Monday, April 09, 2007

Section 35, Row S: Opening Day, 2007

It was very, very cold.

I know. You were either there, and sitting in the sun on the OTHER side of Shea, or you were watching at home, and the people behind home plate (also in the sun) were busy taking off their layers and smearing on suntan lotion. But for those of us in the People’s Seats, on the shady side of the stadium, it was another freezing opening day (although we can hardly complain, since we’re not in *Cleveland*. That’s freezing.)

Somehow I forgot that the last row of the upper deck was row V. And that row S is only THREE rows away from Row V. I was just so glad to be in Section 35, and not in Section 48 or 48 or 3,321 as we originally thought we were, that that small detail escaped me - until we were climbing up the stairs at a little after 12 noon, and I got vertigo (which, btw, appears to be the new on-field intro song for the Mets. Regretfully, I can’t even freaking tell you about the music that was played at Shea today because the wind blew the PA system in the other direction completely for 80% of the time.)

And, oh yeah, there was a game today.

We took the 7 out to Shea, noticing how the MTA has moved the turnstiles from the bottom of the ramp to right at the top of the platform at Willets Point. I’m still undecided as to whether that’s a good idea or not. Citibank has replaced Banco Popular on the back of the scoreboard - imagine that. (Also, all the ATM’s are now Citi ATM’s. If they could only effect the swift construction of that inside transfer from the E train to the 7 at Court Square before the year is out, I’ll be a happy woman.)

TBF and I summitted shortly after 12. I know he was antsy to get to the seats so he could settle in and so we didn’t miss anything, but I was not particularly wanting to sit in the cold for that long.  I made that mistake at the Sunday night game against the Yankees last year - I got to Shea early because I was worried about traffic, and then I sat in the cold for about 40 minutes before it occurred to me that maybe I might want to duck inside the concourse for a while unless I wanted to turn into an icicle before the game even started. Yes, we were appropriately dressed - multiple layers and a jersey in his case, the 2006 playoffs sweatshirt for me. A hat. A scarf. Gloves. Hand warmers. A fleece blanket. My performance fleece running jacket (which I ended up forcing TBF to wear.) It didn’t matter, it wasn’t enough. We weren’t the people in the row ahead of us who arrived at the top of the 4th inning wearing nothing but a t-shirt over a thermal. Enjoy the game, folks.

From our vantage point, we could observe a few things - the giant Dunkin Donuts iced coffee in the visitor’s bullpen (thumbs down), the new Diamond Vision (thumbs up), the fact that the picnic tent/area is completely gone; the Dream Seats in left field have been expanded, completely usurping the grassy knoll. I don’t understand the attraction of those seats, but ‘dream seats shea stadium’ was one of the most popular search queries on MG.com last year, so someone wants to sit there and the Mets see $$$.

The first applause when Jose ran onto the field to warm up was exciting. It was all exciting, chattering a mile a minute, watching the people and the players and the construction just to our right. The opening lineups were great. Has any team been booed that much at Shea before? I’d like to hear about it if someone has.

Keith throwing out the opening pitch was nice, especially with HoJo catching. I wish Keith hadn’t tucked his jersey top into his pants, but then again, in Keith’s mind it’s not 2007 and he thinks he’s being dapper by doing that. Keith, don’t tuck.

Can’t hear Johnny Maine’s song. Crap. (A word I use a lot today because there’s a row of 10 year olds behind me. It wasn’t the word I used when one of them kicked me in the head during the 5th inning. It was accidental, and he apologized, but the dull thud it created didn’t make me any happier.)

Carvel sponsors the ground rules, this year with Spanish subtitles. Gracias. David Wright still gets the “Mets fans are the greatest fans in the world” line, while this year Moises Alou takes the role of stern elder statesman, informing us to refrain from inappropriate language and behavior.

Lo Duca is still living the life of John Travolta - but it’s the cool Travolta of the 70’s, not the scary Scientologist Travolta. “Stayin’ Alive,” and later we heard “No Sleep ‘Till Brooklyn.” Really, I’m not even going to write about any more music because I was guessing off of bass lines. I am, however, happy to confirm that Carlos Beltran is still coming out to “El Esta Aqui” for the third year in a row, and Julio Franco is playing that CCM tri-- um, stuff.

“Look, honey, ‘Explore Long Island,’” I tease TBF.
“I’d like Willie to explore using his bullpen,” he replies.

“What was that?” I asked, as the Phillies pitcher throws a ball clearly aimed at the loge.
“That was a wild pitch,” TBF confirms.
“No!”
“Yep, it’s still a wild pitch.”

So John Maine was not quite the John Maine we know and love today, and the rest of the guys were just, well, sloppy. We inched out on a wing and a prayer. TBF predicted disaster when Weetabix (aka Ambiorix Burgos - I started calling him ‘Weetabix’ in the off-season and refuse to change it, because TBF insists on trying to teach me to say ‘Ambiorix’ and I refuse) got left in to pitch, and he was right.

But all of that was before Our Hero, Jimmy Rollins, cooperated so fantastically. Being in the people’s seats means you get all the heckling all the time, even from 7 year old Phillies fans screaming themselves hoarse. But nothing, repeat, nothing, matched the hilarity when the Rollins mocking roll-call started towards the end of the game. When we came home and watched the replay, we wondered if it was anywhere else in the stadium and we wondered if you could hear it and we wondered if Keith, Ron and Gary would say something about it. The snickering in the box gave it away before they tried to be politically correct about it, in a small way.

Why did Endy run for Shawn and not for Alou?
Why did Willie send in Franco and not Endy or Newhan?
All mysteries to be saved for another day.
A day in which I find some more layers, and buy a fleece blanket from Patagonia, or something.

When we were eating dinner, TBF asked, now that I’d been to my first Opening Day, what did I think? And the answer is probably somewhere between “awesome” and “okay”. It was a little anti-climatic having the home opener be the 7th game of the year, and also having been to Spring Training only a few weeks ago. Opening Day to me was the end of the baseball drought, the beginning of Spring, an oasis in the mundane. It was playing hooky, being decadent, taking a day off work for - gasp! - baseball, it was drinking beer in the sun in the middle of the day with the blue sky and the green field stretching out in front of us, while I high-fived with a bunch of guys I’d never talk to if they sat next to us at a bar, but at the ballpark, it all seems different. It was that feeling you get when you hear the bat connect with the ball and watch it sail in that ever-perfect arc into the outfield, where it falls to the ground while our guys run the bases and you jump up and down or do your own personal victory dance in front of your seat.

All of that was there, except there was no sun and I was not drinking beer in the nuclear winter of the right side of the stadium, and yes that sounds spoiled and bitchy but crap! It was COLD.

And, you know, that sounds spoiled, because not everyone gets to go to Opening Day and especially with the battle between cable and Dish for the out-of-town fans. I know I am lucky and spoiled but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it and I don’t love it and I wasn’t a million times happier to be at Shea than I would have been at the office.

Opening day really means: The season has opened. On 24 Tuesdays and Fridays for the next few months (with some random dates in between), I have a date with a bunch of handsome guys out in Queens. I have baseball to make me forget, and make me remember, make me learn, give me new memories.

To quote the Mets advertising office: YOUR BASEBALL HAS COME.

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