Noah Syndergaard

We Are Young

Tonight we are young
So let’s set the world on fire
We can burn brighter than the sun

– FUN

To everything, there is a season…

And this season is called “the offseason of Mets 2012-13.”

I bid farewell to R.A. Dickey, but I say hello to the next generation of New York Mets.

And it’s certainly a different feeling than I’ve ever had as a Mets fan in my lifetime.

Over the years, we’ve been conditioned as a fan base to like deals because we were able to justify big ticket/big name players.

Shit, I even liked the Jason Bay deal at one time (Back off – I really liked the guy before he came to Flushing).

Mike Piazza – traded for a bunch of scrubs.

Gary Carter – traded for a bunch of scrubs.

Johan Santana – traded for a bunch of scrubs (even though one of those scrubs pitched a perfect game before Santana threw his no-no, they were still a bunch of scrubs).

Frank Viola – traded for a bunch of…

You see a pattern.  Most of the time, the Mets ended up on the receiving end of getting the big name, and ended up with a depleted farm system.  Not to mention, they got maybe a few good years out of them.  The prospects had their careers ahead of them.

Up till this point though, none of the prospects really broke out, except for maybe the Frank Viola deal, where Rick Aguilera held the Minnesota Twins’ record for saves until Joe Nathan left, and Kevin Tapani won 143 games in his career AFTER the leaving the Mets, best years were with the Mets.  They both won World Series championships with those teams too.

Possibly the worst thing about being a Mets fan is knowing that a deal would have a cap of a certain amount of years.

What’s odd is that R.A. Dickey holds the distinction of being one of the most popular Mets of all time, while we’re sad to see him go, we know that to everything turn,turn, turn, and there is a season.  And a time to every purpose..

When I was a kid, the Mets were celebrating their 25th anniversary, which was in 1986 as ironic as that sounds.  In conjunction with that season, there was a video called “An Amazin’ Era,” chronicling their history up to 1985.  They made their own fate in 1986 and beyond.

Now that I am a adult, and celebrating my something-th birthday today, the Mets have turned 26 additional seasons.

I’m getting older. The Mets, well, they are getting younger.

While I’m sad about R.A. Dickey being gone, I can take comfort in knowing that the Mets are going to be better in the future.

And they are getting YOUNGER.

I was on the Sully Baseball daily podcast, and we talked about how this deal is almost antithetical to what the Mets have done operationally in the past.

And now we’re young.

Age is nothing but a number, yet age has mattered for the Mets, and most of all the numbers (meaning: numbers not made, or numbers of contracts that didn’t pan out, or years for that matter).  This can be a deal that can not only be beneficial for the Mets, but will make them age gracefully.

Something I’m not used to seeing as a fan.

I was 10 years old when I saw the Mets win their last championship.  Wait, scratch that.  Don’t pay attention to how old I was.  Anyway, the next few years weren’t pretty for a fan.  They got older, more broken, and a few years after, there were barely any members of that gloried bunch.

We went from having a fun year in 1999 to seeing youthful guys like Robin Ventura and Mike Piazza break down.  Hell, even perpetually youthful Edgardo “Fonzie” Alfonzo broke down too early.

I’m convinced the reason why the Mets fell apart was because of Carlos Beltran’s balky legs and Jose Reyes’ balky hamstrings.

Yet, the guy who was considered by all intents and purposes an “elder” on the Mets, aged backwards.  He got better as he aged, won a coveted Cy Young and won 20 games to boot, all the while reinventing himself.

It seems as though the Mets took a cue from him to age backwards, but literally.

So tonight, we may be young.   Like the Mets though, in 2013 and beyond, I’d like to promise to myself that I’ll set the world on fire.  We should all have that sort of promise to ourselves.