In many ways, there’s a cognitive dissonance between honoring the 1986 World Series Champions and celebrating them. 

The honoring part is easy. These are the players I grew up adoring. My Dad got me hooked on the Mets by using my love of strawberry ice cream. He kept telling me about this Darryl Strawberry kid coming to the majors as if I knew what the minor leagues were. When Strawberry first came up in 1983, he took me to Shea Stadium for my first game. Strawberry became my first favorite player. 

As I got a little older, I became a huge Gary Carter fan. He’s one of the reasons why I wanted to become a catcher. The other was my father and uncles assured me it was a great path to the majors. Even with that, Carter was the reason I wanted to wear the number 8. I idolized him. I idolized everyone on that 1986 team growing up. Honoring them comes easy. 

Celebrating doesn’t. 

I don’t celebrate the 1986 season for the same reason I don’t celebrate the 1969 season – I was too young. On October 27, 1986, I was only six years old. Now, we can all remember parts of our youth from when we were six. However, there is no way I can recall the 1986 season or the postseason. Looking back on it, my lone memory was the Buckner play. It was my first ever “where were you?” moment. 

The answer was in my parent’s basement attending my aunt’s engagement party. I was sitting on my future uncle’s (or future former uncle’s) sister’s lap. My little brother was next to me. Both families were watching on one of those 14″ televisions with the old rabbit ears. 

I remember how quiet everything was. I then remember the tension of the moment. I remember the ball going through Bill Buckner‘s legs. I remember everyone going crazy. I remember sharing my tee ball wisdom with my Dad about how a ball shouldn’t do through your legs if you use two hands.  That’s it. I remember nothing before, and I don’t remember Game 7. In fact, I have no vivid baseball memories until the 1988 NLCS. Coincidentally, Game 3, the game Jay Howell was ejected for using pine tar, was the same day as the aforementioned aunt’s bridal shower. 

Accordingly, it’s difficult for me to celebrate that team, that championship. I had just one fleeting moment amongst well over 175 moments. I had no real attachments to that team. I had just one moment. 

I’ll always honor that team as all Meys fans will. They were the greatest Mets team of my lifetime.  It was a team full of players I grew up watching and idolizing as only a little boy can.  Celebrating them is the hard part. For the most part, 1986 isn’t part of my story as a fan, at least for the most part. When I cheer, I’m cheering the story, not the experience. 

I look forward to seeing those players greet the fans tonight. They deserve each and every cheer and accolade that comes their way. It all makes me wish I was a part of it in some small way.