I'm not sure there are enough words in the lexicon to say all that I'd like to say about Shea Stadium. In my first eight years living in New York City, I attended 69 Mets games at Shea-including an Opening Day, a playoff win, a heartbreaking playoff loss and a Stadium finale- with a number of amazing and miserable games thrown in the mix. It was Shea that made me truly fall in love with the game of baseball and the team that played there- at times early on, it felt more like home than my Queens apartment did.
Allow me to set the stage for my first visit by going back a few months earlier, during the fall months of 1999. My roommate Joe (who was my roommate during my senior year of college, and still is my roommate to this day) is as die-hard a Mets fan as they come. While I was a fairly casual baseball fan back then (and a Yankee fan to boot), Joe could be a roller coaster of emotions- even in the apartment, he'd be on his feet clapping with 2 strikes and 2 outs. He was known to throw his hat or jump up on the couch and his energy and passion for the game were contagious. Thanks mostly to living with Joe, my most vivid memories of the 1999 Postseason are not of the Yankees sweeping the Braves in the World Series, but of the Mets/Braves NLCS. I found myself rooting against the team I used to follow in that series, no less. Step one of my transformation was officially complete.
While the Mets didn't ultimately go as far in that postseason as anyone had hoped, the buzz they created was not to be ignored. Sports Illustrated said they had "The Greatest Infield Ever." From the one-game playoff against the Reds, to Todd Pratt's HR against the Diamondbacks in the NLDS (which my roomie was at Shea for), to Robin Ventura's Grand Slam Single (which despite the fact that I was 300 miles away is one of the most memorable baseball games of my life and may warrant a separate post sometime) the '99 Mets were really fun to watch. After that postseason, the Mets had found their way onto my own radar for probably the first time since the '88 playoffs against the Dodgers.
In April of 2000, towards the end of my senior year in college, I went to Long Island with Joe and his girlfriend for the Easter weekend. During a visit to the King Kullen supermarket on Saturday night to do some shopping for the next day's dinner, Joe's father asked us if we wanted to go to the Mets game against the Cubs the next day. Conveniently, King Kullens had kiosks which sold Mets tickets right on the spot, so within 5 minutes of us emphatically answering 'yes,' Joe's dad had bought tickets for my first baseball game in New York.
I think I'd only driven past Shea 1 or 2 times before that day. This was actually my first trip to Long Island, and I'd only flown out of JFK a couple times. So I wasn't really prepared for how blue it actually was. Or how silly the four-story tall neon outlines of ballplayers adorning the sides were. It was a bit dreary and cold, and I'm not only describing the weather that day. A big apple (how creative) rose up out of a top hat every time a ball went over the wall. The orange dot matrix DJ on the scoreboard was spinning "Sir Duke" by Stevie Wonder and "You Dropped a Bomb On Me" by the Gap Band and I first experienced the glory of Lou Monte's rendition of "Lazy Mary" during the 7th Inning Stretch. The planes taking off from LaGuardia created one of the more unique home field advantages in baseball. In the concrete pits along the exit ramps were piles of old scorecards, ticket stubs and other assorted rubbish from seasons past. The place smelled like hot dogs and garbage and popcorn and stale beer and things not to be mentioned in polite company. I'm certain it goes without saying that I was immediately infatuated with all of it.
In contrast to my first two games up in Quebec, this one was a high scoring affair: 15-8 Mets. (which in hindsight might be a fitting testament to some of the ways the game had changed during my 6 year break between live ballgames). Derek Bell went 4 for 4 with a Homer. Mike Piazza and Edgardo Alfonso were also among those who hit Home Runs for the Metropolitans, while Sammy Sosa (who was still one of the biggest stars in baseball at the time) knocked one out of the park for the Cubs. Future Hall-of-Famer Rickey Henderson led off for the Mets. The Mets jumped out to a three-run lead in the first inning and had both a seven-run 4th inning and a five-run 5th. The Mets themselves scored almost as many runs in this game as I'd seen combined in the two games I attended before this one.
