New York City never sleeps–because without three jobs how would you afford to live there? I’m glad the denizens of that coastal hovel will get a chance to revel in the Mets’ glory in between shifts at the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory and the cold call desk at Bernie Madoff’s retirement services firm.
By Kyle Magin
After the last out of their NLCS victory over the Chicago Cubs, I had a thought about the Mets, their fanbase and their city: Good for them!
Good for the Mets! They waited 15 whole years between World Series visits and haven’t won in an astounding 29 years. Do you remember 1986? Dinosaurs were sending faxes, Michael Douglas was still a daywalker and people had to go out to bars to get laid instead of swiping right. People did cocaine because, well, fuck it, you were only living until 72 anyway. I assume everyone just contracted the plague while waiting for the evening edition of the newspaper to bring them box scores.
New York needed this. That city has been so downtrodden over the past few years that this should really inspire its citizenry to pull itself up by its bootstraps.
Look at this team, it’s practically a proxy for the bottom-rung immigrant peasants this town is now too expensive to house but still thinks it’s comprised of. Its paltry $101 million payroll before the season began was in the bottom third of all teams–people probably got rejected from Ellis Island for having less! Why, merely two of its players were making more than $16 million this year. But hey, if you can make it here (and trade away prospects for an $8 million homer-happy outfielder and an $8.3 million shutdown-level reliever) you can make it anywhere!
And how about a little success for the people who live in NYC, huh? Sure, they may have vacuumed up all the money from the rest of America, but the rest of the country finally started calling them out for it since a Gotham team last won the World Series back in 2009. These people head to their soul sucking jobs under the same ground some Native Americans willingly parted with for beads and blankets to upend the world economy and steal from their countrymen and actually have to hear about it. Jamie Dimon had to take a sorta-kinda paycut, for awhile, because you schmucks are too fucking stupid to understand that good wealth management means being the next-to-last one holding the bag before the organ-growing American populace gets screwed. Instead, the city’s premier industry has been beleaguered and openly mocked for a half-decade now as gambling or a house of cards or outright criminal theft instead of being rightfully referred to as investment banking. These people could use the kind of pick-me-up that comes from sports.
Because really, what else do they have? The Phil is playing Mozart and Beethoven in upcoming weeks for the slacked-jawed yokels coming in to gawk at the holiday lights. Aladdin and some George Takei play are running Broadway right now and The Strand bookstore is still maybe not a kosher place to be seen at. The Ballet is going to start running Nutcracker soon. If not for nine men slapping at a ball with a stick in a park named for a bank to the strains of a song that had the courage to call New York City New York Town for the sake of the rhyme scheme, this place would be a bereft cultural wasteland.
So congrats to the Mets and their poor fans. You shitheads really deserve this.