Below is the email I sent to my fellow Mets fans at 3:30 a.m. after attending the loss to the Cardinals in game 7 (see photos taken from section 45 here).

uuuuuuuuuuggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

That's it. It's out. I've had a number of adult beverages, and I think it's time to let all the anger and regret go. It was a great season. And until it ended, it was a great game. The train ride home was pretty depressing, but I still don't regret being there tonight. The stadium was literally shaking; it was incredible. If Beltran had come through, it would have been one of the greatest games in Mets history. We were one single away from this being one of the best nights of my life. Improbably, Oliver Perez pitched a great game. And Endy saved him (and Willie) by making the greatest defensive play in Mets history. And after going hitless for seven straight innings, the Mets came so fucking close to coming back in the bottom of the ninth. There were times that the crowd felt a little dead tonight, but after a period of silence following Yadier's homer when things looked completely hopeless, the fans slowly started coming back to life, still chanting, "Let's Go Mets!" despite the deep hole that had been dug. And really, that's what's being a Mets fan is all about: no matter how much loss we endure, no matter the odds stacked against us, no matter how whack the starting pitcher we put on the mound, no matter how hopeless things look, we keep believing. When Valentin singled, I fucking believed. Then Endy singled, I fucking believed. Even with two outs, I fucking believed. And 57,000 fans chanting "Let's Go Mets!" believed. It sucks that we lost, but I'm glad we believed. And even the loss can't kill the belief in a Mets fan. Mets in 2007!

LET'S GO METS!
LET'S GO METS!
LET'S GO METS!