Today was the day. This was the year. I put on my grey Piazza jersey and my T7L cap just in case I spotted another 7 Line Army veteran. I needed to get there early. There's no metro access to the stadium so parking gets expensive and my extensive research led me to the conclusion that my best bet was to park at a Goodwill nearby, and walk the nearly 3/4 of a mile to the park. I'd read some reddit post from three years ago that assured me I wouldn't get towed. A quick look at a topographic map showed that there was really only one hill toward the end of the walk. Yes, this was the way. Besides the short walk would help calm my nerves.
I knew what was on the line. If we win tonight we'll have won the season series against the Braves. No, it's not ideal that it's as close as it is given how we've been the better team all year, but when we tie the East tonight we'll be heading into a home series; the Braves will play on the road. We'll be playing the team with the worst record in baseball; they'll be playing the team with the 9th worst record. If worst comes to worst and we are still tied when all is said and done, the Braves will have lost the head-to-head with us, and thanks to this year's new rules changes we'll automatically be declared the NL East victors. All we have to do is win tonight.
With all of these thoughts echoing in my head I came upon the stadium faster than I thought. Heck, my calves weren't even hinting that they might be sore tomorrow. I checked my vintage 1965 Mr. Met watch, I had just enough time to grab a hotdog and a soda. As I approached the condiment table I watched in disgust as a child wearing a World Series shirt slathered ketchup all over their hotdog. To think, not only do they not offer relish here, but they raise their children to think ketchup is a suitable topping for a frankfurter. Settling into my seat I set out to finish the hotdog before the first pitch was thrown. I knew once the game was underway that I'd be too nervous to finish it. By the time the announcer was introducing who'd be singing the national anthem I was licking the last bits of mustard off my pinky. It was nearly time.
The opening lineups were introduced, and I made sure to loudly clap for my Mets. I even gave a half hearted boo when d'Arnaud was announced. It was time. The Braves jumped out early with a solo home run by Swanson in the bottom of the first. I didn't sweat it. After all, we'd taken early leads the two nights before only to fall short in later innings. If anything I wondered if this was a good omen for later in the night. After all, it's hard to sweep a team as good as the Mets. These pesky Braves would regress to the mean sooner rather than later.
Sure enough, Daniel Vogelbach hit a homer to open up the top of the second. I erupted out of my seat. "Vogi Bear", as I call him, was one of my favorites. He hasn't been with the team long, but I always love to see the big guys out there just hoping to tread water for a little bit longer, and here he was lifting the team on his back. The game was tied again, and all thanks to the vanilla gorilla. Though we didn't score again, we got two more hits in the inning and I knew we were really making their guys feel the enormity of the moment. We were the best team in baseball, and they were starting to find out why. To start the third the flying squirrel, Jeff McNeil, hit another home run. The home crowd was really starting to take issue with me now. I could feel them staring holes into the back of my head. I didn't care; we were winning.
Then the Mets really got into a rhythm with Alonso and Escobar both singling. Then Vogelbach came back up to the plate. He worked a full count. I looked over at the scoreboard; 51 pitches and still no outs in the second. Surely they had to be close to pulling this pitcher. Could my albino rhino be the guy to do it? He delivered the pitch. Hard-hit, just past the first baseman into right field. With that kind of placement Alonso was sure to get home. It was a two RBI night for the pale whale. I could already tell I wasn't going to have any voice left tomorrow.
If only the night could've ended there. Much of the rest of the game was just a blur, like I wasn't really present. Nothing much stands out. After some time I remember everyone standing up, and wondering why. Suddenly I instinctively muttered, "root, root, root for the Mets", but the crowd just yelled "Bravos". Was it the 7th inning stretch already? Then everyone stood up again. I got this strange feeling someone was staring at me and I heard a very frustrated "Scuse me bud" as a family of four stood ready to leave. I leaned forward and stood up to let them pass. Everyone was making their way to the aisles. It was over. My knees felt weak.
Outside the stadium thousands of people were disappeared into the quiet night. During the game the crowd had been a steady hum and I had been unaware. Now in this silence I was jolted awake. Was this what it was like when the engines shut off on the Titanic, and hundreds of passengers were suddenly stirred from their slumber? I looked around in the dark, unsure of where I was. Was this what they felt like as they clung to their lifeboats listening to the distant groan of steel ripping apart?
I continued to wander those half-deserted streets; for how long I don't know. I'd like to say I did some soul searching, but truthfully I'm not even sure how I got back to my car. But there it was, alone in a nearly empty parking lot (although, I was sure I hadn't passed the Target on the way to the game). I searched my pockets for the keys, and as I slouched into the driver seat and started the engine I could feel myself becoming more alert. I needed to get back to my hotel. I'd been numb but now I needed to think. After a moment I remembered how to get back to the highway and then the thought that I'd been ignoring finally crept to the forefront of my consciousness.
