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won’t get fooled again | metsgrrl.com

won’t get fooled again


Tonight, I would have been happy if we’d gotten to Shea at 4pm. I just wanted to get there, because I felt like the sooner I got there, the sooner the game would start, and the sooner we would know the outcome. My stomach hurt, I couldn’t concentrate on work (as if you couldn’t tell), and I just wanted the clock to say 5:15 so I could leave.

Shortly before noon, the phone rang. It was TBF, and he starts babbling to me about Will I sit in section 18 row H and I have no idea what he is talking about.
“World Series game 5.”
I am still confused. Is this someone he found on Craigslist? He has been a human RSS reader, keeping up with all the action on that site.
“No, no, I won the lottery.”
What he didn’t tell me until later that night is that he didn’t get an email from the Mets telling him he’d won. He just kept logging into his Mets ticket account on a consistent basis: “Maybe there would be a screw-up. Maybe I would miss an email. You never know.” And today, just before he was leaving to execute our Game 3 for Game 4 trade, he tries the web site one more time and was greeted with information about his World Series ticket opportunity and got us into Game 5.

This, of course, so greatly assisted in keeping my mind on track.

We got to Shea a tiny bit early because I was supposed to meet up with the blogosphere: Matt from Metsblog, homegirl Zoe, Anthony from Hot Foot, Metstradamus, and Toasted Joe and Brooklyn Met Fan all showed up for some nervous pre-game chatter. By 7:30 everyone was antsy and wanted to head for their seats. I had to make it from far right field level all the way over to mezz section 14. As I headed for the ramps, I could hear the beginning of “Won’t Get Fooled Again” begin the pre-game entertainment. It’s a long song; I knew I could probably make it to my seat by the time the song ended, and this suddenly becomes irrationally imperative: I needed to make it to my seat by the time of that last Daltrey power scream. The Who and I are on the outs at the moment ($256 ticket prices is part of it), and I haven’t felt that emotional oomph I should be feeling when their songs are used at Shea, but tonight is different. Tonight, it works: just enough nervous tension and excitement. I reach section 14 in time to play air guitar with TBF as the song ends. Time to hang up my sign, set up the camera, and pray.

It was hard to not jump into the first car of the rollercoaster the minute Reyes hit that home run. I want to be cool, composed, not invest too much hope into anything – it’s just one run – but tonight I HAVE to go for the happy ending from the get-go. I have to be thinking happy thoughts, shaking fairy dust, screaming and praying and yelling and acting like my team was going to win. I put my camera down every time the Cardinals were up and picked it up when the Mets were at bat, as though there would of course always be something worth photographing. (I am disappointed in what did come out – the small distance between section 12 and section 14 was just enough to remove enough detail to make them interesting.) I am always too excited by what is happening in the game to get the big action shots: do I want to be focusing on home plate to catch Reyes sliding across it or do I want to watch all the action on the field?? The problem is usually I opt for the latter.


Maine was fantastic. And Shawn Green finally came through, which I attribute to the laser of Jewish guilt I was aiming at him all night. “LET’S HEAR IT FOR THE JEWS!” I yelled when Mr. Green got his hit. (Note to Shea: we need to stop overusing the whole ‘Green Day’ thing, okay?) We left more guys on base than I ever would have wanted to see, and Wagner makes me nervous, but everyone else did what they needed to do.


The guy next to us tonight was keeping the box score on his Palm Pilot. TBF at first acted interested, and then reverted to curmudgeon mode – but kept revising his opinion between every at-bat. While this interests me as a holiday gift possibility, I do not ever see him giving up the manual scorecard, especially since he has his own personally designed scorecard that he keeps updating and changing every year for the last 7.

Other notes:

  • Most over-exposed celebrity: Stop showing Trump on the smooch cam. It was funny the first time. Now it’s not.
  • Best anti-Cardinals chant: “Shave your chin!”
  • New sponsor promo movie: “The Carlos y Carlos Express” was awesome. Even better was that they didn’t use old white guy music as the background. It was something you could see them dancing to in the dugout.
  • Sign overusage: Note to fans — No one next season is allowed to bring a sign when John Maine pitches reading “THE MAINE EVENT” or any derivative thereof.
  • Tonight’s intentional commentary via music: “Head Games” when our old friend Braden Looper was on the mound. Welcome back, buddy!
  • Sign that we should frown on, but enjoyed: “HOW’S THE VIEW, A-ROD”
  • Ceremonial first pitch: Matt Dillon, did a great job, and I’m glad he’s a Mets fan, but to me, he will always be Cliff Poncier.

Flickr feed is here.

And tomorrow, as they say, is another day. Front row, upper boxes, thanks to TBF’s mom, who entered and won the ticket lottery for us.

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