Faith and Fear in Flushing

Faith and Fear in Flushing made its debut on Feb. 16, 2005, the brainchild of two longtime friends and lifelong Met fans.

Greg Prince discovered the Mets when he was 6, during the magical summer of 1969. He is a Long Island-based writer, editor and communications consultant. Contact him here.

Jason Fry is a Brooklyn writer whose first memories include his mom leaping up and down cheering for Rusty Staub. Check out his other writing here.

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Mets Display Back End Thinking

by Greg Prince on 10 January 2009 12:46 pm

The immediate impulse upon hearing the Mets are signing Tim Redding is to express eye-rolling dismay, replete with a sigh and a smart remark like, “What's the matter, Jose Lima wasn't available?”

Having poisoned the thought process with that impulse already, I'll throw out a couple of happier possibilities: 1) Sometimes guys you write off as journeymen surprise you; 2) Redding may not be altogether awful.

I saw Tim Redding pitch in Washington in April. He wasn't too bad for five innings. Or maybe the Mets weren't that good until they woke up in the sixth. It was Redding vs. Santana, and even in the what's wrong now? world of Willie Randolph's 2008 Mets, that matchup was eventually going to favor Johan. Still, the home pitcher seemed sharp enough, and he seemed even sharper a few weeks later at Shea when he defeated Claudio Vargas, one of the many Tim Reddings the Mets trotted out last year. We kicked his ass pretty good in September, though as Mike Steffanos points out at Mike's Mets, injuries may have had something to with his putrid second half. Not that Tim Redding was ever going to be the most distinguished alumnus of the 1999 Michigan Battle Cats pitching staff, but he's probably worth a long look as a fifth starter for 2009.

Long look as a fifth starter…see, that's the reason I impulsively scoff at this acquisition. You sign a guy to be your fifth starter, or if you don't have much pitching to begin with, your fourth starter. Sometimes those journeymen do surprise you in ways large and small: Rick Reed, Brian Bohanon and Glendon Rusch leap to mind from the relatively distant past as no-names who became good pitchers as Mets for anywhere from a little while to several years. You usually don't get that lucky. You usually get Jose Lima or Scott Erickson or the late Geremi Gonzalez in this decade or the late Dave Roberts (with whom I spent one interesting evening) going back almost thirty years now. You kind of get what you pay for when you scrounge around for fifth starters. The bolt from the Reed blue excepted, you get fifth starters.

Mets Walkoffs (naturally) found some historical statistical doppelgängers for Tim Redding where wins and losses and percentages of each are concerned. In his career, Redding has won 34 and lost 51 for a winning percentage of .400. Mark at MW acknowledges that pitchers' wins can be misleading, but stresses that among the 948 pitchers who have at least 80 decisions in the post-World War II era, Redding's winning percentage is the 36th worst, or “among the bottom 4 percent of pitchers in that time”.

Mark mentions Redding trudges off the mound in the company of Met hurlers like Pete Smith, Jay Hook and Rusch when it comes to lousy records. I'll dispensate Glendon immediately for his übersolid 2000 (to say nothing of the venal identity theft to which he was briefly subject that very same year). Hook was an Original Met. You can't hold any Original Met's record against him. But Pete Smith…

Man, Pete Smith. I remember when we acquired Pete Smith in the offseason preceding 1994. It was the most memorable aspect of Pete Smith's Met tenure, and then only because of the remark Joe McIlvaine made upon trading Dave Gallagher for him. Our GM said he was confident Pete could be a “serviceable” pitcher. Next thing I know I get a phone call from Chuck, up in arms over our newest arm. Why, he asked, are the Mets getting a guy whose ceiling Joe Mac is placing at winning no more often than he'll be losing — and why is he issuing quotes indicating that such output would be considered satisfactory?

Pete Smith's single season as a Met yielded a won-lost record of 4-10. Lest that seem misleading, his ERA was 5.55 and his WHIP was…oh, like it mattered.

The subject of journeymen who rise above their perceived stations always brings me back to Reeder. Laurie and I used to laugh at the way Bobby Jones and then Al Leiter were designated the “ace” during stretches when Rick was clearly outpitching them. It was less about Reed than the concept of the ace. The ace, we agreed, is whoever's pitching that day. I grant you the ace concept carries a little more weight when Johan Santana graces your payroll, but on any given day, you need to throw somebody who you can count on to play a large role in winning you a baseball game. That's more or less the job description of an ace. It's also the job description of a starting pitcher. Every starter, even your “fifth starter,” is your first starter when he gets the ball.

So my question, even in the context of budget constraints, is why doesn't this team make every conceivable effort to secure the services of nothing but top-flight starters? Why are we dabbling in Tim Redding after years of endless dabbling in Jorge Sosa and Brian Lawrence and Chan Ho Park and so forth? Yes, I know Derek Lowe and the mysteriously untouched Oliver Perez are still out there, and the Mets are angling to get one of them, but why not just go for it and get both, especially as winter wears on and prices drop? Maybe Sabathia's tag was prohibitive, but what about Burnett? Why weren't the Mets players for more pitching? I don't know who Omar's called to talk trade, but is pitching at the center of his swap talk?

When we do all-time teams, we generally have Piazza as starting catcher and Carter as his backup; Mex at first, Olerud behind him. Our idea is the best and the next best. That's fine for paper, but that wouldn't work in real life. Starting position players need to start. It takes a certain mindset and acceptance of skill level to play in reserve. You wouldn't keep a 100-RBI bat on the bench to back up a 110-RBI bat. It just doesn't work that way. But pitching? Tom Seaver didn't start more than once every five days. Neither did Jerry Koosman. Or Jon Matlack.

I'm a little in pipe dream territory now (not that that's unusual). I don't think teams set out to have five starting pitchers who perform in descending level of ability, but when you go out and say, in so many words, we're gonna sign Tim Redding and his lifetime 4.92 ERA and he'll be in the back of our rotation…why on earth do you think you have a “back” to your rotation? Your rotation needs, to every extent it can, to have nothing but a front. Tim Redding coming on board because Derek Lowe hasn't bitten and Jon Niese may not be ready doesn't really appear to be a giant step forward in constructing the kind of rotation that won't have us rotating on our own axis — or getting our axis kicked — come those myriad days when Santana isn't batting ninth.

And speaking of back ends…

This Inaugural Season patch the Mets will be wearing on their right sleeves this season to “honor” their first year inside the facility bearing the name of the company that needed a massive taxpayer-funded injection to stay afloat…Holy Pete Smith, does that thing look unserviceable.

Paul Lukas of Uni Watch takes the Mets to task as they should be taken. One of the many unpleasant phrases Mike Francesa and Chris Russo used to throw around on their pleasingly defunct unpleasant radio show was that “[somebody's] not a patch on [somebody else's] fanny”. I thought of that vaguely revolting verbiage upon learning this long-rumored blight would really be sewn on to Mets uniforms in 2009, because it shouldn't be on a Major League sleeve. It should be a patch on somebody's fanny — that way, you wouldn't see it.

The kicker, as Lukas revealed, is the Mets have a much better design in their arsenal, one that plays up the most outstanding and obvious feature of Citi Field, the Jackie Robinson Rotunda. They've had created on their behalf a logo that celebrates it…here. It's very attractive. It would be even more attractive without the Citi mark, which is actually a helpful coincidence since MLB wouldn't allow a corporate name (other than that of a licensed apparel maker) to be flashed on garments worn on the field of play. So the Mets could just do what Lukas did and crop out “Citi Field,” and they'd have this. Or they could do what one enterprising poster at Baseball-Fever did and stitch “Mets” in place of “Citi Field”.

But no. The Mets don't do that, even if, as Lukas explains, a lot of teams have done something like it and made their commemorative patches look real nice. The Mets have to take that abominable pizza logo they've made their stadium shield and play off of that because…why, I don't know. It's the sort of patch you slap on the sleeves of an entire rotation of fifth starters if projecting such an image is indeed your goal.

Given organizational finances and the existing marketplace inventory, bringing in a couple of stud starters to go with Santana, Pelfrey and Maine may be out of reach for 2009. But, honestly, you have to advertise your aesthetic shortcomings right there on your right sleeve? I'm fond of saying there are no style points in baseball. The Mets' wretchedly designed Inaugural Season patch is certainly in no danger of scoring any.

An overdue finger is pointing you atta way to Metphistopheles, where Ray takes us through his 101 indelible Shea memories and such. It's the such that makes it a treasure.

Tonight at 8:00, the surprisingly watchable MLB Network threatens to become completely intolerable when it presents the most endlessly dwelled upon loss in FAFIF history. Viewing advice: find something else to do after the top of the sixth.

The Things Free Agents Think and Do Not Say

by Greg Prince on 9 January 2009 10:05 am

Yeah, I’ll take some questions. First let me get this stupid jersey off. Why am I wearing a jersey over a suit? Come to think of it, why am I wearing a suit? I’m gonna be playing baseball, not asking Congress for a bailout.

Uh, you…what influenced my decision to come here? Money.

You…like I said, money. They made me the best offer.

Best offer — you know, most money, most years. It added up really nicely for me.

Mitigating factors? I hoped I could get more money and more years from another team somewhere else, but the market wasn’t quite what my agent thought it would be, so I grabbed this offer. I’d been on the market long enough, y’know?

Yeah, second row…no, I would’ve gone to any team that gave me the money and the years I was looking for.

Special? Well, it’s always special to make bank. I’m gonna make it here, so I signed with them.

My number? You mean how many years or the value of the total package? My uniform number? I’d hafta look. I dunno. They gave me whatever. I don’t really care about that shit.

Hot chick on the left…what’s it mean to be here? You mean at this press conference? They told me I had to be here.

Oh, on this team? I dunno. Like I said, they’re the ones I signed with.

No, I didn’t have any particular attachment to this team. Why would I? I played with the one team I came up with ’til last July when they dumped my salary and sent me to that other team to help them make the playoff push. I haven’t played for this team before.

Did I want to? Well, I signed with them.

When I was a kid? No, I didn’t think about it when I was a kid. I don’t think I heard of this team until we played them that one series a coupla years ago.

I dunno. I didn’t grow up around here, so I didn’t know anything about this team. Actually, I wasn’t a really big fan of any team. I was playing, y’know? I always thought the kids who were fans were kinda gay. No, not gay-gay — you know, like you and the rest of the reporters.

Yeah, you…the history? We flew in this morning and my agent made sure a car would be waiting for us.

The history of the team? I just told you I’ve never played for this team, so how the hell would I know anything about them?

Um, the fat guy over there with the beard…thoughts on the stadium? I guess this is where I’ll be playing my home games, right? The car took us into a private garage, and I was busy texting on the way over, so I didn’t get a good look. We’re in the stadium right now, aren’t we?

My thoughts on the stadium? They’ve got a field, right? And a fence? So I guess that’s all right.

Um, four-eyed dude in the back…a chance to win? Any team I’m on is gonna have a chance to win. I’ve got pretty bitchin’ stats. I wouldn’t have gotten this contract without ’em.

Joining a contender? I dunno. Were they in the playoffs last year? I was in the other league and don’t really pay attention to the games I’m not in. I know we didn’t make the playoffs even though I had that great salary drive. Shit, it wasn’t my fault they choked.

No, once the season’s over, my job is done. I don’t watch any playoffs or whatever if I’m not playing.

Phone call? From somebody on the team? This team? Nobody actually does that. I have an agent who calls the team to get me the contract. That’s how the other players do it, too, I guess. I don’t know who’s on this team yet anyway.

Um, the blonde on the side…the fans? What about them? I don’t know anything about them. They’re the fans. Am I supposed to know them or something? They have security here, right?

I don’t give a shit if they boo or not. I get paid either way.

Pressure? What pressure? Pressure was those last two months last year when I had to put up the big numbers to get the contract. The money’s guaranteed now. I’ll do my work and take my cuts and whatever happens happens. I’m pretty good, so I guess it’ll take care of itself. And if it doesn’t, the contract’s signed.

Um, a couple more…what? My family? Shit, I don’t know what they think. I’m gonna be making a lot of money and my wife’s probably gonna be on my ass even more than usual. Good thing I’ve got that prenup. She was pretty hot when we met when I was in the minors, but with this contract I can probably do better. It’s not much of a marriage, in case the ladies in this city are listening.

We’ll live wherever. Probably as far from around here as we can judging by what my agent told me. Not too long a drive, I hope. But, you know, away from the city.

The local cultural scene? I’m a ballplayer. My wife’s a ballplayer’s wife. I play ball. She does whatever all day. We’re not gonna be going to any culture. I’ve got a pretty big TV. I’ll probably get a bigger one now.

Endorsements? I hope so. That’s a shitload of money right there. First year for sure. If I’m any good after that, I’ll totally cash in. If not, I’m covered. It’s a pretty kickass contract.

Oh yeah, it has incentive clauses. My agent told me about those. I thought that was pretty funny. And a signing bonus. Man, just for showing up! It’s almost like I don’t have to play or at least I don’t have to play all that good.

We get more if we’re in the World Series, don’t we? Sweet. If you want to call that motivation, you can.

No, I don’t really wear jewelry, so I don’t care about a ring. But I can always use another check.

