The final out of the 2005 season was made at approximately 3:56 PM, October 2.
The first pitch of the 2006 season is scheduled to be thrown at 1:10 PM, April 3.
Thus, the baseball equinox occurred at 2:33 AM, January 2.

At that exact moment, we were equidistant from Jose Offerman's last swing and Pedro Martinez's (toe pending) next pitch.

Barring weather, we are now closer to the Mets playing again than we are to them having played last.

I knew there was a point to January.

Some thoughts on the baseball media dynamic, particularly between the paper you just put down and the computer you're now staring into, at Gotham Baseball.

How do you measure...measure a year? Here's one way:

In 2005, Faith and Fear in Flushing received 380,887 page views. Or roughly 380,886 more than we envisioned last February 16, Day One of the great Met dialogue.

All I can say is...

1) Holy Cram!

2) Just as many thank yous as there were page views from Jason and myself to everybody who was doin' the viewin'. Special acknowledgement goes to FAFIF's final visitors of '05, the rightly prioritized who registered 78 page views between 11 PM and midnight on December 31. The champagne industry's loss is our gain. In 2006, we'll do our best to make you skip other occasions that have been, to this point, mysteriously unaffiliated with baseball.

On a personal note, I appreciate from all both the happy birthday wishes and the condolences on the USF Bulls' understated entry into small-time bowls (a 14-0 loss to the N.C. State Wolfpack). I overcame the football hurt pretty quickly -- and I got, belatedly, what I wanted most of all for my big day very early this morning. I got a ballgame.

XM 175 came through with a rebroadcast of Game Four of the 1999 National League Division Series. You know it as the Pratt Game. It was the WFAN feed, so it was Murph and Cohen at their finest. Having been at that game (thanks to the largesse of my now second-year blogging buddy), I never bore concentrated earwitness to it until now. I only got to hear an inning-and-a-half between 5:30 and 6:00, but that's pretty good for January 2.

(And you thought this sort of thing happened only in the parallel universe.)

Things I learned or was reminded of:

• The first seven innings had gone by in less than two hours before things turned "riveting".
• Todd Pratt had gone 0-for-7 in the series prior to his 10th inning at-bat.
• John Franco had waited his whole life for that week.
• Lenny Harris, then a Diamondback, nearly ruined Franco's week with a grounder that Franco had to make a sensational play on.
• Tony Womack, though the goat for dropping the crucial flyball that gave the Mets life, was in the middle of the eighth-inning rally that was briefly the Mets' undoing.
• With a runner at second and two out, there was actually some question about whether to pitch to John Olerud or Roger Cedeño.
• By the tenth, the only available player left on Bobby Valentine's bench was Bobby Bonilla.
• "Bucky" Showalter, as Murph called him, sprinted out to the mound when he wanted to annoy his pitcher.
• Fonzie can't be the hero every time (said before he didn't drive home the winning run in the ninth).
• Matt Williams' removal from that game in a double-switch while it was tied was insane.
• Todd Pratt was "downcast" between first and second when his deep fly looked Finleybound.
• Shea Stadium was "bedlam" after it was clear it had gone out. I didn't need to be reminded of that, actually, but it was good to be.
• Bob, observing how the Mets were pouring out of the dugout and jumping around, reported you never saw a happier bunch of fellows.

"I wish," he said, "that you could be here."