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker.
I knew what was on the line. If we win tonight we'll have won the season series against the Braves. No, it's not ideal that it's as close as it is given how we've been the better team all year, but when we tie the East tonight we'll be heading into a home series; the Braves will play on the road. We'll be playing the team with the worst record in baseball; they'll be playing the team with the 9th worst record. If worst comes to worst and we are still tied when all is said and done, the Braves will have lost the head-to-head with us, and thanks to this year's new rules changes we'll automatically be declared the NL East victors. All we have to do is win tonight.
With all of these thoughts echoing in my head I came upon the stadium faster than I thought. Heck, my calves weren't even hinting that they might be sore tomorrow. I checked my vintage 1965 Mr. Met watch, I had just enough time to grab a hotdog and a soda. As I approached the condiment table I watched in disgust as a child wearing a World Series shirt slathered ketchup all over their hotdog. To think, not only do they not offer relish here, but they raise their children to think ketchup is a suitable topping for a frankfurter. Settling into my seat I set out to finish the hotdog before the first pitch was thrown. I knew once the game was underway that I'd be too nervous to finish it. By the time the announcer was introducing who'd be singing the national anthem I was licking the last bits of mustard off my pinky. It was nearly time.
The opening lineups were introduced, and I made sure to loudly clap for my Mets. I even gave a half hearted boo when d'Arnaud was announced. It was time. The Braves jumped out early with a solo home run by Swanson in the bottom of the first. I didn't sweat it. After all, we'd taken early leads the two nights before only to fall short in later innings. If anything I wondered if this was a good omen for later in the night. After all, it's hard to sweep a team as good as the Mets. These pesky Braves would regress to the mean sooner rather than later.
Sure enough, Daniel Vogelbach hit a homer to open up the top of the second. I erupted out of my seat. "Vogi Bear", as I call him, was one of my favorites. He hasn't been with the team long, but I always love to see the big guys out there just hoping to tread water for a little bit longer, and here he was lifting the team on his back. The game was tied again, and all thanks to the vanilla gorilla. Though we didn't score again, we got two more hits in the inning and I knew we were really making their guys feel the enormity of the moment. We were the best team in baseball, and they were starting to find out why. To start the third the flying squirrel, Jeff McNeil, hit another home run. The home crowd was really starting to take issue with me now. I could feel them staring holes into the back of my head. I didn't care; we were winning.
Then the Mets really got into a rhythm with Alonso and Escobar both singling. Then Vogelbach came back up to the plate. He worked a full count. I looked over at the scoreboard; 51 pitches and still no outs in the second. Surely they had to be close to pulling this pitcher. Could my albino rhino be the guy to do it? He delivered the pitch. Hard-hit, just past the first baseman into right field. With that kind of placement Alonso was sure to get home. It was a two RBI night for the pale whale. I could already tell I wasn't going to have any voice left tomorrow.
If only the night could've ended there. Much of the rest of the game was just a blur, like I wasn't really present. Nothing much stands out. After some time I remember everyone standing up, and wondering why. Suddenly I instinctively muttered, "root, root, root for the Mets", but the crowd just yelled "Bravos". Was it the 7th inning stretch already? Then everyone stood up again. I got this strange feeling someone was staring at me and I heard a very frustrated "Scuse me bud" as a family of four stood ready to leave. I leaned forward and stood up to let them pass. Everyone was making their way to the aisles. It was over. My knees felt weak.
Outside the stadium thousands of people were disappeared into the quiet night. During the game the crowd had been a steady hum and I had been unaware. Now in this silence I was jolted awake. Was this what it was like when the engines shut off on the Titanic, and hundreds of passengers were suddenly stirred from their slumber? I looked around in the dark, unsure of where I was. Was this what they felt like as they clung to their lifeboats listening to the distant groan of steel ripping apart?
I continued to wander those half-deserted streets; for how long I don't know. I'd like to say I did some soul searching, but truthfully I'm not even sure how I got back to my car. But there it was, alone in a nearly empty parking lot (although, I was sure I hadn't passed the Target on the way to the game). I searched my pockets for the keys, and as I slouched into the driver seat and started the engine I could feel myself becoming more alert. I needed to get back to my hotel. I'd been numb but now I needed to think. After a moment I remembered how to get back to the highway and then the thought that I'd been ignoring finally crept to the forefront of my consciousness.
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker.