Oh yeah, my agent wants me to mention my foundation. It’s gonna give me some pretty serious tax breaks, so whatever with that and kids.

Is that it? More pictures now? Do I need to put this stupid jersey back on? This whole thing is kinda gay, but if you say so. The shit I hafta do to make a living.

One For Not Necessarily All

by Greg Prince on 8 January 2009 4:15 pm

Moving article by Mitch Albom in this week’s SI about the woes facing his Detroit, what with the Lions having gone 0-16 and the car makers doing measurably worse. He described an idea he had for a column nearly twenty years ago, getting together the main men from each of Detroit’s four big-time sports teams — the Pistons, the Red Wings, the Tigers and the Lions — for an evening out and how each guy (Joe Dumars, Steve Yzerman, Cecil Fielder and Barry Sanders) was pretty much a regular bloke and how they all got along and what a Detroit thing that was. Albom said he imagined you couldn’t do that in one of your bigger cities, mostly meaning New York.

My thought was why would you want to? We’re not like other cities. I don’t mean that in a parochial, pretentious way. I mean from a sports standpoint. We don’t all band together. Sometimes I think it’s too bad. Most of the time I don’t.

I’m not a huge Giants fan when measured against my Metsdom, but I’ll be watching them and rooting for them to advance this Sunday. Even if I wasn’t any kind of Giants fan, I’d be rooting for them. They’re playing the Eagles.

And I hate the Eagles. You know why? It has almost nothing to do with the Eagles. It has to do with the Phillies, specifically the afternoon of September 7, prior to the first pitch of the day portion of the Mets-Phillies day-night doubleheader at Shea. There was a generous helping of Phillies fans in Queens that day, which is like saying there’s a generous helping of gonorrhea amid one’s genitals. Anyway, one of them is talking to another of them and I hear them confer on the Eagles score, that the Eagles are winning, and that they approve.

Damn, I think, we’re in the midst of a pennant race and you’re here, in a baseball stadium far from home, and you’re worried about a football game? Of course you are. That’s the way you people seem to function. You’re all in it together with all of your teams as one. Wasn’t the overblown subplot of the Phillies’ eventual World Series triumph that it broke the streak of Philadelphia teams not winning championships? That it had been since 1983 since the 76ers did the trick and poor Philly, it waited through 99 separate seasons of missing out in the interim?

What hogwash this struck me as. How did one team become four teams? What the phudge do the Phillies have to do with the Eagles with the Sixers with the Flyers, other than they’re all detestable in their own way and they all play on the same block? Yet that’s how it goes in other places where all they’ve got is one team in every sport. Even in those places where they’ve got two teams in some sports, like Chicago, they tend to rally around one team for everything else. Cubs fans and White Sox fans may differ greatly (only one of them counts a president in their ranks), but they’re all pretty much Bears fans from what I’ve noticed.

That doesn’t happen in New York, does it? There will be Mets fans like me watching the Giants and rooting for them on Sunday. I imagine there will be some Mets fans who are Jets fans doing the same. I also know there will be Mets fans who are Jets fans who, even if they hate the Phillies, have had enough of the Giants being Super Bowl champions. And that’s fine.

We’re not Philadelphia or Detroit or Chicago or wherever. We do what we do here. We may love New York, but our civic-mindedness will not be dictated to us. Oh, it’s been tried. Goodness knows we were told what great nights we were party to in certain suddenly long-ago Octobers, and most of us didn’t buy into it one little bit. We’re in a nonagon in terms of sports around here. We order à la carte, maybe one from Column MLB, one from Column NFL and one apiece from Columns NBA and NHL, if, in fact, we need more than one team, period. Whatever we are, we are not all in it together.

Good for us. Good even for those who don’t like who I like and like who I dislike. I thought it was tasteless, for example, when the Bill Shea video tribute ran at the top of the closing ceremonies on September 28 and, when his role in birthing the Islanders was noted, chants of “POTVIN SUCKS!” and “LET’S GO RANGERS!” were in evidence. Tasteless, but real. Real New York fans don’t suffer the existence of New York teams that aren’t theirs. Shoot, it was all I could do to tap the brake the other day at the sight of a couple of strangers in Rangers sweaters crossing my path on foot.

Is it because we as New Yorkers are more selective than sports fans elsewhere? Or is it simply a function of population? We’re selective because we can be? Or are we built to be discerning? How many of you have had to explain to friends from elsewhere that everything they assume about New Yorkers is at least half-wrong? That “just because I root for [team in this sport] doesn’t mean I can stand [team in that sport]“? That “as soon as I get done detesting [your local team in Sport ‘A’], I will join you in cheering on the demise of [the team from my home region I can’t abide in Sport ‘B’ regardless of what my birth certificate and/or driver’s license indicates]“?

It might work for Detroiters and Philadelphians and such to band together for common sports purpose, but it’s nice, somehow, that we don’t. It’s reassuring from a perspective of both critical mass and individuality that we don’t feel compelled to do so, no matter the forces (like local brain-dead media) that attempt to compel us in that direction every time Modell’s has limited-edition merchandise to hawk. On the other hand, it is convenient to know that if the Giants beat the Eagles, then almost every Phillies fan will have his or her Sunday ruined.

And no matter what happens in that game, this guy now officially sucks like everyone before him on such an occasion has sucked.

For the inside scoop on why Mark Teixeira chose the path he did (rather than the one containing a succulent feast of his favorite food), head this very minute for The Dugout.

Who Should Christen Citi Field?

by Greg Prince on 6 January 2009 4:11 pm

So, who should throw out the ceremonial first pitch at the new ballpark? Candidates who come to mind…

Ralph Kiner? Original Met and beloved icon.

Tom Seaver? Last pitch at Shea, first pitch at its successor. Also, you might have heard, The Franchise.

Roger Craig and Al Jackson together? Craig won the first game the Mets ever won in the Polo Grounds; Jackson did the same at Shea.

Dwight Gooden? Twenty-fifth anniversary of his electrifying rookie season and the next step in bringing the Doctor back into the fold.

One or more Bill Shea descendant? That and continuing the presentation of the floral horseshoe would be a nice reminder of why there's a National League franchise in New York.

Fred Wilpon? It's his dream, give him his moment.

Don Newcombe? I might save him for the second game, which will be Jackie Robinson Day, but maybe they really want to hit us over the head with the Dodger thing out of the gate.

Michael Bloomberg? Probably not, but he is the mayor who saw that this thing got done.

David Paterson? An actual Mets fan and the governor.

Barack Obama? Nothing at all to do with the Mets, but inaugurating a new ballpark with the new president…ah, let him concentrate on his job.

Some Citi executive? I'm sure that person would be heartily received.

Random fan? Maybe somebody who attended the first home game in '62 and the first home game in '64. Gotta be somebody who paid his way into both.

Hobie Landrith? First player Mets picked in the '61 expansion draft. If you don't have a catcher throw out the first pitch, you're gonna have a lot of passed balls.

Any other ideas?

And while you ponder that, can you help a sister — one of our own — out with some votes so she can be kicking Suzy Kolber and some other stiff competition? Let's keep these things in the Mets family.

You Light Up Our Life

by Greg Prince on 4 January 2009 5:10 pm

We celebrate the inauguration of 2009 by thanking you for your explosive support of Faith and Fear in Flushing across 2008: 2,330,556 page views, a new FAFIF record. More than 6.3 million page views have graced our skyline since we began blogging almost four years ago. Thank you for looking in and thank you for sticking around. As we move our focus slightly to the east, Jason and I promise to keep on illuminating two lifetimes lived in the glow of the New York Mets…wherever they happen to be playing, however brightly or dimly they happen to shine.

Thank you for reading.

Photo courtesy of the wondrous lens of David G. Whitham. More of his best shots at dgwPhotography.

Baseball Like It Mighta Been

by Greg Prince on 2 January 2009 1:51 pm

SHEA STADIUM

This shapes up as a banner year in Queens as Shea Stadium prepares to celebrate its 60th anniversary, a milestone sure to be marked with the kind of Flushing flourishes to which baseball fans from coast to coast have become accustomed.

The designation of William A. Shea Municipal Stadium as a national landmark, with ceremonies slated for April 17, 2024, is a fitting signpost in its own right considering where Shea has been these past 15 seasons. Its evolution from nearly condemned facility to Big Apple treasure has been one of the most fascinating stories in ballpark history and is worth revisiting in some depth here.

Today we are used to Shea being discussed in the same conversation with Fenway Park, Wrigley Field and Dodger Stadium as the true classics of the genre. As every baseball fan knows, this quartet stands alone as the hardy survivors of the pre-1989 era of stadium construction, back when ballparks were created for the sole purpose of presenting baseball fans with a baseball game. The concept of baseball game as some kind of consumer “experience,” of course, began with the erection of Toronto's SkyDome and took off in earnest with the debut of Baltimore's Oriole Park at Camden Yards. While historians agree some of the 1989-2009 parks were more successful than others, there is also consensus that the trend informing that particular building boom ran its course by the beginning of the second decade of the 21st century.

Shea Stadium, like its Boston, Chicago and Los Angeles compatriots in character, found itself in the right place at the right time. The same largely unforeseen and indisputably unfortunate economic downturn that contributed to sparking its almost certain demise emerged as its eventual saving grace. It's quite a story of image, perception and — when you get right down to it — alternate reality.

New York Mets ownership angled relentlessly through the late 1990s and early 2000s for a replacement to Shea Stadium. Unlike now, in those days it was thought of as borderline ramshackle, somewhat dilapidated and hopelessly out of fashion. “It's a dump, but it's our dump” became the recurring meme of last resort for Mets fans. Shea was not a selling point when the Mets were in their occasional fallow periods (the last one, if you don't follow them closely, occurred between 2002 and 2004). A revival of the team's on-field fortunes coincided with an agreement with the City of New York to construct a successor stadium, slated in 2005 for opening in 2009.

Early steps were taken toward making this vision a reality in 2006, with ownership going so far as to offer a scale model that April and place a few stakes in the ground of Shea's parking lot that summer. All activity indicated the new park would make its '09 deadline and that Shea would be, commensurately, doomed to extinction.

So what happened?

This is where the story of Shea Stadium and the universal esteem it is held in today takes its twist. Wisdom in ownership is what took over on two counts. First off, the Wilpon family reviewed its investment portfolio and took stock of the developing American economic picture. Looking ahead with unprecedented insight, certain key assets were shifted — mere balance sheet movement undetectable to the untrained eye, but rare financial genius in that the Wilpons saw both the recession of the late '00s on the horizon and the Bernard Madoff empire disintegrating under the weight of its own shady practices. This was more than monetary acumen at play, however. What Met ownership really had going for it was a feel for the New York market, that the last thing its potential customers were going to want when they sought baseball was high-end pretension. Forecasting shaky times ahead, an inkling was in the air that previously made plans should be scaled back…or even scrapped. “Too expensive, too garish, too out of touch for where the city and the country were headed,” is how one longtime Metwatcher sums the situation as it stood almost two decades ago. “When you got right down to it, with all the problems in the world, who needed a fancy new ballpark?”

Shaky times could be said to be the second motivator, too, though in this case it was a more literal interpretation of shaky. The touchstone moment for the Mets' ballpark plans was the same as the touchstone moment for the Mets' ballclub. The moment is plainly pinpointable: October 19, 2006, the bottom of the sixth inning of the seventh game of the National League Championship Series. Endy Chavez had just made his catch for the ages; the Mets came up in the bottom of the inning and loaded the bases; with one out, Jose Valentin stepped to the plate; and Mets fans, in their most hopeful incarnation, shook Shea Stadium practically to its foundation.

The thought process of ownership came into sharp relief: things are going so well here; our fans' enthusiasm cannot be contained; it's all happening on this spot, on this site, right here; how are we ever to do duplicate this kind of magic?

Just then, according to those in the owner's suite, Valentin swung and pulled a Jeff Suppan pitch into the right field corner, scoring Carlos Delgado and David Wright. The Mets took a 3-1 lead. Chavez then drove in Shawn Green with an insurance run. There would be a brief moment of anxiety later when Cardinal catcher Yadier Molina connected off Aaron Heilman for what turned out to be a cosmetic two-run homer in the ninth, but Heilman shut the door from there to preserve a 4-3 win and secure the Mets' first pennant in six years. With ownership judging the rambunctious Shea atmosphere absolutely crucial to producing such an important result in the history of the franchise — without that win, the Mets would not have begun their dynasty when they did — it made no sense from a competitive standpoint to do away with Shea Stadium.

Yet Fred Wilpon maintained a soft spot for Ebbets Field, which was, it might be recalled, an inspiration for the replacement stadium that was going to be built following that 2006 campaign. While the stakes were removed from the parking lot in the days following the world championship parade, he clung to that notion, but in a manner more substantive than could be expressed by tiresome red-brick architecture. Recalling fondly the populist vibe of the Ebbets of his youth, Wilpon made a conscious decision that was at first derided in the New York press as the “Jerry Maguire plan,” so named for the 1996 film in which the title character (a sports agent) invited cynicism for declaring his company should court fewer clients and seek less money.

