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[outtathepressbox]

PLAYBALL

by Ivan Tolentino

Dedicated to Juan “Chemo” Tolentino

Dear Pops,

It’s been nearly 12 weeks since you have been gone. Yet it seems unreal to us. I still expect you to walk through that door. I stand in the yard and hear your laughter in the background. I watch mom struggle without you. Simply opening the closet, the sight of your clothes brings her to tears . All of your sons, not just me, miss you dearly . There is such a void in our lives.

In moments like these many people search to God for answers. I don’t know if it’s right to ask God why did He take you from us at this point in time. It makes me think about how unfair life can be.

Pops, you were the first person to say that you weren’t the perfect dad or husband. You spent years struggling with alcohol and other vices like gambling and cigarettes. You never put your arm around any of us and expressed your love for us. However, you were the ultimate redemption story.

You quit drinking and smoking. You even changed your approach on life . You were wiser and frugal with your money . Your ultimate goal was to buy mom the house of her dreams. You became more caring and soft spoken . In one of our last conversations, I shared something with you and you said “I’m happy for you son.” It threw me off and I never got a chance to tell you how good it felt to hear that from you. How can a man in his late 30’s felt like kid again? And just like that, like many others around the world, you were taken away by this awful pandemic.

Anytime I think of you, the game of baseball pops in my head. For many years it was our only connection. It’s almost fitting that there is no baseball right now. As thousands of lives are being lost in this country, millionaires and billionaires bicker like children over a collective bargaining agreement. If only the players and owners knew how much this country needs America’s pastime now more than ever! And yet as much as I miss it, a small part of me doesn’t even want the game to return. What’s a ball game without you? I’ll miss your comedic comments and knowledge of the game. I will miss our arguments over who was better Pete Rose or Barry Bonds. Who will I high five and yell with when the games return?

One thing that brought great joy to me occurred about a year ago today. Despite hundreds maybe even thousands of ballgames together, I never knew who was your favorite team. You watched the game more as an analyst and rarely showed favoritism for any particular team. You cheered certain players like Pedro Martinez and Albert Pujols but never showed your loyalty to any team in particular. It never occurred to me to ask you your favorite team. But for some odd reason that day I asked, “Pops how can you watch the sport and not have a favorite team?”

You looked at me as if I were nuts and said “I’m a Mets fan!” I asked you why you didn’t you express any emotion during the games. You responded with something that I would have never expected. You said that since I was so heavily involved emotionally, you didn’t want me to get worked up any more. Imagine that… even as a man nearing my 40s you were still protecting me in a way. I recall telling you, “Fuck that! We are going to cheer together. “ After that conversation you didn’t hide your emotions at all. You and I cheered and yelled at the TV with nearly every pitch and rocked that living room like it was Citified.

At this moment:

-there is no cheering

-there is nothing but silence

-no games

-no home crowds

And worst of all, no you.

This week has been really hard on me Pops. With your birthday and Father’s Day all in the same week it has taken its toll on me. This week did however make me realize that I want and need the games to return. Whether with fans, a shortened seasoned, or changes to some rules, it needs to return. Baseball will definitely be different especially because it was our time together Pops. I’m sure after each game I will always look to my right and wish you were sitting there but I know in my heart you are watchIng with me.

It’s time to come back boys of summer. It’s time to Play ball!

Miss you dad.

Happy birthday

Happy Father’s Day

Let’s go Mets

#RIP

#LGM

[outtathepressbox]

I am Tiger Woods

I am Tiger Woods

By Ivan Tolentino

April 14th, 2019, a date I will never forget. Sure I was excited about the long awaited premiere of Game of Thrones , who wasn’t?! However, yesterday will forever be enshrined in my memory as the day TIger Woods returned to glory. Prior to this past weekend only three dates have stood out to me. October 27, 1986, my beloved Mets winning their second world title. June 11, 1997 two words, flu game. Then there was June 14, 1998. Michael Jordan hit the shot of shots (no push off) and secured the Chicago Bulls six NBA championship. Now the Tiger roars again. You can say now I have my Mount Rushmore of sports memories.

Each date has meant something to me in a different way. Back in ‘86 my love affair with the Mets and sports as a whole began. The flu game left me in awe. I never seen anyone want something so bad and accomplish it, even as his body was riddled with the flu. That same man who left me in awe made me quite emotional in June of 98. As a 17 year old kid I knew it wasn’t just the end of the Bulls great run, but my childhood was ending as well. Nearly two decades later another legend and Nike spokesman brought out some heavy emotions in me.

One thing I’ve learned over the years is that everyone loves a great comeback story. If I would of told you a decade ago Tiger Woods was the most beloved figure in sports , you would of fitted me for a straitjacket. Tiger was aloof , a robot , and at times came off as arrogant. Then it all came tumbling down. We all know how the decline started. During Thanksgiving weekend 2009 Tiger Woods reportedly crashed into a hydrant and suffered some minor facial lacerations. In the upcoming weeks rumors were circulating that Woods accident was a result of a domestic dispute. Mistress after mistress appeared allegedly reporting having an affair with Tiger. That was followed by an embarrassing press conference, a stint in rehab, sponsors dropping like flies, and the end of his marriage.

As if that wasn’t enough the most physically fit golfer of all time, became a walking mash unit. A laundry list of injuries began. A neck injury in 2010, sprained MCL and Achilles in 2011, 2012 a second Achilles injury, 2014, 2015, 2016 and 2017 back surgeries. As if having back surgery in four consecutive years wasn’t enough Tiger officially hit rock bottom. On May 29, 2017 Tiger Woods was arrested on a DUI charge. Soon after videos of his arrest were going viral online. It was easy to think that was the end of Tiger, it wasn’t!

Sunday April 14, 2019 one of the best redemption stories ever played out before our very own eyes. Fourteen years since his last green jacket , eleven years since his last major Tiger Woods was back on top. As I sat back and watched a rare feeling came over me. A feeling I haven’t felt in nearly two decades. Sports had awaken something in me yet again.

The beauty of sports is how it brings people together. As a child a baseball game was the only way I could connect with my dad. In my teens my friends and I would quarrel back and forth every Spring over the Knicks and Bulls rivalry. These days catching a ball game with friends and family is a great escape from everyday life. Yesterday’s finale of the Masters Tournament helped me connect with someone else….. me.

Admitally not many people may know this but I struggle moving forward in life. I’m not sure if it’s a fear of success or one of failure but I always seem to end up in the same place.I have many great qualities, for some odd reason ambition was not one of them. When I do accomplish things I always do it for the wrong reasons. Like proving a point to others, never doing it for myself. For years I constantly put others before me , and rolled out every excuse known to man. Never once did I take a hard look in the mirror.

My epiphany came several years ago. I received harsh but much needed criticism from someone I care for. That person looked at me and out of nowhere said “what are you doing with yourself, what a waste”. Even after that it took awhile to for me to snap out of it. I was in a dead end job, overweight, and doing nothing to secure my future. Lately things have improved tremendously. I work for two solid companies, one of them being my dream company. I am happily back in school, and I’ve made much needed changes to my health. Despite all that my demons were slowly finding a way to creep back in.

After landing a job at my dream company it only took two weeks for me to say , “that’s it”. When it came to school my assignments went from a challenge to a drag overnight. Handing things in on the eleventh hour. This past week I skipped the gym for practically the entire week. Oddly enough even with all my doubts and demons , I walk around supremely confident every day. This past weekend I learned something watching Tiger. I’m not confident I’m arrogant and full of excuses.

It’s easy to look at Tiger Woods and take one glance at me and say you’re nothing alike. He’s a dominant athlete, he’s famous, has countless endorsements, and well I’d say he’s doing slightly better than me financially. However, the brilliance of Nike’s marketing team stood out to me yesterday afternoon. Of all the countless Tiger ads it was his “I am Tiger Woods” commercial that aired nearly two decades ago that stood out. The ad featured children of both genders and all types of backgrounds uttering three words…. “I am Tiger Woods” I thought it was a clever commercial for selling golf equipment at the time, not realizing it had a deeper meaning.

Deep down we all are Tiger Woods. We all make mistakes and hurt the people we love, even ourselves. Anyone can confuse arrogance with self confidence . Arrogance makes you ignorant and hurtful towards others. Tiger humbled by his past mistakes has put his arrogance behind him. It’s a lesson I hope to learn. My arrogance has caused me to be unkind and that false confidence has allowed excuses to seep in. It’s time to put them to bed.

Through my own doing my body has broken down. I got two bad knees that sound like an attic from a horror movie each morning. My feet and my back hurt all because even with a much healthier lifestyle I’m still probably a good thirty pounds overweight. No back fusions , no countess hours of rehab like Tiger , so there shouldn’t be any excuses to become a better version of myself physically as well.

You can be the greatest golfer of all time who recaptures his glory days at the age of 43, or you can be a 38 year old man who admittedly has underachieved most of his life. It really doesn’t matter it’s never too late to achieve greatness , and just be a better person to yourself and those around you. Tiger was humbled and learned what was more important in life. It wasn’t the fast cars, countless women , and fame. It was all about the game his father taught him at the age of three and now his own children.

Mistakes will happen , nobody is perfect. Not even a guy who’s won fifteen majors, or the man writing this piece.

Don’t just come back to the golf course, reclaim your crown. Don’t just land the job, thrive in it.If you go back to school give it your absolute best. Have confidence NOT arrogance. Arrogance comes off as excessive confidence , but it reality it’s a lack of confidence. Confidence allows you to get back up when life and your own insecurities knock you down. I will never forgot April 14, 2019 it’s the day I realized I am Tiger Woods

[outtathepressbox]

Sunrise, Sunset ... The end of an era

by Ivan Tolentino

Another season in the books Mets fans. Another year of blunders, expectations falling well short, and counting the days until Spring Training. As the boys of summer clear out their locker rooms, we pull our jackets and sweaters out the closet. And after the way this season ended, we restock on our tissue boxes.

2018 has ended for Mets fans the same way every season since 1987 has ended: heartbreak, falling oh so close, or texting your fellow Mets fans “SMH” by the All-Star break. This by far was one of the oddest, most emotional, and craziest roller coaster ride I’ve experienced as a fan, and I’ve been doing this for over 30 years.

April was all but six months ago. It was an April where the team tied the best start in franchise history 11-1. That 11-1 seems like a lifetime ago. Optimism and excitement were at an all-time high. Fans were telling their bosses in advance I’m taking a sick day in October for the parade. Those sick days came a lot sooner than expected for all the wrong reasons. Unfortunately, we actually became quite ill. An 11-1 start was followed by a 10-18 May and an abysmal 5-21 June. Yes... that’s no typo- 5-21!!!

