Back when skipping school to watch a baseball game was still considered truancy, three buddies and I called in sick and went to see Tom Seaver’s first game back as a Met, against the Phillies in 1983. I didn’t like lying to my high school or to my parents, but I was not taking the risk that someone might tell me I could not go. Ironically, I skipped the next several openers due to school obligations (and I still likely would have blown those off had I gone to college within four hours of Shea). But I have missed only three openers since 1989: one as a personal protest to the strike, and the others because the family was on vacations that were more memorable than many of the openers I’ve seen.
You kind of get to the point where you go on Opening Day just because you usually go. I always have fun with the people I’m with, but last year’s debacle with the Mets blowing the lead to Washington and losing their closer for the year made me wonder aloud why he was out there in the first place since his elbow had been a problem in Florida. And I had to wonder what the hell I was doing there if the team had been a problem in Florida, and for most of the decade prior.
Monday, April 13, six years to the day—or night—that Citi Field opened, the Mets had their biggest crowd at the stadium for a game that counts. The only bigger crowd was for the All-Star Game in 2013, and my family in standing room pushed the number to 45,186. I was proud to be part of the 2015 opener’s 43,947. Maybe one day I can be part of the crowd that sets the mark in a game of significance late in the season. Or in whatever games are played after the also-rans are done. We’ll see. For now I was glad to be sitting in the far reaches of the left-field upper deck for an entire game. Previously I’d bought tickets there but left after a few innings, easily able to snag better seats. Not for this game.
The place was jammed. And even though the people who had the two seats next to us never showed up, pairs of people flitted down and sat there for innings at a time—like the Citi seagulls no doubt wondering, “What’s with the people, these teams can’t hit?” Mets bird of prey Jacob deGrom and three relievers blanked the Phillies, 2-0, and the Mets even introduced what I can only assume is a new old song for wins: “New York Groove.” The Mets have not exactly been taking care of business in recent years. I prefer BTO to K-I-S-S, but it’s been time for a change for a long time. In more ways than one.
Everyone is trying to get behind the team. (Well, maybe not everyone is doing it the same way.) I like the ballclub, but I think they need to trade for at least one middle infielder who is a major league fielder and can also hit. Their bench could use something, too. And given that Jenrry Mejia let us all down as one of four major league pitchers recently caught cheating, maybe a setup reliever might help if Vic Black doesn’t come back the same and Carlos Torres’s arm doesn’t fall off from overuse. These kinds of players cost money and they’ll likely cost prospects—two things the current Mets management has been reluctant to part with. Maybe this is the year the Mets make a late-season move, if they stay in the race that long.
I’m just glad I was there to open the place up. And I’m glad my buddy Dave, a policeman, was there as well—not just for the game, but for the moving tribute to the NYPD. When people complain about security lines, they should think first about why those exist and how safe we feel going about our lives compared to people elsewhere. Inconvenience is a small price for vigilance. I don’t like speeding tickets or security lines, either, but you can’t have everything the way you want it. You’d think Mets fans at least would understand that by now.