There are seats up there in Citi Field below and a little beyond the retired numbers. I confess I never really registered that they were there before — I’m usually looking at those big pinstriped circles, with my mind’s eye off somewhere along memory lane.
Those seats have a lovely view, too — LaGuardia’s new Terminal C gleams across the last little stretch of Flushing Bay, and if you look a little to the left Manhattan is spread out before you like a bejweled fairy kingdom.
Oh, and if you turn around and look at a far-off green patch, you can just make out baseball players doing stuff.
I’d never been that high up in the Promenade, and it was a little like observing an ant farm. I can’t tell you the first thing about Jose Quintana [1]‘s latest dominant effort; or about what Washington’s DJ Herz [2] was throwing, first successfully and later not so much; or how accurate the home-plate ump was; or much of anything else. (I can tell you that the speakers attached to the Promenade roof work very well, allowing you to not only hear but also feel the players’ walk-up songs. Someone probably enjoys this.)
I was there on a work outing, which made me a little nervous — not because of my colleagues, of whom I’m fond, but because the last time we had one of these at Citi Field David Peterson [3] was terrible and my agony in response was so conspicuous that it unsettled co-workers who didn’t think living and dying with each pitch was normal. (You know what? They’re not wrong.)
I did my best to be calmer this time, answering the occasional newbie question about baseball (“What’s the difference between the Mets and Yankees?” is kind of an enormous one) and offering a few factoids that I thought would be diverting but not scarily obsessive — I thought about explaining how the Mets’ colors are ultimately derived from a 16th century Dutch coat of arms but decided to keep it to myself — as well as some light analysis.
For instance, I said that this year the Mets had frequently done nothing much against a new pitcher the first time through the order but used the time to study him, discuss his repertoire in the dugout, and then unloaded on him the second time through the order.
As analysis this gets a raspberry — you may have recalled something I didn’t, namely that Herz had already faced the Mets twice this season. But it seemed wise come the fourth, when the Mets unleashed hell and fury on Herz and his fellow Nationals.
Ready? Walk to Brandon Nimmo [4], who was nearly decapitated by ball four. Pete Alonso [5] single pulled to left. Tyrone Taylor [6] double to left, with Alonso nearly lapping Nimmo after an uncharacteristically bad read by Brandon, winding up at third as Nimmo slid home just under the tag. Slump-buster of a single up the middle for Mark Vientos [7]. Francisco Alvarez [8] strikeout. Harrison Bader [9] walk on four pitches. Luisangel Acuna [10] RBI single through the 5.5 hole. Little parachute down the right-field line from Jose Iglesias [11], perfectly placed. Exit Herz, enter old friend Jacob Barnes [12]. Line drive to right from Starling Marte [13] to drive in two more. Back to Nimmo, who hammered a ball into the Nats’ bullpen to make it 9-0. Alonso and Taylor would then strike out, ending an inning that took just shy of 24 minutes. (I timed it watching the archive version, because who wouldn’t want to relive that?) The dots down there were doing wonderful things [14]!
That was it from the Mets until Acuna added a solo homer to left in the eighth — early returns and all that, but I’m impressed not only by Acuna’s accomplishments but also by the fact that no moment has looked too big for him. And the Nats, of course, did nothing against Quintana, nor against Phil Maton [15] or Huascar Brazoban [16].
When I’m at a game with newcomers to baseball I always find myself playing ambassador, hoping for the kind of barn burner that turns the curious into lifelong fans. I doubt this one converted anybody — basically there were 24 minutes of everything and two hours of nothing. Not an ideal distribution of events from an entertainment standpoint, perhaps, but I enjoyed it hugely. A nine-run inning will always work, even when it’s the work of little white ants.