There Used to be a Scoreboard Here

[Guest Rockin' Doc]

I had the same thought initially, but they can make more money selling them as scrap metal.

[Frayed Knot]

]Picnic bleachers go

See, they're returning Shea to it's natural state.
First all those plastic seats in those newfangled colors went. So did the updates to the scoreboard, the padded wall, plus those Johnny-come-lately picnic seats. And that crass video board - we didn't need that kind of fancy stuff when I first started going to games!

Before long, when we're all not looking, they're going to sneak in the replacement yellow-orange-blue-green wooden fold-down chairs. After that it's time to restore the green plywood wall and a proper bare-bones scoreboard.
At which point they'll deflate that blow-up mock stadium they're "building" next door and we're gonna party like it's Nineteen-Sixty-Four

[Guest themetfairy]

Knowing that Shea is being razed is different from watching it.

It's like eating meat - I'm not a vegetarian, but that doesn't mean that I want to look at the process of how the items get to the supermarket.

[G-Fafif]

AG/DC wrote: Picnic bleachers go

Geez, it wasn't one month ago I (along with a few other Poolers) sat in those very bleachers. Same could be said for the seats that have gone missing per MeiGray, but those were 55,000. These were benches where I could pick out where I was. All gone.

Progress is best not watched while in progress.

[G-Fafif]

="Frayed Knot"]See, they're returning Shea to it's natural state. First all those plastic seats in those newfangled colors went. So did the updates to the scoreboard, the padded wall, plus those Johnny-come-lately picnic seats. And that crass video board - we didn't need that kind of fancy stuff when I first started going to games! Before long, when we're all not looking, they're going to sneak in the replacement yellow-orange-blue-green wooden fold-down chairs. After that it's time to restore the green plywood wall and a proper bare-bones scoreboard. At which point they'll deflate that blow-up mock stadium they're "building" next door and we're gonna party like it's Nineteen-Sixty-Four

One of our readers forecast this would happen:

]Inspired by Stephen King's "Christine," Faith and Fear reader Joe Lauzardo offers us an alternate take on what everybody assumes will be the last days of Shea Stadium. He sends it, he says, out of "a spirit of loyalty" to our lame duck of a ballpark � and maybe a little for "revenge" toward those who would destroy it. It is night. Shea Stadium is watching its apparent replacement in the close distance and its own subsequent demise in the very near future. The empty ballpark resonates with the faintest sound of cheering, perhaps screaming. Are they cheering for the Mets? The Jets? The Beatles? Clearly it is the sound of a day that has passed. Shea on this night, however, doesn't merely sit and watch for long. A howling wind is the next sound to be heard. It blows in from left field, off Flushing Bay, and it thrusts corrugated steel plates � one blue, one orange � into the middle of the diamond. A blue plate? An orange plate? Of all the materiel gathered at the construction site on the other side of the blue outfield fence, there is nothing matching that description. From where did these pieces appear? This is no chance wind, no accidental accumulation of steel. No, it is as if the park is trying to rejuvenate itself supernaturally. The ground begins to rumble uncontrollably. The stadium lifts itself from its foundation, then crawls from side to side knocking down fixtures and lights. Approaching the structure planned as its replacement, Shea's open end surrounds the new ballpark and, with a quick shudder and the sound of crashing metal and rumbling concrete, Shea Stadium devours Citi Field like a late-night snack. As daylight breaks, the sun sheds light on an apparent reversal of time. There is only one stadium! Shea Stadium! It is adorned with hundreds of those blue and orange steel plates, looking as it did in April of '64. Off its shoulder, the departed subway extension, gone to make way for Citi Field, is somehow back up. It, too, emits its pristine 1964 vibe. Everybody gasps at what the sun has revealed: an apocalyptic confrontation that has rocked the Flushing night. Two ballparks, one winner. They see it from the 7. They see it from the Grand Central. They see it from LaGuardia. It is November. Demolition of Shea is to begin this morning. But there is Shea, standing as if new. And there is Citi, nowhere to be seen. Otherwise all is 2008 � nothing else is disturbed. Everybody starts thinking the same thought: those idiots tore down the wrong stadium � typical Mets! Into the confusion rushes a man we shall call Mr. Citi. Mr. Citi has overseen construction of the new temple, the temple that has now vanished from the face of the earth, let alone Flushing. He wasn't going to take this lying down. His eyes set red with anger, Mr. Citi grabs a wrecking bar from a nearby chop shop and marches across 126th Street. If Shea is going to wreak havoc on his masterpiece, Mr. Citi is going to wreak havoc on Shea. Or so he thinks. As it is November, Shea is gated shut. So Mr. Citi goes after the gates. He bangs his way inside Gate C to the maze of escalators and ramps. The scent overwhelms him. It is paint. Fresh paint. Fresh paint from, yup, 1964. Everything inside is new, too. New as it was, that is. Shea Stadium has returned to its youth. His fuming gives way to stunned silence. Everywhere he looks, Shea classic has replaced new Shea. It's got its whole future ahead of it. Mr. Citi sprints up the first ramp he finds and tears out onto the field itself. It is indeed Shea Stadium from its World's Fair heyday. It is the most modern ballpark in America. The scoreboard is enormous. The public address system broadcasts a jazzy "Mexican Hat Dance". The seats are a veritable kaleidoscope of color, starting with the yellow wooden chairs that are closest to the grass. The outfield walls are a calming sea green. And beyond those walls? Parking Lot B, of course. Nothing else. Citi Field isn't there. Who would build a new stadium in a parking lot of what is, as far as the eye can tell, a new stadium? A beautiful new 1964 stadium, at that? Nobody, that's who. Mr. Citi is left alone to contemplate the irony. But he doesn't have long to think, because he hears a crashing sound emanating from the home team bullpen. It's a golf cart. It wears a Mets cap. It is driverless. Yet it is speeding his way. No ushers, no security, no union carpenters or contractors can save him now. It is Mr. Citi versus Shea's bullpen buggy. The buggy is about to have its way with him. He is cornered by the first base dugout. He falls into the cart. The cap snaps down on him. The buggy takes a U-turn... ...across the infield... ...and then the outfield... ...and through the centerfield fence and out the parking lot. The bullpen buggy is headed for the docks of the World's Fair Marina. The faintest of splashing sounds can be heard over the happy organ. Next April, the buggy is back in the bullpen, the fans are back in the seats and beautiful Shea Stadium, the Big Shea of memory, is open for business. With plenty of parking.

