The terrible Bambi-era Mets had played a month of really good ball going into that 1982 series, closing the gap from something typical like 17 games out to four games out. Four games out! Single digits! It was almost unthinkable for a Met team during the Seaver interregnum. And to add to that, they were 35-33. A Mets team above .500! The tabloids were declaring a sweeping epidemic of ".500 Fever" gripping New York. That's how low our standards were. But I didn't care. I woke up Friday morning to standings that looked like this. TmWLW-L%GBRSRApythW-L%MON3828.576--282230.592STL4030.571--308294.521PHI3532.5223.5295277.529NYM3533.5154.0272290.471PIT3034.4697.0298309.483CHC2644.37114.0288341.423 To be a young Met fan, it was like being on hard drugs. The team just ahead of us was the usual class of the division --- the Schmidt-era Phillies --- on whose behalf "Ya Gotta Believe" Tug McGraw invited New York fans to ""take this championship and shove it" after their 1980 parade. (Really, Tug? Who quotes Johnny Paycheck?) But hard drugs lead to harder crashes. Fast and brutal crashes. Because of prior rainouts, the team headed to Philadelphia for what was originally scheduled to be a three-game series, now bloated to five. But there were no gap days. The series was to include two consecutive double headers. A twi-nighter on Friday, an afternoon pair on Saturday, and a Sunday matinee. Five games in 48 hours. They weren't crushed, just outclassed. But you could feel the demoralization creep into the team's clubhouse as each game of the five-game sweep was cashed in. The tight, hard fought matches grew less tight: 1-0, 5-3, 4-3, 7-4, 8-3. It was Pete Falcone and Dick Ruthven in game one, both going the distance, shutting down the opposing offense. In the ninth, one out, Rose singled, Matthews singled, Schmidt flew out and then he came up --- Bo F. Diaz. Diaz tapped a ball down the third base line. Hubie was a solid thirdbaseman. At least, the tools were there. Good arm. But he couldn't charge a ball like Schmidt could even on the rug. And what could have been a big out was an infield hit by the catcher. It was a good time to lift Falcone. Bases loaded, winning run on third, bottom of the ninth, two out. But Neil Allen was down with a bacterial infection --- he would never be the same again --- and Bambi certainly didn't trust anybody else. Falcone walked Bill Robinson, Rose came home with the winning run, and the sweep was on. Bye, bye, BambiMets. The season ended right there. And I was as blue as a boy could be. Game time was 2:03. The 1983 Bo Diaz granny is a big part of "The Night Neil Allen Got Bad Advice."