Saturday, August 11, 2007
A night at the Met(s) - Part One
For a belated birthday present, my son Sean got tickets for the Mets v Braves game last Tuesday. Very good seats, closer to the field than I have ever sat before – the kind that are reserved for season tickets. Pity that the game was mostly over as a contest by the 3rd inning – in favour of the ‘wrong’ team, but it was a very enjoyable evening for which the game was merely a backdrop.
We actually arrived in the stadium half an hour early. We decided to get sodas from Nathan’s. There were 6 people in front of me in my chosen line, and we sat down 2 minutes before the ceremonial first pitch. I have never seen a young New Yorker move as slowly in my life! It’s a good thing we didn’t want food there. All of the women there wear gloves so as not to communicate their own germs to the food. And all of them handle hot dog buns while wearing these. They also pick up the fries from above, so that the gloves touch several of them. And they handle the money with the same gloved hands. Thus passing on who knows what germs. Not sure if this is actually legal; and if it is legal, why it is. Money is filthy for reasons that you will not need me to point out. This is so unhygienic! Anyway, there might be a couple of places beyond Coney Island and people’s home grills where you can get a decent Nathan’s Hot Dog, but I’ve given up trying to find them.
As we sat, there was a man of about 60, sitting alone. He looked like the loner who could recall baseball minutiae from before he was born, and who could happily talk nothing but baseball for hours, days or weeks on end. We have all met them.
As usual, the announcer called Shea Stadium the home of the best sports fans in the world, and as usual, those fans made a nonsense of the statement. There were boos from the second inning. When Moises Alou, one of the great players of his generation hit into a second successive double play, people booed. Was I happy about that? No! But to boo him? The best fans I have witnessed in the last few years were at Portsmouth FC in England. In the 2003-4 season, their first in the Premiership, they met eventual champions Arsenal at their Fratton Park home, and lost 5-1. The more Arsenal scored, the louder the Potsmouth fans sang – no organist or DJ needed to prompt them. It was magnificent and a joy to witness, and puts most fans, certainly New York Mets fans, to sad, pathetic shame.
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We actually arrived in the stadium half an hour early. We decided to get sodas from Nathan’s. There were 6 people in front of me in my chosen line, and we sat down 2 minutes before the ceremonial first pitch. I have never seen a young New Yorker move as slowly in my life! It’s a good thing we didn’t want food there. All of the women there wear gloves so as not to communicate their own germs to the food. And all of them handle hot dog buns while wearing these. They also pick up the fries from above, so that the gloves touch several of them. And they handle the money with the same gloved hands. Thus passing on who knows what germs. Not sure if this is actually legal; and if it is legal, why it is. Money is filthy for reasons that you will not need me to point out. This is so unhygienic! Anyway, there might be a couple of places beyond Coney Island and people’s home grills where you can get a decent Nathan’s Hot Dog, but I’ve given up trying to find them.
As we sat, there was a man of about 60, sitting alone. He looked like the loner who could recall baseball minutiae from before he was born, and who could happily talk nothing but baseball for hours, days or weeks on end. We have all met them.
As usual, the announcer called Shea Stadium the home of the best sports fans in the world, and as usual, those fans made a nonsense of the statement. There were boos from the second inning. When Moises Alou, one of the great players of his generation hit into a second successive double play, people booed. Was I happy about that? No! But to boo him? The best fans I have witnessed in the last few years were at Portsmouth FC in England. In the 2003-4 season, their first in the Premiership, they met eventual champions Arsenal at their Fratton Park home, and lost 5-1. The more Arsenal scored, the louder the Potsmouth fans sang – no organist or DJ needed to prompt them. It was magnificent and a joy to witness, and puts most fans, certainly New York Mets fans, to sad, pathetic shame.