In a Borough as diverse as Queens, the Easter holiday had little effect on the crowd- the attendance at Shea was at least double that of my first Expos game (which I realize isn't saying much). People from all backgrounds and walks of life had come together on this Sunday afternoon to take in a ballgame. It was on this day more than any other (as I was still months away from being a New Yorker myself) where I marveled at the "melting pot" that is New York City. The fans were loud and often crass, but they really knew their baseball and all its subtleties. They cheered loudly when their team did something exciting. They hollered even louder when they sarcastically congratulated a pitcher for throwing a strike after three straight balls. And loudest of all was the "HOO!" that followed the cheer of "Let's Go Mets!" At times when a Met hit a Home Run, the crowd made the upper decks shake like they were in the midst of an earthquake (a phenomenon I wouldn't experience until later on, as my first seats were in the Loge near first base thanks to Joe's dad and King Kullen). They loved to do the wave. They rose to their feet en masse on a 2-strike count with 2 outs. It was on this day that I first considered NYC as a possible destination for myself after graduation. The energy in this big, bad city was contagious. Riding in the back seat of the car in traffic on our way back east for dinner and then back upstate the next day, I began to realize how much I'd just felt "at home." Four months later, I moved to Queens, six stops away from Shea on the 7 train.
What an autumn that was to be living in New York. The 2000 Mets moved past the Giants in the Divisional Series thanks in part to an extra innings HR by Benny Agbayani and a complete game one-hit shutout by Bobby J. Jones to go to the NLCS. In the Championship Series, underscored by the glorious tones of the Baha Men classic "Who Let the Dogs Out?" and the corresponding local parody "Who Let the Mets Out?," we watched Cardinals' pitcher Rick Ankiel forget how to throw a strike, both as a starter in Game 2 and a reliever in the clinching Game 5, and with Mike Hampton pitching brilliantly in that Game 5 (another game that Joe was at Shea for), the Mets were heading to the World Series. The next night, the crosstown Yankees clinched their own Championship Series, and the stage was set for the first Subway Series in 44 years. I'll never forget being in Times Square at the moment the Yankees won the ALCS. Seeing them win on the outdoor TV screen, as the heart of the city realized all at once that we were getting a Subway Series, is one of the single greatest moments of my New York experience.
Then came the ad campaign for that Subway Series: "Pledge Your Allegiance." With the logos of the two New York baseball teams, the logos of the 4 and 7 train lines that lead to their respective ballparks, and the white Helvetica font on a black background reminiscent of the station signs hanging over the city's Subway tracks, this campaign immediately caught my eye. It also forced my hand, proving to be step two in my transformation. Thanks to this ad campaign, Joe's emphatic support and my newfound love for that ballpark in Flushing Meadows, I pledged my allegiance for the New York Metropolitan Baseball Club of the National League that October. The Mets lost the World Series in 2000. But they won me over completely that year. Sure, I still owned a Yankee shirt for a few years before I sold it on ebay. Sure, I still go to a few Yankees games every year- it's baseball after all, and I simply love baseball. But from that World Series on, I've been a fan of the Amazins. I've Gotta Believe.
I was there on Opening Day 2002 (April Fool's Day), when the Mets didn't look nearly as terrible as they would the rest of the season. I was there when Shawn Estes took a perfect game into the 7th Inning against the Brewers, eventually giving up only one hit and one walk. I was there the day Bob Murphy announced his retirement, on Murphy/Kiner Bobblehead Day, when Bob didn't get to give a "Happy Recap" that day. I was there, with my arm resting on the Mets' dugout, when Kaz Matsui's 2 HRs and Richard Hidalgo's 3 for 4 with a dinger helped spank the Yankees 11-2. I was there for Pedro Martinez's 200th Win. I was there with my new co-workers in the Pepsi Picnic Area when the Brewers walked in the winning run in the 11th inning of an 8-8 game. I was there when David Wright launched a walk-off single over Johnny Damon's head to beat the Yankees in a game where they were down 4-0 in the 1st. I was there for Carlos Delgado and David Wright Grand Slams, as well as Grand Slams by opposing pitchers Dontrelle Willis of the Marlins and Felix Hernandez of the Mariners. When I was there, Xavier Nady had 15 hits (5 of them HRs) in 31 At Bats. I was there when José Valentin's two HRs agains the Marlins clinched the 2006 NL East title. I was there when Paul LoDuca turned a double play at home against the Dodgers in the NLDS. I was there, with my head painted orange and my beard dyed blue, when Endy Chavez made "The Catch," only to watch the Cardinals celebrate on our field a short time later.
