My name is Jon Presser, and I love the New York Mets.

I love the New York Metropolitans as much as any sane person should.

My friends will bust my chops all the time. “Why are you a Met fan?” they ask, “why don’t you root for a team that wins?”

Right. Because I’m a fan of the Mets, Jets and New Jersey Nets. I’m a diehard baseball fan and football fan.

I dabble in the NBA. It’s growing on me a bit. I don’t watch hockey, but I identify as a Rangers fan.

I was six years old when the Rangers won the Stanley Cup. I remember being happy about it, but not in any meaningful way.

I’m 22 years old, and other than that half-hearted Stanley Cup victory, I’ve never seen any of my teams win a championship.

It sucks.

I know that. But I’m not the type of fan who’s about to jump ship to another team’s bandwagon because they’re more successful.

The life of a Mets fan is not an easy one, but maybe that’s why I love it so much.

My grandpa was a Brooklyn Dodgers fan who lived at Ebbets Field, until the wrecking ball came to knock it down, and Dem Bums went Hollywood. So now I’m a third-generation Mets fan, and that’s just fine with me.

See, there’s a reason why my blog is called The Shea Faithful.

“Ya Gotta Believe,” Tug McGraw once said some years ago, before my time.

I was born in September of 1988. I think I’ve cursed the franchise since BIRTH. We should’ve won it all in ’88. But now all that year is known for is Jack Buck’s legendary “I don’t believe what I just saw” call of Kirk Gibson’s home run in the World Series. The World Series we didn’t get to play in.

I grew up in the Yankees dynasty. I grew up in Queens when the Mets were a JOKE and the Yankees were top dog.

But my faith never wavered, because I knew that someday, it would be our day to be World Champions.

I remember the Yankees running away with the 1998 season, while the Mets fell a game short in the Wild Card in classic Mets fashion.

I remember the unbelievable ’99 team with the greatest infield in baseball history. “Ace” Ventura. Rey O. Fonzie. Olerud. How we didn’t win the pennant that year was criminal. The grand slam single. The fight back from 3-0 to force a 6th game in the NLCS. Kenny bleeping Rogers.

Then the 2000 team, one of the most amazing managing jobs I’ve ever seen. Bobby V took a team to the World Series with a patchwork outfield and a lot of overachievers. Then Timo Perez forgot to run. We get embarrassed on our own turf, watching those pinstriped assassins celebrate at Shea Stadium.

You think I’m bitter? I will never forget the AL standings that year. White Sox win the Central, Oakland and Seattle coming out of the West. And the Yankees winning a down AL East that year, even though Cleveland had a better record.

Yeah, the Yankees had the FIFTH best record in the AL that year, and won the whole damn thing.

Sigh.

I had no idea that it was going to be the last time I would see my beloved Mets in the World Series for quite some time.

I remember feeling sick when Steve Phillips convinced the Wilpons to get rid of Bobby Valentine, something I believe the franchise has never recovered from.

I remember the Kazmir deal, feeling like I was going to throw up. Not just because we got rid of our top prospect, but because we traded him for 25 cents on the dollar for damaged goods.

Oh, and I rooted my ass off for Victor Zambrano. I still remember watching his final appearance as a Met, striking out Andruw Jones and then running into the clubhouse, never to be seen again. It wasn’t his fault he was the pitcher we traded our blue-chip lefty for. To this day, I still feel bad for the guy.

I remember the 2006 Mets, for my money the best Mets roster I ever saw. Yes, more talented than Bobby V’s 1999 and 2000 teams. A young David Wright and Jose Reyes. Pedro Martinez’s energy. Carlos Beltran’s monster season. El Duque’s eephus pitches.

Then it all fell apart. Pedro and Duque go down with injuries JUST in time for the postseason. John Maine pitching out of his mind, outdueling Cy Young winner Chris Carpenter in the NLCS. Oliver Perez! Hello?!? He pitched game 7 of the NLCS! What?!? And he pitched damn well.

Endy Chavez’s catch. So good even Joe Buck’s voice almost wasn’t monotone for five seconds. His cannon-armed throw back to double-up the runner. Carlos Delgado’s fist pump when the play was completed.