As usual, the injuries began to pile up one by one. The mighty Thor was weakened by a disease that mostly affects children. Cespedes, Bruce, Frazier, Plawecki, d’Arnaud, Lagares, Swarzak, etc… Jose Reyes was a shell of himself. Our captain David Wright, as usual, rehabbing and not physically able to participate in baseball activities. Our bullpen was -well it was just bad. Pardon my French, it was fucking awful! We even batted out of order in a game and were laughed at by the media and opposing clubs. If you’re going to fail, might as well be a laughing stock as well. Matt Harvey the “Dark Knight “was the hero who stayed long enough to become a villain. We shipped him and his bloated ERA out of town-- good riddance. We watched other teams’ young starts flourish, while our young guys were disappointing. Rosairo was as raw as you can get and Conforto looked like he bamboozled us. Maybe he wasn’t a star but just another flash in the pan. Another 11-1 start and disappointing finish. Our GM stepped down due to health reasons and fans were also checking out. We were sick to our stomachs!

Then something happened usually on every 5th day. A tall lanky kid from Florida who once had long locks of hair flowing from his hat dazzled us. Although Jacob’s long locks are gone, unlike Samson, his powers seem to grow more and more each day. DeGrom’s historic season gained national attention on a team that was buried and forgotten by mid- June. DeGrom finally answered the question: If a tree falls in an empty forest does it make a sound? Jacob answered a thunderous yes! Amidst Jacob’s brilliance, hope started to emerge.

All of sudden the team started to play much better. Rosairo began showing his potential, a healthy Conforto was showing the league “Yes I’m here to stay “. Nimmo impressed us with his infectious smile , high on base percentage and hustle. A minor league call up, Jeff McNeil, was a throwback. Forget launch angles and shifts. This kid was all about putting the ball in play. It’s still all about a round ball hitting a round bat. Also, in our farm system Mets fans were constantly checking their Twitter feed to see if Peter Alonso hit another bomb. The club played .500 ball in both July and August and in September the Mets were 18-11. Hope was back and our hearts filled with blue and orange until the announcement.

Number 5, our captain, was finally calling it quits. After numerous surgeries, agonizing rehab stints, failed comeback attempts, David Wright’s body gave in. His heart never gave in though when it came to leadership. Wright battled his condition much like he battled for us each day on the field - with class, hard work, and pride. September 29th was an emotional day seeing our Captain say goodbye. September 30th was emotional as well, although Jose Reyes didn’t get as much fanfare. The man who dazzled us and who was the most exciting player in baseball for a long time quietly got his much deserved goodbye.

David Wright was my favorite Mets player of all time. Reyes was a lightning bolt. As a die hard fan, how can I express my emotions about an end of an era? The sunset of their careers . Well it’s simple all I can say is boo fucking hoo.

We are tired of your incompetence Jeff and Fred Wilpon. 2015 was just 3 years ago and it seems like a lifetime ago we were in the World Series. Over 20 million is coming off the books with our Captain signing off. Our outstanding pitching staff is throwing to journeymen and minor league guys. Gary Carter and Mike Piazza aren’t walking through that door. Get a catcher! The bullpen is by far the worst in the league! Sure up centerfield with a solid guy that’s not made out of glass, sorry Juan Lagares.

All of the team’s problems can be fixed with the right general manger. Be smart and do your research. Hire someone that can recognize the team’s strengths and weaknesses. Don’t hire a guy who’s a big name to steal headlines from the Yankees; we’re not the damn Yankees! Stop hiring your friends or guys that can budget and trim salaries for you.

If spending is the way to go, do it! If you don’t have to spend much and fix our glaring needs… do it! No more sad send offs, excuses, and waiting for next year. Jose Reyes deserved better, Jacob DeGrom deserves better, our Captain David Wright certainly deserved better and guess what? WE deserve better too. Never forget the fans! Forget the entitlement of the Yankee fans, “Red Sox nation“, those Dodger blues, and Cubbies . Fred and Jeff- you have the most loyal and hurt fan base. We keep coming back for more. Give us what we deserve!!

Goodbye David Wright.

Goodbye Jose Reyes.

Thank you Jacob DeGrom.

Goodbye 2018 Mets.

Hello sunset. We patiently await all the moves this offseason. May dawn bring us smart decisions. The blue and orange patiently await sunrise 2019.

LETS GO METS!

[outtathepressbox]

Thank you Mr. President It's been less than two weeks since our newly appointed President Donald J. Trump was sworn in as the 45th President of the United States of America. Now let’s all be honest. Who saw this coming? Honestly, I sure didn't. If you're like me you kind of live in a bubble. My main concern for nearly 36 years has been my immediate family, close friends, will the New York Mets finally win the World Series, and how many dates do I have to go on with this woman before I can....well I digress. The reality is most Americans have lived their lives like me. If it doesn't affect them or anything they care about, they just don't care. Since we are being honest, I found most activist and protesters annoying. I would always turn the page or change the channel. "Shut up it's not the 1960s! We got it good here." Back to Mr. Trump who has become the most powerful and important man in the world. I must say that feat is impressive for any man but for this guy…Wow! The first time I ever heard of Donald Trump was when I was kid. I remember watching Wrestlemania IV which was held at the Trump Plaza Hotel. My main concern that night was watching my man "Randy Macho Man Savage" finally winning the World Wrestling Federation Championship. While the anticipation was killing me, the camera kept flashing to Trump in the first row and the announcers kept praising and thanking this man. Seriously, I just wanted to watch wrestling! "Come on get back to the wrestling!" I yelled several times. A few months later I watched Mike Tyson absolutely dismantle Michael Spinks. The fight lasted 91 seconds but there was that Trump guy again. He sat yet again in the first row being praised. They praised him longer than the length of the fight itself. The 80’s were gone and the 90’s rolled in while I remained in my bubble. I still heard of this Trump fellow but it was rare. Much like those protesters, he didn't grab my attention for long. I turned the page or clicked that dial, but at least I found him interesting or entertaining not like those cry baby activist. Entering the new millennium, I didn't change much. I continued to concern myself with whatever I considered "important" or "entertaining". As for politics, I guess I was a liberal but not really because I really didn't care. Time continue to pass and then I entered my 30’s where again, not much changed. If you weren't at an arms distance to me physically or emotionally you guessed it... I just didn't care. But then it happened…the 2016 Presidential election. Prior to the news covering the 2016 election, there was no doubt in my mind that Hillary Clinton would win in a cake walk. Despite having his critics, former President Barack Obama had soaring approval ratings. A black man was President of the United States for two terms. Surely this great nation was ready for a woman. Not just any woman but an accomplished woman with over 30 years of experience. Then that Trump fellow came riding down that escalator to announce he was running for President. I didn't give it a second thought I laughed it off along with many others. As the candidates began dropping like flies, I noticed a swarming overwhelming support for Donald Trump. I must admit that I still didn't take him seriously. Trump talked about banning Muslims and my reaction was "He's all talk and he won't get elected". When he insulted Mexicans by implying they were all murders and rapists, threatened to build a wall, and separate millions of families, I still didn't take him serious. As a Latino, I should have been outraged but "Hey I was born here! I'm not Mexican… who cares!" When Trump mocked a physically disabled reporter I thought it was hilarious. Mocking a disabled person isn’t humorous to me. I just thought Trump was a clown, who's going to support this clown. Again it was a topic that should have hit close to home since my eldest brother is mentally disabled. This insulting act should have put me in an uproar but shamefully again… I didn't care. I remained in the bubble. Then came election day. I made sure to get my vote in. It wasn't because of shameful comments or whether an email was deleted or not. I did what I did my whole life only got involved because something may personally affect me. My 9 to 5 relies heavily on the Affordable Care Act or the dreaded term "Obama Care". So I got my vote in because suddenly I was taking this Trump fellow a lot more serious. He wasn't a reality star, a rich dude hosting a boxing or wrestling event, or some fool uttering nonsense on Twitter. He was a candidate using the word "repeal" which to me just meant unemployment. After President Tweet got elected, I thought to myself that the election results could have been different. But at the end of the day, he will turn into a typical politician and just be all talk. Well Mr. President you've been criticized and held under heavy scrutiny during your first two weeks in office but, I am here to praise you. Mr. President you're not like every other candidate. I have never heard the words "executive order" used so much in my life. You've kept your word and are acting out your campaign promises. Promises like trying to build a wall, repeal Obama Care, implementing massive tax cuts for the rich, and ban all Muslims from entering the United States....wait my bad Muslims from countries you don't have business ties with. Hold on wait ....is this America? The "United' States of America. I've watched my country become divided. Ironically enough much like the 1960’s. All of sudden the protesters and activist aren't annoying to me. Now I'm searching for articles, watching different news networks, and studying laws. I am horrified of images of a room full of men signing a bill telling a woman what to do with her own body. Families possibly being ripped apart. Refugees being detained in airports. The press being threatened and censored. My fear is much like the 1960’s. Will the peaceful protestors be met with hoses and canines by a man that seems to rule with an iron fist? Is this our new America? Will future generations watch in shock and horror the way I viewed the 1950’s and 60’s? You know when America was "great". After all this, I realized something. Despite our differences we are still United. Even those like me that have lived in a bubble our whole lives need to know what a crucial and important time this is in our nation’s history. We are a nation built for and run by the people. It's time to step out the bubble and end corruption. We are not a nation run by a few imposing fear with an iron fist. We are the land of the people and should join hands. It's time to step out of the bubble. Yes even for me- Ivan Tolentino. So Donald Trump, I just wanted to take this moment to thank you...thank you for making me care Mr. President

[outtathepressbox]

SIXTEEN

On the morning of September 25, 2016 I woke up to the most shocking text message. Marlins ace pitcher Jose Fernandez died on a boating accident. I repeatedly wiped the cold out my eyes because I must be reading this wrong. I replied back with “are you serious” ? I quickly turned on the TV and there was no sight of the story. Once Hannah Storm said “this just in” I knew sadly it was real. I did everything short of pinching myself to make this horrible reality a nightmare or a twisted figment of my imagination. Unfortunately it was all too real. This incredible talent , this pitching Phenom was gone.

In the days following Fernandez death , there was an incredible out pouring of emotion. You would hear countless stories of Jose Fernandez’s connection with the fans. His incredible and kind acts as a humanitarian. The mutual love and respect between him and the Cuban based Miami community. You also heard of his heroics not just on the pitching mound but on Straits of Florida. Saving his drowning mother as they made a desperate flee to the coast of Florida as Cuban refugees. On September 26, 2016 I witnessed my beloved New York Mets who were desperately battling for a Wildcard spot play an emotional Miami Marlins team. It was incredibly difficult to watch. Perhaps the most tear jerking sporting event I ever witnessed in my life. Marlins teammates overcome with grief trying to get through the game. As a Mets fan I almost didn’t want to celebrate to hard each time my team scored.