I was there in the best seats in the house. I was there in the worst seats in the house. I was there, on a date, for John Maine's only career HR to date. I was there when I finally got in that first ballgame with my dad. I was there the night the Mets increased their lead in the NL East to 7 games with 17 to go in 2007, the night before "The Collapse" officially began. I was there when the Texas Rangers played slip-n-slide on the tarp after the officials called the game for rain. I was there for Irish Night, Asian Night, Jewish Heritage Day, Fiesta Latino. I was there to see Billy Joel the night he didn't bring out McCartney, Daltrey, Steven Tyler or Garth Brooks, but gave us John Mayer, Don Henley, John Mellencamp and, mercifully, Tony Bennett instead.
I was there the day they shut it down after a crappy, rainy loss against the Marlins with a ceremony where not even Maz, Kid, Mex, HoJo, Koos, Fonzie, El Sid, Le Grand Orange, Nails, Doc, Yogi, the Franchise or The Say-Hey Kid could make us believe that day. And I was there two days before they tore the last piece down- and got my own little piece of blue concrete rubble.
And I miss it all the time.
In April of 2000, towards the end of my senior year in college, I went to Long Island with Joe and his girlfriend for the Easter weekend. During a visit to the King Kullen supermarket on Saturday night to do some shopping for the next day's dinner, Joe's father asked us if we wanted to go to the Mets game against the Cubs the next day. Conveniently, King Kullens had kiosks which sold Mets tickets right on the spot, so within 5 minutes of us emphatically answering 'yes,' Joe's dad had bought tickets for my first baseball game in New York.
I think I'd only driven past Shea 1 or 2 times before that day. This was actually my first trip to Long Island, and I'd only flown out of JFK a couple times. So I wasn't really prepared for how blue it actually was. Or how silly the four-story tall neon outlines of ballplayers adorning the sides were. It was a bit dreary and cold, and I'm not only describing the weather that day. A big apple (how creative) rose up out of a top hat every time a ball went over the wall. The orange dot matrix DJ on the scoreboard was spinning "Sir Duke" by Stevie Wonder and "You Dropped a Bomb On Me" by the Gap Band and I first experienced the glory of Lou Monte's rendition of "Lazy Mary" during the 7th Inning Stretch. The planes taking off from LaGuardia created one of the more unique home field advantages in baseball. In the concrete pits along the exit ramps were piles of old scorecards, ticket stubs and other assorted rubbish from seasons past. The place smelled like hot dogs and garbage and popcorn and stale beer and things not to be mentioned in polite company. I'm certain it goes without saying that I was immediately infatuated with all of it.In contrast to my first two games up in Quebec, this one was a high scoring affair: 15-8 Mets. (which in hindsight might be a fitting testament to some of the ways the game had changed during my 6 year break between live ballgames). Derek Bell went 4 for 4 with a Homer. Mike Piazza and Edgardo Alfonso were also among those who hit Home Runs for the Metropolitans, while Sammy Sosa (who was still one of the biggest stars in baseball at the time) knocked one out of the park for the Cubs. Future Hall-of-Famer Rickey Henderson led off for the Mets. The Mets jumped out to a three-run lead in the first inning and had both a seven-run 4th inning and a five-run 5th. The Mets themselves scored almost as many runs in this game as I'd seen combined in the two games I attended before this one.
In a Borough as diverse as Queens, the Easter holiday had little effect on the crowd- the attendance at Shea was at least double that of my first Expos game (which I realize isn't saying much). People from all backgrounds and walks of life had come together on this Sunday afternoon to take in a ballgame. It was on this day more than any other (as I was still months away from being a New Yorker myself) where I marveled at the "melting pot" that is New York City. The fans were loud and often crass, but they really knew their baseball and all its subtleties. They cheered loudly when their team did something exciting. They hollered even louder when they sarcastically congratulated a pitcher for throwing a strike after three straight balls. And loudest of all was the "HOO!" that followed the cheer of "Let's Go Mets!" At times when a Met hit a Home Run, the crowd made the upper decks shake like they were in the midst of an earthquake (a phenomenon I wouldn't experience until later on, as my first seats were in the Loge near first base thanks to Joe's dad and King Kullen). They loved to do the wave. They rose to their feet en masse on a 2-strike count with 2 outs. It was on this day that I first considered NYC as a possible destination for myself after graduation. The energy in this big, bad city was contagious. Riding in the back seat of the car in traffic on our way back east for dinner and then back upstate the next day, I began to realize how much I'd just felt "at home." Four months later, I moved to Queens, six stops away from Shea on the 7 train.What an autumn that was to be living in New York. The 2000 Mets moved past the Giants in the Divisional Series thanks in part to an extra innings HR by Benny Agbayani and a complete game one-hit shutout by Bobby J. Jones to go to the NLCS. In the Championship Series, underscored by the glorious tones of the Baha Men classic "Who Let the Dogs Out?" and the corresponding local parody "Who Let the Mets Out?," we watched Cardinals' pitcher Rick Ankiel forget how to throw a strike, both as a starter in Game 2 and a reliever in the clinching Game 5, and with Mike Hampton pitching brilliantly in that Game 5 (another game that Joe was at Shea for), the Mets were heading to the World Series. The next night, the crosstown Yankees clinched their own Championship Series, and the stage was set for the first Subway Series in 44 years. I'll never forget being in Times Square at the moment the Yankees won the ALCS. Seeing them win on the outdoor TV screen, as the heart of the city realized all at once that we were getting a Subway Series, is one of the single greatest moments of my New York experience.
