PJ must have needed his baseball fix yesterday because he put on a show from 2013 where Mookie Wilson and some other guys were dissecting Game 6 of the 1986 World Series between the Mets and the Red Sox.

I watched it with him because I was procrastinating on paying bills and pulling weeds, but also because the ‘86 Mets were HOT 🔥

My favorite players were Lenny Dykstra, Kevin Elster, Roger McDowell, and the GOAT, Keith Hernandez 😍

Teara had the Lenny “NAILS” Dykstra poster on her closet door. He was shirtless and resting a bat over his shoulder while standing on a mound of nails. At 10 & 12 and as doofy as can be, we’d stare at it and swoon over his sweaty, muscly bod.

If you told 10-year-old Tiffy that in 34 years, Dykstra would be an ex-convict with no teeth who appears on Howard Stern as the show’s resident pervert, I’d never believe you.

Keith Hernandez on the other hand, with his crazy, drug-fueled antics, would’ve been the one I put money on to end up like that. Instead, he’s aged like a fine wine.

I love him so much. I love that his Seinfeld episode is one of the best shows in TV history. I love that he’s not ashamed of his past. I love the game-calling rapport he has with Gary Cohen and Ron Darling (also hot and aging like a fine wine); how he calls Ron “Ronnie” and Gary “Gare”, and politely apologizes after speaking over one of them.

He just seems as real as they come – which is the #1 quality I admire in people. It’s also why I tend to turn a blind eye to the things I’d never let other men get away with; like some of the chauvinistic things he says, or the sexual innuendos he mutters when the camera turns to a pretty woman in the stands. I know it’s not right, but I chuckle, roll my eyes, and say, “Oh Keith” like he’s an old buddy from childhood. It’s very hypocritical of me, I know, but he’s so charming I can’t help it. Oh and he also has an Instagram account for his cat, Hadji ❤️

I didn’t mean for this entry to turn into an ode to #17 (even though I do believe he deserves an ode 😍). It was supposed to be about Calvin Schiraldi, the relief pitcher who gave up the game-tying sacrifice fly to PJ’s favorite player of all time, Gary Carter (RIP) and a string of hits that ultimately led to the Red Sox loss.

Side note: when googling Schiraldi to make sure I spelled his name correctly, I discovered that holy shit, a young Schiraldi and a young PJ Petti bear a striking resemblance to each other 🔥🤯

Schiraldi was one of the former players included in the round-table discussion that we were watching. After listening to him speak for a while, I turned to PJ and said, “This guy is haunted.” He was so stoic and seemed so very sad.

When the host, Bob Costas, asked if Schiraldi regretted the decisions he’d made in that game, he answered with something I’m sure was drilled into his head after many years of therapy: “I wouldn’t change a thing because it made me the man I am today.” I hope he truly believes that.

Game 6 was also when a ground ball hit by Mookie Wilson rolled through Bill Buckner’s legs, also contributing to the Mets’ win.

I’ve seen interviews with Buckner that broke my heart. He would say things similar to Schiraldi; that he wouldn’t let it define him for the rest of his life. Bill Buckner died last year and I’m sure I’m not the only one who hopes he’d truly made peace with himself.

I just wonder if it’s all worth it. The effort, the dedication, the sacrifices … and then finally … the dream comes true – only to be shattered by one moment that will haunt their minds forever.

I realize this isn’t the outcome to every athlete’s story, and even if it is, most are wiping their tears away with $100 bills. You can call me a bleeding-heart sucker if you want, I don’t mind.

I have to say though, being so sad for them kind of feels like a betrayal to my husband. Why? Because every time the 1986 World Series is brought up, PJ reminds me that he was at Game 1 & Game 6.

While we were watching yesterday, he recalled being crushed when they showed a clip of Rick Aguilera giving up one of the runs; then told me that the moments that led up to the victory still give him chills.

I’m pretty sure he considers October 25, 1986 the best day of his life. I’m not even offended that he thinks more fondly of it than our wedding or the births of our children (even though he’ll deny that).

So instead of being sad for those guys, I’ll choose to be happy for PJ, Keith, the ‘86 Mets, and the millions of die-hard fans.

❤️#LFGM❤️