I was asked by a few of my friends when am I writing my Jose Fernandez blog. There was something in me that just kept procrastinating. It wasn’t that I was overcome with emotions or I couldn’t put the words together. I just knew there was something more to the story. In the days following Fernandez death there were rumors of him being upset before getting on that fatal boat ride, he also was rumored to be drinking. If this were it I wouldn’t have been surprised at all. A young man losing his life in an accident while being over the alcohol limit sadly is part of the norm. Then yesterday October 29, 2016 I get the notification on my phone. Autopsy report came in Jose Fernandez over the drinking limit but shockingly cocaine found in his system. I was shocked for about one full minute, because it all hit me. I’ve seen this tragic movie before just with a different ending.

On a hot summer night in July I wasn’t out on the town or making my way back from the beach. I was glued to my TV set. There was no way I was missing Mets ace Jacob DeGrom pitch. When I saw who the opposing pitcher was that night I cringed. In fact I cringed every time I knew the Mets were facing off against Jose Fernandez. The guy was electric on the mound. His fastball was a blur, and his slider wiped away the most disciplined hitters in the game. Jose also pitched with a ton of emotion. He was a fist pumping , smiling , screaming , fireball machine. Kind of guy you loved on your team but hated as a competitor. I quickly texted one of my closes friends that night . I remember telling him word for word….“Jose this may sound crazy , but we are witnessing the next Doc Gooden” I had no clue two months later how eerie that text would be.

The last time I saw a young stud hailing from the National League East terrorize hitters all over the league was in the 1980’s. Dwight Gooden rose to fame in the 1984 season. Just like Fernandez he earned rookie of the year. Just like Fernandez it was an event when Gooden took the mound. Known as “Dr. K” for his ability to strikeout batters at an insane pace. Gooden’s blistering fastball and wicked curveball nicknamed “Lord Charles” were unhittable. Much like Fernandez’s nasty slider. Although Gooden played for the New York Mets he was a Florida native. They even both wore number sixteen , wow! I naively thought the comparisons would stop there. Sadly it wouldn’t cocaine would play a factor in both men losing their careers. In Jose Fernandez case, tragically his life.

Rumors of Dwight Gooden’s issues with substance abuse quickly came to light after the Mets World Series Championship in 1986. In fact during the ESPN 30 for 30 documentary “ Doc and Daryl” Gooden admitted to missing the Mets World Series parade because he was too high to go. Ironically enough that same documentary aired in July of 2016 weeks before I sent that eerie text message . Gooden’s career would never be the same after the Mets 1986 World title run. Gooden was arrested on New Years eve in 1986, and entered a rehab facility prior to the start of the 1987 season. During the strike-shortened 1994 season at age 29, Gooden had a 3–4 record with a 6.31 ERA when he tested positive for cocaine use and was suspended for 60 days. He tested positive again while serving the suspension, and was further suspended for the entire 1995 season. The day after receiving the second suspension, Gooden’s wife, found him in his bedroom with a loaded gun to his head.

Gooden’s life has been just a tragic story since then. Despite finding some success in 1996 with the crosstown rival New York Yankees. Dwight Gooden’s life has been a revolving door of arrest and rehab facilities. To this day Gooden seems to struggle with his addiction. After the 30 for 30 documentary aired Gooden’s former teammate Darryl Strawberry told reporters he was concerned for Gooden. Strawberry who is no stranger to throwing away hall of fame talent because of substance abuse , has seem to put his life together .

Obviously I don’t know Dwight Gooden personally. Much like the late Jose Fernandez I simply marveled at his talent from a distance and witnessed in awe. It is also foolish and irresponsible of me to assume just because Fernandez tested positive for cocaine that he had a drug problem. However it’s not far fetched to assume cocaine played apart in Fernandez fatal boating accident.

I hope the similarities of Fernandez life somehow creep into Dwight Gooden’s head. I am no where near qualified to be a psychologist but I can imagine when Gooden struggles with his substance abuse he gets down on himself. Gooden possibly thinks to himself “ why did I do it” ? “I threw it all away” The prestige, the fortunate, my hall of fame plaque. I bet Gooden doesn’t know how lucky he really is. Dwight Gooden is still adored and admired by fans all over New York, both Mets and Yankee fans. Gooden has a wealth of baseball knowledge and charm that will never go away.

Dwight Gooden is 51 years old I’m sure he has his regrets, but who knows the countless times he got behind the wheel of a car high and drunk and lived to talk about it the next day. Jose Fernandez ran out of chances on September 25, 2016 at the age of 24. Dwight Gooden there is still time to turn it all around. We will never get the electric crowds , and countless strikeouts again , but there’s still hope. There’s still hope for SIXTEEN

[outtathepressbox]

A Decade of Decadence....an open letter in loving memory of Jacky Tolentino I'd like to take a break from sports, but only for a minute because my Mets are on fire!!!! It's funny how we all lose track of time. Have you ever written a date and ended up putting the wrong year on paper? Or lose track of the day of the week? Time is one sneaky fellow. He can be staring you in the face and before you know it… he's gone! Shit, you're gone. That is all of our biggest fear, isn't it? Time, knowing that we are all on borrowed time. The fact that we are mortal frightens us all. So I look up and here comes September again. I don't need my iPhone. I don't need to look at the calendar on my work desk. That's reserved for my vacation days and sick days! There's just something in the air about September. That chilly draft that introduces itself in the evening may represent the eve of autumn to most of you, but to me it's him. It's Jack, my big brother. On September 20, 2016 it will be ten years since you left us. Ten! I can't even begin to wonder where the time has gone. I got to recently spend time with your girls, and I know you know this, but man they are beautiful. Each of them with your looks. One has your stubbornness and fighting spirit and the other an incredible artist with a heart of gold. I look at mom and dad. A decade later, dad can't even bring himself to say your name. I catch mom from time to time just staring at your picture fighting the tears away. I think of Johnny and what you meant to him. To lose your brother and best friend all in one shot is earth shattering. John was lost for a while but I saw him tonight Jack. Man you'll be so proud. He's come along way… a long fucking way. I know he still misses you like crazy, but it's all clicking for him now. Then I think of Edwin. I think of the beauty in his innocence and how I can show him a million pictures of you and he will not say your name. He'll say Johnny, or Edwin, or Evo. It's like he felt the pain too but just doesn't know how to express himself. Well, then I guess that leaves me. I think about how we never really got along much. You thought I was stuck up, arrogant, and uptight. Shit I can't blame you. If I walked in a room, I wouldn't like me at first either. I, for one, always thought you were extra hard on me. I never understood how you could be friends with everyone in the neighborhood but couldn't even carry a conversation with me. Then there was that one night ten years ago, which was the last time I saw you. You told me how you were tired of the distance and how frustrated you were with me looking out for others and not doing anything with my own life. You wanted to start over and not be rivals but be brothers. I was my typical cold abrasive self, but deep down I wanted that too. And just like that you were gone. We never got our chance. During the craziness after you were gone, I was concerned for our parents, John, Nani, and your girls but never looked out for myself. That’s the one thing you didn't want me to do yet I still did it. It’s the Superman complex bro. I'm quick to take a bullet for those I love, not realizing I'm pointing a gun to myself half the time. So this past decade has come and gone and what do I have to show for it? Damn Jack… nothing! I must admit that I say I was worried about everyone else, but I've been mourning myself in the worse kind of way. I think about the night you left us. I think about how maybe the family would have been better off if it was me instead of you. How the girls would have had their dad, and you could tell them stories how much of a prick I was but when you got to know me. You would have told them that you knew how I love those people in my inner circle. I need to express myself to you and I don't care that I expose myself to the rest of the world. I've used losing you as a crutch at times. I feel terrible about it. Just needed you to know that at times I've battled depression and it sucks. The brief moments people see me I'm either really sarcastic or just joke my way out of having to really "talk". I'm ashamed of who I've become. I'm even more ashamed of using you as an excuse constantly. You would kick my ass for that! This decade without you was so fast. Time waits for no one. This decade has been one long nightmare but it's not your fault Jacky, it's my own doing. Today, nearly ten years since you left us, I make a vow to you and more importantly to myself. No more. No more burying myself in pain. No more settling for "good enough". For anyone wondering how I can express myself like this in front of the world, know this ...it doesn't bother me. I'm not afraid to express myself whether right or wrong. I don't let my thoughts out for pitty or attention. If you think that, well then you don't know me. I'm doing this because I need to be a man. A real man admits his flaws, and has no fears doing so. He also does everything in his power to correct them. I'll never be perfect but I need more Jack. You were known as a great fighter in the streets. I need to win a different kind of fight. If my memory is still in tack, ten years from now (who knows I'll be old by then lol ) I will write a different article for you. One where my short comings and my excuses won't be exposed. Ten years from now I am going to be the man you've wanted me to be. The man I need to be. It won't be ten years of depression. I'm sure I'll take my bumps and bruises like any other man. I'm certain I'll make mistakes. But just like you, I'm coming out with fists of fury and a heart that can't be unmatched. The decade of pain and depression is gone. Welcome to my decade of decadence big brother! I know this: Whether good or bad times, you're always in my heart...always! Love you Jack !

