Politics, Stories, And The New York F@cking Mets

I am ugly-crying as I write this. I was numb before. Not because I didn’t believe what I was seeing. Unlike many of those who voted against what I believe in this election, I’m not brainwashed enough to deny what is right in front of me. But I’m struggling right now. More than I did in 2016. In 2016, I saw the writing on the wall in the weeks leading up to the election. This time, I’m not going to lie, I was expecting starkly different results.

I think I was numb at first because I just couldn’t understand how this man could win a majority of the votes. Not just the electoral college, but the popular vote. It seemed every sane voice in the country, both democrats and republicans, was SCREAMING that this man was not suited for office. Rapist, Pedophile, Liar, Felon, Racist, Insurectionist, Sexist, Fascist.

Back to tears. I’m still in and out of tears as I write this sentence.

How did I get from numb to tears so fast? I’ve felt this loss before. Why does it hurt more now? Why am I writing this? Why? Why why why…

Those who know me know that telling stories is what I view as my calling in life. Unfortunately, I don’t have the money or means to just write all day like I would like to. I do it sparingly in my free time while I sell part of my happiness now for a chance at happiness in the future. But recently I’ve been feeling less and less motivated to share a lot of what I write. I’ve even come to the point where I tell only a few people when I’ve written even an essay and just say “hey if you want to read this let me know”.

When I was younger I would excitedly run to people and shout from the rooftops when I had a new idea. I would spend hours trying to layer in deeper meanings, try to play with how overt or subtle my meaning is.

Should I try to be as overt as Star Wars being about America slowly turning into an evil empire as democracy crumbles to thunderous applause? Or Green Day writing songs about the rise of far-right propaganda in the country? Maybe I should be more subtle like Superman and Lex Luthor’s feud being about how the entrenched powers and the media will always paint immigrants as evil no matter how good and pure they are, making minorities feel they have to be PERFECT just to be accepted.

But recently, I find myself getting discouraged after every single new idea I have. And today I began to cry when I realized why. When I asked myself a simple question.

What is the point of telling a story when nobody is listening?

Writing that down hurt me more than I can say. Just asking that question. I have to push myself right now just to keep typing. Power through. Keep going. Tears down my cheek.

Deep breath. Keep breathing.

Blow your nose, you don’t want a sinus infection.

Okay. Back to it.

When I look at the best stories ever told, through music, literature, movies, TV… I’m always amazed at how they can weave together such deep truths into such fantastical worlds. And I’m always shocked when someone who I know voted for you know who says that they love something like Dune, or It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, or The Boys. Sometimes I even chuckle wondering if we’re watching the same show. I mean the messaging in those examples is not exactly subtle, and the creators are very vocal outside the show what their intent is.

But then I always realize, they aren’t actually listening. They watch Breaking Bad and get pissed at Skylar if you know what I mean. These wonderful stories are meant to help people wake up, see the parallels to their own world, and think critically fall on deaf ears. The only people who seem to see it are the people who don’t need to be convinced of anything. 

This all reminds me of when my right-wing grandfather sent me an AI-generated video from a user with far too many numbers in it and no profile picture (forgive him for not spotting an obvious bot account, he is after all, a grandfather) saying made up quotes about how Khrushchev was going to destroy America by feeding them small bits of socialism until they collapsed. A quote that, similar to the made-up quote attributed to Donald Trump about how if he ever ran for president he’d do it as a Republican because they were dumb, was never actually said but got pushed around to grab people’s attention. When I told him this was not real and sent him the receipts he gave the response I’m sure all of you would expect, but my optimistic ass was crushed by: “I don’t care”. Sure he said it more fancily than that. The exact words were “Regardless of the veracity, the quote is an accurate depiction of where I feel we stand as a country”. Translation: “I don’t care if this is real, it affirms what I already believe and so I will continue to believe it”. Simplification: “I don’t care”.

Later in that same conversation, I sent him a video explaining what socialism is. Since he seemed to not understand the difference between it, capitalism, communism, and fascism. I did this not thinking he’d change his mind or his convictions, but hoping that we could at least have a more productive conversation built in a common understanding of what those words actually mean. The video was only 5 minutes long, but a minute later he responded claiming to have watched it.

I felt insulted. The number of emails he had sent me over the years, the number of videos that have been shared that I watched ALL of. More than that, I would go after watching the video to verify sources. Or if it was a clip from an interview or press conference, I would go and watch the whole thing. For all I knew there was information I had yet to gain that could sway me, this was after all someone I loved and cared for and so their thoughts and opinions mattered to me. So to be rejected in that way. To be denied the same courtesy. Hurt me.

I shouldn’t have been surprised. In 2020 I made a video in response to a pretty vial and hateful post I saw a different member of my family make regarding the BLM movement. I never have and never will name a name (I don’t condone doxing), but I did post the video online after lots of time care, and research and sent it out to many of my family members. And even then I got responses from some before there was possibly enough time to have watched it.

I did get some responses from family and friends who watched the whole thing, but they were all people who already agreed with me. Time and time again I try to tell stories and the only people who listen are those who have already been listening.

