There’s an alley behind our house and at the end of the alley is a dumpster and the dumpster is up against the house at the end of the alley. For fourteen years, not one vehicle ever hit that dumpster. In the last year, three have. The world is having a nervous breakdown.
When I was fifteen there were two weeks or so when I couldn’t throw the ball from shortstop to first base unless I had to dive for it first or come in on a slow chopper, but if it was hit right to me and I had any time at all to think about it I’d throw it god knows where. I made one throw that honest to god landed somewhere behind the pitcher’s mound and rolled the rest of the way and it was the potential third out and two runs were going to score if the ball didn’t get there in time and all I could do once I threw it was squat and wait. I don’t like thinking about that.
There are many things I don’t like thinking about that insist I think about them. Urgently. Like, they throw bricks through the window with notes that say, Remember us dickhead! Like this one time I wrecked a scooter. Not just wrecked it, was thrashed by it. I tried to make a left turn and laid it down. It happens, sure. What doesn’t always happen though is trying to pick it up afterwards – in the middle of the day in the middle of a busy intersection a block from your house where you walk every day and where your friends and neighbors were walking even then – and grabbing the throttle because of course you grabbed the throttle because that’s where the throttle is and anyone who knows anything about anything knows that’s where the throttle is and you should not grab the throttle unless you mean to grab the throttle because grabbing the throttle has a clear and immediate cause and effect sequence: grab the throttle, engine goes, wheels go, scooter goes, up in the air, like a wheelie, like off a ramp, and you go with it and your feet go out from under you and you land on your back and the scooter hovers above you and only dumb luck brings it down beside you instead of on top of you.
I think about that often, even though I don’t want to. Don’t think about it, you might say. That’s wonderful advice.
I’ve been stuck, but the world has been moving much too fast. The world has been moving much too fast, and I’m not sure I like where it’s going. I’m not sure I like where it’s going, and that makes me feel more stuck. I feel more stuck, and the world seems to move faster. There’s maybe a lesson about when to grab the throttle and when to leave well enough alone, but I’m not sure.
I am sure the Mets are playing well this year.
The Mets are playing well but you wouldn’t know it from reading Mets Twitter. The Mets are in first place, have been in first place, and, even if I take a month to get this letter to you, they will still be in first place but Mets Twitter is convinced the Mets are having a terrible year. This is one of the reasons I didn’t last long on Twitter.
Not only are they in first place, they are good by nearly every available metric. Batting average, runs scored, runs allowed, therefore run differential, two out runs, wins following losses, defensive runs saved. No matter how you slice it, the Mets are good, but many Mets fans are convinced they are bad.
You of all people know what I’m talking about. I’m talking about trauma.