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"The Anchor" by Ivan Tolentino An anchor is a device, normally made of metal, used to connect a vessel to the bed of a body of water to prevent the craft from drifting due to wind or current . Metaphorically speaking my vessel (my mind and my heart) have been connected to an anchor. That device made of metal and hard steel pulling me and holding me down emotionally each year is the New York Mets. For those who know me, I cling to the team and each pitch like a moth to a flame. My passion has caused me to lose focus at work, at home, and in my personal life. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a bad guy at all. In fact I may be considered reliable and dependable to the people I love most. However my close friends and family know that when it's time for that first pitch, don't ask me for anything and cover the children's ears because there will be some swearing! For many years I’ve had a low ceiling of expectation because my team has either mired in mediocrity, or have been doormats and basements dwellers in the world of baseball. So I've always looked for a silver lining always seeing the glass half full and checking out future prospects… always preaching a brighter future . It is all far removed from the franchise that gave me my first glimpse of love- my first memorable moment. During the mid ‘80s we were a World Champion and a powerhouse. My childhood had no clue the level of disappointment and heartache I would endure throughout my adolescence and adulthood. Today I am a 35 year old barely clinging to my prime staring down the idea that soon I am a middle aged man. It's been 30 years, 30! Still no champagne baths, no cars honking their horns outside my window, and I have yet to call out of work on a chilly October afternoon to watch a parade down the Canyon of Hero's. Now how can someone except this? How can someone be so in love and be let down time after time, and year after year? Well that's love. It’s endurance and the ultimate test of time. However, at some point you must get something back in return. The danger about being in love is that you can be so wrapped up and blinded by your feelings that you develop false illusions. False illusions quickly become hope and expectations and that's when it all goes wrong. I was fine being the underdog and having my cup half filled. I never expected anything but then here come the Mets. 2015 gave me expectations. I expected the team to reach the World Series- not win- just reach it and they did. I was extremely happy. Happier than a pig in shit. I had the most unproductive month of my life in October of 2015. After the lost I focused on the glass being half full and I celebrated and preached the future of this ball club. Then it happened…again. Hope had to rear its ugly head. I battled expectation and tried not to answer that door but, as usual, I caved in. All of sudden I believed all over again. I wasn't scouting for the future I was thinking about now. I fully expected this team at this point to be a force in the National League and making a trip back to the Fall Classic. This time I had every hope and expectation of being the World Champion. Introducing the bitter 35 year old man to the gleeful 5 year old boy buried deep inside of him. However it's mid-August and we are well in a familiar position mediocrity. For years I thought my anchor was protecting me from floating into a deep and endless ocean of chaos. I was fine being hooked on shore waiting for my Mets to bring me joy. I finally realize it's time to pull the anchor in. I have no clue what's out in that ocean. Perhaps that unproductive October cost me that promotion. Maybe I'll focus on the right woman , instead of someone who I can just take to a ball game or fill my time during the offseason . Or even if I have lifted my anchor, my sails could have taken off to places far away from Flushing, NY. New York Mets you'll always be my first love and I hope one day I'll get my party on the shore with you. But for now I'm taking off. Perhaps I will be a better man for it and maybe just maybe you'll be a better team for it. It's time to hit the ocean. Bon voyage to my anchor. I'll see you when I see you. Sure we should chant: Let's go Mets! But for now …let's go Ivan

[outtathepressbox]

YEAH BUT..... July 4th is usually a beach day, bbq, and fireworks extravaganza. In the sporting world, the fireworks came from NBA free agency. Kevin Durant, the NBA’s most sought after free agent, spurned the Oklahama City Thunder and joined the Golden State Warriors. Yes those Golden State Warriors who is fresh off 73 regular season wins and back to back trips to the finals. Most importantly, it’s the same team that knocked out the Thunder last season . After holding a 3 to 1 series lead, Kevin Durant and the Thunder failed to close out the Warriors. Three chances , three dud atrocious shooting performances, and three turnover plagued games. I can't imagine what that felt like for Durant coming so close year after year just to fall short . I imagine he was tired of losing and frustrated with his fellow superstar teammate Russell Westebrook. Years ago LeBron James had a similar experience. An NBA superstar free agent is like the prettiest girl in school just before prom. Everyone wants to lure you, woo you, and show you why they are the best choice for the dance. LeBron- similar to KD -was incredibly frustrated of losing and being labeled the best player not to have a ring. Riley's influence, Wade’s friendship, and South beach's appeal was all too difficult for LeBron to say no to. Cleveland fans checked into the heartbreak hotel right soon after and flooded the streets with their displeasure by setting LeBron jerseys on fire all over Ohio. I was a huge LeBron James fan at the time and I must say I was very disappointed in his "decision". I thought the way he did it was tacky and joining two other stars was weak. However, years later watching LeBron return to Cleveland and vindicating his treasonous act by delivering Cleveland a title, I look at things differently. In the pre Miami days, LeBron James played with a who's who of nobody's. There were so many no names on those squads that Arya Stark would be proud. In fact, LeBron’s best teammate was Mo Williams. Sounds familiar? That’s because it is the same Mo Williams who played with LeBron in this year’s championship team but saw less playing time than me in the NBA finals. Kevin Durant is a top 5 NBA player but so is his now former teammate Russell Westbrook. The Thunder also have emerging stars in Steven Adams and Enes Kanter. Once they acquired Victor Oladipo during the draft, I thought to myself, "That's it! The Thunder are the favorite in the West." Then came July 4th, and Kevin Durant did what?! Growing up in the Jordan era was a gift and now a curse. I've learned not to hold guys like LeBron and Durant to the Jordan standard. It's just not fair. Michael Jordan was the Babe Ruth of basketball. There will always be other greats but in the words of Jay Z "there can only be one". However there is something about the Jordan era that I can still scrutinize and hold today's stars to the same standard. That standard is pride, competitiveness, and passion. It's not just about winning but it's about getting revenge and conquering the guys that beat you before. It only makes victory that much sweeter. You hear the stories of Magic losing to Bird in the '84 finals and being labeled "Tragic Johnson" after his subpar performance. What did Magic do that offseason? He worked hard and was named MVP of the '84-'85 season and beat Bird the following year. He didn't whine to his agent and demand a trade to Boston to join Larry Bird. Before Michael Jordan became "Michael Jordan" he was constantly being knocked out of the playoffs by the Detroit Pistons. He didn't go on vacation with Isiah Thomas and Joe Dumars. He didn't spurn the Bulls and jump ship to Detroit. He studied his craft, shed the label of a selfish player, and became a six time champion. Unlike baseball players and football players, NBA stars are measured by titles. You can be a Marino, Griffey, Jr., or a Bonds and still be considered a legend. I guess Kevin Durant woke up on the morning of his decision and decided I don't want to be the best player without a ring. He wanted to remove the "yeah but" label from his name. The same "yet but" that plagued greats like Malone, Stockton, Barkley, Miller, and Ewing. All NBA greats but no rings. All falling short in the finals and falling prey to Jordan at some point. Kevin Durant, you may get your NBA title one day but here's a newsflash for you though. You'll never remove the "yeah but" tag from your legacy. All the NBA greats I mentioned before weren't just stars because of their scoring, passing, and rebounding abilities. It was their hard work, passion, competitiveness, and their drive to win. Durant will now be a member of a core that already won a title (without him). Ripped his heart out a few weeks ago, and already set the regular season wins record again, without him! Perhaps our NBA stars have become much like our society. A Donald Trump society. A society filled of spoiled whinny little bitches that want to do things the easy way. Do not get me wrong. Kevin Durant earned the right to make his own choices and play for whoever he wants to. I wouldn't like anyone telling me where I should work or how to make a living. Kevin Durant will still be a star and a great player next year and for the remainder of his career. There is no denying that he is an incredible talent. Perhaps within the next year or two KD will no longer be the best player without a ring. I bet Durant feels he's one step closer to the "yeah but " removed from his name. He won't be enshrined as a "ringless warrior". Now he will be a Golden State Warrior perhaps with a couple of rings when it's all said and done. I can see your future now KD. Kevin Durant former scoring champion, hall of famer, multiple NBA title holder....yeah but he lost in the finals to LeBron, yeah but he choked a 3 to 1 series lead, yeah but he ran to the team that beat him, yeah but he took the easiest path to a title, yeah but that's Steph Curry’s team . Yeah but that will always be a part of your legacy. Congratulations Kevin Durant, you're the real MVP.

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ADDICTION It's 2:30 a.m. My body is sore, full of aches and pains. As I remove the knee brace from my left leg and tape around my left index finger, I see that swelling has developed. The following morning it became a struggle to roll out of bed and make it to work on time. At the age of 35, I realize my body cannot do the things it used to do without suffering consequences. So why do I put myself through such punishment? Am I this stubborn? Could I be a gluten for pain? Is it love? No…I finally realized it's an addiction. An addiction can take over anyone’s life. Some are addicted to narcotics, alcohol, cigarettes, or gambling. My addiction is another source which I've been battling for over 30 years. I'm obsessed with freshly cut grass, and a diamond drawn out in chalk. The beautiful sound a wooden bat makes when it connects perfectly with a ball. The speed and the violence of super athletes crashing in the gridiron. The heroics of a last second shot to beat a buzzer. The underdog surpassing all odds gives me goose bumps. There is nothing like a David versus Goliath story. I marvel at dynasties and their year in and year out champagne baths. Competition fuels me. Whether I'm staring across at my brother on a basketball court, or chasing down fly balls in the outfield. I cannot lose and will not lose. Even when I am humbled, it just makes me want more. I want to be better… I need to be better. Addiction can cause anyone to lose their friends, loved ones, livelihood, and more importantly themselves. The first step is admit to yourself and others that you have a problem. So today I am here to make a confession. I have an addiction. In fact, I am far worse. I'm a junkie. I am addicted to sports! If I am not reading about it or watching it, I am putting my own body through punishment. The thrill of victory and the agony of defeat is my food and water. It has disconnected me from friends, family, and the women who have been in my life. I cannot find the same love and connection for competition in another human being. I know I have a problem and it feels really good to say it aloud. I'm glad the world knows .... Although I have professed my problem, save your 12 steps and interventions. I don't want and I don't need your help. I need my fix! I need my joy as much as I need my pain. My name is Ivan Tolentino and I am an addict

[outtathepressbox]

"Let's go Flora "

