“You Gotta Believe” became the passionate phrase of the formerly hapless New York Mets during their “Miracle Years.”
Fast forward a couple of decades to September 11, 2010. Despite a hopeless season, I went to see the New York Mets with a friend.
When you’re a Yankees fan, you expect to win. When you’re a Mets fan, you expect a surprise. The surprise could come in witnessing the Mets hit into two, count ’em two, double plays on hit-and-runs to the outfield. Never in my life … oh, never mind. It’s the Mets. Another surprise was such a well-pitched game by the Mets against a strong Phillies’ team.
But the surprise I didn’t like was the hopelessness of the Mets fans. No more “Jose, Jose, Jose, Jose” to the tune of “oLay, oLay, oLay, oLay” whenever the spunky Jose Reyes would get up to the plate. Not even after he put one in the upper deck – another surprise. No more, “Let’s go Mets!” I even stood up a few times and tried to get my section going; like spittin’ in the wind. No more wave. It was dead, despite a cloudless 80-degree afternoon game. Oh, there were plenty of fans there. But they were almost stubborn in their insistent silence. One fan told me it’s because, “The Mets gave up, so we fans have given up as well.” That’s hopelessness. Unfortunately, that sounds like a lot of marriages.
The final surprise was seeing the Mets pull the game out after almost blowing a four-run lead in the eighth (no surprise there). With a man on third, the reliever got the final out by the skin of his teeth. Mets win 4-3 (now pay attention to those two numbers, they come up again).
Even the New York firefighters provided us with a 911 Surprise with one of the best versions of the national anthem sung by a uniformed female New York City firefighter.
Driving home, my wife called me to tell me that there would be two spotlights at Ground Zero shining up toward the sky. Getting stuck in traffic on the Whitestone Bridge, I looked to my left and there was a sight I’ll never forget. I could see the entire city skyline with the Empire State Building topped in red, white and blue. A crescent moon positioned itself between Ground Zero and the Empire State Building and then I saw it… a sign of hope. Two prominent lines of light hit the clouds. Where there was no building, these two beams declared, “There will be.”
I thought of myself, standing up, clapping and yelling, “Let’s Go Mets!” I felt it was like those two lights: declaring something as if it is. Not denying a bad season for the Mets or a devastating blow like 911. But hoping for a rebirth.
The next morning I read of a diamond quite different from a baseball diamond. In Revelation 4:3 (remember those numbers?), I was stirred by the picture of heaven. Like the beams of light that promise a new and greater reality for Ground Zero, this scripture described a scene of something greater than our present world of hapless baseball teams and horrific terrorism.
“And He who sat there was like a jasper and a sardius stone in appearance; and there was a rainbow around the throne, in appearance like an emerald.” Rev 4:3
I won’t be standing alone cheering that Champion.