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say it ain’t so | metsgrrl.com

say it ain’t so

Perhaps we were just a little too cocky tonight, after our recent run of victories. When we walked off the 7 train, TBF spied a guy wearing a Jeff Kent jersey, and proceeded to heckle him.
“Jeff Kent sucks! He doesn’t even bother to try!”
The wearer of the jersey proceeded to meekly agree with him. That, however, was not what TBF was in the mood for.
“Why would you wear a jersey for someone like that…!”
I gently prod him forward. “Honey. Less heckle, more walking into the stadium.”
I turn to the couple. “Welcome to Flushing.”

Tonight we were back on the mezzanine. My plan got us post-season seats in Section 14, Row A. TBF engineered some trade, game 1 for game 2, that landed us in Section 12, Row A. It felt kind of wistful being back in ‘our’ section, but any sentimentality I had was replaced by practicality: one of the great things about section 12 is that there is a very well-maintained ladies’ room right outside the entrance.

TBF went off to have a beer behind home plate with his fellow curmudgeons from the Crane Pool Forum; I was supposed to meet up with Zoe tonight, but the timing was wrong. Instead, I parked myself in my seat and got my camera out, start experimenting with angles. A few minutes later, I spy a lone uniform in the Mets dugout: #7, Mr. Reyes. He is sitting there, quietly, not moving, not fidgeting. I click away, and wonder why he is out there so early. I ponder if, perhaps, he was banned from the clubhouse for driving people crazy. I wonder if maybe he came out to try to settle down and get some breathing room. I am quite sure everyone else is going to stay inside and warm as long as possible.

Darth Maul from last night passes by. I am incorrect: he is really “Met Man” and his mask is a hand-painted, modified Batman mask. He also has a jersey that reads “METS MOBILE METMAN”. It was even scarier than it was last night.

Jon Stewart throws out the first pitch. As soon as the ball leaves his hands, he knows he sucked, and good-naturedly admits it. A nice hug between him and Sandy Alomar.

Our section seems fine, except we have people behind us yelling at us to stand up, and people right behind us yelling at us to sit down. My feeling is, it’s a playoff game, if people want to stand up, let them, get over it. But, if people want to sit down, please halt your true fan meter and get over yourself.

Reyes comes up to bat, and the nice girl next to us predicts that if Jose gets a hit, we’ll take this game. And I have to say, you know, that a few minutes later I was ready to regard her as the Oracle from fucking Delphi. It certainly felt that way, didn’t it? Especially when Mr. Delgado approached the plate.

In a way, this was the first game that felt TRULY electric, and not just default ‘it’s a playoff game’ – it was genuinely generated energy and excitement from what was actually happening on the field, not just the mere fact that we were in the post-season. We were playing like we were the best team in New York. We were showing everyone, especially the detractors, especially the people who want to insist that we win because of something our opponents did, why we got this far. The cold didn’t matter, the rescheduled game didn’t matter, the morons at MLB taking their sweet time to decide what time this game was going to be didn’t matter.

That feeling, of course, evaporated shortly thereafter. In fact, I was apparently so bad that TBF finally turned to me and said, “Can we climb down off the ledge?” and gave me a lecture involving the phrase “you gotta believe”. I felt ashamed and skulked further back inside my hooded sweatshirt.

The Lo Duca thing is funny. Half the crowd is chanting “PAUL LO-DU-CA,” the other half are “duuuuucccc”-ing him. Think a Bruce Springsteen concert and the BROOOOCING: you would think #16 was being booed if you didn’t know any better. It’s funny. I like it. I like how we have embraced him *so much*.

Spezio is particularly hated in our section. It’s the facial hair, has to be the facial hair. Everyone is offering loud verbal opinions regarding the facial hair each time he comes to bat, many of which are not suitable for a family audience. They were, however, very amusing.

We hear a chant of “ASS-HOLE” and look over to see a group of Cardinals fans who have decided to parade their colors around the mezzanine. The taunting began, and it had gotten as far as one of them removing a shirt, when Mr. Delgado hit ANOTHER home run, which caused the Cardinals fans to vanish into a sea of orange and blue standing up and cheering their lungs out.

This is where my notes stop. Of course, you know why. I am not a strategist, I cannot tell you whether we should have left Maine in longer or not brought in Feliciano or explained various errors, or offer any suggestions on Willie’s in-game strategy. I just know that WE FUCKED UP BIG FUCKING TIME AND IT SHOULDN’T HAVE HAPPENED THAT WAY TONIGHT.

Jesus god. So Taguchi hit a home run. SO TAGUCHI. Everyone in our section, it seemed, reached their boiling point about that particular issue at different times, because for at least 15 minutes after it happened, someone would eject a statement to that effect, loudly.

The exodus from Shea starting at the 6th inning was shameful. IT’S A PLAYOFF GAME. As was the booing of Billy Wagner, as was the moron behind me who bellowed his suggestion for a hobby Mr. Wagner should take up regarding the operation of aircraft (I turned around and berated him with a surprising heat and volume. That was just wrong).

At least our egress from the mezz did not take three hours, and was aided by the earlier steady flow of people out of Shea and onto the 7 platform. There were no happy calls to friends elsewhere, there were no text messages, there was no joyful totalling of TBF’s scorecard. We couldn’t even get seats together so we sat apart for most of the ride, which is probably okay, because it’s not like we could have talked about it.

But once we reached Court Square and were waiting for the bus, me standing there with a blanket wrapped around me like an old woman, we gently started talking about strategy for trading one set of our World Series tickets.

You gotta believe.

The Flickr feed for tonight is here. It is definitely worth your while to click through to the full-size ones.

jose solomessrs. delgado and green, esq.

reyes sliding home

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