I remember the first time I met Jose. He was a skinny buck tooth kid. He was bright, funny and loved the New York Mets just as much as I did. Despite all of his good qualities and shared love for the orange and blue, I wasn’t a big fan of Jose and we bumped heads. Mrs. Hampton our 2nd grade teacher put us together. We were no longer rivals and immediately clicked. He no longer was Jose , he was Jose Mane. One afternoon after school I saw my mom talking to Jose’s mom and I thought “cool even our mothers get along”. I later learned that they knew each other from their childhoods as well. My mom told me “Flora, Jose’s mother is a good woman they come from a good family” In fact this family was so good that, it was the only home my strict father let me visit as a child. The Mane household was a large one. There was Jose Sr. a hard working man that just like my father preached family and baseball to his boys. There was Juan, Jose’s older brother he was a quiet and very smooth cat. The Mane household however was dominated by women, Alex, Celi (my first crush lol sorry Jose) Angie, Rosemary, and Tiffany. Coming from a family of 4 boys I wasn’t use to it. 5 girls 2 boys, grandparents, one strict father, but they were all lead by the matriarch Flora. Flora was the kind of woman you only read about. A good Catholic woman with a heart of gold, and although she was one of the sweetest women I ever met the Mane children walked a fine line. Flora believed in the American dream but she knew that dream could only be achieved through education and hard work. She made sure all these values were instilled in all seven of her children. Each time I visited the home she treated me like one of her own children. There were many days throughout my youth that she fed me, gave me advise, and whenever I was being a wise ass she would lecture me and put me in place. I remember my first little league at bat. For some odd reason I was a bit nervous. Staring across the mound from me was my best friend Jose. Although my family was there it was Flora that calmed me down. I heard one of the parents cheer “vamos Ivan” as I looked up it was Flora leading the charge. Even though it was her own son on the mound she wanted both of us to succeed. That’s the kind of woman she was. Throughout our childhood Jose and I were inseparable. Somewhere along the line life got in the way of our friendship, we bumped heads once again and over time we lost touch. Ten years ago my world was rocked and I tragically lost my older brother Jacky. Jose was back home after graduating college when Flora broke the news to him that one of Chemo and Petra’s boys had passed away. Jose grabbed his jacket and stormed out the house. It had been years since we were tight but that didn’t stop Jose from wandering the streets trying to locate my phone number or address. Undeterred Jose found me broken, a shell of myself. In the upcoming days we reconnected. I was sad to hear that the rock of the Mane household Flora was enduring a battle with breast cancer. In all honesty I wouldn’t have noticed anything was wrong unless Jose broke the news to me. She was the same woman from my childhood. In fact she was even more thoughtful, sweet, kind, and selfless. She wouldn’t allow me to dwell on her fight, instead focused all her energy on asking me about my parents and how they were dealing with losing their son. Jose , his parents and I gathered to watch the Mets in game 5 of the League Championship Series. Jose and I behaved liked typical fickle Mets fans. As the night progressed we were not scoring and running out of outs. Jose and I became even more bitter, but there was one optimistic fan that evening. I’ll never forget Flora smiling and chanting “Jose, Jose, Jose “ with each Reyes at bat. Just like a child she calmed my nerves and again yelled out “vamos Ivan” …”Let’s go Mets” “Lets go Mets” Even though Jose and I were grown men she was still teaching us a lesson. Stay loyal, stay positive, always believe! The more time I spent with Jose I wasn’t shocked to see what a nice man he turned out to be. I always kid with Jose and tell him “you’re a better man than me” He always modestly chuckles and turns his attention to me. One evening after playing basketball me and Jose went to grab a bite to eat. Jose stopped to speak to a homeless woman, he offered her food and money. That moment it hit me , Jose had acquired all of Flora’s wonderful qualities. I couldn’t be any prouder to call this guy my friend. I can only imagine the sense of pride Flora felt with each one of her children . Teachers, police officers, leaders, future lawyers, open minded, sweet, intelligent, kind, fathers and mothers. Successful careers, wonderful qualities, that’s the Mane children , that’s all Flora. I’m sure she was so proud of each one of her children. It’s with a heavy heart I write this piece and refer to Flora in the past tense. Last night the matriarch of the Mane household passed away. However if there is anything I learned from her is that when it comes to a living a beautiful life and passing down wonderful values to your children and grandchildren , there is no past tense. Flora’s pride and wonderful qualities live on. So today I honor and dedicate this piece to the sweetest and most positive Mets fan I ever met. I cheer for you today and every other day. “Vamos Flora” …..”Flora, Flora, Flora” …..”Lets go Flora” Thank you , may you rest in paradise

[outtathepressbox]

The Comet

by Ivan Tolentino

A story about a little boy that kept believing even when no one else would

According to Wikipedia, A great comet is a comet that becomes exceptionally bright. There is no official definition; often the term is attached to comets such as Halley's Comet, which are bright enough to be noticed by casual observers who are not actively looking for them, and become well known outside the astronomical community. Great comets are rare; on average, only one will appear in a decade. Halley's Comet is so rare that it is only visible every 75- 76 years. The last time it was witnessed was 1986.  

In 1986, there was a little boy who felt disconnected with the world. He wasn't drawn to most things that attracted boys his age. There was minimal excitement for games, toys, and cartoons. Although this boy had a large family even then he felt alone. It was safe to say this little boy marched to the beat of his own drum.  Suddenly on a chilly October night his attention was drawn and something made his heart skip a beat. For the first time in his life there was no confusion, he felt something, he felt love.

On this chilly October evening, the boy witnessed many spectators staring at the sky. There was something different about it that evening. Sure it was blue but a different shade of blue. Sure it was surrounded by stars but even the stars seemed different. In fact, these stars had different names. Strawberry, Dykstra, Mookie, Gooden, Darling, Hernandez and Carter. The blue sky was suddenly kissed with a touch of orange.  The streets of New York were glowing especially in the borough of Queens. As the comet sailed across the sky the boys eyes lit up and he found himself chanting along with the all the spectators. LETS GO METS, LETS GO METS, LETS GO METS

The boy suddenly became fascinated by the Comet. He stayed up for hours reading up on other Comets and their journeys across the sky. Despite his interest, it was only the blue and orange comet that captured his heart and imagination.  As the years went by the quiet little boy became obsessed with the comet. In fact he was no longer a quiet little boy. He was a brash a cocky teen. Quick-witted, smart-mouthed but quickly quieted by the naysayers. "Keep dreaming" they mocked him "you'll never see your comet again"

You see something happened  over the years. Not only was the boy growing up, but the stars began to fade. Dykstra decided to hover over different skies. Carter and Hernandez lost their luster. As for the two brightest stars Gooden and Strawberry, well the Comets glory was all too much. These stars burned out, way too soon. The crowd  also abandoned the boy. No longer were they sitting with him and waiting on the majestic blue and orange skies. They had traveled across town for a Navy sky covered in pinstripes.

The boy who was now a man was confused by all of this. Where is the loyalty? It was lonely as he gazed out his window. No more crowds, no more excitement. He heard the cheers from a distance. Right over the TriBorough Bridge into the Bronx.  Each year the sky was a different color. Mostly navy and with pinstripes. In 2000, it became worse. There was a slight glimpse of orange until Queens was blanketed by the Bronx sky. Anger came across the boys heart. The same people who were by his side were cheering their own towns demise.

In 2006 journalist and experts made their predictions.  The Comet was returning home, to Queens. It was now 20 years since the boy last saw the comet. Everything seemed on track for the comet to reemerge. Something just didn't seem right. Despite all the hope and expectation, it just didn't click.  The stars Reyes, Delgado, Beltran, just didn't seem aligned. The boy even ignored the crowd that surrounded him. Many who abandoned him had all of sudden reappeared with their false praise for the Comet. Suddenly a large swooping object name Wainwright destroyed the Beltran star and eliminated any hope of a Comet

In 2007 and 2008 the boy was laughed at. The Comet had almost teased the boy and played with his emotions. Showing small signs of an appearance, just to have the hope yank from under him. Over the next several years, the Comet was nowhere near. You couldn't build a telescope large enough to view from Queens.

All of sudden something changed. There were stars lightening up the sky again. All of sudden despite the wounded star it all felt "Wright". There was the long-tailed star DeGrom. Noah the hammer Syndergaard, Kid Conforto. The Dark Knight and to close out the sky Familia. There was a buzz in the air. A rare glow in the sky, A warmth in the boys heart he hasn't felt in years. All of sudden his lonely glare at the sky had become a viewing party, with many uninvited guests. The boy once again ignored all the impostors and set his eyes on the sky. There it was shining look at that beautiful shade of blue, its coming, that shade of orange is right around the corner.I know it is, I can feel it.  Here it comes.... Suddenly a light flashed across the sky. Here it is, it's.... it's..... Blue, it's Royal Blue?

Suddenly it was gone. There was no Comet. The next morning the boy woke up alone. No spectators once again laughed at, However, something was different this time. He wasn't as sad as he thought he would be.  As he walked down the streets of Queens on an unseasonably warm day. There it was Conforto, DeGrom, Syndergaard, Familia, and Harvey. The stars were still there hovering over Queens, shining just as bright even along the sun-kissed daylight skies.  The boy had a new sense of  hope. The Comet was so close he can feel it coming. As he gazed up into the sky there was also a slight hint of orange. The boy smiled and simply said. " You got to believe"

LETS GO METS, Thank you for a wonderful season. The dream has not died. Simply placed on hold. We will be back. I will have my Comet. LETS GO METS, LETS GO METS, LETS GO METS!!!!!

[outtathepressbox]

"The Gridiron Gates of Heaven" dedicated to my brothers Edwin, Johnny, Cristian, and Jesus Also in loving memory of my late brother Jacky Tolentino 01/04/77-09/20/06

  For a long time baseball was the ultimate sport in America. Over the past 40 years baseball has taken a backseat to the American viewing audience. The game although beautiful in its own right is slow. It hasn’t been able to keep up with a society that has changed dramatically in their political views, technology, and simply what the public views as entertaining. America’s “past time” has passed it’s time. Football has taken over America’s hearts and minds.

There is something about the game of football. For an outsider or a novice to the sport it just seems like a barbaric game. Sheer violence and utter brutality. However when you get to know the game, it’s more than just power, speed, and athletic agility. You learn to appreciate the journey of a team during good times and bad. It is the ultimate team game. For those that have played the game or admire it from afar know it’s more than just X’s and O’s . It’s about coming together as a unit.  It’s a brotherhood.  

It’s no wonder this sport takes me back to a certain point of my life and reminds me of a particular person.  Football is the perfect blend. On the exterior it’s rough and rugged but when you cut to the core, there is a wholesomeness about it.  It represents unity. Many years ago, I viewed someone the same way a novice would look at football.  Once I got past the exterior, I was fortunate enough to meet a man not many got to know. A man I lost seven years ago, my brother Jacky.

It was the evening of September 20th, 2006. Because of a prior engagement on September 18th,  I actually missed my beloved New York Mets clinch their first division title in 18 years. The way things are going it may be another 18! I received a call from my cousin Javier. “Hey kid I know it’s cold and they already clinched, but I got a couple extra tickets to the game, wanna come”?  I was extremely tired that night but I could never say no to Shea.  After the game I dropped off my lovely lady companion, and headed home dreading my 4am shift. There was a breeze in the air much like tonight’s breeze. There was something eerie about that evening that just wouldn’t let me sleep. Then the phone rang….

I could not recognize the voice behind that call.  The person on the other end was so distraught.  It was the first time in my life I heard so much sorrow and confusion. Finally I was able to make out what was being said and by whom. It was my sister-in-law breaking the news that my older brother Jacky was gone. Taken away from us at the age of 29 in a cowardly fashion. 

Somehow I didn’t shed a tear and preceded to deliver the news calmly to all my loved ones. That sound of sorrow and confusion which was once a virgin to my ears became the soundtrack of that tragic morning.  For the next few days I found myself bouncing around from the morgue, police station, funeral home, church, and cemetery in the blink of an eye.

One of the biggest moments of my life occurred during that cloud of confusion and sadness. I walked over to my ailing mother trying to console her. What do you say to a parent after losing a child?  Funny thing is, I don’t recall what I said but she thanked me. “Son, I’m so sorry you’ve carried everyone’s pain and have not been allowed a chance to mourn yourself.” 

For some reason it all came natural to me. “Don’t worry about me. I was born to lead” I told her. The truth is, I was in a state of confusion myself.

Then my brother’s best friend Billy walked over to me and said, “I know you can handle this. He spoke about you all the time; he was very proud of you”. I never told anyone about that conversation until this day.  Those few words changed my life. I realized then, at that very moment, that my brother had been preparing me for adversity my entire life.

