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where the bright lights and the big city meet | metsgrrl.com

where the bright lights and the big city meet

So we ended up in our Game 2 seats tonight, upper level boxes. I didn’t lug the camera tonight because, to be honest, the pictures from the upper deck just aren’t going to be all that worthwhile. But this being Game 1, I was at the wrong angle for the player introductions as well as the wrong height and, of course, I didn’t have the f’ing camera ANYWAY. I start snapping with the cameraphone and then give up because it’s pointless.

Our neighbors to our left and right are the same from the NDLS: parent and son, and the other side full of rowdy beer-drinking Dominican/Latino families. By the end of tonight they are inviting us (well, me anyway; TBF is a curmudgeon at heart) over to their house tomorrow night to drink tequila and watch the game on their 42-inch TV. I think they are awesome.

The next box over houses a gentleman I start to refer to as “Darth Maul” because he is wearing a hideous, seemingly homemade mask (which he does not remove ONCE the entire night), batting gloves, and has a Mets flag. He is in the third row of the boxes, so he has zero chance in hell of getting on camera, and the fact that he does not remove the mask, combined with his need to hit everyone sitting around him on the head with his flag, does not make him any friends.


Funniest moment in the Cardinals lineup: they’re going down the row, when all of a sudden TBF interjects: “Wait for this” and the crowd boos Looper so loudly you can barely hear the introduction. Priceless.

Moment #2: at the end, Tony La Russa is introduced, and proceeds to walk down the lineup glad-handing the team. “You don’t see Willie doing that lame [expletive], now do you,” I say.

Aaron Neville, a musician who I am Supposed To Appreciate, and whose value to the New Orleans music scene I do not question – but yet, do not and cannot like – sings the Star Spangled Banner and does a passable job. Question: why do they put up the words to “God Bless America,” a short song whose words are easy to understand, but don’t for the National Anthem?

The scoreboard is dark for a moment of silence for both Buck Owens and Cory Lidle. Not too much; enough, just enough to remember, but not overshadow.

scoreboard dark for cory lidle and buck o'neil

CELEBRITY WATCH: On the way into one of the NDLS games, I was POSITIVE I saw Matt Dillon walking into the ballpark, and was about to launch into my best Cliff Poncier imitation, but then thought better of it. Surely, it could not be him. As we are celebrity-gawking in the seats next to the dugout, there he is, two rows behind Tim Robbins, who in TBF’s estimation had THE best seat in the ballpark: front row of the special boxes, just off the on-deck circle, dead center. TBF wants to hate him, until I point out that we like Tim Robbins for many reasons (politics, taste in music, taste in baseball teams), and also note that he seems to have a scorecard in hand. He is also wearing an OLD Mets jersey, #4. Any ideas who this could be for?

I walked into Shea announcing that I felt GOOD about tonight. “Of course you feel good about tonight,” TBF counters, “We have Tommy G. pitching tonight.” And, yes, Tommy got us out of situation after situation and delivered enough 1-2-3 innings to assuage most of your indigestion.

“The Team, The Time, The Thanks.” This was ADORABLE. Clips of each Met saying “thank you” to the fans, in Spanish and English. Cliff was the best & had the most fun with things. “The MVP is *you*,” Mr. Reyes said, turning it around on us. They should put this up on the web site.

Speaking of Mr. Floyd, he has a new song, which I did not catch, but will be sure to run over to his blog tomorrow to beg the name of. He did not, however, have a new ankle, and although we know Cliff can exaggerate sometimes, Willie was not buying it and he came out after this particular at-bat, replaced by Mr. Chavez, who would be giving Mr. Beltran his money’s worth as MVP tonight. That diving catch – well, I’ll say it: Cliff wouldn’t have made it. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he probably couldn’t have. And what is this bs with pitching around DWright to get to Endy? People are going to start paying for that.

Shawn Green has now rated his own scoreboard graphic (along the lines of “The Glaviator” “Reyes of Light” etc.): “Green Day.”

(I know, I know.)

Nice to see Willie going out to argue with the umpire when Mr. Green got called out at second.

It rained in the upper deck, twice. Each time I got out my poncho, and each time it stopped before it was necessary to struggle into it. The weather got progressively windier as the night went on, but it didn’t get truly cold until the very end, and by then we’re standing up anyway so it doesn’t matter that much.

6th inning. Here’s Lo Duca, the guy who gets the upper deck — the people’s seats, as TBF refers to them — on their feet every time. I expect Lo Duca to get a hit; I expect Lo Duca to make something happen. When Beltran got to the plate, I was hoping, but then I thought I was just projecting because I was impatient and just wanted SOMETHING to happen already.

SOMETHING was a ball heading towards the Banco Popular sign, one of those balls that seem to suspend in mid-air and time seems to halt while it flies. Beautiful. I sigh, and then jump up and down and high five TBF and the Dominican girls next to us.

The en masse taunting of Weaver towards the end of his outing was classic New York and completely and utterly obnoxious, matching the “Cardinals: Taste Like Chicken” sign someone had behind the visiting team’s dugout. It was a spectacle and it was awesome to behold. I shouldn’t enjoy it, and other parts of the country would likely chastise us for our unsportsmanlike behavior, but it was beautiful.

I’ve really been enjoying the snarky intentional commentary offered through some of the music selections when the opposing pitchers get taken out. “Another One Bites The Dust,” “Should I Stay Or Should I Go,” and tonight’s selection, “Under Pressure.” I love this and wish there was more of this attitude allowed during the regular season. It calls to mind one of my favorite baseball stories from TBF, how an organist for one of the Chicago teams, who, after a series of questionable calls by the umpires, started playing “Three Blind Mice.”

The 7th inning video blaring “Desire” by U2 is one of our favorite parts of the playoffs. Tonight I goaded TBF into an impromptu singalong, except that I forgot (or rather didn’t bother to remember) some of the lyrics.
“Oh my god, what are you singing?!”
“Not sure. The spirit’s more important than the letter. At least the tune is right.”
I want one of those signs in the video, DESIRE with the Mets logo underneath it. (Hint, hint, hint.)

The 8th inning abomination known as “Sweet Caroline” has gotten worse, if you could possibly imagine that. They now put the lyrics up on Diamondvision, along with illustrative video footage – including Mr. Met. I’m sorry. Mr. Met would not be singing freaking “Sweet Caroline” anywhere but at Fenway. GET RID OF THIS. People only like it because they are DRUNK at that point.

Wagner at the end was not as flawless as we wanted and needed him to be, but in the end he got the job done, and we all breathed a sigh of relief, stopping to watch the celebration on-field for a split second before leaping out of our seats and towards the nearest exit ramp, determined to not get caught in another human quagmire on the way to the 7. Nice idea, but unless we’re going to become Those People who leave the ballpark during the 8th inning, it’s never going to happen.

We are back once again tomorrow night. I can’t wait.

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