Baseball

What makes it appealing to pay what can be significant money to go and see professional ballplayers on a major league team play a game you once played as a kid?

Maybe it's the grass? No one's lawn in any neighborhood looks that good, mowed in stripes and squares. Even the dirt is not dirty. And the chalk/lime lines have been put down by a surveyor. Only the batter's box gets obliterated, often quickly. The home plate ump takes care of keeping home plate clean and something you could eat off.

Is it hot dogs, peanuts, crackerjacks and beer? Not for me. It's seeing professional ball players throw a ball in a trolley line to the bases. It's seeing the arc of a hit ball that cracks off the bat and seeing if the fielder will catch it. TV is two dimensional, so when the ball is hit in the air you lose it until it comes down.

TV does have the advantage of a framed strike zone square superimposed on the screen in front of the catcher. At the ball park there really isn't any viewpoint for calling balls and strikes other than the umpire's.

At the ball park you get a view of the whole field and the sky. I've often felt the sky is part of the game. I've never been in a domed stadium, and I know why they're built, but they're not for me.

The other aspect of being at the game is that it is LOUD. Very loud. Rock Concert loud. The main scoreboard never stops blinking, showing images in very good detail, It is explosively kinetic.

And what are the loud sounds? Music for one. Lots of batters have designated "walk-up" music played as they enter the batter's box. Francisco Lindor of the Mets  is immediately identified by "My Girl" at a volume you'll never have in your living room.

You didn't just buy a ticket to the game, but to how the game is presented when you're there in person. There are trivia games, puzzles, photos, replays, shots of people in the stands who as soon as they realizes they are on camera cannot resist jumping up and down, pointing, shaking their body to their own beat, mouthing words, and otherwise gesturing in a "I am here" sign language. It is not 15 minutes of fame; it is not even 15 seconds of fame; but if you look fast, it is fame. 

The Mets home, CitiField is a memorial shrine to Ebbets Field, the storied home of the Brooklyn Dodgers. But they left Brooklyn after the 1957 season. There are those who are still around who consider that to be part of Original Sin.

Certainly Fred Wilpon, an owner of the Mets when they built CitiField next to the old Shea Stadium, had the money and the memory to build a ball park that resembled Ebbets Field from the outside. Wilpon no doubt is old enough to remember the old Penn Station, demolished in 1964 and also considered part of Original Sin. His money—and no one else's—could never replace the old Penn Station. But Moynihan Train Hall does a decent job of it now.

Old Penn Station

CitiField is a great place to see a game from. The sightlines are superb, and the fan amenities are many. There are several dedicated food courts and lounge areas associated with certain priced tickets that offer decent food and beverages at not astronomical prices. When I lived in Flushing I often walked to Shea Stadium, but it's design had reached its stale date.

For the past several years now I go to game with a former co-worker, who comes with his current co-workers and his son. He gets the tickets in a decent section. It's a bit pricey, but it turns out to be worth it.

On Thursday afternoon we saw the Mets play the hapless Washington National, a team the Mets have been beating up on all year. Thursday was no exception, with the Mets gaining their first shutout of the season, winning 7-0 and taking three games of the three game series.

Our seats on Thursday were in the 300 section, hovering over home plate, in what I would call the second tier. Behind us there was a glass enclosure with maybe 20 people all sitting with laptops in front of them. They couldn't have all been reporters, but they were attentive to the game. Analytic people?

The game kicked off with a bang up performance by a Broadway soprano, Soto something I think, singing the anthem. She knocked it out of the park, which was the only thing that got knocked out of the park that afternoon. The Nationals didn't score, and the Mets didn't hit a homer. The big red apple stayed in its socket.

Anyone who has been following the Mets all season will know they've barely been at 500 all year. Mostly under 500. Only lately you might say they've been winning consistently. Thursday's win put them 2 games over 500, but way back of first place. But if the season ended now they'd have a wild  card berth. Keep hoping.

Their bullpen has been abysmal. When the door is opened to bullpen and someone emerges, prayer and reflection is needed. Even with a 7 run lead, Met fans know that still might not  be enough.

Thursday's game was no exception. After an explosive two-out 5th inning and a very decent six inning pitching performance by David Peterson, who threw 102 pitches and got out of several jams, it was bullpen time. God help us.

A newly acquired Phil Maton pitched one inning, throwing strikes right from the start. He retired three batters, striking out two.

Then Dedniel Núžez and Danny Young and the shutout is still holding. And the fans' breath is still holding. 

Then Adam Ottavino enters to close out the 9th, and the drama begins. The New York Post sportswriter, Peter Botte, describes O's performance:

Carlos Mendoza had to get closer Edwin Diaz up in the bullpen as Ottavino allowed a single, hit a batter and walked one— with two wild pitches—in the veteran reliever's second straight adventurous appearance. 

When Ottavino was wild, I started to think of the New York Yankee Ryne Duran, a relief pitcher with a blazing fast ball coupled with truly poor vision, who would scare the life out of you when he missed the plate. (That's how old I am.) But Ottavino cleaned up his mess, and the shutout held.

Whew! We went home happy.

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