I conjured up so many alternate endings as I watched the 9^th inning of Game 7 of the NLCS... so may different scenarios of how this amazing game was going to end.  Every ounce of my being believed we were going to win that game.  It even seemed poetic that a Met team that had won so many thrilling games in 2007 was going to catapult themselves into the World Series in the most dramatic ending possible - a dramatic 9^th inning walk-off thriller in front of 56,000 screaming, hometown fans. 

I entered the bottom of the 9^th with an odd sense of calm considering we were down by 2 and just 3 outs away from elimination.  I knew in my heart of hearts we would find a way to win.  We had done it 103 times before, often in spectacular fashion.  The only question I had was who was going to be the hero.  Who was going to be the one we’d see for years to come, belting the game winning RBI and jumping into the arms of his teammates? 

The inning started as if I had scripted it in my head.  Valentin singled..…leadoff man on base……check.  Endy Chavez strode to the plate representing the tying run.  The guy who had made an inconceivable catch to keep the Mets in the game just two inning before, the guy that was the unsung hero all year stepped up to bat.  Base hit.  Endy on first, the moustache moves over to second.  Its suddenly first and second with nobody out and it became clear to everyone in the building that despite their 2 run lead, the Cardinals were now the ones in trouble.  Now my imagination kicks into high gear.  Its hero time.

Randolph pinch hit for the next batter Aaron Heilman with Cliff Floyd.  Its easy to say that he should have either let Heilman bunt to move the runners over, or have a pinch hitter do it, but that’s not the way he played it.  I for one am ok with his decision.   He went with his gut all season and 9 out of 10 times it seemed his gut was right. If I learned one thing this year,  it is that when in doubt, trust Omar and Willie as they know far more than we do.  As Cliff stepped to the plate representing the series-ending run, after missing the entire NLCS with an injury, the thought bubble formed above my head.  In my little world Cliffy gets a hold of one, crushes it over the right field fence and the team swarms him at home plate….a modern-day Kirk Gibson.  My thought bubble burst as if Bugs Bunny himself pricked it with a pin as Cliff took a nasty called third strike from Adam Wainright.  Adam Wainwright…oooohhhh there’s a name I have quickly grown to hate.  He sounds like a distant cousin of Thurston Howell the third.  Yes, that’s the bitterness of defeat talking.

OK, I tell myself, Jose Reyes is coming up and an extra base hit send us to the Fal Classic.  Heres a guy that hit 30 doubles and 17 triples this year.  The thought bubble re-appears above my head…..In my world of lollypops and rainbows, I picture Jose Reyes, clear as day, slashing one it the right center field gap, racing around he bases and leaping to the air as he neared second, the stupid Cardinals walking dejectedly off the field.  The image was as vivid and as clear as if it had already happened.  Returning to the real world, Wainwright delivered and the ball exploded off Reyes’ bat.  As I tightened my calf muscles to leap off the couch and clenched my fists in preparation for a victory "touchdownesque-arm-extension gesture", Jim Edmonds glided over, cut off the angle and snared Reyes liner out of the night air.  Cue the sitcom-tuba-downer-disappointment” music…wa, wa, wa, waaaaaah.  

We’re not done yet, I reminded myself.  If there is anyone I want up right now with the game on the line its Paul LoDuca. The heart and soul and guts of this team.  As LoDuca drew a walk, it seemed like the setup for the perfect Frank Capra-like storybook ending.  The bases were loaded, 2 outs bottom of the 9^th with the entire season on the line.  If you tell me you didn’t conjure up this exact scenario for yourself in your back yard when you were a kid, I will call you out as the lying sack of crap that you are.   So here we were…all-in go on or go home with our best hitter at the plate.  So its gonna be Beltran, I realized.  After getting booed when the season began, Carlos is going to get the ultimate redemption.  It didn’t work out like that.  I know you can’t take a called third strike to end a game, much less a series, but between me and you, it wouldn’t have mattered.  Wainwright threw an absolutely perfect, un-hittable, 12-to-6 curveball that Beltran couldn’t have hit with a car door much less a bat.  The lasting image of Beltran desperately swinging at air, like a blind man trying to swat a mosquito,  would have been no better than the image we will carry all winter……of Beltrans his knees buckling as Wainwright’s hook snapped crisply onto the bottom area of the strike zone.  If you don’t believe me, rewind that ninth inning and watch a few of Cliff Floyd's swings again.  Roy Hobbes himself could not have hit that curveball with the game on the line.

It has taken me well over a month to be able to sit down and relive this inning.  I sat there stunned…shocked…..numb when that game ended and like a bad break-up, its not a feeling I was anxious to re-live, much less write about. 

After six weeks of denial and avoidance, I am ready to stop being a baby and to treat myself to a little closure.  I remind myself that I have watched baseball for 37 years now and I am not sure I have ever enjoyed a season so much.  This is a well managed, well put-together,  eager, talented, diverse team that played with passion and guts.  So when I think of Game 7 of the 2006 NLCS,  I’ll try to remember Endy’s catch, the incredible gutsiness Oliver Perez showed throwing 6 innings of 1-run, 4-hit ball when they needed it most and of the 9^th inning ending that almost was.  My final thought bubble will be of a team that just would not quit.