My brother Jacky was a special guy. He somehow managed to make an impact on every person he met. Whether it was good or bad, you remembered Jacky. Funny thing is even when Jacky was wrong, people forgave him all the time.  I’m not sure if it was his boyish sense of humor, his charm, or his infectious smile that lit up every room he walked in.

Physically, he was an opposing figure. Rough hands, broad shoulders, and a stocky frame.  He was that one guy in the neighborhood nobody messed with and you didn’t want “a piece of”. His tales are legendary in the streets of Corona, Queens. 

Growing up, I was a lot different than my older brothers.  I was the youngest of four boys at the time. My brothers were all rough around the edges and tough on the exterior.  I always seemed aloof and snobby to them but little did they know, I was admiring them from a far. There was one thing I clinged to.  You guessed it… sports!  In a way, I was able to connect with Edwin and Johnny (my two eldest brothers) through an individual sport. Edwin -whatever life took away from him mentally and physically- it couldn’t take away from his heart which was the love of baseball.  Johnny, on the other hand,  took me every Saturday afternoon to play basketball with his friends in what were fiercely competitive games. Then there was Jacky….

I never truly felt a connection with him. He mocked my love of sports and called me “ESPN” in a sarcastic tone. For most of my life I thought of him as a bully. Don’t get me wrong being “Jacks” brother had its perks.  You see, nobody - I mean nobody- messed with me. That was reserved for Jacky and him only. I didn’t feel that bond that all the guys in the neighborhood felt with him. I wanted his attention so bad.  Finally one day that joyful smile walked in my living room draped in football gear and helmet in hand.  Jacky joined the football team! Finally there was an icebreaker for me.

I recall the next few days.   I was nervous about asking him to join me and my friends for a game that weekend.  As I headed to the backyard to tell Jack about my game, I heard a large viscous thump, then another and another! That sound was Jacky in full pads and a helmet on turning my mother’s old couch to sawdust. I was quickly questioning my decision of asking him, but it was probably my last chance to bond with him.  A few broken bones was a risk I was willing to take.

When the big game came, he purposely aligned himself against me, “Oh, you’re the Quarterback.  I’m not playing on my brother’s team”. That afternoon I felt like I was playing against the ‘85 Bears.  I took the beating of a lifetime. He delivered hit after hit (some were very late I must add) yet I continued to get up each time.  As the day went on, that opposing figure stopped growling and yelling at me but instead smiled and helped me off the ground. I realized then that he never meant any harm; he just wanted to make me tougher.

My brother always viewed me as the star quarterback of our family.  He used his toughness and will against me because you don’t get by on just potential. So he treated me just like a star defensive lineman would treat their rookie- instilling toughness by any means necessary.   In his eyes I had the makeup of a Peyton Manning: a can’t miss number one draft pick- future hall of famer. All I needed was a little toughness and seasoning.  As much as I played the part of a Peyton a polished “blue chipper”, I had my own insecurities and found myself making excuses not to succeed.  As my life went on, I was going from Peyton Manning to JaMarcus Russell.  A number one pick with all the talent and ability in the world but someone who never put it together: a complete bust!

The last time I saw Jacky we had a meaningless argument.  To be honest I don’t even recall what it pertained.  Afterwards, he approached me.  He spoke about us always bumping heads and he was tired of it. He apologized for all his rough tactics and expressed his frustration with my lack of effort.  I was speechless, he ended the convo with a simple “I love you little brother”.

 Looking back I wish I would have replied differently rather than saying, “You do? That’s great, now close my fucking door.” He had no idea that behind that closed door- that closed minded man was smiling.

I’m not sure if it was our age or the fact that he was a father then, but Jacky wanted a change between us. We never got a chance to experience our “new relationship”, but in a way Jack got what he wanted that night.  Since my brother’s passing, I view him and our relationship so much differently now.

No longer is Jacky that defensive lineman glaring across the line wanting to sack me. Jacky is my center.  He is the anchor of my offensive line. My brother is preventing my own self-doubt and naysayers from knocking me down. Although he can only do so much and at times, I will fall.  I know he’s always there to pick me up whether it’s a memory or a smile from one of his beautiful daughters.  The greatest gift I can give him is try my best to be Peyton Manning.  The elite “Quarterback” for our family and more importantly for myself. 

It is inevitable that one day my parents, brothers, the rest of my loved ones, and I will meet our own “September 20th 2006”. I am far from a religious man but I do see a heaven for all of us. When that day occurs, I will return back to that nervous boy heading to the backyard to see Jacky. The field will have large golden gates, a majestic field, but admission is free of charge. 

As I head down the tunnel I see the two rookies who are my younger brothers.  Cristian and Jesus are my tight ends adjusting their gear.  Edwin, my powerhouse running back, is rocking back and forth.  My loudmouth flashy wide receiver Johnny is pumped pointing to the crowd.  There is a sea of loved ones mom, dad, grandparents, etc…

I look over to see a “C” for captain slapped on my jersey.  This is it.  I’m quarterback of the “big game”. Sweaty palms reach over to snap the ball but there’s a slight hesitation.  My center, my anchor Jacky isn’t there.  When I look across the field he has returned to that familiar position of defensive lineman.  Before my nerves get the best of me, he takes his helmet off and greets me with that infectious smile.  “It’s ok little brother” he’ll shout…”look around, you made it to the hall of fame.  This one’s for fun bro.” Until we meet again big brother, the Gridiron Gates of Heaven await us

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“ WE ARE” …..

Isn’t it amazing how quickly life can turnaround . 2 months ago my frustration was at an all time high with my New York Metropolitans.

Our offense was offensive to me and the rest of the fan base . So anemic ,so awful , so dreadful , that we had the audacity to hit John Mayberry cleanup and Eric Campbell 5th in a Nationally televised game. Neither man was batting above the woeful Mendoza line at the time (.200 batting average) . The so called “heart of our lineup” barely had a pulse . The U.S. Women’s soccer team was putting more points up on the board .

I was tired of the front office telling the fan base to be patient . This young talented pitching staff ,living up to all its potential was being denied a shot at greatness.

My frustration was even greater with ownership . I wrote a blog exactly 2 months ago entitled “Fading Love” . I yelled , I begged, I pleaded, heck the anger nearly got the borderline atheist to pray. Somebody , anybody , please REMOVE THE WILPONS. In my mind we needed new ownership more than anything else . 2 months to the day Fading Love was written , this diehard fan realized something .

A month after the blog was written The New York Mets front office finally made some moves . Despite the debacle on July 29, 2015 , “the trade that never happened ” . Some spark was injected in our futile offense . With the additions of veterans Juan Uribe , Kelly Johnson , and the emerging superstar Yoenis Cespedes . This team went from barely being able to rival the scoring of a fútbol team . To challenging a football team’s offensive output .

The new additions haven’t been the only ones providing a lift for this team. Curtis Granderson has been a spark plug all year . Lucas Duda finally got some protection in the lineup . Wilmer Flores the man that weeped on the field , has become a folk hero. He continues to show the world just how bad he wants to be a Met with his solid bat and much improved defense . To top things off we finally got back our backbone, our leader , our captain David Wright. His style and grace is a spitting image of the beloved cross town rival Derek Jeter .

No one knows what the future will hold . This team can go either way . First round exit , NLCS, win the pennant??? Who knows even end the 29 year old drought and become World Champions once again . We might not even make the postseason with a 6.5 game lead the ghost of 2007 may still linger ….yikes !!!

One thing is for sure this fan base is special . Each night I visit Citi the crowd is louder and more passionate about The Amazings.

That’s when it suddenly hit me it’s not about Sandy Alderson and the Wilpons . I’ll give credit where it’s due smart moves thus far . However the fan base forced you to make these moves !

You guys don’t own the New York Mets . Ariel Suarez does . A man that moved to Cleveland but his zip code is still 11368. Peter Luces the boy who moved to Miami but his heart remained in Queens . Javier Batista who transformed his family business years ago to a replica of Shea Stadium . Dina Charles who manages the Pine Restaurant in Queens and tries to manage her bleeding blue and orange heart with each pitch .

Juan Mena the former batboy who is now an ATL man chopping down all the Mets haters in Georgia . The DeJesus family always believing ! Kelina Perez who despite how many hours she works during the day, always makes time to check the score .

Jose Mane who’s passion could never be questioned . Daniel Fromm a young Jewish boy from Bayside Queens who united Mets fans from all walks of life to the Fellowship of the Mets. Each night their love is displayed all over Facebooks timeline . Ivan Tolentino who loves this team so hard it may be bad for his health!

To the thousands of fans that come out to Citi Field . The millions who watch on TV each night . To anyone that’s ever chanted LETS GO METS . This is our team ! We own this ball club . WE ARE …THE NEW YORK METS!!!

