I remember when I was about 5 years old, I asked my father what would happen if I were to start rooting for the Atlanta Braves.

“I would miss you,” he replied. Confused, I asked him why.

“Well, you wouldn’t be living in this house anymore,” he explained. Backtracking furiously, believing his joke to be a real threat, I pledged my allegiance to one team, the New York Mets.

Now before you crumple this newspaper in disgust, let me tell you why I love the Mets. It’s not because I can go to their home stadium every other weekend to watch them play. It’s not because I enjoy being met with derision, taunts and jeers when I reveal which team I support. And it’s certainly not because of their record in recent years.

No, the real reason why I’m a proud Mets fan is because of the camaraderie and connectivity that I feel to the team and to the whole fan base. It doesn’t really matter what team you root for though, because as long as you are a fan of any team – baseball, football, basketball, Little League – you belong to a family.

My history with the Mets goes way back. Both of my parents are from New York, and they met and were engaged at Shea Stadium, the old home of the Mets. For a five-year stretch, my birthday present was to go with my dad to see the Mets play at Turner Field. My first celebrity crush was on the team’s third baseman, David Wright. And the first song that my dad sang to me as a baby, within 24 hours of my birth, was “Meet the Mets,” the team’s theme song of which I now know all of the words.

It wasn’t until a couple of years ago, however, that I realized the true power behind team spirit. The Mets were playing at Shea Stadium for their last season before it was getting torn down and replaced by the current ballpark, Citi Field. My parents wanted my siblings and me to watch at least one home game in the old stadium before it was gone, so we flew up to New York to watch the Mets play the Phillies during spring break.

The game was different than anything I had experienced in Atlanta. People actually booed for the other team instead of the Mets, and nobody started that terrible Tomahawk Chop. But the biggest difference was that you could almost feel a tangible connection between you and everybody else in the stands. In Atlanta, my family and I were “those obnoxious Mets fans” that annoyed all of the surrounding Braves fans. In New York, we were just one speck in the great big sea of blue and orange, and together we were all a part of the team on the field.

Similarly, when the Atlanta Falcons had their incredible season this year, the entire city seemed to be caught up in Falcons fever. You could barely take a step without running into a fan or overhearing a conversation about the team. The aura of hope, pride and intensity permeated the air. That is an example of team spirit at its very best.

Sometimes, however, it’s just the little things that can separate the fair-weather fan from the lifelong supporter. Like how my family boos loudly every time we drive past Turner Field on the way to the airport. Like how our basset hound’s name is Ike, after the Mets’ first baseman Ike Davis. Like how I can tell when the Mets lost just by the sour mood that pervades our house.

So while it physically pains me to say anything good about the Braves, I can appreciate their devoted fan base. Regardless of the strength of your affiliation with a sports team, just rooting for any team brings you into a unique community of fans, friends and team favorites. But let’s go Mets!