The Wilpon plan wasn't quite so explicit or humble, but it stoked the already heated passions for Mets baseball among New Yorkers in a way that could not have been easily predicted. Wilpon slashed ticket and concession prices. This, he said, would be the true legacy of Ebbets Field. If they weren't back to “Boys of Summer” levels, they became human-scale, the kind of prices families and working people could afford without worrying about their tightening budgets. It didn't seem like more than a stunt when times still seemed good, but when that recession became evident, Mets' management was hailed as a team of seers.

The parameters of the baseball business as a whole would be redrawn in Flushing. Luxury suites were eliminated, as were season tickets and other such plans; even the owner sat in the stands with everybody else. There would be no more pricing geared to the alleged attractiveness of opponents (one of the more comical curios left over from the mid-'00s is a color-coded pocket schedule that attempts to rationalize higher admission prices for games versus certain opponents on certain days of the week). Mets baseball at Shea Stadium became synonymous with what baseball had attempted so often to market itself as but had never succeeded because baseball had never really meant it. It was the people's game again.

Shea's size, meanwhile, became a virtue as opposed to the liability it had been written off as in the run-up to the proposed ballpark. Instead of creating an air of exclusivity in a smaller facility, the Mets made much of having 60,000 seats (the new total after the renovation of the Diamond View level into Lower Mezzanine seating). “More seats for more fans for less money,” became the guiding principle of Shea Stadium and Mets baseball. As folks looked for uplifting diversions in the recession, this philosophy became codified as an industry operating principle.

A major change to the Mets' baseball planning took place simultaneously, via a reduction in major league payroll and a de-emphasis on free agent bidding. Doom was forecast by some media cynics, but this, too, turned out to be brilliant strategy. Fans warmed to a homegrown product. The Mets were forced to make player development a priority and began turning out a core of young players who would define the franchise's winning ways for a generation to come. Free agents did not necessarily shy away from Shea Stadium either. So impressed by the genuine affection shown between Mets fans and players (where once booing and grumbling were common) and the heady atmosphere of clearly rational exuberance, these so-called mercenaries opted to take lower contracts than were offered by higher-spending, far more desperate organizations. The Mets led the way in altering the economic landscape of the sport. Baseball players still made a very nice living as did the owners. No salary cap needed to be installed — it was just common sense overtaking all parties.

The authenticity of Shea Stadium became yet another asset in the Mets' portfolio. It wasn't the manufactured “retro” cuteness or quaintness that dulled the fan's senses in so many cities by 2010. Instead, it was big and it was rollicking and it was real. It was, in a word, perfect for the New York baseball fan. Teams in markets like Philadelphia suffered with their relatively tiny facilities as their fans became disgruntled when it was realized there didn't have to be such an artificial demand created for something as simple as seats to a baseball game. Even the admitted shortcomings of Shea came to be viewed as legitimately charming and even healthful. While maintenance of the 1964 building became a top priority in the new partnership between the Mets and the New York City, the occasional escalator outage no longer seemed a massive inconvenience. Given the Obama administration's emphasis on physical fitness, a stalled escalator was viewed cheerfully as simply another opportunity for a good vertical walk.

Likewise, with mass transit programs receiving unprecedented federal funding — and the speedy bullet trains from all over the Tri-State area gliding into the renovated Wilson Point/Reyes Transportation Plaza adjacent to Shea — it was no hardship for Mets fans when part of the parking lot originally slated for the unbuilt ballpark was given over to the construction of the now-iconic New York Mets Museum and Hall of Fame, where the club's rich history is lovingly spotlighted year-round. Its exterior was designed in the style of the original World's Fair-era Shea Stadium, replete in blue and orange speckles. This low-slung edifice has become a fan favorite and complements the vista a Sheagoer takes in from the Upper Deck, sitting as it does in the foreground of the downtown Flushing skyline and the revitalized Payson Village that gave New Yorkers access to affordable housing within walking distance of the rail lines and ballpark. A few reasonably priced restaurants and taverns round out the thriving Shea neighborhood that opened in 2014 in conjunction with the stadium's 50th-anniversary All-Star Game festivities.

Playing a mostly unbilled role in what some call Shea's second life has been Citigroup, a local banking enterprise that needed a much-publicized government bailout to endure the recession. Once its ship was righted, the bank paid off its loans and redirected its energies within the communities where its roots were, helping working families find secure homes and supporting youth baseball throughout New York. Notably, Citigroup helped build the Mets Hall of Fame and Museum, but in leading a trend away from the ostentatious “ballpark naming rights” movement of the 1990s and 2000s, the company opted for no more than a small plaque in the lobby of the Hall to identify its role. As one director put it, “Why would we need our name all over something that should be about sports?” It's that way of thinking that led to the removal of extraneous advertising from Shea Stadium's classic green outfield walls.

TIPS FOR TRAVELERS

• If you are planning to make the popular pilgrimage to Shea Stadium in the summer of '24, there are a limited number of tickets available for advance purchase through telephone and online outlets (the Mets were the first to do away with extraneous service charges for such transactions). Otherwise, the vast majority of tickets are sold day of game outside Shea so everybody gets a chance to see a game; lines, however, are surprisingly short given the intense customer training every Met employee participates in. Shea features the most working ticket windows among the 29 Major League ballparks in existence, just as it has the fastest and friendliest concessions inside.

• Arrive early for a leisurely stroll through the museum. In honor of Shea's 60th anniversary, the Mets will be featuring exhibits on the roots of New York baseball, including comprehensive looks at the city ballparks that are no longer around, including Ebbets Field, the Polo Grounds and all three iterations of Yankee Stadium — even the discredited and short-lived third version that opened in 2009 to much fanfare but immediately became viewed as overpriced and inauthentic, driving away patronage in record numbers and leading to the default and eventual dissolution of New York's American League franchise. Shea museum curators say the massive failure of its former neighbor is worth examining as a blueprint of how not to read the market, how not to spend money and, generally, what not to do.

• Shea is instantly recognizable on your flight path into LaGuardia Airport, but if you have a keen eye for detail, you'll notice that this year's promotional banner ringing the top of the park (not to be confused with the annual Banner Day competition) was created not by an advertising agency but through a fan contest. The winner encapsulates what Mets fans have been saying about Shea for a generation: “IT'S A CASTLE…AND IT'S OUR CASTLE!”

A Prayer for the Citi

by Jason Fry on 1 January 2009 5:48 pm

2008 was the final season for Shea Stadium. 2009 is the first season for Citi Field. A little over three months from now, the 2009 Mets will find their positions on the field, a batter for the Boston Red Sox will walk to the plate, and from then on Citi Field will no longer be the stuff of hypotheticals and future tenses. It will be where the New York Mets play baseball.

What kind of place will it be? By now we're familiar with its exterior, having watched it rise beyond the Shea walls for the last few seasons. Its interior is still relatively unfamiliar, though. We've watched its field evolve from vague lines in dirt and rubble to a blank space below a rising grandstand to a place with actual grass and an infield. We've started to wonder how its quirky outfield dimensions will play and realized those walls are too high for Endyesque takeaways and Finleyesque getaways. We've realized it has bleacher seats, and tried to imagine those not being a novelty. We've heard about the restaurants, the rotunda (quite a lot about the rotunda), the green seats, the huge scoreboard. What we don't know about yet — because for the most part they don't yet exist — are the landmarks we'll eventually use in navigating to our usual bathroom, or to get a Carvel helmet cup, or find the ATM.

Which is what I'm wondering about.

Last year, before Johan valiantly but vainly screamed “CLEAR!” and applied the paddles to the chest of our season, Greg and I sat in the upper deck (I desperately hoped it wasn't the final time for me, while suspecting it was) and had a … lively debate about the transition from Shea to Citi. (It wasn't an argument — that's not really our style — but it was impassioned.) Given Shea's imminent fate, it would be both impolite and irrelevant to reiterate its shortcomings here, and it wasn't the heart of what we discussed then either. We knew each other's feelings on Shea and Citi pretty thoroughly by then.

From a Shea Stadium perspective, late September was the era of the stadium fire sale. The seats had been put up for sale — I'd even plunked down money my unemployed self didn't particularly have for a pair — and now everything else was on the block, too. This is the pricelist MeiGray sent around, as reproduced by our colleagues at Loge 13. And that is where our discussion started to get impassioned.

It wasn't that MeiGray was selling just about everything that was about to no longer be nailed down — that's so thoroughly the 21st-century American way that kicking against it is a bit like complaining about gravity. It wasn't that countless banners and signs bearing the name Shea Stadium were up for sale — obviously those would be of no use in the new park — or that MeiGray had the audacity to sell off a priceless piece of Met history like the MAIL ROOM AUTHORIZED EMPLOYEES ONLY sign. (I hope whoever parted with $75 for that one is happy with it — heck, looking over that list, I kind of wish I'd spent a mere $50 to buy Greg one of the signs that used to warn hapless fans of the curious fact that ELEVATOR DOES NOT STOP ON THIS FLOOR.) Big organizations don't take the old place's furnishings with them when they change locales, because they want a unified style that fits the new place. All understood.

But why were the Mets selling off all this stuff that seemed like it could be reused? Take those giant banners from the concourse. Why wasn't the huge Gary Carter with his hands in the air making the trip? Was there no room at Citi Field for a big, triumphant Todd Pratt, or an oversized Cleon Jones or Tug McGraw in exultis? After thinking it over a bit, I told Greg we of course couldn't know whether the banners fit the new concourse. But surely we would find their equivalents at Citi. So what if it wasn't the exact same Joyous Tug banner greeting you on your way to your seats in the Platinum Centurion Level (or whatever the heck it is) — the important thing was that there would be a Joyous Tug banner. And there would be, right?

And that's where I started to get a bit worried.

Like why were all those posters of yearbook covers from the Diamond level up for grabs? How could framed yearbook covers not work with the new Citi Field look? Did the retired numbers from the outfield wall really need replacing? Because Citi Field would have a spot for 14 37 41 and 42, right? Why would the Mets sell the flags for their two world championships and two N.L. pennants? I don't want to see updated versions of those at Citi Field — I want to be able to look out at the same ones I saw flying proud or hanging disconsolately all those years at Shea. (Celebratory flags will fly somewhere at Citi, right? Right?) And while it's obvious the Mets are getting new lockers, why wouldn't you keep one for the new place? Like, say, Tom Seaver's? The $41,000 price tag on the Franchise's locker was a nice historical nod, but why sell it at all? (Greg and I had no bone of contention regarding this point. To the contrary.) Why not put it behind plexiglass in the new concourse, with an old-style 41 uniform and Seaver-era gear in it? You'd have an instant spot for pilgrimages when we needed a starter to come up big — like, say, Johan did against the Marlins. Hang on, man — this is a big game, I need to go tap Tom Terrific's locker for luck. What? It worked in Game 7 of the '09 Series, didn't it?

(While were on the subject — who the hell let Aaron Heilman occupy the Seaver locker?)

In the last years of Shea my position regarding the Mets' home was firm and clear: The memories of miracles on that green field and what it was like to watch them with friends and loved ones from the stands would forever be dear to me, but they had nothing to do with the architecture, which I would neither miss nor mourn. I was ready to move on. Eager to do so, in fact. But there was a bargain assumed in that point of view, one I figured was obvious and so never felt the need to spell out: The Mets' new home would celebrate the Mets' history, even if it hadn't unfolded in that exact spot.

And that's what's come to worry me more and more. From the Shea sale to the Citi Field renderings to the Mets' statements, sometimes I get the uneasy feeling that the Mets see nothing wrong with rewriting or even restarting their history, casting aside the jumble of lovable futility, unlovable futility, championships won by an underdog and an overdog, ignoble chokes and noble failures for a simpler narrative: Once there were Brooklyn Dodgers, we won two titles, isn't Citi Field great?

There has been no Met communique to that effect that I'm aware of. There is nothing whatsoever to say that is what will happen, beyond one Met fan's uneasy feelings shaped in part by winter paranoia. But after 33 years of close-up Met viewings, I refuse to discount these forebodings out of hand. And Citi Field needs to put them to rest if it wants to be not just a new place but our new place.

Everything doesn't have to be just so on Opening Day — like any new building, Citi Field will need some time to get the kinks out and find the right way to do things. But I can tell you, in broad outline, what that right way is. It's got to celebrate 1969 and 1973 and 1986 and 1988 and 1999 and 2000 and 2006, in as much detail as possible. It's got to honor what was done by Casey and Tom and Jerry and Gil and Krane and Tug and Rusty and Willie and Maz and Davey and Mookie and Doc and Nails and Straw and Mex and the Kid and Mike and Tank and Al and Johnny and Robin and Fonzie to appreciate what will be done by David and Jose and the Carloses and Johan. It's got to have a place for the eye to alight and remember that no, nobody in our colors will take this field wearing 14 or 37 or 41 or 42, and if you don't know why, ask the guy next to you. It's got to remind us that the Sign Man and Banner Day and Mr. Met in his various incarnations and the Bullpen Car and the K Corner and random aerialists and rushing the field are iconic images in these parts.

