The One Pronged Shea Stadium Survey for a Snowy Day

[batmagadanleadoff]

So what was your worst experience (any age) ever at Shea Stadium? Your bad experience doesn't have to be related to the action on the playing field.

[Lefty Specialist]

That 95-degree day in July sometime in the late-90's when the lights were out in an upper-deck men's room, but the heat was on full blast.

'Surreal' doesn't really do the experience justice.

[Benjamin Grimm]

October 9, 1988. Game Four of the NLCS. Doc Gooden takes the mound in the 9th with a 4-2 lead, and the Mets are about to go up 3 games to 1 and seem destined for their second pennant in three seasons. Mike Scioscia ruins it with a home run, and everything just feels bitterly cold and miserable the rest of the way.

[Guest themetfairy]

The Pendelton game.

[Edgy MD]

Never had a game to regret at Shea. Not that I can recall anyhow --- in part, I guess, because I couldn't front the funds for big ticket games like those described above.

I recall a cold home opener in 1984, with Gary Carter grandslamming for the wrong team. A 10-0 loss knocks the team out of an early season perch in first. But I was cutting school with my buddies, and I met Bobby Valentine and Jim Wolford, and had a good ol' time.

Had some unhappy days at Nationals Park, though.

[Benjamin Grimm]

themetfairy wrote: The Pendelton game.

I was at that one too. That's my second choice, after the Scoscia game.

[Guest John Cougar Lunchbucket]

The John Thomson/Mark Little doubleheader vs. Arizona, 2002. Noting like witnessing the beginnings of a long stretch of irrelevancy.

[Edgy MD]

Could anybody do so much damage in a Mets career of three at-bats and two defensive innings as Mark Little did?

One of my lousy Nationals Park games was Emil Brown paying tribute to Mark Little by taking a moment in an otherwise ephemeral career to do some real damage.

[batmagadanleadoff]

Game Related - Game Five, 2000 WS. Watching the MFY's celebrate their WS clinching win at Big Shea was the saltiest salt in the wound.

Not Really Game Related - Me and my friend had great field level tickets for months in advance to a game that, as it turned out, was a few days after the Blackout of 1977. As I remember things*, the Blackout was on a Wednesday against the Cubs. Thursday and Friday's games were canceled. We had tickets to the Saturday game. As of Saturday morning, no announcement was made yet as to whether Saturday's game would be played. We decided to go anyway because we were young Mets fans, and we had these great tickets for months and we just weren't gonna part with them. The problem was, though, that we weren't old enough to drive and train service still hadn't been restored. So we got a lift to Shea, and arrived still not knowing whether the game would be played. Our lift dropped us off and left --- and within a few minutes of our arrival, the Mets announced that the game wouldn't be played. So we were stuck at Shea with no way of getting home. This was before cell phones and answering machines. I think we spent a few hours outside of Shea until we could finally get someone to pick us up and drive us home.

*According to the UMDB, the Mets did not play on the day after the Blackout, but then resumed play on Friday for a weekend series against the Pirates. So we probably had tickets to Thursday's game. So this all happened on Thursday, not Saturday. But it did happen.

[Ceetar]

Wanna say the worst 'game' was NLCS game 7, but it really wasn't because it was the ending and subsequent departure that sucked. that last Thursday of '07 is a candidate though, the "Wright couldn't drive in Murphy from third" game. That's the game that put the Mets actually out of controlling their own destiny for the playoffs and was a punch in the gut. (Of course, the Phillies didn't really want that ball, dropping it themselves the next day)

Worst non game-related experience? Probably getting kicked out for sneaking down in the 9th inning towards the dugout during a Mets vs. Barry Bonds game. first time I ever left a game early. Waiting online in sub-zero january for tickets, and like, game 1 of the '06 NLCS were pretty miserable, but good-miserable.

[Guest John Cougar Lunchbucket]

John Cougar Lunchbucket wrote: [crossout]The John Thomson/Mark Little doubleheader vs. Arizona, 2002.[/crossout] Nothing like witnessing the beginnings of a long stretch of irrelevancy.

What I meant to say was the 2008 game against the Cubs that we had to win but couldn't despite the leadoff triple in the 9th inning. The whole aura around the Mets just then was poisonous: CitiField was nearing completion behind us (we were seated in the Picnic Area), the Wilpons were scheming with that creepy memorabilia dealer to hack Shea into little peices which they'd sell back to you; Omar was about to make a bunch of idiotic trades and signings; the economy (and Madoff) were on the brink of collapse harboring a new era of budget constraints and subpar product; nobody had the foresight to reconsider the Jerry Manuel appointment even though it happened in midseason duress; Oliver Perez put us in a hole; Marlon Anderson was our best pinch-hitter. I mean, things were screwed then and you could just tell. I could anyway.

[batmagadanleadoff]

These are all game related stories. I thought I was gonna read about how some drunken asshole was yelling moronic yellings into the back of your head all game long until about the 7th inning when he finally passed out, but not before vomiting all over your head. Or the other asshole who sat in front of you with a tent-sized open umbrella built for four all game long. And as if that wasn't enough, then poked you in the eye with the pointy metal tip of the umbrella.

[Ceetar]

good call, I'd apparently translated that game to 2007. it was actually a Wednesday. Luis Ayala came on as the "closer at home for tie game in the ninth"

[Guest John Cougar Lunchbucket]

There was that night Cookie got squeezed, I fell off the wagon and followed some strippers to the Airstrip.

