Towards that end I thought I’d invite everyone to recount
the most memorable game they ever attended in person. Yes, we all sat and watched game six of the
1986 World Series, Mike Piazza’s post 9/11 home run and the Johan Santana
no-hitter marathon performance, but how about one in which you sat at Shea or
CitiField (or even another team’s ballpark)?
Mine was not a particularly memorable team. It happened in the dark period of the late
1970s when the team was struggling to find its way out of the cellar and into
contention. I was a student at New York
University and occasionally would ride the 7 train out to Shea to take my pick
of the myriad of empty seats available for the masochistic Mets fans who would
pay hard earned money to see the likes of immortals like Bruce Boisclair, Mike
Bruhert and Mardie Cornejo. Of course,
warming up in the parking lot with adult beverages and other intoxicants to put
the game in proper perspective was part of any decent college student’s pre-game
ritual.
One of the great disappointments of the 1979 season was
who we’d hoped was a new Mets star, Steve Henderson. After establishing himself as a latecomer to
the Rookie of the Year voting in 1977 (and minutely taking some of the sting out of The Franchise being dispatched to Cincinnati), Hendu repeated similar numbers (though
over a greater quantity of plate appearances) in 1978. A year later things started going downhill for
the former five-tool prospect and he finished the campaign with a paltry 5 HRs
and just 38 RBIs, but a .308 batting average kept him in the fans’ hearts. Still, he’d gone all of April and into May
without slugging a HR and reserved his first of his quintet for a road
performance.
Sometime during that less-than-memorable era I was seated
in the field level at Shea (having bribed an usher a few bucks to sneak down
from the nosebleed section) and saw Henderson propel the Mets to victory with a
bottom-of-the-ninth game winning home run.
The 1500 or so fans in the stands erupted as if it was the 7th
game of the World Series. Not only had
Henderson finally connected for them, but it pushed the fledgling team into a
near .500 record for the first time in ages.
The ride back on the 7 train was electric with cheers, screaming of “Let’s
Go Mets” and “We’re Number One” echoing off the elevated train’s walls.
In the realm of the season the game meant nothing and the
team was on a road to nowhere, but for one brief shining moment, it finally
felt good to be a Mets fan and the pride came bursting forth in a firehouse
gusher of long overdue emotion.
What are your favorite live-game memories that you had
the good fortune to attend?
1 comment:
August 2, 1979, a weekDAY NYM-PHI double-header. Maz was at the plate & just walked away up the 1B line dragging his bat. The C and HP ump walked together up the 3B line. The crowd (exaggeration) murmur finally brought my attention to the scoreboard announcing the death of Thurman Munson in a plane crash. The crowd was asked to stand for a moment of silence before the beginning of the second game.
Also, Jose Cardinal was traded to the Mets from Philly between games. He came out of the dugout at the end of game 2 to greet his ex-mates. They had outfitted him in a Mets uniform 8 sizes too big, and with his humungo Afro, he really did look like Bozo the clown.
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