7:35am LGA to ORD, pick up the rental car, fight traffic, pick up some speed, and we’re passing the Cheese Castle by 10:30 and Miller Park greets us through the windshield by 11am. The parking lots are not packed, but they are full of people who have clearly been there for hours in the hot sun, with their grills and their deep friers and their tents - on a Thursday afternoon. As we make our way through the parking lot, we are gently heckled: “METS fans? Oh, no.” or “You’re not tailgating?” It’s a RELIGION in that state, I tell ya. TBF swore that, even wearing a Mets jersey, if we wanted to hang out people would feed us. But we are hot, and want to get inside, so we forgo any attempts to socialize with the natives.
We entered via the home plate entrance, which was not particularly spectacular. It did, however, put us at immediate proximity to our seats, which were six rows behind home plate and *are* particularly spectacular. This also meant that our section was right in the sunlight. We decide to wander the stadium, get some food, and return closer to game time. Day game after a night game meant no BP, so there was little incentive to roast unnecessarily for an hour and a half before the game started.
I figured I would get these photos out of the way since most people are only going to want to look at these anyway. Ed Vedder at batting practice at Wrigley on 8/3/07, talking to Sandy Alomar, Scott Schoeneweis, throwing out the first pitch, and walking back to the dugout with Kerry Wood, and hanging out with Rickey Henderson. (See the comments for the update about the last one.). If anyone can tell me how Vedder and Schoeneweis are such good buddies, I will owe you a beer.
I am now going through the 496 photographs (I am not exaggerating) of the last two days, so any detailed posts will have to wait until tomorrow.
One small detail to keep it interesting:
Thursday night we got to see Pearl Jam play a small (1400 capacity) theater at a fan-club only show. (In a previous life, I was an enormous PJ fan, but it’s been years, really.) Somehow I got tickets, and we drove straight from Miller Park to the theater, got in line, and saw the show.
During a short pre-show acoustic set from Eddie Vedder, he announces that he’s going to play a new song that he’s written about the Cubs, since they’re actually doing well this year. This being a Pearl Jam audience, way too many people applaud the Cubs because they’re Eddie’s favorite team, not because they actually like them or follow baseball. (And if you want to argue with me about that, see the previous paragraph.) I didn’t start the boos - I leave that credit to the dozens of Phillies fans (who were at Wrigley that day) - but once they started, we joined in with great enthusiasm.
However, we were not about to let them get away with the resulting “Let’s go Phillies” chants, and having seen a few Mets hats earlier in the evening, Coop and I started “Let’s Go Mets,” at which point we were all booed down, but not before Coop got in a hearty, “Jose, Jose, Jose.”
Of further note, but this is only interesting to the majorly geeky, is our sighting of a questionable personalized baseball jersey with the letters AMENT 10 on the back, being worn by a random fan in the crowd (Jeff Ament being Pearl Jam’s bass player, and 10 being a number significant to Pearl Jam fans, the title of their first album, etc.). Two minutes later, the jersey walks the other way and I see it is a YANKEES jersey. We express our disgust, only for a Phillies fan in front of us to turn around and offer, “Yeah, that’s just all kinds of wrong.” Then he sees my hat, pauses, raises his beer: “At least we can break bread on that.”
The photos, and the full reports from both Milwaukee and Wrigley, will be up starting tomorrow.
RANDOM TRADING DEADLINE THOUGHTS I CAN’T GET OUT OF MY HEAD.
I wouldn’t be so upset about Teixiera if 1) he hadn’t gone to the BRAVES and 2) we could have been in the market for a first baseman and 3) Carlos Delgado, where are you? It’s AUGUST.
As I sit writing this on Sunday, thunder rings ominously over Brooklyn. Today will be the rainout, the Mets will escape having to actually show up and beat THE F’ING WASHINGTON NATIONALS today.
“it’s the NATIONALS, guys,” was my anguished cry on Friday night, at least for the first few innings, until I finally gave up. The regulars of Section 12 were sullen and listless. We didn’t have the energy to heckle, talk amongst ourselves, or get pissed and boo Jorge Sosa, unlike the other 99% of Shea. I could talk about Jon Adkins or Pedro not inspiring another verse of The Ballad of Pedro Feliciano, but why bother?
The other 99% of Shea on Friday night is kind of what I wanted to talk about. I had completely forgotten that Friday was Merengue Night, except when I got off the 7 train at 7:05 and had to sprint around the meandering masses to a gate that wasn’t swamped with people not understanding that IF YOU DON’T HAVE A BAG YOU DON’T HAVE TO WAIT IN THIS LINE TO HAVE IT SEARCHED, GO AROUND. And then be denied by security to head the quickest way up to my section because it would allow me to tread on the sacred ground of The Loge.
A little Friday levity: A post over on the LoHud Mets Blog sent me to the wonder that is You Tube, from which I provide you with this gem, the highest of high comedy. Yes, I realize you have all seen this before. I have not (or at least have no active memory of having seen it), and even if you have, it’s so goddamn funny that it certainly bears watching again.
Glavine deserves some kind of award for this performance.
HOW ABOUT LETTING PEOPLE KNOW ABOUT THINGS LIKE THIS IN ADVANCE???????It’s not like 10 of the Mets just spontaneously decided to roll on down to the Ed Sullivan Theater yesterday afternoon.
Youtube, anyone? Anyone??Ray writes in with this link to TOP TEN THINGS YOU DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT YOUR NEW YORK METS on the Late Show site itself. Filmed at BP yesterday, and not the hysterical, on-site one-at-a-time walk-on I had originally envisioned, which makes it slightly less painful.
(Warning, the video is Real Video and it managed to hang my Mac this morning.)