[Guest Iubitul]

Video of the scoreboard coming down. I must be some sort of masochist...

http://www.metsblog.com/2008/10/23/video-the-shea-stadium-scoreboard-is-no-more/

[G-Fafif]

I can't say you didn't warn me. Ouch.

I'm going to go clutch my outfield-wall brick tight to my bosom for a few minutes.

[Guest AG/DC]

All I have to clutch is my bosom.

[soupcan]

But at least that's free.

[Guest AG/DC]

Not for you, though.

[Benjamin Grimm]

That clip ran about 20 seconds too long.

[soupcan]

AG/DC wrote: Not for you, though.

Tease.

[Guest Iubitul]

I hear they're magnificent

[Guest themetfairy]

Iubitul wrote: Video of the scoreboard coming down. I must be some sort of masochist... http://www.metsblog.com/2008/10/23/video-the-shea-stadium-scoreboard-is-no-more/

Ouch. That was rough to watch.

And the term is Metsochist....

[G-Fafif]

Status report of the apocalypse from Richard Sandomir:

]The carcass of Shea Stadium, still standing, awaits its final destruction. The seats have been extracted, flattening three tiers into two colorless dimensions. The bullpens are gone, leaving the rancid memory of last season�s meltdown by the Mets� relievers. A sheared-off stump of steel that once held their bench remains. The batter�s eye came down Saturday. There isn�t much left of Shea anymore. Part of it disappears every day as the Mets move toward opening day at Citi Field in April. Already 10,000 of 16,000 pairs of its seats have sold for $869 each. The 105-foot-tall foul poles will be cut into pieces for sale by the MeiGray Group in addition to all the Shea memorabilia it is marketing. The home run apple is being shined for its display outside the new stadium. On Wednesday, the left-field bleachers were demolished so quickly that by late afternoon, nearly all traces had been carted off. Every day, trucks haul away the fragments of 44 years. Dumpsters stand by outside the skeletal remains of Shea. Despite the rubble around it, the oversized Dunkin� Donuts cup still stands. The scoreboard is now a gnarled nest of steel. A small piece of it, with the circuitry that helped it flash numbers and letters, rested crookedly in center field. The infield dirt, unwatered, is cracking. The outfield grass is beset by pattern baldness. The track on which stands once slid to make Shea a football stadium has been unearthed. The twin light towers will be taken down any day to further clear the area beyond the outfield so the Mets can build the plaza wrapping around Citi Field. �They�re so high, and so close to Mr. Wilpon�s new baby,� said Toby Romano, a vice president of Breeze National, the demolition subcontractor, said of the towers� proximity to the nearly finished Citi. �Nice and easy, we�ll pull them down,� said Danny Collins, a Breeze foreman. �If it were me,� said Jeff Wilpon, the team�s chief operating officer, who wants Shea to be gone as soon as possible. �I�d just go in and bring them down.� Collins, a veteran of demolishing vertical skyscrapers, nonchalantly said the Shea razing was �like any other demolition,� but then called it a �great challenge� to tear down a place where, �I used to spend a lot of time with my uncles.� In the outfield, wide tire tracks created by heavy equipment have furrowed the sod of Beltr�n, Delgado and Wright. On the dirt infield sat three of the project�s Bobcats, the compact bulldozers that have been knocking down walls, concession stands, bathrooms, closets, clubhouses and offices. Inside the field level, Bobcats have wrecked everything. The lights were dim or absent, the concrete floor wet and muddy. It stank of demolition. Exposed wires hung from the ceiling. Chunks of concrete were obstacles to anyone but the operator of a Bobcat. Wilpon wanted to show the Mets� clubhouse, now darkened and turned to rubble. But the menacing growl of an approaching Bobcat altered his route. Close by was the rear entrance to the ticket office. A large, ragged gash in a cinderblock wall made it appear that the Incredible Hulk had vented his frustrations over the work of Aaron Heilman. The old ticket office led, unencumbered by walls, to the stadium�s old main office entrance, and to where the elevator once moved with maddening slowness. It is gone. �The shaft makes an excellent garbage chute,� said Daryl Mattis, a project supervisor for Hunt-Bovis, the Mets� construction partner. A Bobcat pulled up in what was once a corridor. Inside the tight cab sat J.W. Colucci, an operating engineer. How does it feel, he was asked, to be wrecking Shea? �Sometimes,� Colucci said, a smile on his dusty face, �it feels better than sex.� Wilpon added: �I�d love to drive a Bobcat, blasting through this place.� He confesses to a wee bit of nostalgia for the good times he and his family have had at Shea. But his priority is Citi Field. �You have to tear Shea down to get where you want to be,� he said, on the field where parking for 2,000 cars will be created. The stripping of Shea has revealed even more of Citi, its elegant brickwork, archways and entrance rotunda. Until the final game, fans had to look past the scoreboard and home run apple to see it, but the view to the nearly finished ballpark is now unobstructed. The letters of Citi Field light the night sky, so unlike the inert neon that colored the baseball characters on Shea�s outer wall. Soon, ramps created out of the stadium�s excavated concrete will let giant grapplers reach the upper deck�s exposed steel and pull it down. And Shea moves inexorably toward its end.