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2Ks Top 15 15 years... It's been 15 long years since the start of the new century. Remember when we all debated about withdrawing all our money from the bank. Admit it. How many of you still have water bottles and batteries left over from the Y2K scare? Do you remember that? Of course you don't. In the last 15 years, some of you have graduated college, started your career, lost a loved one, married, divorced, and have had your own little Y2K babies. We all sit back and reflect from time to time. The past 15 years has made me wonder and reflect about what else ...sports!!! So much has occurred over the past 15 years. I decided to create a list, a ranking of sort. What have been the top 15 moments/topics in sports over the past 15 years? I have my list locked and loaded to share with you all. Of course everyone will have their opinion of the ranking and what did or didn't make the cut. So here it goes... 15- Mayweather vs. Pacquiao I know, I know don't get all worked up. The so called fight of the century was a dud. Watching paint dry is more exciting than watching Floyd's pops shots, and defensive brilliance. You probably shelled out an extra $100 dollars on your May cable bill, so this being moment 15 leaves many scratching their heads. As the old saying goes money talks. Whether we liked it or not money did plenty of yapping on May 2, 2015. It took years of hype talking, analyzing, and debating to finally get boxing's two biggest stars in the ring. From an artistic standpoint it left much to be desired. However, there is no debating the success of the fight financially. Records were set in both gate and pay per view buys, as well as in the fighters earnings. Boxing which once captivated America's heart, had a chance to make a splash and even more importantly rank higher in my countdown. The uneventful match segues perfectly into moment number 14. 14. The emergence of Mixed Martial Arts Perhaps it's the politics, countless divisions, meaningless belts, and a lack of an American Heavyweight Champion, but boxing has took a major hit. (Pun intended) Personally I never thought such a violent sport would make it in main stream America. Much of the success of MMA is due to the popularity of the UFC and its brash and cocky President Dana White. Whether you like the outspoken White or not, there is no arguing his success. He has eliminated all the corruption and politics that have plagued boxing. One true champion for each weight class. Mandating champions to fight the top contenders or be stripped of their title. UFC has made household names like Brock Lesnar, Anderson Silva, Jon "Bones" Jones, and its newest superstar Ronda Rousey. MMA has exploded in popularity in PPV buys, to the opening of gyms for training everywhere. There is no denying that this sport will continue to kick and punch it's way to success. I'm afraid boxing may have already tapped out. 13. Shaq and Kobe Ok, so before Shaq was an analyst on TNT and Kobe a broken down veteran on his last legs, there was once a dynasty in Los Angeles. After the 1998 season, Michael Jordan won the last of six championships with the Chicago Bulls. This was followed up by the lockout which shortened 1999 season. With Michael on a golf course, the NBA was desperate for its next dynasty. A familiar face to the Bulls brilliance reemerged. Phil Jackson (relax Knicks fans I am talking about the past) left his Montana ranch for the bright lights in LA. Jackson, the master motivator, reminded Shaq that he is the biggest and most dominant force in NBA history. It didn't take much motivating for Kobe. He was a Jordan clone in both skills and drive to win. Unfortunately much like in life, pride and egos rear their ugly head in sports. Off the court bickering, Shaq's reluctance to take care of his body, and Kobe Bryant's sexual assault accusation were just part of the Lakers downfall. After the 2004 season the town wasn't big enough for both superstars. Shaq was traded in the offseason to the Miami Heat. Although the duo won three consecutive titles together and titles on their own, many were left wondering what could have been. 12. 2006 National League Championship Series Let me start off by saying this one hurts. It seriously pains me to talk about this. The 2006 NLCS was a matchup between the St. Louis Cardinals and my beloved New York Mets. It was a back and forth series that led up to a dramatic, heart pounding, and gut wrenching game 7. Much credit is given to the underdog and gutsy Cardinals. The Mets were heavy favorites at the start of the series. Tony LaRussa seemed one step ahead of Willie Randolph throughout the entire series. Game 7 was a classic. Endy Chavez in the top of 6 made probably the greatest catch in postseason history. Sadly, the Mets failed to capitalize. Leaving the bases loaded in both the bottom of the 6 and Beltran still waiting for Wainwrights wicked curve to drop in the bottom half of the 9th. The name Molina still makes me nauseous. The Cardinals will go on to the World Series and win the 2006 championship. Leaving Mets fans still waiting for that elusive title. Still heartbroken, still down… ok- enough!!! Time for number 11. 11. Serena Williams Men it’s time to take a backseat to the ladies. One woman in particular. The premier and most dominant athlete over the past 15 years is a woman and quite the lady at that. Unfortunately she is over looked because let's face it she isn't a man. Women's sports have always taken a back seat to men's. Serena however takes a backseat to no one. In a sport where at 28 you're over the hill, she is more dominating than she has ever been. Just shy of her 34th birthday, she holds 20 Grand Slam titles with a possible 21 this weekend at Wimbledon. You can play James Browns "This is a Man’s World" all you want but this world belongs to Serena. She is woman and for the past 15 years, we have all been hearing her roar. 10. 2000 Subway Series I know what you're thinking: “Subway Series? I thought 2006 was painful enough for you?” I guess I'm a glutton for pain. Yes blah, blah, blah, we all know the Mets lost in 5 games to the New York Yankees. I've heard it all over the past 15 years. However, the significance at the start of the Century can't go over looked. It was the first of its kind in 44 years. It was a fitting stamp to the Yankees dynasty with its fourth title in five years. The way sports is handled economically today, they may have been the last great dynasty. Derek Jeter winning the World Series MVP was the highlight of his magnificent career. We need to move on to number 9 because I just can't take it anymore. 9. The Shield's Biggest Challenge Strolling through memory lane dominance has been a recurring theme. Out of all the major sports no sport has been more dominant then the National Football League. Despite baseball's sentimental impact on the American audience, and the NBA's stars, America is all about football. The NFL generates monster TV ratings and billions of dollars each year. However, over the last several years the fast paced violent sport has taken its toll on former and current players. Sadly, brain trauma has caused depression, ALS, violence against women, and suicide. The NFL has tried sweeping the issues under the rug for years but there's no avoiding it. Some parents, because of recent discoveries, have prevented their children from playing the sport. The NFL has been a juggernaut especially over the last 15 years. On the other hand, with advancements in medicine and research, where will it stand in the next 15 years? 8. Social Media and fan interaction Do you remember a time when sports figures were just that? They were athletes we watched and idolized over the past 15 years. But as we watched, some fans have gone too far. One of the main reasons for this is drumroll please ...you guessed it Social Media! Fans have gone way too far on social media expressing their thoughts. Social media is not a license to insult a man’s family or sexual preference. Unfortunately hundreds of thousands of idiots each year say the most viscous things online. Another pet peeve of mine is fans interacting with the game. Hey moron no one paid to see you run on the football field and basketball court. By the way, there is a guy named Steve Bartman on my milk carton. Has anyone heard of him? 7. Performance Enhancing Drugs Back in 1999 if I were to say the names Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens, Alex Rodriguez, and Lance Armstrong what would pop in your head? Greatest hitter ever? Greatest pitcher ever? Most talented ever? Hero? In 2015 it's Bar-roids and BALCO, The Mitchell Report, Prince A-Fraud with his Biogenesis clinic, and Sir Lying Lancelot. PEDs have disgraced and tainted all of these great athletes incredible accomplishments on and off the field. I actually understand why certain athletes took the juice or the spike but all these guys were great. The male ego is one hell of a thing. Yellow wrist bands once meant courage and awareness of cancer research. In 2015 each sport has crackdown and stepped up their policies on PEDs. However off the field, there is another battle occurring. The constant battle of chemist trying to find new ways to beat the system. This story and the impact on past and present athletes legacies is certainly to be continued... 6. 9/11 We all remember September 11, 2001 and we'll never forget. Everyone was effected in some way. Sports, especially Americas past time, was the distraction and sense of normalcy we all needed. It all started on September 21, 2001 in Shea Stadium. The first major sporting event in New York since the horrible events ten days earlier. With the team down and the hearts of New Yorkers ailing, it took one swing from the hefty bat of Mike Piazza. Number 31's broad shoulders finally gave New Yorkers hope and something to smile about. Across town a team of grizzled veterans most of them on their last legs fought for a Championship. Although the New York Yankees fell short in a classic 7 game World Series, the team was a perfect representation of New York at the time: Never giving up, showing toughness, and all heart. The World Series kept everyone off CNN and focusing on baseball. Both teams that year made me so proud to be a New Yorker. 5. 2006 Rose Bowl The NCAA is probably the most corrupt and hypocritical governing body in all of sports. Sadly the NCAA always finds ways to make the news for all the wrong reasons. Not even their stench can take away from the love and passion their amateur athletes display each year. Their drive was on full display on January 4, 2006. The 2006 Rose Bowl was a matchup between two college football powerhouses: The Texas Longhorns and the Trojans of USC. It was a star studded game that surpassed all the hype. USC was not only the defending champions but they were led by two Heisman award winners- Reggie Bush and Matt Leinart. Texas was led by the duo running/throwing threat of Quarterback Vince Young. The game was a back and forth battle in front of over 93,000 screaming fans and millions watching on television. With 19 seconds left, it was Young's touchdown that dethroned the defending champions . Neither Young, Leinart, nor Bush lived up to their NFL hype. One thing is sure about that evening, they provided us with one of the most thrilling championship games in College football history. 4. Tiger Woods These days Tiger Woods is only in the headlines for how poorly he's performing or not making the weekend cut. There was a time however where he was without a shadow of a doubt the most recognizable figure in sports. Tiger was a cultural icon. Golf which was once a rich white man sport, now had Nike ads and kids of all races picking up golf clubs. From 2000- 2008 Tiger dominated adding to his 14 major championships each year. He was a fist pumping birdie making machine. We all wanted to wear a red polo tee on Sunday's. Then on one faithful night in November of 2009 a small fender bender to Tiger's Cadillac Escalade, turned into one bizarre sex scandal. These days he is Eldrick Woods. The once mighty Tiger has no scratch or stripes. However there is no denying on the cultural impact and dominance Woods displayed in the early 2000s. Is it all gone Or does Tiger have something left? 3. LeBron James Tiger was born on December 30th ironically enough so was this phenom -LeBron James- "the chosen one". Has anyone ever entered a sport with so much hype? From the tender age of 16, LeBron James graced the cover of Sports Illustrated and has surpassed the hype. Unfortunately for LeBron, his era of dominance is not far removed from the greatest sports figure of all time Michael Jordan. It's not fair to compare James and Jordan but it hasn't stopped everyone from doing so. Reason being, LeBron is just that damn good. He may have only two titles and is a four time finals loser, but do we really believe this man is done winning? Whether you dislike the decision, or his constant whining on the court, the man's greatness can never be questioned. He probably only has a few years left in his prime so let's not compare the man to MJ. Let's appreciate James for his own greatness. After all, at the end of the day, we are all witnesses. 2. Super Bowl XLII 18-1 Super Bowl XLII can only be described in one word: CLASSIC! Two of the NFLs most premiere and successful franchises met on this historic night. What made this game even more special was the David vs. Goliath dynamic. That year, Tom Brady and the New England Patriots were 18- 0 . They were trying to become the second undefeated team in NFL history. The Pats weren't just chasing history but vowed to silence critics. Before this years "Deflate Gate" there was "Spy Gate". Playing the role of David was the New York football Giants. A scrappy defensive team that just barely made it to the playoffs. However the Giants were no "David" in this case. The cocky over confident Patriots over looked the Giants’ heart and toughness. With 2:39 left in the game, and the Giants down 14 to 10, young Eli Manning drove the eventual champs down the field for an 83 yard drive. Although the drive was capped off by a Plaxico Burress touchdown, the signature moment of the game was Eli pulling off a magic escape act that would make Houdini jealous and David Tyree's remarkable "helmet catch". Mighty Goliath was slayed and the Patriots would forever be branded 18 and 1 that season. Although the Giants won the Superbowl, the true winners of the game were the millions of fans that watched Athletic greatness at its finest. 1. So what's number 1? 2004 Reverse the Curse! So whether we are die hard sports fans or causal ones, we all gravitate to a team. We all can't be Lakers, Patriots, and Yankees fans. No offense but to those who are, you're all spoiled. Winning is as common to those fans as a 9 to 5 is to the rest of us. I unwisely gravitated to the Mets. The last 29 years have been like being dumped at the prom. At least I'm not a Cubs fan…1908 yikes! Despite all that prior to 2004, who suffered more than Red Sox fans? Since trading Babe Ruth in 1918, the Red Sox watched the Yankees win title after title. Their biggest rival. That's like watching your worst enemy get that promotion at work and stealing your wife... over and over again. To make matters worse for the Red Sox (even when they put a team good enough to beat the Yankees in a down year) they suffered heartbreaking loses in the World Series. The Sox got to the Series in '46, '75 and yes '86 ("behind the bag, it gets through Buckner") they lost in a 7th game. In 2003, the Yankees and Red Sox played one of the greatest playoff series in baseball history. It took Aaron "bleeping" Boone's extra inning home run to seal Boston's fate yet again. During the offseason Boston looked to acquire Alex Rodriguez only to watch the Yankees steal their thunder yet again. The much hyped American League Championship Series was expected to be a classic much like the '03. During the first 3 games Boston didn't get the memo who lost the first 3 games which included a 19 to 8 pounding in game 3. Game 4 didn’t seem any different. Entering the 9th inning the Yankees were up 4 to 3 with the unstoppable Mariano Rivera on the mound it was over! No team in baseball history ever came back from a 3 games to none deficit. Nobody hit Rivera in the post season, and let's face it- it's the Yankees- Boston had no shot! Then a funny thing happened. A walk to Milliar, the pinch runner Roberts stealing second, Muller's single up the middle, and then bam Big Papi’s heroic extra inning walk off home run. The once mighty Yankees began clinching their throats in the biggest choke job in sports history. The Yankees went from the "Bronx Bombers" to A-Rod slapping the ball out of Arroyos hands with his giant Hamburger Helper glove. The bloody sock still makes the Yankees and their fans cringe. Although the Yankees blew it, credit must be given to the Red Sox heart and determination. They came back in the series winning the next four games and sweeping the Cardinals in the World Series. Ironically enough the final out of the World Series came from an opponent wearing the number 3: The Babe's number. So many years of heartbreak ended that year for" Red Sox Nation". That team’s guts, heart, refusal to lose, and determination is everything we love about sports. With that said, our heartbreak ends this year, why not? 2015 is not over yet. The Mets will win the World Series and I shall rewrite this article! Ok, ok, let me not get carried away. Anyway if you disagree with the top moments or feel I left something out, I'm all ears. Let the debating begin!

