- Only Peggy Lee Could Sing of My Mets Misery
Choose your songbird, your favorite warbler, your hoarse Blue Jay, your Oriole, your Cardinal announcing a new love next February.
I cannot find the right words or music. No diva, not even Ms. Franklin, could express this pain from the Upper Deck, where we sat and wept
while watching the Mets’ meltdown. September agony. Hubris, some say. We thought we were too f**king good.
O happy afternoons, Ms. Lee’s voice in our memories, singing of Siamese cats, a certain ebullience, a sort of a swagger, if a lady might swagger
like I did, pretending to be a slugger, in an inning that made me reel with shame. [End Page 128]
Mary Herbert, originally from St. Louis, Missouri, where as a child she heard Harry Carey announce Cardinal games, now lives in Brooklyn, where she teaches literature courses at Long Island University and roots for the Mets. Her poems have appeared in NINE and Elysian Fields Quarterly, among other journals, and in Line Drives, an anthology of baseball poetry published by Southern Illinois University Press. Her work has garnered several awards, and six collections of her poems have been published by Ginninderra Press in Australia.