Then the numbing sensation when Yadier Molina reminded us that Aaron Heilman will always be Aaron Heilman.

Adam Wainwright…

Why wasn’t Cliffy bunting? Why do we have to pseudo-rally to get everyone’s hopes up before crashing back to earth?

For the record, I never have, and never will blame Carlos Beltran. He’s been a class act during his Mets career, and he’s only human. How the hell would you’ve hit that pitch? The ball broke two feet. At least that’s how I remember it. I’ve never watched the replay and I don’t ever want to.

Then 2007 happened. It was like watching a slow motion car crash. Three weeks of torture. It was hell watching that team fall apart, knowing deep down in my heart that there was NO way they were making the playoffs.

All I hoped for in 2008 was that they could send Shea Stadium out the right way. I’ll never forget where I was on September 28th, 2008.

Sitting in my dorm room at the University at Buffalo, watching the game, hoping the inevitable wouldn’t happen. When the final out was recorded, and the Mets were eliminated from both the division title AND the wild card. I couldn’t take it anymore.

I sat there and cried. At 20 years old, I sat there in my dorm and bawled my eyes out. My roommate asked me later if I had lost a family member, or somebody close to me.

And I had.

Shea Stadium deserved better than that. It didn’t deserve its last game to be a funeral. I remember watching the closing ceremonies through watery eyes, as Tom Seaver threw the final pitch to Mike Piazza.

I remember thinking that it couldn’t really get any worse than that, right?

Ha. How naive was I? 2009 came and the Mets’ disabled list had the GDP of some small countries.

2010 put everyone out of their misery. Jerry and Omar were lame ducks all year, everyone knew it. Sure there were bright spots. Ike Davis, R.A. Dickey, Angel Pagan to name a few. But in the end, they finished in fourth place again and they were a joke.

Let’s go Mets.

Seriously, guys, let’s GO already.

I was ecstatic when the team hired Sandy Alderson, and he lured Paul DePodesta and J.P. Ricciardi to New York to form one of the best front offices in the game.

Suddenly, everything was coming up Milhouse.

The Mets are back! Nothing can stop us now! Sure we don’t have any payroll flexibility and can’t add anything other than dollar store free agents, but who cares? We got Sandy! We’ve got 21st century baseball minds in the front office! Woo-hoo!

Maybe it’s my blue-and-orange-colored glasses, but I think personell-wise, the Mets have had a damn good offseason.

But then, the bombshell hit. The Madoff scandal is coming back to bite the Wilpons in the ass. A whole mess of legal gibberish I can’t even BEGIN to understand.

How the hell is this team going to operate on a day-to-day basis when there are allegations that the Wilpons turned a blind eye to fictitious profits and they should’ve known better than to get involved obvious Ponzi scheme.

Now, I’m no fan of the Wilpons, I would love it if they sold the whole damn team, but I will say this. They should’ve known better? You’re talking about the same guys who though giving Oliver Perez $12 million per year was a good idea. Come on now.

Now I’m sitting here, less than two weeks until pitchers and catchers report to spring training, and we’re talking about clawback lawsuits instead of split-squad exhibition games.

Yet… nothing is going to keep me from loving the Mets unconditionally.

This team, this franchise, is closer to a religion to me than anything else.

That’s why I can’t wait for spring training every year. Because everybody is 0-0 right now.

Sure, the Phillies have their four aces and sold-out home games.

Yeah, the Yankees can write a check to make all their problems away.

But I will never stop believing that the Mets will be back on top someday. I’m literally incapable of losing faith in the orange and blue.

Why am I a Met fan? I don’t know. But I do know that being a Met fan builds character. I wear a Mets belt buckle every single day and night. I wear my Mets gear with pride.

Because no matter what, ya gotta believe. Always. That’s what being a part of The Shea Faithful is all about.

Someday, the Mets WILL win their first championship of my lifetime. And it’s going to be THAT much sweeter because of all the adversity and turmoil the franchise has gone through in the last 25 years.

Man, I can’t wait for that day. Why not this year? Until we're mathematically eliminated, I won't give up hope. That's just the way it is. I wouldn't change it for anything.