And ideally that would be the beginning, not the end. When Greg and I first started imagining a new Met home, we talked of Met statues by the various entrances, of trading Gates A, B, C, D and E for, say, Casey and Tom and Tug and Keith and Mike. I daydreamed of a concourse where the Holy Books became marble, with the name of every man to take the field for the Mets on a wall. The Mets don't have to do that. But whatever they do, it has to make Citi Field a place that does more than just provide a better view of the ballgame amid better amenities. It also has to let visitors soak up as much Met history as they can hold — from the forebears who wore blue and orange to the Continental League to the Polo Grounds to Shea. And then — and only then — to Citi.

A Season at Shea

by Greg Prince on 31 December 2008 10:00 am

“I guess it looks as if you’re reorganizing your records. What is this though? Chronological?”

“No…”

“Not alphabetical…”

“Nope…”

“What?”

“Autobiographical.”

“No fucking way.”

—Dick, amazed by Rob, in High Fidelity

For my 46th birthday today, which coincides with the end of the final calendar year in which baseball was played at Shea Stadium, I am giving myself the gift of one more season there. What follows are 162 games. All of them took place at Shea. All of them had me in attendance. Together, for better and occasionally worse, they represent how I will remember Shea.

Seasons go from 1 to 162. This goes the other way. It’s New Year’s Eve. On New Year’s Eve, we count down. I do anyway.

Join me, won’t you, for this final farewell of mine to Shea Stadium…

162. September 13, 2008 (2)

Mets 5 Braves 0. They wouldn’t sell me a goddamn pretzel.

161. August 21, 2008

Mets 5 Braves 4. Endured jerks all evening. Didn’t care about them when Delgado’s fifth hit of the night delivered the walkoff win.

160. June 23, 2007

Mets 1 A’s 0. Scoreless duel broken up in ninth as Ramon Castro chugged around the bases. I started in the Upper Deck with Jason and Ray from Metphistopheles. Went down to Field Level to say hi to Larry. Then a celebration broke out and I never made it back upstairs.

159. June 25, 2007

Mets 2 Cardinals 1 (11). Shawn Green’s only no-doubt blast wins it. Surely the only thing Shawn Green did with a bat besides fly out.

158. August 25, 2008

Mets 9 Astros 1. My 400th game ever at Shea. The first of the final sixteen, all of which I attended. Delgado and Pelfrey beloved throughout.

157. July 2, 2000

Braves 10 Mets 2. First time in a Diamond View Suite. Totally unappointed. Not that great a view, actually.

156. August 6, 1999

Mets 2 Dodgers 1. Never sat in closer proximity to home plate. Watched Dotel and Park trade zeroes. Swear I saw a curveball curve. Mets entered a home game in first place for the first time in a long while. A lot of buzz the second I got off the LIRR. A lot.

155. May 20, 1999 (2)

Mets 10 Brewers 1. The nightcap in which Ventura hit his second grand slam. Everybody asked everybody, “Is that the first time…?” Then we learned it was. One guy I invited told me the next day he’d treasure that ticket stub. I somehow doubt he still has it.

154. August 4, 1987

Mets 5 Phillies 3. Prior to the game, I gained access to a press event at the far end of Loge (the Terrace, I think they called it) to cover the introduction of the astoundingly awful Think Big video. Gary Carter and Mookie Wilson showed up for it late in the proceedings in full uniform. Nice buffet. It convinced my friends whom I brought (had tickets for this game anyway) that I was slightly more of a big shot than they would have guessed.

153. May 17, 1983

Mets 6 Padres 4. Darryl’s first Shea HR. First time I saw Seaver pitch in his second go-round. I left when he left, not out of disinterest, but from a miserable headache. From there on out, I carried a pain reliever.

152. July 28, 1979

Mets 6 Cubs 4. The only win for me in a six-year span. Dave Kingman hit three homers for the Cubs. Taveras stole three bases for the Mets. Suzan takes picture of grounds crew. Thinks they’re the Mets.

151. August 24, 2006

Mets 6 Cardinals 2. Mets at their 2006 reliable best. Jason and I walked out through the parking lot and discovered we couldn’t cut across because of construction. Hence, my first up-close exposure to Citi Field.

150. August 12, 2004

Mets 2 Astros 1. One of the LIRR discount day games I managed to work in to my schedule my first summer as a self-employed consultant. Zambrano, first Shea start, looked very sharp and was cheered heartily. Honest he was.

149. April 26, 2002

Mets 1 Brewers 0. Shawn Estes fires a one-hitter. High up on the list of “this is gonna be it…”

148. May 15, 2008

Nationals 1 Mets 0. Another no-hit bid gone awry. Everything had to go just perfectly wrong for the Mets to lose this. And it did.

147. May 19, 2007

Mets 10 Yankees 7. It was going very swimmingly. Wright hit a ball clear into the construction site. Yankees were flummoxed for relievers. Then it started to turn. Jim and I, cocky as hell early, literally held each other for dear life as the last out was made.

146. July 24, 2005

Mets 6 Dodgers 0. I take my baseball-challenged friend Alan and his family to his sons’ first game. One sleeps through it with an ear infection. The other is not converted. Alan still knows nothing. But I found out his wife was a big Tug McGraw fan.

145. August 7, 2001

Mets 3 Brewers 0. On the way there, at Queensboro Plaza, some lady pulls a Marge Schott and insults every ethnic group she can think of. At the game, some kid tries to get me and Jason to join him in a “TRADE TODD ZEILE” chant. We decline.

144. August 9, 2001

Mets 4 Brewers 3. 104 degrees. Vendors give out cups of water. I assume it was to prevent a lawsuit.

143. September 28, 1999

Braves 9 Mets 3. The night I wore no Mets gear so as, Jason put it, to fool the gods. It didn’t work. Orel was shelled, Cook was ejected and things looked bleak.

142. September 2, 1997

Mets 8 Blue Jays 5. Roger Clemens’ first Shea appearance since ’86 World Series. We boo every step he takes, every move he makes. He doubles, which we may have grudgingly applauded while booing. Ordoñez homered, but not off Clemens. Jose Cruz, Jr. hit the essence of a ball that is still going.

141. July 8, 1983

Astros 6 Mets 3. Nolan Ryan toys with Mets. Mike Torrez is useless. Nobody’s there on a lovely Friday night. Last game Suzan and I attend, just the two of us. She reads while I root in vain.

140. April 17, 1990

Cubs 7 Mets 6 (13). The night I learned that you always bring gloves to Shea Stadium for night games in April. Too cold to tough it out into extras. I get home to find Mackey Sasser emerging in the dugout. Mackey had been in Alabama when the day started. He flew in and saw the lights were still on. So he came by and Davey used him…to no avail.

139. April 17, 2002

Braves 2 Mets 1. Same date, a dozen years after a brutally cold night. Daytime. Temps in the 90s. Go figure. I’m convinced the season ended this day when Mets threatened and Jeff D’Amico hit a ball to right that B.J. Surhoff picked up and threw to first for the force. I met Dan, whom I’d know by e-mail since 1999, for the first time in the middle innings.

138. September 20, 1998

Mets 5 Marlins 0. Saturn Day. Joe has a Saturn. Joe has tickets. The tickets are in Row V. Only time I sat in the top row. Leiter cruises, Olerud’s on fire, Turk is encouraged to slam that rosin bag. Nothing can possibligh go wrong for the Wild Card-bound Mets.

137. September 23, 1998

Expos 3 Mets 0. Mets have stopped hitting. Everything possible is going wrong. Wild Card slipping away. I’m one of about eight people to stick around for the incongruous year-end highlight video this Wednesday night. The climax is Hundley homering in Houston and greeting Piazza at home plate. Mets fly to Atlanta and get swept to end their horrifyingly ambiguous season: a lot of playoff race tension, but no playoff spot.

136. May 13, 1995

Expos 6 Mets 1. First game for me at Shea since strike ended. Steph and I had been in Baltimore and took tour of Camden Yards while O’s were away. It had the effect of whetting her appetite for baseball, which never happened before or again. All core concessions were half-price. Seemed not a bargain but reasonable. Mets aren’t appealing to watch when they’re desperate but they sure are a lot more likable to deal with.

135. September 25, 1989

Phillies 2 Mets 1. Steph’s and my second game ever, first since getting engaged 48 hours earlier. Mets are eliminated. I sit and sulk and make us almost miss our train. One wonders why my wife doesn’t really get a whetted appetite for baseball.

134. May 1, 1979

Padres 10 Mets 5. High school newspaper night. I’m the only sophomore in our group of eight, a total outcast. Gaylord Perry bewilders Mets. Frank Taveras strikes out five times. Rangers beat Islanders in the playoff game everybody is following. Sucks to be a Mets fan at that moment in time.

133. April 15, 1998

Mets 2 Cubs 1. The night after the afternoon the Yankees borrowed Shea. Guy sitting near me said the stink needed to be removed. Sammy Sosa homers, which is not yet a phenomenon to anybody. Rick Reed homers, which is phenomenal.

132. May 25, 2001

Mets 4 Marlins 3 (10). Ugly 1998 Merengue Night loss is avenged by Timo Perez of the Dominican Republic. Timo waves a Dominican flag in jubilation. We are all Dominicans for a fleeting instant. Timo Perez, Jason declares, is the King of Merengue.

131. July 18, 2001

Mets 4 Marlins 3 (11). Bobby Valentine comes out and talks some umpire into reversing a call based on some obscure rule only Bobby Valentine seems to know about. “Abandoning the base,” I believe. Bobby Valentine really is smarter than everybody else.

130. August 29, 2004

Dodgers 10 Mets 2. Joshua Fry’s first game. He picked not a great one. Memorable before the kid showed for Shea’s Byzantine security system blocking Steph and me from our beloved sushi stand like five feet from where we were standing.

129. April 30, 2008

Pirates 13 Mets 1. Largest loss I ever saw. Very cold, very awful, kind of fun somehow.

128. July 11, 1993

Dodgers 2 Mets 1. Twentieth anniversary of my first game. First Sunday night game I ever attended. Dodgers brought in rookie reliever Pedro Martinez. Oh, I snort, he’s only here because his brother Ramon is a star. Actually, Rob informs me, he’s better than Ramon. Much better.

127. September 9, 2007

Mets 4 Astros 1. Pedro Martinez, long established as one of the best in the game, makes his return to Shea after having been away for a year injured. He pitches guttily, he doubles and he connects with the crowd in a way I’ve never seen another Met pitcher — not Seaver, not Gooden — connect. I so love that man in a Met uniform.

126. August 12, 1993

Braves 8 Mets 4. Only game I go to with my father, just the two of us. He couldn’t wait to leave. Neither could I, really.

125. June 2, 1982

Braves 3 Mets 1. Phil Niekro carries a no-hitter into the eighth. George Foster comes up with huge opportunity in the ninth. Does not convert. Foster’s reign as boobird target begins in earnest.

124. May 15, 1982

Mets 6 Dodgers 4. First game back for me after my first year of college. Guy sitting near me and Joel harasses Rick Monday by telling him it’s Saturday. I mean without pause, except to curse out Islanders goalie Billy Smith, who, you might guess, wasn’t actually there.

123. May 7, 1985

Mets 5 Braves 3. My first game at Shea as a college graduate. Gary Carter wallops a grand slam. Joel and I are in the very first row of Field Level down the third base line.

122. August 11, 1992

Mets 2 Pirates 0. Tom Seaver Hall of Fame Night. LeRoy Neiman posters are given out. Murderous thunderstorms keep crowd down to 20,000 despite 40,000 tickets reportedly sold. Seaver kind of rushes through his speech. Then he leaves not to return to Shea until 1999.

121. April 12, 1999

Mets 8 Marlins 1. Tom Seaver throws out first ball on Opening Day. Bobby Jones homers. Bobby Bonilla returns and is greeted warmly. In our row, in the family section (the Dee Reed connection in action), we are wedged in by several Bonillas, so Laurie and I kind of have to greet Bobby Bo warmly. We also have to hope we don’t have to get up to use the restroom.

120. October 14, 2000

Cardinals 8 Mets 2. Warm weather, good friends, the wife, a playoff game, the Agee seats. We lost and still had a series lead. Can’t believe I wasn’t hot and bothered from it.

119. September 27, 2002 (2)

Braves 7 Mets 3. The final game of our two-year Tuesday/Friday Night Plan. Very empty. 40th anniversary Mets highlight CDs given out.

118. September 29, 2002

Mets 6 Braves 1. Nice do-over from two nights earlier. Many more CDs handed out as they were left over. The Princes joined by the Dubins for the game, the Haineses at Bobby V’s thereafter. Fonzie’s last Mets AB. Bobby Cox uses Jung Bong as the smoke cleared from the Grant Roberts pot fiasco. Bobby V’s final game, too, come to think of it.

117. June 18, 2004

Mets 3 Tigers 2. Piazza Catcher Home Run Record Salute Night. He’s presented with the Big Gay Chevy (seriously, that’s what it was called). Mike Cameron sends us home with a walkoff wallop. We were supposed to be excited that we’d just acquired Richard Hidalgo. We weren’t.

116. May 11, 2008

Mets 8 Reds 3. Stephanie and I at Shea on our 21st anniversary of first meeting. Players use pink bats for Mother’s Day. It’s the last time Shea would see Griffey, who’s finally no longer booed for not accepting a trade. So windy, so cold, consensus has us leaving in the sixth. Batting order foulup in the ninth extends game long enough for us to see it end at home.

