This is a really nice piece by Kevin Baker in today's Times about Shea Stadium.
When I lived in New York, I would go every Sunday to either Shea or the Bronx, depending on who was at home that weekend; and I always used to enjoy going to Shea much more.
Yes, the place is a complete anachronism, and the team was more often than not just simply awful - apart from the glorious, unexpected over-achievement of the 2000 season - but most of the time it was a joy to be around the Mets fans. They remind me a lot of Cub fans, since they're both self-deprecating and desperately appreciative when anything went right - the most important thing was that the players were seen to genuinely try their hardest.
But mostly, Mets fans are great because of their wonderfully understated sense of humour. And that extended to the various levels of the organisation as well. I particularly remember one badly-attended getaway day snoozer with the home nine long since out of the divisional reckoning.
The visitors - I think it was the equally-bad Rockies - had just hit their fourth or fifth home run of the day and as their hitter rounded the bases, the Shea organist was playing The Ramones' "I Wanna Be Sedated".
My parents' first-ever ball game, at the age of 64, was at Shea - I took them to Game One of the 2000 NL Divisional Championship series against the Giants. The Mets won 1-0 in 13 innings on a solo home run by Benny Agbayani and God, was it cold!
Anyway, the game of course was a sell-out and we were behind two very loud, increasingly drunk Mets fans. The sort of guys who are naturally foulmouthed, but in a goodnatured way. So, the first time these guys start screaming my mom gave her little audible "tutting" sound... one of the guys turns around and says "sorry, m'aam", as if to his own mother.
The best part, though, is that - as things get increasingly frustrating and tense - you can just feel this guy holding it in, 'til a Met makes some bonehead error (there were plenty to choose from) and he turns around and says: "Excuse me in advance, m'aam".... before standing up and yelling "You good-for-nothin' sonofabitch, Payton..."
My mother laughed so hard tears were streaming down her face.
I also remember being at Shea one Fourth of July when a couple of the promo guys who normally fire t-shirts into the crowd were going round the stands between innings asking kids civics questions, with each tow-headed cutester's responses being shown on the big screen.
So they ask this one kid: "What do the 50 stars on the stars and stripes represent?" and before the tot can answer, a drunk guy leans in and says "The nummer ah games da Mets are gonna win this year..." And, of course, the crowd cheered.
Brilliant.
I will miss it.
When I lived in New York, I would go every Sunday to either Shea or the Bronx, depending on who was at home that weekend; and I always used to enjoy going to Shea much more.
Yes, the place is a complete anachronism, and the team was more often than not just simply awful - apart from the glorious, unexpected over-achievement of the 2000 season - but most of the time it was a joy to be around the Mets fans. They remind me a lot of Cub fans, since they're both self-deprecating and desperately appreciative when anything went right - the most important thing was that the players were seen to genuinely try their hardest.
But mostly, Mets fans are great because of their wonderfully understated sense of humour. And that extended to the various levels of the organisation as well. I particularly remember one badly-attended getaway day snoozer with the home nine long since out of the divisional reckoning.
The visitors - I think it was the equally-bad Rockies - had just hit their fourth or fifth home run of the day and as their hitter rounded the bases, the Shea organist was playing The Ramones' "I Wanna Be Sedated".
My parents' first-ever ball game, at the age of 64, was at Shea - I took them to Game One of the 2000 NL Divisional Championship series against the Giants. The Mets won 1-0 in 13 innings on a solo home run by Benny Agbayani and God, was it cold!
Anyway, the game of course was a sell-out and we were behind two very loud, increasingly drunk Mets fans. The sort of guys who are naturally foulmouthed, but in a goodnatured way. So, the first time these guys start screaming my mom gave her little audible "tutting" sound... one of the guys turns around and says "sorry, m'aam", as if to his own mother.
The best part, though, is that - as things get increasingly frustrating and tense - you can just feel this guy holding it in, 'til a Met makes some bonehead error (there were plenty to choose from) and he turns around and says: "Excuse me in advance, m'aam".... before standing up and yelling "You good-for-nothin' sonofabitch, Payton..."
My mother laughed so hard tears were streaming down her face.
I also remember being at Shea one Fourth of July when a couple of the promo guys who normally fire t-shirts into the crowd were going round the stands between innings asking kids civics questions, with each tow-headed cutester's responses being shown on the big screen.
So they ask this one kid: "What do the 50 stars on the stars and stripes represent?" and before the tot can answer, a drunk guy leans in and says "The nummer ah games da Mets are gonna win this year..." And, of course, the crowd cheered.
Brilliant.
I will miss it.
posted by Steve at 11:09 AM
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