[Zvon]

]Wilpon added: �I�d love to drive a Bobcat, blasting through this place.�

What an asshole, lol.

[Guest John Cougar Lunchbucket]

Sell the Team NOW!!!!!

[bmfc1]

Disgusting comment by Jeff Wilpon. It shows that he has no sensitivity for Mets history and the feelings of his fans. There should be games being played at Shea right now, not the destruction of a facility that is important to so many people.

[Guest AG/DC]

Oh, yeah, now you're wit' me.

[Zvon]

He's building the stadium of his childhood to replace the stadium of my childhood.

I really wish when Doubleday was ousted that it happened the other way around.

[Guest metsguyinmichigan]

Zvon wrote: He's building the stadium of his childhood to replace the stadium of my childhood.

You know, I never thought of it that way, but you are exactly correct.

[Frayed Knot]

I guess I'm the only one not bothered by those comments because I'd like to drive one of those little fuckers around knocking down shit too. Sounds like fun!

[Guest AG/DC]

I'm indifferent to that.

The fans largely signed off on this. It's hard to deny him now.

[Guest John Cougar Lunchbucket]

Probably though, Jeffy said what he said in the spirit of "it's fun to destroy things" -- which it is -- and just isn't aware enough to how it might be interpreted.

Where I find them morally lacking is in allowing/encouraging the fan to sign off on the replacement bandwagon by doing so little to fight the notion the place could be improved.

[HahnSolo]

Since we're bashing Jeff, it reminds me about something he said in an interview on FAN earlier this week. The last question from Francesa went something like this:

"What's your message to the Mets fan as you embark on the future, and the fan embarks on his offseason?"

Now, the cliche answer he should give, even if it is cliche: "Omar, Jerry and the staff are going to do everything in their power to make sure we get over the hump next September, and bring playoff baseball back to Flushing."

Instead, here's what we get: "Our goal is to create a world class experience for our fans at the new CitiField regardless of the outcome of the game." Then he added a throwaway comment about necessary changes to bring a championship.

So, if you're scoring: priority 1 is bright shiny new toy stadium. priority 2 is winning games.

Yup, this is our owner.

Incidentally, the interview is still on the FAN site. Click on Mike Francesa Audio, then scroll down.

[Valadius]

Here's who Jeff Wilpon reminds me of:

[Guest AG/DC]

You guys is insane.

[Farmer Ted]

"The home run apple is being shined for its display outside the new stadium."

Well, all the guys working in the chop shops can see the apple after a home run.

[Benjamin Grimm]

I'm glad about that! One day I'll have my photo taken standing next to that apple.

I think they should put it somewhere inside the stadium. Maybe not in the Jackie Robinson Cathedral, but somewhere.

But it matters little. I'm just glad it's being preserved.

[metirish]

Noted former Major Leaguer Fran Healy used to say that history was the albatross around the neck of progress . I'll cut Jeff some slack here as I imagine he is very excited about moving into new digs , I know I would be.