April 5th, 2010 was a date that my classmates dreaded, the return to school after spring break. Ah, but I had little to dread. I had scored tickets to Opening Day at Citi Field, and it would be glorious.
The day started when we arrived in Flushing Meadows Corona Park around noon, after a relatively traffic-free drive in. This extreme good luck quickly ended as we searched for a spot near the park. After approximately seven years of driving in circles, we found one inside the stadium’s main lot. Parking in the stadium’s main lot is never a good idea for two reasons. First of all, you pay an obscene amount (19 dollars!) for these spots. Second of all, unless you leave early, you will be faced with a preposterous amount of traffic getting out of these lots. Nevertheless, a spot is better than no spot.
Once we had parked, I made a mad dash to the stadium, ticket in hand. Normally, I get tired walking up and down flights of stairs. The distance between our car in the stadium was obviously quite larger than the distance of a flight of stairs, regardless though, the allure of the stadium gave me sudden superhuman running abilities for that short period of time.
I got into the stadium, scanned my ticket, received my souvenir Home Run Apple bank and made a beeline to the new Mets Hall of Fame and Museum. The time now was around 12:35, with game time being 1:10. I knew they always had a ceremony of sorts before the game on Opening Day though, announcing the rosters, unfurling a large flag, and the such, and I didn’t want to miss that. For that reason I didn’t really get to enjoy the museum as much as I could have. Regardless it seemed pretty damn awesome.
I exited through the gift shop (which they required you to do, it’s like it was Disneyworld or something), and made another beeline (do bees make lines?) to our right field Field level seats. As I ran once more, this time through a large crowd of people (most of whom were walking the opposite direction), I heard the Marlins training staff being announced. Sadly, I did not get to see the legend that was Marlins team trainer Sean Cunningham as he was introduced. I spent a few seconds holding back tears over the missed opportunity, and then continued my rush to our seats.
I got to the seats just as they were introducing the Marlins coaching staff. Then the Marlins reserve players. The Marlins lineup followed. Then the Mets trainers and coaches. Then the Mets reserves. Then the Mets lineup.
The day started when we arrived in Flushing Meadows Corona Park around noon, after a relatively traffic-free drive in. This extreme good luck quickly ended as we searched for a spot near the park. After approximately seven years of driving in circles, we found one inside the stadium’s main lot. Parking in the stadium’s main lot is never a good idea for two reasons. First of all, you pay an obscene amount (19 dollars!) for these spots. Second of all, unless you leave early, you will be faced with a preposterous amount of traffic getting out of these lots. Nevertheless, a spot is better than no spot.
Once we had parked, I made a mad dash to the stadium, ticket in hand. Normally, I get tired walking up and down flights of stairs. The distance between our car in the stadium was obviously quite larger than the distance of a flight of stairs, regardless though, the allure of the stadium gave me sudden superhuman running abilities for that short period of time.
I got into the stadium, scanned my ticket, received my souvenir Home Run Apple bank and made a beeline to the new Mets Hall of Fame and Museum. The time now was around 12:35, with game time being 1:10. I knew they always had a ceremony of sorts before the game on Opening Day though, announcing the rosters, unfurling a large flag, and the such, and I didn’t want to miss that. For that reason I didn’t really get to enjoy the museum as much as I could have. Regardless it seemed pretty damn awesome.
I exited through the gift shop (which they required you to do, it’s like it was Disneyworld or something), and made another beeline (do bees make lines?) to our right field Field level seats. As I ran once more, this time through a large crowd of people (most of whom were walking the opposite direction), I heard the Marlins training staff being announced. Sadly, I did not get to see the legend that was Marlins team trainer Sean Cunningham as he was introduced. I spent a few seconds holding back tears over the missed opportunity, and then continued my rush to our seats.
I got to the seats just as they were introducing the Marlins coaching staff. Then the Marlins reserve players. The Marlins lineup followed. Then the Mets trainers and coaches. Then the Mets reserves. Then the Mets lineup.
“Batting first, the shortstop, Alex Cora” Various cheers, I clap a bit. Don’t care for the guy too much, but I don’t hate him.
“Batting second, the second baseman, Luis Castillo” The stadium is split. Cheers for a guy who had pretty solid offensive production last year. Boos for a guy that dropped a pop-up to end a game against the hated Yankees last year. I cheer.
