, I like how my son responds. He tried to take control of the situation. When it didn’t work and things didn’t go our way, he gave me a hug. 

The next morning he woke up early. As usual, he wanted three things: (1) milk; (2) Thomas; and (3) to talk about the Mets. I told him about the Curtis Granderson homerun. He always likes to hear about them. Instead of being upset when I talked about the game, I chuckled. (Trust me, I would get angry again on the way to work).  It reminded me of something my Dad once said to me, “I only have myself to blame.”

I’ve created a Mets fan. I’m sorry the Mets lost the World Series. I’m sorry for my Dad, my brother, and myself. I’m sorry fur my son. However, I’m not sorry I made him a Mets fan. 

He loves the Mets. He has now experienced the losing. When the Mets finally win another World Series, it will be all the more enjoyable for him. 

Lets Go Mets!