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FADING LOVE Love...what is it exactly? What does it all mean ? Throughout our entire lives above even the word yes, or no its probably the most popular word in any language. Above success, money, and power it is the one thing we all secretly want. The ultimate achievement In the Bible love is described this way..... "Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. " Throughout my entire life I've searched for it. At a young age I never heard it . While mom baked pies and cookies with her nurturing spirit she never found the right ingredients to utter the words to her children. Dad’s idea of love was teaching me the game but never sticking around a full 9 innings to watch me play. As I grew older and made friends, they slowly but surely started to disappear in the wind . As for the opposite sex, well opposite is just the right word. Anytime I've ever considered putting my walls down for a woman, I quickly realized we were miles apart or heading in different directions. In my first ever blog I expressed the only love I really had was baseball. My bride to be wore an orange and blue dress. Our cathedral was Shea and we would forever reside in Flushing. During the 1980s this town belonged to the Kings of Queens -your New York Mets . We had Dwight, Daryl, and Keith. Who the fuck was cooler than us? I sat in my living room watching with pride as my older brothers grabbed broomsticks and imitated each stance from Dykstra to Tuffel. I was young and innocent and in love. I was truly discovering the word and life itself. As the 90s rolled in the Mets became a joke. The Kings of Queens weren't even the boys of summer. We were clowns and the blue majestic field I once called Shea was a circus. I became a teen and I discovered basketball royalty. The bald head and baggy shorts distracted me from the decay in my own town. Then I discovered women and sex and all bets were off. Deep down in my heart I was still in love but admittedly I was distracted. Love is kept alive by trust and loyalty. Even as Michael raised a banner every spring and hormones were raging, M-E-T-S was still my top priority. I watched all the "Flushing Faithfuls" turn to pinstripe wearing drones. It was like a bad episode of Stars Wars. Despite everyone running over to the dark side, I was the Luke Skywalker for our Metropolitans. Tell me you’re my father or chop my hand off, it didn't matter. Real fans stay true to the orange and blue. Eighties baby, nineties teen, milineal man. By the time we hit the 2000s I still loved and I remained loyal. The hypocrites and parasites all found their way to the Bronx. Some even went to Boston that hit me wicked hard! To make matters worse we were crushed and humiliated by the Evil Empire in a Subway Series. Still wanting, still believing, still loyal, still in love. Lately my love has been tested. The emergence of spring has just been one long Game of Thrones winter. Life has worn me out with career struggles, damaged friendships, unfulfilled goals, jezebels, and broken hearts. It's difficult to love so hard. No matter what life has thrown at me, I have been faithful to you Mets. Year after year, season after season- constant let down. No worst to first Hollywood ending. We are riding high like April fools each spring and die a Greek tragedy each summer. This season much of the same no runs, no love! My beautiful cathedral Shea, is now a Madsion Ave rip off named Citi. My bride’s orange and blue dress is colored in disgrace and disappointment. My loyalty remains strong but I will tell you this. My love is definitely fading.

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#PublicServiceAnnoucement Everyone look around. Take your eyes off your phone or tablet for one second. Do you see it ... Probably not. The only things we ever notice these days is what everyone else is doing online. What happened to us as a society? Is life really all about likes, comments, and followers? Social media has dumb us down as a society and we don't appreciate anything anymore. Now as a writer of an online sports blog let me be clear- I am no hypocrite. I enjoy the Internet and technology just as much as anyone else. So like comment and share my blogs all you want! However, where is the appreciation and the beauty for what is around us ....LIFE! It's no secret I am a sports junkie! No intervention needed. I've been often asked why do I love it so much. Well despite all the corruption and the abundance of cash being thrown around, there is still a purity and innocence to sports. It takes me back to my childhood. Let's face it, we are all kids at heart. Whenever your car breaks down or the rent is due, who doesn't wish they were on a field or court. The only worry you had back then was your mother yelling your name out as the street lights came on. Speaking of kids, where the hell are they?! I hate to sound like an old timer but ....back in the day traffic jams were caused by us playing football or stickball in the streets. Kids’ idea of sports these days is texting their friends to play video games online...terrible! I was at the ballpark the other day, waiting for the Mets to rip my heart out as usual. I looked around and I was disgusted to see heads buried in phones and one idiot (with great seats I might add) on his laptop. Never mind that there was beautiful weather, the crack of the bat, or the quality time with the person sitting next to you. Few nights later my cousin called me to check out the NBA finals in a bar. The older more appreciative crowd was having the great Jordan or LeBron debate (don't get me started). As for the Millennials their only concern was getting just the right angle for their selfies and tagging the bar they were having such a "great time" in. Here is a great idea. Why not go out to a ball park and enjoy a game on a beautiful day. Take your kids and pass the game down the way our fathers and big brothers did with us. Turn on the grill, forget TV, and put on the radio and listen to the ball game. Toss the football with your son and teach your daughter how to shoot a jump shot. You know what might happen? You might actually enjoy yourself. That's what life is all about: our loved ones, our surroundings, and watching the Mets give up a lead late in the game. Wait scratch that last one out! Let's not make life a competion for likes and followers . Enjoy everything that sports has to offer . Not the money, flash , and endorsements . It's our own personal time machine . Let's go back to smiling on our own without any filters . This has been a Public Service Annoucment by Ivan Tolentino. With that said like share and follow my blog . Yes there is a shameless plug at the end but I hope you enjoyed . Hashtag that Millennials !

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New Blog : ” For The Love of the Game” Dedicated to my father and all the great responsible dad’s out there. Happy Father’s Day

This Sunday will be Father’s Day. A time of the year when every little boy gets to reflect on their first sporting icon: their dad.

My father is a man who doesn’t typically fit the mode of your “Hallmark dad”. The man was every liquor store’s dream. The moment he walked through the door, the cashier already knew 10 bucks in win 4 tickets, a couple of scratch offs, and a bottle of whiskey.

At home, most of the time, he was aloof with my mom and all of his sons. Amongst my peers and relatives, all my brothers and I would hear about is how “cool” our dad was. We never saw it.

Although we picked up many of his physical traits and mannerisms, we all struggled to connect with him. There was one thing that my father cherished more than gambling and booze. That was baseball.

As a boy in the 1950’s and 60’s, my dad idolized the great Willie Mays from a far. In November of 1969, a month after the Miracle Mets shocked the world, Juan Tolentino stepped off an airplane as a Dominican immigrant in New York City.

As a kid, my dad would tell me stories of how the Oakland Athletics of the early 70’s dominated and three peated as Word Champions. Names like Vida Blue, Rollie Fingers and Reggie Jackson were often heard in his conversations. As much as my dad admired Willie Mays and appreciated the greatness of the Oakland Athletics, nothing- and I mean nothing- compared to his love for the Big Red Machine: The Cincinnati Reds led by none other than Pete Rose.

I guess it’s almost fitting that a man with so many vices like my father would take a liking to Pete Rose. The man known as “Charlie Hustle” was a hitting machine on the field. Off the field he struggled to connect with his children and battled his personal demons. Sounds familiar?

My dad’s love and affection for baseball was something he tried passing along to his children. Two of his children got their names from ball players. My brother Johnny was named after Reds catcher Johnny Bench. My brother Jacky came from my father’s admiration for the great Jackie Robinson. We won’t get into how I got my name. Let’s just say my mother named me.

I used to hear tales from family members and from my dad’s friends of what a great catcher he was. Some even told me who knows how far your father would have gone if not for barring injury and lack of opportunity. My dad did what virtually every Dominican father did with his younger son which is taking his little boy and placed him in little league. It was an honor when my little league placed the catcher’s mask and shin guards on me. I wanted to play the same position as my father did when he was younger in order to and carry his legacy. Obviously my talents were nowhere near my dad’s. There would be no tales of Ivan Tolentino and what could have been. For my dad, this was a disappointment or yet another failure in his life.

My father had no idea what his love for baseball did for me. First of all, it allowed me to connect with him. Hearing and learning the game from him is one of my favorite childhood memories. Placing me in baseball leagues changed my life forever. As a kid I was incredibly shy. Thanks to his wisdom passed down to me, I was a step ahead of most kids. My knowledge of the game turned the shy little boy into a leader behind the plate.

That competitive drive made me grow a passion for other sports besides baseball. We all know all great sports journalist are athletes that couldn’t cut it. One day I may have children of my own. I will be able to pass my passion to a little boy or a girl.

So my dad isn’t perfect. At the end of the day who is? I know I have my own flaws and occasionally walk into the same liquor store for the same reasons.

Regardless what flaws he may still possess or had in the past, my father loves his children. Although him and I have struggled to connect in the past, my love for him is unconditional.

That love all started from his love. His love of the game