I didn't start rooting for the Mets until the late summer of 1969, so I just missed the Jimmy Qualls Game in real time. I learned about it in from reading Tom's book The Perfect Game, written with/by Dick Schapp, in 1971 and 1972 (I read it repeatedly). I came home from the beach on the Fourth of July in 1972, turned on the radio and heard our announcers report with admiration laced with dismay that Tom Seaver had just, in the first game of today's doubleheader versus the Padres, replicated the near-miss feat he produced three years earlier, taking a no-hitter into the ninth with one out before Leron Lee foiled him. By then, it was cemented in me that it was odd that the Mets didn't have a no-hitter, and every hint of possibility that followed for the next 40 years had my personal antennae up, whether it was Randy Tate in 1975, Doc in 1984 (still say Knight should have been charged with an error), Rick Reed in 1998, Pedro twice in 2005 or forgotten, truncated quests like one night against the Phillies in 1982 when I happened to be at Shea as Craig Swan gave up no hits until there were two out in the sixth (done in by Pete Rose, as anti-Qualls as it gets, I suppose). I wanted it badly as a kid. I wanted it badly as an adult. I wanted it when Joan Payson owned the team. I wanted it after Nelson Doubleday owned the team. I wanted it always. I wanted it so much that I sat in a Broadway theater fiddling with a Walkman amidst the overture to Bombay Dreams, leasing out my heart to T#m Gl@v!ne in 2004 as he closed in on the impossible dream. Eight years later, Johan Santana got it and I was fulfilled. I still am. I believed it was Santana's to win, Santana's to finish, Santana's for keeps -- and it was Terry Collins's role to sit back and say afterward, "What a performance, onto tomorrow's game." Santana has never evinced an iota of regret. Unless he does, I won't.