Just So Many Summers, Babe
There’re just so many summers, babe. And just so many springs. Don Henley’s lyrics came to me early in the 1993 season. Too early. 1993 wasn’t, sadly, the last worthless season that we’d have to spend, but damn if it wasn’t over fast. The Mets were 12-25 after 37 games, 15 behind the 1st place Phillies, with the Wild Card a year from existence. The season loomed as worthless because the season loomed as over. The looming was correct. 1993 contained no hint of competitiveness hidden away