115. April 25, 2000

Mets 6 Reds 5. Junior’s first Shea game. He is booed a lot for not becoming a Met in the offseason. He’s also the last out, struck out by Armando who’s wearing 1969-themed pajamas on Frequency-inspired Turn Back The Clock night. Cold as a bastard. Future Met Manny Aybar earns my lifelong enmity for pitching like molasses.

114. July 14, 1995

Mets 13 Rockies 4. I break eight-game losing streak thanks to Mets’ offensive outburst off future Met hurlers Reynoso and Acevedo. We had living room furniture delivered that day. Sometimes I look at the remaining pieces and think “losing streak over…”

113. June 28, 1975

Mets 5 Phillies 2. The Randy Tate Game, with an invisible asterisk next to it for years because Suzan and I Ieft during a rain delay (not my idea) and I was led to believe we left during the Old Timers game, not the real one. But we didn’t, so it’s all good. I saw Randy Tate pitch, damn it.

112. August 15, 1981

Mets 3 Phillies 1. Last game before I leave for college. First win in two years, snapping a seven-game losing streak. First game to be live-Logged.

111. September 30, 1999

Braves 4 Mets 3. Game that buries us in the Wild Card race. Dunston can’t handle a fly ball to right. It becomes a triple. Laurie and I run into Jason and Emily on the 7 platform, which seems too random an encounter to actually happen.

110. October 12, 2006

Mets 2 Cardinals 0. Beltran and Gl@v!ne quell Cards. Mets take 1-0 NLCS lead. I am whapped in the mouth by a flying bag of peanuts. It all seems so easy.

109. October 5, 2006

Mets 4 Dodgers 1. High spirits way the hell up in the Upper Deck for a Gl@v!ne masterpiece over the Dodgers. Actually, some drunk guys behind us couldn’t be more annoying, but as Jason put it, they drank like Vikings but were as harmless as puppies. I don’t let things roll as easily off my back. Ralph Kiner throws out the first ball in a very bright yellow sweater.

108. October 13, 2006

Cardinals 9 Mets 6. I approach Shea thinking the Mets could be the first 11-0 team in postseason history. First of many mistakes committed by those in orange and blue. It’s a little chilly at the game. By the time I get home, it feels like winter.

107. August 6, 2005

Mets 2 Cubs 0. Seo outduels Maddux. Entire day feels surreal in that “this seems more like I’m dreaming this” fashion. Too many Cubs fans. Always too many Cubs fans.

106. May 8, 1981

Dodgers 1 Mets 0. Almost 40,000 at Shea, which is a shock to the 1981 system. They’re here for Fernandomania. Mike Scott matches him but Mets don’t hit. Tortilla chips are given away as the “This Magic Moment” prize. I like that there’s a crowd. I hate that they’re not here to see the Mets.

105. September 15, 2007

Phillies 5 Mets 3. We now join The Collapse, already in progress. Charlie and I yell every clever thing we can at the Phillies and their fans. It doesn’t help. It’s the day the Phillies surpass the Braves in my animus. They’re still there.

104. June 29, 2008

Mets 3 Yankees 1. Final Subway Series game. Final game with Richie and Rob. Big Game Ollie shows up. Wilson Betemit hits one a thousand miles. A-Rod almost does, but it dies at the track. Intensity has diminished since 1998, but winning these never gets old.

103. July 9, 1999

Mets 5 Yankees 2. Piazza takes Clemens to school and locks him in detention. Laurie and I sit near Mrs. Agbayani and Mrs. Lopez. Yankees suck.

102. September 21, 2002

Mets 6 Expos 3 (11). The Esix Snead Game. Every franchise could use one.

101. September 7, 2008 (N)

Mets 6 Phillies 3. Santana and Delgado star in a statement game, stating no collapse this year. A premature statement, but at the end of a very long day-night day, it seemed profound. My last game with my longtime Shea companion Joe, star of the Esix Snead Game and so many more. It kind of got to me up there in Row Q.

100. August 11, 1984

Mets 3 Pirates 1. My first Doc start. He breaks Jerry Koosman’s team rookie strikeout record. Every Doc start breaks a record in 1984 and 1985. Guy behind me asks me to sit down because I’m getting up and cheering with two strikes on every batter.

99. July 17, 1976

Astros 1 Mets 0. My first Tom start. He strikes out eleven but is unsupported. Only run a cheapie 341.1-foot Cesar Cedeño homer. Third Old Timers Day in a row for Suzan and me. Ziggy and his family give us a ride to the game, which was not anticipated. Ziggy’s dad worked for Nabisco. They offered us a box of Ritz to take in. Suzan declined on our behalf.

98. August 6, 1995

Mets 7 Marlins 3. Stephanie and I attend with Rob Costa who used his customer tickets to take us. Last game I see with Rob who dies three years later.

97. September 8, 1986

Expos 9 Mets 1. Not many games like this in ’86. Last game I see with my parents. Mets are in magic number single digits. Nobody’s too bothered. We hit Lenny’s Clam Bar in Rockville Centre on the way home. It’s almost like I’m hanging out with these people.

96. June 25, 1978

Pirates 4 Mets 0. Suzan’s boyfriend the former Shea vendor uses his connections to get us inside the big souvenir closet. I fail to take advantage, but Mark fills a bag of awesome crap for me anyway.

95. June 22, 2006

Mets 6 Reds 2. Seniors Day (the elderly, not twelfth-graders). Stephanie and I lead a group from her center on a bus. Hot day, just enough shade to preclude her fair-skinned wariness. Everybody was happy. I don’t think I ever saw Stephanie enjoy a day at Shea as much. Wright homered twice. Pedro gutted out not-great stuff and struck out the side when he had to. I’ll take this one in a 2006 time capsule.

94. July 14, 2005

Mets 6 Braves 3. One of those pleasing nights when the Mets do everything right and slightly spectacularly. I meet the Other Jason for the first time, which is the first time I’ve met a FAFIF reader in person.

93. June 20, 1997

Mets 1 Pirates 0. Bobby Jones at the height of his All-Star powers. Some dude I encounter as I head for the men’s room high-fives me about eight times and blurts, “BOBBYJONES! BOBBY JONES! BOBBY JONES!” The sentiment is mutual.

92. June 22, 1997

Mets 12 Pirates 9 (10). Bobby V uses nothing but relievers, including Cory Lidle to start. Leads are blown and recovered. Carl Everett can’t be stopped. Brief rain delay came from nowhere and didn’t cool things off one bit.

91. July 6, 1997

Mets 3 Marlins 2 (12). Mets take third in a row from their competition for the Wild Card. Gary Sheffield lazes after the winning base hit. We head into the All-Star break giddy. I park under an underpass and am glad I don’t get a ticket. On the way home, we pick up frozen pierogies for dinner.

90. September 1, 2001

Mets 3 Marlins 2 (11). Miserable headache. Sign up for a credit card towel because I’m cold. The chemicals that compose the Met logo make the headache worse. Jorge Toca slides home with the winning run. Significance of this game would grow in retrospect given the date. It’s the last game I ever attended where there was no discernible security out front.

89. August 29, 1979

Braves 5 Mets 4. The game I use as my go-to “boy, the Mets sucked back then” example. A Richie Hebner festival of indifference. First game for Joel, Larry and me together. We pushed the attendance just over 6,000.

88. April 29, 1981

Pirates 10 Mets 0. Mets were still sucking. Scoreboard went out for a while and we were entertained by “Thank God I’m A Country Boy”. Nobody sang along. Frank Cashen may have noticed we weren’t Baltimore. John Stearns played badly at third and was relentlessly harassed by one fan who could be heard clearly throughout the largely unoccupied facility.

87. July 26, 1980

Reds 5 Mets 1. Only thing we won’t be able to see, Joel and I agreed, is a ball that goes into the right field corner. A ball goes into the right field corner. The ball comes out. Jerry Morales doesn’t, at least not on the heels of the ball. For a while thereafter, the right field corner was known as Jerry Morales territory. I lead us down a staircase at Woodside we didn’t need to take.

86. July 2, 1975

Mets 7 Cubs 2. A Jon Matlack classic, more notable for being the only Mets game attended by all four original Princes. If a Jon Matlack classic couldn’t lure back our nuclear family, what would?

85. June 6, 2003

Mets 3 Mariners 2. We’re there to see John Olerud in a Seattle uniform. He’s the last out versus Armando. I’d been pissy toward the Mets all year but found myself rooting for our villain versus our former hero. A matter of laundry and Log, I suppose.

84. August 12, 2003

Mets 5 Giants 4. We’re there to see Edgardo Alfonzo in a San Francisco uniform…if that’s what he’s gonna insist on wearing. My first Heilman start. He doesn’t look good but perseveres. Barry Bonds hits one very high home run and one “DUCK!” laser. How’d we win?

83. July 31, 1998

Dodgers 4 Mets 3. Last time my sister steps foot inside Shea Stadium. She’s there for Fireworks Night but begs off after the last out because of a headache brought on by all the noise (go figure). Game blown by Franco in that trademark game blown by Franco manner.

82. July 10, 1998

Expos 8 Mets 6. For a very long time considered the Worst Loss I Ever Saw. Another Francofest, accented by Merengue Night crowd that couldn’t have cared less about the home team. I found a half-consumed bottle of Pepsi in the concourse and smashed it against a wall. Stunned Joe into ten minutes of absolute silence.

81. May 1, 1994

Mets 7 Dodgers 4. New York Nostalgia Cap Day, your choice of NY Giants and Bklyn Dodgers. I wanted one of each so dragged along Stephanie. Wore the Giants’ one. Notable also for it being the first game I saw at Shea after seeing Camden Yards and finding myself thinking, “Why don’t we have a new ballpark?” at least a little.

80. August 3, 2002 (2)

Diamondbacks 9 Mets 2. Vacated Shea second-game blues. Even Joe agreed to leave in like the sixth, and Joe would almost never leave early. I wander aimlessly and almost get a foul ball that shot into the Mezzanine concourse near the home plate food court. It clanked off a trash can I had been standing by a moment earlier. But I moved. Ordoñez hit it. Who said he had no power?

79. August 3, 2002 (1)

Diamondbacks 8 Mets 5 (10). This was the game that cleared out the joint, and the game that ended all illusions that the 2002 Mets would compete for the Wild Card. Fonzie hit a big homer in the eighth and things looked swell, but Craig Counsell reached Armando in the ninth and there went an era.

78. August 21, 1998 (1)

Cardinals 10 Mets 5. I join Laurie in the player family seats for the first time. We chat with Dave Wallace’s nephew. I keep excusing myself to meet Jason and Emily in Mezzanine, where my real ticket is, but I can’t quite drag myself away from this kind of proximity until the opener concludes.

77. August 21, 1998 (2)

Mets 1 Cardinals 0. I make my apologies for sitting way the hell downstairs in the first game. Temporary Cardinal fans are everywhere, rooting for McGwire. Only Fonzie homers.

76. September 27, 2000

Mets 6 Braves 2. Mets calmly, competently clinch Wild Card. Forced frivolity ensues since Braves clinched division here the night before. Kind of exciting, I guess. First time I discover Cow-Bell Man.

75. April 8, 2008

Phillies 5 Mets 2. Last Opening Day in Shea Stadium history. First tailgating I’ve ever participated in, courtesy of the Chapmans. Last game I see with Dan. It would all be more poignant except the Mets keep playing like it’s the end of 2007.

74. April 9, 2007

Mets 11 Phillies 5. Long before 2007 carries a whole different meaning, Mets kick off the home season by embarrassing Jimmy Rollins and storming from behind. Bitterly cold but hellaciously fun. I’m there courtesy of a woman who read I wasn’t going to be there and decided I should be. We’ve got the best readers in the world.

73. April 15, 1997

Mets 5 Dodgers 0. Jackie Robinson Night. 42 is retired. President Clinton shows up on crutches. Security is everywhere except at the gate. Toby Borland is brilliant. Really cold. Shea is jammed. Except for the cold part, it couldn’t have gone better.

72. June 13, 1992

Pirates 3 Mets 2. Upper Deck Heroes of Baseball Night, which used to be Old Timers Day. Davey gets a big reception, as does Buddy; first time each is back as ex-Mets manager. Keith’s first appearance in this capacity. He gets the biggest cheer, or at least it’s up there with Davey’s. The good feelings dissipate as the Mets are beaten in the most drip-drip-drippable game I ever sat through. Jim Leyland used seven bleeping pitchers in a nine-inning affair. I hate Jeff Torborg. First real inkling that the Mets were no longer good as a rule.

71. June 27, 1993

Cardinals 5 Mets 3. Poor old Anthony Young. He broke the record for consecutive losses. The program was a hot seller for its historical overtones, which is a pretty ghoulish thing considering this was a home game. Long past the point of requiring confirmation that the Mets were no longer good as a rule. Their record dropped to 21-52.

70. October 7, 2001

Expos 5 Mets 0. As Glendon Rusch finishes his warmups, George Bush comes on WFAN and declares bombing to begin in Afghanistan. Mookie and Lenny Harris lead players in “God Bless America”. It’s really cold. My last Shea Stadium hot chocolate. The season that lasted well into October for all the wrong reasons.

