by Thomas Keenan (with a little help from William Shakespeare’s Hamlet)
Over the last few games, the Mets have surged a bit, putting themselves into contention (although as a long shot) for the N.L. Wild Card. I’m the type that really never gives up on the Mets until they are mathmatically eliminated. However, the surge has caused some Mets fans to debate whether or not to believe they can make the playoffs…Immediatly, to my head, came “To believe or not to believe”. So I looked up the famous soliloquy from Hamlet and realized I didn’t have to change a whole lot of it to get it to fit, proving that the Mets are a classic tragedy. I did end up changing parts of it as a challenge, but Shakespeare must have been a Mets fan. The real soliloquy can be found by clicking here.
To believe or not to believe, that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler to quit…to cede to
The slings and crutches of outrageous fortune,
or to take faith against the sea of cards wild,
And by opposing, beat them. To trade? To keep?
Don’t keep, and by a trade to say we end
The heartache and the million hopeful souls.
That faith is error, ’tis consummation
Devoutly not to wish – To die. To keep,
To keep, perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub;
For greater heartbreak in what dreams may come
When lost is logic in this mortal coil;
This gives us pause: there’s the respect
Of past calamities of seasons long –
For who could bear the pain of scores in time,
Lost to lesser opponents; proud men cry;
The pangs of a fans love; redemptions delay.
The insolence of respect and the scorn
That the faithful to the unworthy takes,
When they, themselves have lived in the darkness –
What a vial cross the faithful must bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary game.
But the dread of the team rising from death,
The undiscover’d miracle be born,
A traveler bears witness to the Memphis,
But I have, alas, given into shame,
Proved unworthy to revel in glory;
Thus, doubt does make cowards my heart and soul.
And thus the native hue of resolution
I choose hope o’er the pall cast by trade,
And dream of that great pitch and last moment
Where past failures and their pain turned awry
And glory is ours to taste.