Game 7

It's time.

I'm not going to use hyperbolical language, because that's not really what this game is about.

Tonight is about tonight. But last night andtonight in some way encompasses what the Mets didn't face in 2006: an imminent threat of their demise.

Tonight, Oliver Perez, a headcase-y disappointing veteran of two other organizations, takes the hill. And raise your hand if you thought going into this season that Oliver Perez and John Maine would be counted on for the two most important starts of the season to date.

Ollie, this is your time. Mets, this is your time.

The Mets will be facing the Supp Nazi tonight, a man universally known as a bum. He has pitched well against the Mets, with a 2.27 ERA against them in his career, his impressive game 3 start notwithstanding.

But I don't care about Jeff Suppan and you shouldn't either.

Tonight is about seizing the moment. Keeping the faith. Winning one for the Gipper. Winning one for every Met who did so much and never struck paydirt.

It's your time, Reyes, Beltran, Wright, and Delgado. This is your chance to vault the Mets into a World Series for the first time since 2000, where they will face a team who they can beat.

Pack your bags, gentlemen. The plane for Detroit leaves tonight, fueled by bargain basement Mums.

Ya gotta believe.

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