69. October 1, 1995

Mets 1 Braves 0 (11). Season ends on a bases-loaded walk as Braves wait for their ride to the airport and the playoffs. I’m elated to finish the season 7-7 in The Log and tied for second in real life. DiamondVision announces we’ll be back and we’ll be better, starting in exactly six months. Joe Orsulak’s Met swan song. He tripled. I loved Joe Orsulak.

68. April 5, 1993

Mets 3 Rockies 0. My first Opening Day. First-ever game for Colorado. Doc shuts them out. Bonilla makes a nice catch in right. Dennis Byrd, on his feet, is declared a Met For Life. 1993 shapes up beautifully.

67. June 29, 1974

Mets 4 Cardinals 0. My first win, a Matlack one-hitter. First Old Timers Day. Suzan’s boyfriend buys me a Shea Stadium pennant featuring Mr. Met, Lady Met and another Mr. Met. Of course I still have it.

66. August 29, 1993

Rockies 6 Mets 1. My only Banner Day, pregame style. Can’t believe how many people are willing to express any affection for the worst team in baseball. Kind of renews my faith in Metkind. Stephanie and I find our seats all grossed out by last night’s rainstorm. For a finder’s fee, an usher repositions us in Loge 1, Row G. Perfect view. Perfect day, except for Frank Tanana remaining under contract to the Mets.

65. September 5, 1998

Mets 5 Braves 4. Tony Phillips hits come-from-behind homer in eighth. Mets take lead in Wild Card race. Gratifying pennant race drama! Chuck Schumer shakes hands outside. North Shore Animal League giving away puppies and kittens, though I imagine that’s a little inconvenient. A Pepsi Party Patrol shirt comes right at me but somebody slams his elbow down on my shoulder, giving me a bruise but no shirt.

64. September 14, 1997

Mets 1 Expos 0. Keith Hernandez inducted into Mets Hall of Fame (only two have joined him since…geez). Luis Lopez, in Keith’s 17, hits homer for only run, giving Mets three of four in an awesome series the barely contending Mets need to hang on. We’re aided greatly by a lousy call at the plate wherein Todd Pratt pretends he held the ball and tagged out the tying run.

63. July 20, 1997

Mets 10 Reds 1. Hundley homers twice, Gilkey once, Mlicki cruises, Deion Sanders says Shea is filled with sad people and he will pray for us. It’s SportsChannel Classic sunglasses day, promoting a channel that will never air. Perfect effing day when your team, only recently bad, is now good and beating up on someone else. Joe is annoyed that he couldn’t score a shutout.

62. July 8, 2003

Braves 5 Mets 3. Joel, visiting from California, gets us attached to his friend’s Diamond View Suite party. This one is fully appointed. Amazingly good food. Free-flowing booze. And, oh, the desserts! And the air conditioning. The Mets’ suckitude behind Jason Roach, including my first-ever in-person glimpse of Jose Reyes, is barely noticed.

61. April 23, 2003

Mets 4 Astros 2. Office field trip, sort of. We’re all working for a company owned by the owner of the visiting club. We get tickets in the cushy blue seats next to the Astro dugout. Astro batboy gives one of us a packet of sunflower seeds. Jose Vizcaino won’t give me a ball even as I pretend he never turned evil in his Yankee incarnation. In a little over a year, none of us is working for the guy who got us the tickets.

60. June 8, 1998

Mets 3 Devil Rays 0. Of all the no-hitters that weren’t, this was the one that I truly thought would be. Rick Reed had the Rays on a string, until Wade Boggs doubled in the seventh. It had been a perfect game, actually. Ah, close enough.

59. October 15, 1999

Braves 1 Mets 0. The one-nothing blowout, I’m fond of calling it. Atlanta scored in the first and seemed more than one run ahead the whole night. A great outburst of “ROCKER SUCKS!” which figured since there was a “SUCKS!” tacked onto every Brave in the pregame intros. My only ’99 NLCS game. My brother-in-law fought hard to get me this ticket from his family’s stash. I thanked him profusely. I’d may as well forget about a Chanukah or birthday present, I was told. But Mark was too generous to make good on the threat.

58. July 6, 1980

Expos 9 Mets 4 (10). First game I attended in 1980, first game in The Magic Is Back summer, first game I sat in seats that had been converted from wood to plastic. Everything but the score felt like an upswing.

57. August 10, 1977

Cardinals 3 Mets 1. First game I went to without adult supervision, using my Newsday route money. In oft-told tale, a vendor who took pity on me for walking away without my change from an adjustable batting helmet purchase (he called me back and gave me the seven bucks) turned up in our living room the following winter and turned out to be my sister’s future husband.

56. August 2, 2000

Mets 2 Reds 1. Leiter outduels Elmer Dessens who was dizzy from the heat. This midweek afternoon game was the fourth game in five days for me, and they had all been wins. Two nights later I’d be at Jacobs Field in Cleveland and deep in a baseball-tinged vacation. It was the best of times.

55. July 30, 2000

Mets 4 Cardinals 2. Ten Greatest Moments Day. Dignitaries include Willie Mays and Rafael Santana. Mets, in their 38th season, seemed mature. Bubba Trammell, just acquired, homers. Bobby Jones goes all the way. Who knew he could do that?

54. July 29, 2000

Mets 4 Cardinals 3. My hundredth regular-season win at Shea. We’re forced to applaud a great Edmonds catch. Bordick homers right away. Later I meet Steph in the city for a Liberty game, and they win, too. Nice doubleheader.

53. October 2, 2005

Rockies 11 Mets 3. Mike Piazza’s final game as a Met. The applause went on for…actually it hasn’t stopped.

52. August 8, 2006

Mets 3 Padres 2. Mike Piazza’s first game back at Shea as a something else. Pretty good applause for this one, and a silly debate on how much he should have been rooted for considering he was hitting the ball pretty well. Baseball sure is a long season.

51. August 19, 2006

Mets 7 Rockies 4. The 1986 club comes home. What took them so long? Best ceremonial event the Mets ever held, I’m thinking, except for running out of baseball cards early. That “first 25,000” bit was jive. But quite a thrill watching the old boys come out of the stands…and the new boys win.

50. July 11, 1973

Astros 7 Mets 1. It’s only the beginning — my first game at Shea. Lousy game, but it didn’t have to be good. It (and I) just had to be there. Bought me a 1973 Yearbook and began building my baseball library immediately.

49. September 26, 2007

Nationals 9 Mets 6. I met up with author Dana Brand at his Long Beach Public Library appearance and then we two Mets fans went to Shea and experienced something from a horror novel: up 5-0, rookie Philip Humber on the mound…it was a dark and stormy night, at least in the soul. For good measure, we toured the Citi Field Preview Center, which was World Class.

48. June 2, 1989

Mets 3 Pirates 2 (11). My first game with my best friend Chuck, who always tries to play off his Mets allegiances as slight. So why was he the one screaming “FUCK YOU PIRATES!” when Dave Magadan ended the game with one long and effective swing?

47. August 17, 1986 (2)

Mets 9 Cardinals 2. As Rob Costa and I chilled way out in the left field Upper Deck, the Mets pounded out another 1986-style win while Murph and Thorne discussed clinching dates as if deciding when to go boat shopping. It wasn’t really that easy in 1986, but sometimes…yeah, it was.

46. August 3, 1986

Mets 4 Expos 3 (10). Fred, Larry and I, a big crowd, a near no-hit bid, a tenth-inning Ray Knight single to put it away. But what I really remember: Larry miffed that he missed the winning hit because he was distracted by a paper airplane. It is, to my mind, The Paper Airplane Game.

45. June 26, 1998

Yankees 8 Mets 4. First Subway Series game at Shea. Dumbest idea ever, too.

44. September 29, 1999

Mets 9 Braves 2. Oh how the Mets’ bats woke up and pounded a future Hall of Famer. About a million consecutive singles off Greg Maddux and then…BLAM! A grand slam from Oly. We were alive, not just on the field but in the stands. Pre-empted my favorite Jace line of all time upon his reintroduction of his father-in-law and I, who had not joined him and Emily at a game together in a year: “You remember each other from collapses of seasons past…”

43. October 15, 2000

Mets 10 Cardinals 6. JUMP! JUMP! One double after another off Darryl Kile, thousands of jumpers not leaping from the Upper Deck, but shaking it to its municipal core. Put us up 3-1 in the NLCS. No doubt, none, that we’d be going to the World Series. No wonder we jumped for joy.

42. April 1, 2002

Mets 6 Pirates 2. If I had a posse, this was it: Jason, Laurie, Richie, Rob…and comped box seats. That all our hope on this Opening Day would prove ill-advised detracts not at all how happy I was to start another season at Shea and how happy I was to be with my friends.

41. March 31, 1998

Mets 1 Phillies 0 (14). I do tend to recall the weather more than what happened in a given game, but this was weather worth recalling. It was 87 degrees in March. But I recall that in the game Schilling and Jones dueled in the sun and Bambi Castillo made it an awesome dusk. This one had a real “1 down, 161 to go” feel to it.

40. April 1, 1996

Mets 7 Cardinals 6. Spritzy, gray day with a game to match early. Weather sucked all day. Mets didn’t. Huge comeback, almost incidental in light of the debut of the greatest-fielding baseball player I ever saw, Rey Ordoñez, in his debut, throwing out Royce Clayton at the plate on a relay from left. He threw from his knees. It was not an April Fool’s trick. Too bad his bat was, but get off his back. He was on his knees.

39. September 25, 2008

Mets 7 Cubs 6. For my final game with Laurie, an epic. The Mets strained to come back once, the bullpen (Ricardo Rincon, specifically) coughed it up, the Mets battled some more, the unlikely duo of Ramon Martinez and Robinson Cancel excelled, Ryan Church slid home like he invented the art form and Beltran drove in Reyes in the rain to give us a little more rope in our season’s dying moments. Months later, however, what I remember most is there we were, waving Pedro Martinez goodbye.

38. April 11, 2005

Mets 8 Astros 4. The modern era began under Willie Randolph and with Carlos Beltran plus a general sense that this was no longer the dark ages. The score helped, but the X factor was Pedro, not playing but surely the biggest thing in Flushing that day. The batter’s eye got stuck on the MSG ad with his face, which annoyed some, delighted most. Pedro emerged from the dugout during the insane delay and connected with us even more. Have I mentioned how I loved seeing him in a Mets uniform?

37. April 16, 2005

Mets 4 Marlins 3. As if the guard still needed changing, this was it. Pedro Martinez starting for the Mets, Al Leiter for the Marlins. Al was yesterday’s news. Pedro was our guy. Not a seat to be had, not an impulse to shout was suppressed. Damn it felt good to be a Mets fan.

36. October 8, 1999

Mets 9 Diamondbacks 2. This is what I’d been waiting, oh, forever for: a playoff game at Shea. It was decided early and often. Not every great Shea October moment was about the drama. Sometimes it was just enough to be there.

35. September 29, 2007

Mets 13 Marlins 0. The grand illusion. John Maine flirts hard with a no-hitter. The Mets show some literal fight. They can’t be stopped. The Phillies lose. First place is a joint affair again. Maybe this is going to work out after all.

34. September 27, 2008

Mets 2 Marlins 0. This was no illusion. It was no salve for what ailed the Collapse II Mets of 2008, but it almost…almost didn’t matter. Johan Santana posted maybe the clutchest of clutch pitching performances. A short-rest start when there was no serious alternative. A complete game when the bullpen was flammable. A shutout when the Mets weren’t hitting. A thing to behold. Shea’s final Mets win. My final game with Jason, who always said he wanted to blow the place up when the time came. His detonator-pushing finger didn’t seem all that twitchy that Saturday.

33. May 29, 2007

Mets 5 Giants 4 (12). Sometimes you walk away and know you’ve seen baseball like it oughta be. This was that. A home run by a Giant on the first pitch. A home run by a Met on the last pitch. Fantastic pitching in between. Daring baserunning. Spunky fielding. I was with my old friend Richie and my newer friend Rich. This night was an embarrassment of baseball riches.

32. September 18, 1998

Marlins 7 Mets 6. What a horrible loss at a terrible time. But what an incredible afterparty! This was my night in the Rick Reed entourage. Laurie, her brother, his friend, Dee Reed and two friends of hers from Buffalo all awaited Rick’s emergence from the clubhouse right outside the clubhouse. Every single Met passed by as we waited for our pitcher to get dressed. Because Rick took his sweet time, I saw everybody in civilian clothes. Hideo Nomo on a cell phone. Bobby Jones schlepping what appeared to be a bedboard for his bad back. Mike Piazza with a very unimposing bodyguard. Al Leiter looking pissed a game had been lost to his old club. John Olerud was surrounded by the wives and congratulated. I thought it was for his great hitting. He was a new father. That’s nice, too. So was Rick when he showed up, despite having just witnessed his closer turning a win of his to dust. We walked out through the bullpen, even. All these guys were doing was leaving work. And I’m still kvelling.

