Eleven wins in a row in Phoenix, dating back three years, now including tonight’s stirring 9-4 come-from behind job over the Diamondbacks. And I got to follow the whole thing pitch by pitch, stroke by stroke, idiotic Diamondbacks announcer comment by idiotic Diamondbacks announcer comment. Sometimes modern life does not suck.

Oh, I remember following the Mets when I actually lived on the East Coast, way back, back, back. I remember the feeling of disgruntlement whenever the Mets would go on a West Coast swing; that meant going to San Francisco, L.A. and San Diego, and other than in 1986 when they squashed everyone, it never seemed to be a good thing for the Mets to go “out there,” for me or for them. They always seemed to get clobbered in California — at least that’s what my admittedly selective memory tells me — and I could never stay up to see the results, since the games always started after 10 PM local time.

Of course, given how things typically went down, that sounds a little like saying, “The food was terrible, and such small portions!” But even if they were going to lose, I still wanted to know what happened, and in those days there were no Intertoobs to find out the up-to-the-minute score; you had to rely on the local papers, and the games ended so late even they didn’t have scores the next morning, so I had to scramble around to find a radio station that would tell me the (usually unfortunate, as I recall) results. When the Mets went out West, which they did only once a year then, it was like they disappeared for two weeks, and this other, phantom team full of suckbots went out and racked up eight losses against only two wins in their stead.

But several rounds of expansion later, it’s a whole new world. Western swings mean Denver (Rockies) and Phoenix (Diamondbacks) as well as California, and the Mets go more than once a year, usually only to two cities per trip. And now that I live out West I can stay up until the very last out and still get in a good eight hours or so of toss-and-turn before work if I need it. More to the point, though, now there is Chase Field, formerly Bank One Ballpark, the gleaming jewel of downtown Phoenix since 1998, where they start cranking the air conditioning in April while the rest of America is still scraping morning-dew icicles off its collective windshield, and the AC is fit to cool a keg during the most blistering of Junes (and if you’ve never been in Phoenix in June, you haven’t clue one what “blistering” is, folks).

When I lived in Phoenix, I always made sure to catch a couple of Mets games, not only because this ballpark is literally the coolest beans, but because — wait for it — the Mets usually won when they played there. Maybe it was the pebbled front lawns, maybe it was the saguaros, maybe it was reflection off the right field swimming pool, but there was never any West Coast Curse here. It seemed almost like Shea West, right down to the noisy collections of Mets fans ringing the grandstands (and we always seemed to be seated together right in the same area, as though the ticket sellers knew to group us somehow). Consequently, Chase is currently my favorite non-Shea MLB ballpark, and I look forward to the Mets replicating its cool dark entryway rotunda when they open their own ballpark named after a big bank in 2009.

Tom Glavine was uncharacteristically wobbly tonight, giving up four earned runs in six innings, but not to worry; Damion Easley was Damion Easley and David Wright was David Wright yet again, each delivering a three-run bomb in that dramatic ninth. Aaron Heilman got himself a cheap win — maybe not a garbage win, because he pitched a scoreless eighth inning, but cheap nonetheless — which could be just the thing he needs to stop his own wobbling of late. Jose Reyes actually got picked off first base to end an inning and it wasn’t the slightest bit costly.

But the best thing of all? I get to go to bed knowing exactly what happened, and having vivid mental pictures of the whole shebang. And my dreams tonight will be awash in orange powdered sugar. Yay technology, and yay life out West.