Right about now, somewhere in the neighboring state, my husband, just like throngs of other die-hard Mets fans, is probably watching history online, on t.v. or if they’re lucky– in person– at Shea.

It’s a big day in Queens and the rest of NYC. The Mets, the team that “lives” in our living room for half of the year, is celebrating opening day in Flushing for the last time at Shea– the place where the Amazin’s have called home for 40-some years.

Personally, we’ve had awesome seats, some pretty bad seats; we’ve seen some great games and we’ve witnessed some miserable ones, too. Beyond our personal memories, Shea is storied with its own history.

I can’t recite stats instinctively like my husband can, but I can tell you that the Mets aren’t just a team that we follow. They’re a team that has hometown ties, a team that has lifted us up and has let us down…in monumental ways. Our fondness begins with Jeff’s childhood adoration which permeated my way and if it’s possible, grew stronger as we set up shop in the Tri-State area.

On September 30, 2007, the Mets punctuated the most historic collapse in baseball history. On that same day, we left a NJ hospital with our new baby.

For those who have cheered for teams and are familiar with misfortune, “bittersweet” hardly sums it up.

How could we be disappointed when it was *really* the happiest day of our lives?

It’s a new season and baseball’s in full swing.

With a new baseball fan in our brood, not to mention a new stadium opening up for an all “new” team, we’re looking forward to even more memories.

[update:  ok, so they lost their last home opener at Shea.]

Moral of the story: whether it’s baseball or not, Ya Gotta Believe.