31. June 17, 1995

Astros 7 Mets 3. This blog wouldn’t be here today if not for this game. It was the first in-person meeting of Jason and me. Well, we could have gone the next day, I suppose, but you know what I mean. First time I met somebody who I only knew from computers. We pointed to Shea and clicked. Less destined for success: the Major League career of Bill Pulsipher, which began badly that day. Who knew we’d last longer than the advance party of Generation K?

30. July 27, 2003

Reds 8 Mets 5. I had to be here to get my Murph & Kiner bobblehead. But I had to leave early because I also had Cyclones tickets. Well, it was a comedy of errors that rerouted me from Coney Island to going home, but it became no laughing matter when I turned the Mets game on on the LIRR and discovered that, after I left, it was announced Bob Murphy was retiring. The crowd gave him a huge ovation. At least those who stayed did.

29. September 25, 2003

Pirates 3 Mets 1. You weren’t dragging me from Bob Murphy Night, honoring our announcer of 42 years on the occasion of his final game. Lousy attendance for a hastily arranged affair by a team that was nowhere in the standings. Yet love for Murph was at capacity. Maybe it was my deepeningly acute bronchitis, but I was never sadder at Shea.

28. July 26, 2008

Cardinals 10 Mets 8 (14). A night so endless and so goofy, its final score could be forgiven. Sharon and I showed up like two hours before first pitch and we saw every damn one that followed, except when we were changing seats in extras in an effort to gain egress toward the exit should we ever actually use the exit. It got later and later and more and more NJ Transit trains were pulling out of Penn Station and the Mets refused to lose but were stubborn about winning and she was worried about getting home…but we’re not leaving until this thing is over. It ended not well but just in time for the last train to the Garden State. Loads of fun; we were both back the next afternoon.

27. June 9, 1999

Mets 4 Blue Jays 3 (14). On TV, this was the Bobby Valentine mustache game. In the stands, it was everything but. Didn’t see Bobby’s intrepid disguise, but we did see David Wells run out of gas in the ninth, his tribute band of girls who looked just like him leave and the Mets even things up. Then, as fourteen-inning contests have been known to do, it just went on. A good night for Pat Mahomes and his three innings of scoreless relief and a better night for me who was quite amused that Richie told Yuri from my office that he was a state trooper. Richie’s not a state trooper, but Yuri thinking he was tickled me no end. Ah, ya had to be there. (I said that a lot in 1999.)

26. October 6, 1985

Expos 2 Mets 1. First time I ever saw Shea end its season. The final swing was Rusty Staub’s. Also the final swing of his 23-year career. Mets finished 98-64 but out of the playoffs. We cheered them lustily anyway. That sort of thing used to happen.

25. October 2, 1988

Mets 7 Cardinals 5. The regular season ended. The postseason awaited. Fresh from having our 100th win of the year secured, we urged the Mets to BEAT L.A.! and never dreamed they wouldn’t take us up on our suggestion. The kind of afternoon from which you’d awake twenty years later and immediately ask in your Rip Van Winkle state, “So, how was the parade?”

24. August 7, 2008

Mets 5 Padres 3. I rarely looked forward to a specific game the way I looked forward to this one, a reunion of Joel, Fred, Larry and myself. I figured I’d be disappointed from having invested so much anticipation in it. I figured wrong. What a great day to be with my three oldest friends in the world. Also, David Wright hit a walkoff homer. But mostly it was the friends piece.

23. September 25, 2004

Mets 4 Cubs 3. Outnumbered by Cubs fans, including the two I was with; outplayed by the Cubs; and on the clock because of a previous commitment to meet my wife in the city, Victor Diaz blasts a two-out, two-strike, three-run homer that ties it at three in the ninth. So of course I’m thrilled to stick it to the Cubs who need this badly in their playoff hunt. I’m thrilled the Mets are for once playing the spoiler role exquisitely. But I feel bad for one of the Cubs fans I’m with, who’s a sweetheart of a man. And I can’t do anything about leaving after nine innings. Strangely enough, it felt right to bolt. Win, and I’d just have to rein in my gloating. Lose, and it’s a crappy loss. I hear Craig Brazell has won the game in the eleventh with another homer when I get off my train. I am about fifty feet off the ground when I meet Stephanie. We go to dinner and I discover the place has Rheingold on tap. You know what I’m drinking.

22. October 3, 2004

Mets 8 Expos 1. Two teams entered the game. One wouldn’t exist when it was over. How bizarre. Sidebar to the extinction of the Expos: last game ever for Todd Zeile, last Met game ever for sure for Art Howe, last Met game ever almost certainly for John Franco. Bonus: first and only appearance by Joe Hietpas, brought in to catch the bottom of the ninth; he’s so Moonlight and he doesn’t even know it. Zeile homers on his final swing. Franco gets an out in his farewell. Howe finishes a winner. The Expos just go away. Au revoir, nos amours.

21. July 24, 1984

Mets 9 Cardinals 8 (10). A night for Mex (four RBI opportunities, four RBI, including the winner) and a night to chant (WE’RE NUMBER ONE! STEINBRENNER SUCKS!). It was the first time I ever saw the first-place Mets. A fella could get used to such a sensation.

20. April 9, 2001

Mets 9 Braves 4. How do you start a home season? By raising — not waving — a white flag. The Mets ran their 2000 N.L. Championship banner up a pole beyond center. It looked so good draped there against that blue sky. The Mets looked good, too. Perfect day. Really.

19. May 3, 1997

Mets 5 Cardinals 1. The first game of the rest of my life. It was. I never left what was no more than a nice win in early May so convinced that the enterprise I had seen disintegrate for the balance of the decade had righted itself. It was the Ground Floor Game. Laurie and I were there with probably 2,000 lost souls on a murky Saturday. But it was the ground floor of the revival that would make the late ’90s and early ’00s such a hot time to be a Mets fan. I wouldn’t reach this conclusion without the resulting proof, that the Mets would keep winning in 1997. But if you were listening to what I was thinking that day, you’d have heard it here first.

18. September 6, 1998

Braves 4 Mets 0. The 1998 season was action-packed and drama-flecked, but it was this bland whitewashing at the hands of a much better team that stands taller in the memory from that year than any other game. It took place on the day I first stepped foot on Shea Stadium soil. A friend knew a Met employee and she got us on the field after the game to take part in the DynaMets Dash. That’s for kids. We weren’t kids, not chronologically. In all other ways, absolutely. My time from first to home was a mite slower than Brian McRae’s or even John Olerud’s. Of course it was. I didn’t want it to end.

17. September 21, 2001

Mets 3 Braves 2. Mike Piazza hit a much-remembered home run in the eighth inning that gave New York the lead and ultimately the win. That was pretty good, but the most Amazin’ thing about that night, ten days after September 11, 2001, was that they opened the gates and that tens of thousands people entered. That was the win right there.

16. September 23, 2001

Braves 5 Mets 4 (11). Forget that this was, in baseball terms, one of the most heartbreaking losses the Mets ever experienced at Shea Stadium. I’m pretty sure I was never more disgusted, not even on Merengue Night 1998, with the way the Mets blew a lead. I can’t see the name Brian Jordan (two homers, in the ninth and in the eleventh) and not grow a grimace. Yet…this was the game that told me the world would go on. The Piazza homer two nights earlier was beautiful, of course, but this pissed me off. I was pissed off about a baseball game. I knew I shouldn’t have cared about Piazza’s homer helping the Mets gain ground on the Braves Friday night. So I didn’t care all that much. I knew I shouldn’t have been pissed off about Jordan’s homers pushing the Mets back in the standings Sunday afternoon, but I was. I couldn’t help it. It was who I was. 9/11 changed way too much for way too many people, but it didn’t change that.

15. September 30, 2007

Marlins 8 Mets 1. Single worst loss I ever sat through at Shea Stadium. And it was a loss one sat through because it was lost right away. It wasn’t lost late. It was lost on the opposing offense’s first possession. It was one long clock-killing exercise from there. The season was being lost for weeks, maybe months. Now it was being obliterated. More than a year has passed since it happened. I obsessed on it for quite a while. Then I stopped. But all it takes is the briefest contemplation of it and it’s back in all its infamy. I will not forget it, and not for not wishing it hadn’t occurred.

14. September 28, 2008

Marlins 4 Mets 2. The Mets surrendering at the end of their schedule for the second year in a row didn’t bother me nearly as much as their doing it the first time. That they did it on the occasion of the final game ever at Shea Stadium, as a warmup act to the forever goodbye to Shea Stadium…cripes, what losers. If only we could count the 43 Mets who came to the plate and what they did after the ninth inning — and the 45 seasons they represented in doing so. Now that was championship play right there. It doesn’t get you into the playoffs, but some things, even in a results-oriented business, transcend the bottom line. Saying goodbye to the competitive aspirations of 2008 was a chore. Saying goodbye to Shea Stadium was a privilege.

13. May 15, 1987

Mets 8 Giants 3. Every reminder I’ll ever need of the magic inherent in Shea Stadium I can find at the other end of the couch when I peek over and see the girl I took there on our first date and later married. Also, El Sid had a no-hitter going before leaving with a bum knee.

12. October 7, 2000

Mets 3 Giants 2 (13). This is the Benny Agbayani Home Run Game, colloquially, and that’s fine. But I know I always gloss over the rest of it. Reed pitched very effectively. The bullpen was magnificent for seven scoreless innings. Fonzie was at his Fonziest, driving in Lenny Harris for the tying run in the eighth off the formidable Robb Nen. Mike Bordick, Darryl Hamilton and Timo Perez, a trio I’d instinctively consign to the bin of non-entities, built the first run when Russ Ortiz was untouchable. This was a team effort to gasp along to for thirteen innings in the Upper Deck. Also, Benny hit a home run to win it and unleash the Baha Men and push San Fran to the brink. Hence, WOOF! to Benny.

11. October 8, 2000

Mets 4 Giants 0. This is the Bobby Jones Game. Robin hit a homer and Edgardo drove home a couple, but there’s no clouding the coffee here. Bobby Jones is who we thrilled to in the last row of Mezzanine in left (where, by the way, the wind whipped up my spine despite about ten layers of jackets under my winter coat). Do you have any idea how hard it is to chant for a most unchantable personality? No offense to Bobby J, but his favorite color had to be blank. Yet he had the charisma and everything else going in his clinching Game Four one-hitter and we knew it. BOB-BY JONES! we yelled. And we meant it.

10. May 17, 2007

Mets 6 Cubs 5. I wasn’t at the Steve Henderson Game. I wasn’t at the Carl Everett Game. I wasn’t at the Curt Schilling Game. I was all over them on TV, but I wasn’t there. This, the last time the Mets scored at least five runs in a bottom of the ninth inning and went on to win from way behind, I was there for. And I was there alone. It was almost a dare: It’s a day game on a Thursday, you work for yourself technically, you think it would be fun…go ahead, do it! So I did it. For 8½ innings it wasn’t fun. It was, What am I doing here by myself on a Thursday afternoon? I should be doing something more productive than hanging out at a baseball game. Each Met, most not used to being in a starting lineup, played as if he were thinking the exact same thing. But then, in the ninth, something started to crackle. Baserunners…and an inability of Cub relievers to prevent more of them. You watch a game in the ninth with your team down a bunch with the idea that it would be great if they’d win, but almost always with the realization that it is highly unlikely they will. But when it happens — and before May 17, 2007, I could only tell from television — you have to admit to yourself that this is becoming a possibility. It got possible that afternoon against the Cubs. It never got probable. It simply occurred. The Mets trailed 5-1 with three outs to go. They won 6-5. I can confirm that it was sublime because I was there.

9. June 30, 2000

Mets 11 Braves 8. To trail 8-1 in the eighth, it’s pretty obvious your team is doing nothing. But the Mets built a monumental rally on doing not a lot more than nothing. A few singles was something, I’ll give them that. But then, four walks — all they did was stand there! Yet the Mets’ passive approach toward shaky Brave relief was quite appropriate. It was 8-6 when I got the sense the Mets were really going to get to work now: a Fonzie two-RBI single to tie it, a Mike three-run homer to carve it in stone as the stunner of the new century. All my superstitious tendencies prevented me from really enjoying it until it was over (Armando brought the tying Brave run to the plate in the ninth, I wasn’t going to take anything for granted), but when it was over, the suppression of expression really paid off. See, ecstasy delayed was not ecstasy denied. I was ecstatic. I floated home on a ten-run cloud.

8. September 18, 2006

Mets 4 Marlins 0. There was little suspense from April on, none whatsoever by mid-June, that the Mets would at some point clinch the National League Eastern Division title in 2006. But for it to actually happen right in front of you? To see for yourself that your team has spent the season being better than all its direct competitors? To witness and partake of a 162-game celebration? To be not the best second-place team in the league but the best in the division, which is the most you can be before October kicks in? I think I was surprised at how much it meant to me to be a part of it all.

7. October 4, 2006

Mets 6 Dodgers 5. This would be way up the list anyway for the Lo Duca double tag and the Delgado 4-for-5 and the shocking Maine start and for the Billy escape act, but it’s as high as it is for the decibel level. Shea Stadium, in my experience, was never louder on a sustained basis than it was for Game One of the 2006 NLDS. We’d waited six years for another postseason chance. It was like we had waited sixty. We were loud at every reasonable provocation. We were loud and we were without pause. The Mets gave it back to us, playing at a high pitch all day. Living out loud was definitely the way to go through life at Shea.