“Batting third, at third base… David Wright!” The cheers are deafening, and you can barely hear the PA guy finish. David had had a mediocre season in 2009, but we didn’t care. He was our guy. He had always been a Met and he hopefully always would be. He’s one of those once in a generation stars, a guy that will never, ever have to pay for a drink in the city of New York.
‘Batting cleanup, at first base, Mike Jacobs” The crowd gave Mike a good round of applause. He had started his career with the Mets way back in 2005.
I booed, and booed, and booed, to the extent that the people around me likely thought I was on leave from the insane asylum. Jacobs was bad. Really bad. Chris Carter and Ike Davis would both be much better options at first base, I thought. Why was Jacobs there but not them? (Of course, the joke is now on me. Jacobs is now in AAA and Carter and Davis are both on the big-league club)
“Batting fifth, in left field, Jason Bay!” Lots of cheers. Ownership bankrolled the Bay signing this past offseason. He was supposed to be our savior, he was supposed to bring us out of this era of mediocrity. We didn’t know if he would, or if he wouldn’t. Regardless of our ignorance, we gave Jason a hell of a welcome to Flushing.
“Batting sixth, in center field, Gary Matthews Jr.!”
“THAT SHOULD BE PAGAN!” I yelled, making reference to superior center fielder Angel Pagan.
Matthews had been acquired in an offseason trade with the Angels, who paid 22 million of the 24 million owed to him. If that doesn’t make it obvious how bad he was, his level of play did. In that game he would have two hits, and afterwards he seemingly decided to stop hitting. Pagan would be slotted into the center field spot within two weeks or so.
“Batting seventh, in right field, Jeff Francoeur!” Jeff, picked up last July in a trade with Atlanta, had quickly become a fan favorite in Queens. I cheered, we all cheered. He was a bit of a free swinger but there was no reason to boo the guy.
“Batting eighth and catching, Rod Barajas!” Rod, like Bay, had been acquired as a free agent this past offseason. Although he was a veteran, he was generally an unknown quantity to this crowd. He wasn’t an Albert Pujols or an Alex Rodriguez. Ladies didn’t swoon upon sight of the mighty Rod Barajas. Fathers didn’t tell their sons to keep playing ball so they can one day be a star like Barajas. Like so many others, he was known, he had proven himself enough, but he was far from a name-recognized star. The cheers reflected this. They weren’t “Yeah, this guy is awesome!” cheers. They were “Yeah, this guy is wearing a Mets uniform. Since I’m a Mets fan, I’ll cheer for him!” cheers. In his first few weeks with the Metropolitans he would make himself known, however, this was just Opening Day.
“And batting ninth, the pitcher, #57, Johan Santana!”
The tones of “Smooth” by Rob Thomas and Santana blared through the loudspeakers across the ballpark, as Johan stepped out of the bullpen gate and jogged to the pitcher’s mound. The roars of the crowd were deafening. Johan was our ace, the guy we always felt comfortable about. He’d have one, maybe two, bad starts most seasons. He was a thrill to watch, whether the Mets were in a pennant race, or completely out of contention.
He reached the mound without obstacle. The music ended and the crowd’s roar died down. Johan threw a called strike to Marlins leadoff man Chris Coghlan. With that the 2010 Mets season had begun.
The Mets would win this Opening Day game 7-1. David Wright, unjustly deprived of homers the previous season, would hit one out. Johan would throw six strong innings, and get the victory. I spent excessive amounts of time in places besides my seat (which was actually a very nice seat), including a 2-inning wait on the Shake Shack line (the Shackburger wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t that great- not worth the long wait), and an inning-plus stay in the bullpen viewing area, an area of the ballpark not widely known of. While there, I listened to a kid, who seemed to be around ten years old, harass the entire Mets bullpen, including the bullpen coach, until they threw him a ball.
“RANDY! MR. NIEMANN! CAN YOU THROW ME A BALL MR. NIEMANN? RANDY CAN YOU THROW ME A BALL? PLEASE MR NIEMANN? MR. NIEVE CAN YOU THROW ME A BALL? FERNANDO NIEVE CAN YOU THROW ME A BALL? FERNANDO THROW ME A BALL PLEASE WHEN YOU’RE DONE!”
Yes, there is a happy ending to this little story. They did throw him a ball when they were done
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