Then came the ad campaign for that Subway Series: "Pledge Your Allegiance." With the logos of the two New York baseball teams, the logos of the 4 and 7 train lines that lead to their respective ballparks, and the white Helvetica font on a black background reminiscent of the station signs hanging over the city's Subway tracks, this campaign immediately caught my eye. It also forced my hand, proving to be step two in my transformation. Thanks to this ad campaign, Joe's emphatic support and my newfound love for that ballpark in Flushing Meadows, I pledged my allegiance for the New York Metropolitan Baseball Club of the National League that October. The Mets lost the World Series in 2000. But they won me over completely that year. Sure, I still owned a Yankee shirt for a few years before I sold it on ebay. Sure, I still go to a few Yankees games every year- it's baseball after all, and I simply love baseball. But from that World Series on, I've been a fan of the Amazins. I've Gotta Believe.
I was there on Opening Day 2002 (April Fool's Day), when the Mets didn't look nearly as terrible as they would the rest of the season. I was there when Shawn Estes took a perfect game into the 7th Inning against the Brewers, eventually giving up only one hit and one walk. I was there the day Bob Murphy announced his retirement, on Murphy/Kiner Bobblehead Day, when Bob didn't get to give a "Happy Recap" that day. I was there, with my arm resting on the Mets' dugout, when Kaz Matsui's 2 HRs and Richard Hidalgo's 3 for 4 with a dinger helped spank the Yankees 11-2. I was there for Pedro Martinez's 200th Win. I was there with my new co-workers in the Pepsi Picnic Area when the Brewers walked in the winning run in the 11th inning of an 8-8 game. I was there when David Wright launched a walk-off single over Johnny Damon's head to beat the Yankees in a game where they were down 4-0 in the 1st. I was there for Carlos Delgado and David Wright Grand Slams, as well as Grand Slams by opposing pitchers Dontrelle Willis of the Marlins and Felix Hernandez of the Mariners. When I was there, Xavier Nady had 15 hits (5 of them HRs) in 31 At Bats. I was there when José Valentin's two HRs agains the Marlins clinched the 2006 NL East title. I was there when Paul LoDuca turned a double play at home against the Dodgers in the NLDS. I was there, with my head painted orange and my beard dyed blue, when Endy Chavez made "The Catch," only to watch the Cardinals celebrate on our field a short time later.
I was there in the best seats in the house. I was there in the worst seats in the house. I was there, on a date, for John Maine's only career HR to date. I was there when I finally got in that first ballgame with my dad. I was there the night the Mets increased their lead in the NL East to 7 games with 17 to go in 2007, the night before "The Collapse" officially began. I was there when the Texas Rangers played slip-n-slide on the tarp after the officials called the game for rain. I was there for Irish Night, Asian Night, Jewish Heritage Day, Fiesta Latino. I was there to see Billy Joel the night he didn't bring out McCartney, Daltrey, Steven Tyler or Garth Brooks, but gave us John Mayer, Don Henley, John Mellencamp and, mercifully, Tony Bennett instead.
I was there the day they shut it down after a crappy, rainy loss against the Marlins with a ceremony where not even Maz, Kid, Mex, HoJo, Koos, Fonzie, El Sid, Le Grand Orange, Nails, Doc, Yogi, the Franchise or The Say-Hey Kid could make us believe that day. And I was there two days before they tore the last piece down- and got my own little piece of blue concrete rubble.
And I miss it all the time.
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