6. October 18, 2006

Mets 4 Cardinals 2. My final postseason game at Shea. The Mets’ final postseason win there. I still can’t believe either is true, but if I shake out the part about winning and the part about being on hand, it was a fairly fulfilling farewell to that particular aspect of my Sheagoing. We were still very loud after two weeks of October combat, no mean feat seeing as how our team came home from St. Louis in a very muted state. But we weren’t about to be shut up, not from Ho-ZAY!ing, not from Let’s Go Mets!ing, not from nothing the Cardinals could hand us. I thought there’d be more. I wouldn’t be at Game Seven; I knew that. But there would be a World Series at Shea the next week. Maybe I’d be back for that. When that didn’t work out, there’d be NLDS games in 2007; and 2008; and whatever waited beyond those surefire series. But no, this was it. Game Six ’06: Not the worst way to go out if one has to go out.

5. September 28, 1997

Mets 8 Braves 2. Exactly eleven years before Shea would close its gates forever, I experienced the ultimate final day of a season. This was the game that brought tears to my eyes. That’s not a metaphor. I cried as the 1997 season ended. I didn’t know what else to do. It was the season that so cemented me with the Mets in a place I hadn’t been maybe ever. I’m still there, basically. It blew me away for 161 games and then for eight innings more. In the top of the ninth that final Sunday, the cement dried and I produced ocular moisture. It froze for me how I would forever remember a season in which I expected to starve and came out sated. The Mets had been so bad for so long. Now they were good. Not great, just real good and showing every sign of potentially getting better. Now that was ending. And now they were showing highlights on the big screen. And now they were waving their caps. And now I was crying even more. And now I was looking around and seeing I wasn’t alone in this posture. And now…I mean now…let’s just say that’s the way you close out a season at Shea Stadium.

4. July 10, 1999

Mets 9 Yankees 8. If they had dragged me to jail afterwards, what could I say? That I hadn’t started wailing on every Yankees fan I saw? That I didn’t take their fucking 24 rings and shove them up their fucking ass just as definitively as Matt Franco stuck Mariano Rivera’s last pitch in right field to score Rickey Henderson and Edgardo Alfonzo? That I regretted getting so worked up over a baseball game that I was ready to throw hands in Row T of Upper Deck Section 36? No, your honor, I did all that, or at least I thought about it. We beat the fucking Yankees 9-8. You and the law this particular Saturday, you can’t touch me.

3. October 16, 2000

Mets 7 Cardinals 0. At one point, up 6-0, Rob, Jason and I sidetracked into a discussion on a recently aired VH-1 series on what were supposed to be the greatest dance songs ever. Rob, not much of a pop culture hound, was surprised to learn “Time Warp” from Rocky Horror wasn’t No. 1. I had to break it to him that actually it wasn’t even mentioned, probably because it wasn’t actually a chart hit. This conversation took place as the Mets were lopping off out after out en route to reaching the World Series for the first time since 1986, mere innings from their fourth National League championship, the first to be clinched at Shea Stadium since 1973. And we were talking about dance songs and VH-1 and The Rocky Horror Picture Show. It wasn’t a lengthy diversion of our attention, but there it was. The Mets were winning so big a prize so easily that three hardcore fans could drift. I’d be focused like a laser at the end and immersed in hugs and marveling at the scene outside Shea later, but I love that on the night I saw the Mets achieve the most immense thing I ever saw them achieve, my friends and I were permitted to let our minds wander. Let’s do that time warp again.

2. October 9, 1999

Mets 4 Diamondbacks 3 (10). Once his homer eluded Steve Finley’s glove, you knew this would be known forever after as the Todd Pratt Game, and you knew you’d dine out on it just as long. Every time somebody said to you anything remotely connected to the 1999 National League Division Series being won on an extra-innings walkoff home run that barely cleared the fence off the bat of a backup catcher pressed into emergency service by injury to the superstar for whom he normally caddied, your first response, internally or aloud, would be “I was there.” You watched the Mets win a World Series in 1969, a pennant in 1973, another Series in 1986 and a division title in 1988. You weren’t there. It never occurred to you at any of those junctures that, realistically, you could be there. Being at a big game was for other people. You didn’t explore it. You couldn’t explain it. It wasn’t something you could do. Except after a while, you stopped viewing Shea that way. Shea wasn’t just to gaze at from afar. Shea wasn’t just for cameos in July. Shea could be yours every bit as much as it was those whom the cameras found. You could form your own picture of Shea. You could and you would. And now you were at Shea for what was an apogee, a peak. You were there for the Todd Pratt Game, the Todd Pratt homer, the clincher, the moment it was certified that the Mets’ season would live on for another round of baseball. You were there for it. Where else would you rather be?

1. October 3, 1999

Mets 2 Pirates 1. What I love more than anything else about this game, and why I love this game more than any of the 415 games I attended at Shea Stadium between 1973 and 2008, is the Mets did what they had to do. I woke up that Sunday morning and was overcome by the realization that this was it. Lose and the season is over. Win and the season will continue. Hindsight indicates that wasn’t quite true. The Mets and Reds were tied for the Wild Card going into Sunday. Theoretically, if they both lost, then they’d still be tied after 162 games. But that was a lousy theory to test after where the 1999 Mets had been of late, namely to hell and almost back. So this was it in the most finely tuned sense of the phrase. Win this game and make 1999, the most absorbing season I’d ever lived through, immortal. Make its ride not just a pleasing anecdote but part of the public record. Win and give 1999 the notary’s stamp of legitimacy. See to it that 1999 won’t go into the annals as just our intriguing little secret. Lose, and it was just another 1998, but worse. In 1998, we went to hell and neglected to book the return flight. Here at the very end of ’99, we were almost home. Just needed that one more win to land safely. Do that and we could exist on a higher plane. C’mon, I thought that Sunday morning, just win, Mets. Just do that. Do what you have to do to do it, but just do it. Just win, Mets. And the damndest thing is, once Melvin Mora crossed home plate on a wild pitch in the ninth inning, they did. They did exactly what they had to do. They won. They kept 1999 going. Can you think of a better way to end a season than to extend it into perpetuity? Or at least a one-game playoff? Me neither.

It Is Essential I Answer These

by Greg Prince on 30 December 2008 12:05 am

Thanks to all who delved into the Faith and Fear archives so swiftly and accurately to take part in our contest. First in with all twenty correct answers was Ben Muschel, taking a break from watching The West Wing for the first time to scoop up The New York Mets Essential Games of Shea Stadium, the six-DVD set graciously provided to us by A&E Home Entertainment (and well worth checking out).

Readers were asked to search for and read over some FAFIF posts dating back to 2005 and report back on the flotsam and Metsam that constructed the Shea Stadium experience for this correspondent. You could go to Baseball-Reference or Retrosheet or Ultimate Mets for game details, but I figured it would be more fun (and challenging) to track down what didn’t show up in the boxscore. It is these little experiences that made going to Shea the phenomenon it was for all Mets fans. In this final week of the final calendar year of Shea Stadium, I appreciate anew that you all have shared it with me as often as you have.

What’s that? What are the answers? Those follow here.

2005

1. At which stop — which I took as maybe a sign of what we could look forward to — did Jason’s and my 7 train stall after the game of April 22, 2005?

BLISS STREET (also known as 46th Street)

2. What are the three identities Kaz Ishii assumed for five innings in the game of June 10, 2005 before spending a few minutes on the basepaths?

SANDY KAZFAX, DR. KAZ, JERRY KAAZMAN

3. Which pitcher was identified by the Eight Men Out-minded narrator as a knucklehead after the game of July 2, 2005?

MOTA (Guillermo, that is; the narrator, by the by, is Jose Offerman)

4. What proved to me that the Kosher hot dog stand beat Nathan’s during the game of July 20, 2005?

THE MOST GRUESOME KETCHUP-MUSTARD STAIN

5. Willie Randolph Bobblehead Day took place on September 18, 2005. Name the other five promotional Days the Mets held that very same day.

KIWANIS DAY, SCOUT DAY, TROPICANA BATBOY/BATGIRL DAY, CHRON’S & COLITIS AWARENESS DAY, STERLING AWARDS DAY

2006

6. Identify the Pirate whose foul ball grazed my thumb during the game of July 3, 2006.

JOSE CASTILLO

7. What did some dude draw on the front of a plain white t-shirt on the occasion of Jose Lima’s start of May 7, 2006?

A CLOCK (with “LIMA TIME!” on the back)

8. A raspy yeller in a Wright shirt sat in my section on September 24, 2006. What call and response did she initiate during a brief shower?

“WHO’S GOT THE COVER? WE DO!”

9. What specifically did Professor Reyes earn his doctorate in during the game of August 6, 2006?

BASES-LOADED HOME RUN HITTING

10. What, according to me, required a pass from the fans attending the game of June 16, 2006, and why was that pass required?

ONE UNATTRACTIVE LOSS TO SOME UNFAMILIAR OPPONENT AFTER A RAMPAGE ACROSS THE CONTINENT

2007

11. What bopped around with glee and dropped out of sight to jeers before reappearing magically during the game of April 14, 2007?

BEACHBALLS

12. Who sat nearby my friend Dan’s seats in Loge on August 12, 2007?

THE PORKPIE-HATTED GUY WHO HOLDS THOSE WIDE BELIEVE SIGNS (who, incidentally, lives nearby me, as I discovered on Ralph Kiner Night when we were waiting for the same train to Woodside and he was bemoaning the loss of a local tavern to somebody with a can of beer in a brown paper bag)

13. Despite my Shea kitsch tolerance level running extraordinarily high, what item did I note I could do without after the game of May 14, 2007?

THE ENORMOUS DUNKIN’ DONUTS CUP

14. By whose royal graces did Jake Peavy leave the game of August 22, 2007?

HIS HIGHNESS COUNT PITCH

15. September 10, 2007 was Citi Night; what did the yelling guy a couple of rows behind me yell relative to that designation?

“WE’RE NOT CLIENTELE!” (which is something many will be bellowing toward the gates of Citi Field soon enough, I suppose)

2008

16. A loopy woman sitting behind me during the game of May 31, 2008 had her vocal cords obviously fused together with what?

THE QUEENS DNA OF EDITH BUNKER AND ESTELLE COSTANZA

17. Once the 2008 Mets vaulted themselves into legitimate contention, what did I mention, following the game of September 23, 2008, I could I forget about turning Shea Stadium into during its final month?

THE FLUSHING MEADOWS GARDEN OF MEDITATION

18. Given the Chicago accent of the guy sitting behind me during the game of August 23, 2008, what specifically did I expect a call for?

MANUEL TO BE FIRED IN FAVOR OF DITKA

19. Fans expressed their displeasure with the playing of “Sweet Caroline” during the game of April 12, 2008. What was the overbearing New England mainstay to whose turn of fortunes I compared it?

CORRUPT WARDEN SAMUEL NORTON (from The Shawshank Redemption; he stuck a pistol in his mouth once the authorities grew wise to him)

20. Given that the Mets were losing 9-0 in the night portion of the Subway Series two-ballpark doubleheader of June 27, 2008, what couldn’t turn Jim and me back into the Sunshine Boys we’d been before 8:10?

JIM’S VAUNTED IMPRESSION OF WALTER MATTHAU

All Credit to Shea Then!

by Greg Prince on 28 December 2008 11:07 pm

MORE: Must you wear those clothes, Will?
ROPER: Yes, I Must
MORE: Why?
ROPER: The time has come for decent men to declare their allegiance!
MORE: And what allegiance are those designed to express?
ROPER: My allegiance to the Church.
MORE: Well, you look like a Spaniard.
ROPER: All credit to Spain then!

The above exchange between Sir Thomas More and William Roper, which takes place at the top of the second act of “A Man For All Seasons,” caught my ear when I saw the recent Broadway revival a few weeks back. I had used intermission to visit the men’s lounge (as they call it in the theater) and noticed I was the only patron of the arts wearing a sweatshirt celebrating Shea Stadium as THE GREATEST BALLPARK EVER!

The greatest garment ever, in my estimation, is the Mets Starter jacket I received for my 18th birthday, a few of its magic powers chronicled on its 26th anniversary. I brought it with me to the Pepsi Picnic Area during the last week of the last Shea season so the talented photographer David G. Whitham could shoot it in its natural habitat one final time.

Whatever you’re wearing at the moment, enjoy more of Dave’s artistry at the dgwPhotography blog here.

Piazza: Catcher, Slugger, Icon, Star by Greg Prince is available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble and other online booksellers.

Amazin' Again Book

Amazin' Again: How the 2015 New York Mets Brought the Magic Back to Queens by Greg Prince is available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble and other online booksellers.

The Happiest Recap Vol. I

Volume I of The Happiest Recap: 50+ Years of the New York Mets As Told in 500+ Amazin' Wins by Greg Prince is available in print and for Kindle on Amazon.

Faith and Fear Book

Faith and Fear in Flushing: An Intense Personal History by Greg Prince (foreword by Jason Fry), is available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble and other online booksellers.

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