It’s disheartening. And this election feels like a massive extension of that. I somehow convinced myself that people were listening this time. That the message was being heard and felt. That after January 6th, something PROVABLE and DANGEROUS and OBVIOUS for ANYONE who has looked into for even a FRACTION of a second that is on Trump’s hands. Something that is an extension of when he posted that he wanted to “suspend the constitution”. Hell if I was writing this story that war in me of “how overt should I go” would be screaming to at least TRY to make it more subtle. But even then, nobody listened.

So why am I writing this now as I chug water to make up for the lost hydration from the tears, my eyes dry and sore from looking at a screen while crying? Why even bother if nobody is listening? What needle am I moving? Who am I helping? What’s the point of telling a story if nobody is listening???

You’re listening.

You are not nobody.

Tears again. I thought I was past that.

You are not nobody.

You are listening.

I am not nobody.

I am listening.

Someone out there is listening.

I may not be able to magically grab someone’s attention over night. Take them from right to left. Maybe I can’t even move someone from center to left or right to center. But what I can do is write this to anyone who is listening. Anyone who like me just feels… sad. Or numb. Or angry. Or hopeless. Or anxious. Forgotten. Defeated. Confused. Hated. Left behind. Over it. In it. Or just… lost.

So here I go. If you don’t mind sticking with me for a little longer I have just one more story to tell you about today. I know this has been long and rambling at times but I do promise this is all going somewhere.

First of all, before I go any further I just want to say thank you. Thank you for reading this. Thank you for making me feel less alone but for the sheer act of listening to me vent. I’m feeling really lost right now as you may be as well. But I hope reading this makes you feel less lost. And if any of you reading this voted for Trump, thank you for sticking it out this far. I know the odds are slim that any Trump voters are reading this, based on you know… everything I’ve said above. But if you are I appreciate this small act. Don’t get me wrong, I’m pissed at you. I’m furious at who you voted for. But I appreciate you reading this at the very least.

Now onto the story. This story is about the New York Mets. Specifically the 2024 New York Mets.

The 2024 New York Mets were a team nobody believed in. Which is crazy because not too long ago everyone thought they were on a path to becoming a new powerhouse in baseball. The problem was that Powerhouse was being built on some pretty old guys like Max Scherzer. Now Scherzer had accomplished a LOT in his career. Cy Youngs, World Series, All-Stars. Now, I’m not saying I always liked Max Scherzer. Scherzer had often played for teams I was against, like the Nationals. But I always at least respected him. He tried hard, he learned, and seemed to get better as time went on which is a really incredible feat for an older pitcher. So when he came to the Mets and brought us to the playoffs for the first time in years, I was excited! Unfortunately, as I mentioned, he was old. And we really started to see it. Mets fans started to become very concerned that if we were stuck with Scherzer going forward, we would have NO shot at a World Series.

So the Mets did something bold, and they traded Scherzer and some other guys away for a bunch of young prospects. Mets fans understood the move, but it also seemed like it may be too little too late. That the upcoming season was already a lost cause because of this large last-minute pivot in the direction of the clubhouse.

And sure enough, the 2024 season rolls around and we open up 0-5. We’re cooked. By late June we were one of the worst teams in baseball. And then something incredible happened. We got good. The young talent showed up. Mets fans started to believe again.

Time and time again we got put up against a wall in a do-or-die situation and we DIDN’T die. It seemed like a team of destiny! We just COULDN’T LOSE. And then we lost.

Got kind of crushed honestly. By a team that many see as a new evil empire in baseball. Their fans can be violent, they have way more money than they should (sure the Mets also have money but the other team seems to REPRESENT big money more than the Mets), and they even have a player who probably did some things that are VERY against the rules but everyone just sort of pretends he didn’t misuse his money because he’s fun to watch.

The team that seemed made for this moment fell short. And in the end, it wasn’t even as close as we thought it would be.

I was crushed to see my team lose. I mean, who wouldn’t be? But then I remembered something…

Who the hell thought this was going to go our way a year ago?

We lost. That sucks. 

The main team that’s going to be in our way doesn’t seem like it's going to get any weaker any time soon. That sucks.

It’s going to be a while before we have another chance. That sucks.

But we will have another chance.

We know what steps need to be taken to win.

We know the future won’t be easy, but we know there is one.

Life is better when you believe. And so I believe. Ya gotta believe.

You know what we say whenever a season ends? We’ll get ‘em next year.

Every single time.

“It’s not about how hard you can hit, but how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward”-Rocky

“You cannot have my pain… Journey before destination… It cannot be a journey if it doesn’t have a beginning…If I must fall I will rise each time a better man”-Oathbringer

“Don’t dream it, be it”-Rocky Horror Picture Show

I had to push myself through tears to write this. I fought my instincts to give up. I felt my sense of self slipping as my faith in people and stories started to crumble. I’m not going to lie and say this will be an easy 4 years. I’m not going to pretend it won’t take me a long time to feel right again. But writing this made me feel 0.0001% better. Progress.

Take time to say I love you to those who need to hear it. Take time to process what you need to process. Don’t shut down or stop doing the things you love or what makes you happy. And of course, don’t stop fighting. But as we know this isn’t a sprint but a marathon.

Thank you again for reading this. I love each and every one of you who took that time and I hope this helped at least in some small way.

“You are not alone”-Doctor Who

-Kieran JC Bodkin