[MFS62]

Went with my dad (may he rest in Peace) to see the Jets play Houston.
It was cold, sleeting, and the field was a sea of mud. We had brought a thermos of hot chocolate, and it dropped and broke in the first quarter of the game.
All I remember of the game was Don Maynard making a diving catch of a pass from Joe Namath and sliding on his back through the mud for about ten yards.
We left at half time.

Later

[Guest Mets � Willets Point]

At a Jets game we were seated in the temporary wooden bleachers behind the end zone at the home plate side of Shea and I got a massive splinter from the bench in my thigh.

[dinosaur jesus]

I only went three times: 1979, 1999, 2008. It was a treat being there, so it didn't matter all that much that the Mets lost. The first was the day after the ten-run inning game, and it was back to Mets normal. The second was against Randy Johnson, a blowout, and the high point was a late, meaningless, and completely out-of-nowhere home run by Roger Cedeno. And the third I have no memory of. Not of the game, anyway. It was part of a bad date, the kind where you don't realize at the time what a disaster it is, but afterwards it's completely obvious. The woman was a monster. A high school teacher. When I told her I'd posted fake reviews on Amazon, she was horrified. "Why would you say something on the Internet that wasn't true?" I didn't have an answer for that. Cow Bell Man was there. And there was mustard on my seat, and I never did get the stain out of my bag.

That's all I've got.

[Guest d'Kong76]

Hands down, watching the Yankees hump each other on our
infield celebrating another championship.

[Edgy MD]

Wow, flashback to the 1979 10-run inning. That seemed like about a third of a month's share of runs then. An inside-the-park homer by Doug Flynn in that inning. Talk about out-of-nowhere. First one at Shea since the sixties, I think.

[Guest John Cougar Lunchbucket]

A pinch-runner (Sergio Ferrer) comes up to bat in the same inning. That's when you know you're having a big inning.

[Guest d'Kong76]

If anyone is a glutton for punishment, start at the 5:45 mark ...

[youtube:uhucupau]lgVC7vRU5us[/youtube:uhucupau]

[Zvon]

It being coooold outside I'll sandwich two together, both experiences involving cooooold.

Jets game 1968. Sat in the mezz section and froze so bad I thought I would never feel my extremities again. Went with my buddy and his dad. We had blankets and hot cocoa and layers and layers of cloths. Still froze my ass off.

Mets playoffs, 1988. Game 5. What was happening on the field was bad enough (freakin Gibson smacks a homer, makes a diving catch looking like a fish flopping out of water) but the cooooold: We sat in the last row of a mezz section out towards right. There was a, you couldn't simply call it a breeze, a cold rush of wind that would blow right up our backs and we were freezing and because of the overhang could only see a slice of the game. The cold bothered me much more than the view.

[Ceetar]

Zvon wrote: It being coooold outside I'll sandwich two together, both experiences involving cooooold. Jets game 1968. Sat in the mezz section and froze so bad I thought I would never feel my extremities again. Went with my buddy and his dad. We had blankets and hot cocoa and layers and layers of cloths. Still froze my ass off. Mets playoffs, 1988. Game 5. What was happening on the field was bad enough (freakin Gibson smacks a homer, makes a diving catch looking like a fish flopping out of water) but the cooooold: We sat in the last row of a mezz section out towards right. There was a, you couldn't simply call it a breeze, a cold rush of wind that would blow right up our backs and we were freezing and because of the overhang could only see a slice of the game. The cold bothered me much more than the view.

I was in the last row of the Uppers for '06 NLCS game 1. same deal. Freaking cold wind on my back/neck/head the entire night.

[G-Fafif]

Intertwined with the result but not so much about the result (as oppose to the Gl@v!ne implosion of 9/30/2007, which was my worst result-oriented Shea experience in that it happened in the top of the first and, as with the shooting of Tommy in Goodfellas, we had to sit still and take it): July 10, 1998, Mets leading Expos, 6-5, going to the ninth on Merengue Night, the main attraction for a vast plurality of the crowd. I'm in Loge watching John Franco trying to hold the one-run lead. Many of the Merengueans are obliviously using Loge as their as their ramp to Field Level for the impending concert. I don't mean they were coming down the actual ramps. I mean they were climbing over rows of seats from wherever they came while the game was going on. Meanwhile Franco is blowing the game, the Merengue people are storming downward and the baseball-oriented Merengue people are thrilled that the Expos are rallying because their man Felipe Alou is managing and their other man Vladimir Guerrero is part of the rally. So you've got a ton of people not caring if the Mets win or lose, another ton of people rooting for the Mets to lose, Franco making sure the Mets lose by surrendering three runs and what felt like a very slim minority pulling for the Mets to not lose. We were overwhelmed on all counts. Mets trailed, 8-6, and lost by the same score...which was fine by almost everybody since it meant Alou the national hero was successful and the Merengue band would start playing.

But it wasn't fine by me, who found the nearest object one could throw -- a three-quarters full bottle of Pepsi -- in the empty postgame concourse and hurled it against the wall while tossing off every epithet I could think of. My friend who accompanied me -- who was boiling in his own, lower-key manner-- was stunned silent and didn't say a word for the next ten minutes before mentioning, "I've never seen you get so angry."

1998 had not a few games like this. It had the Braves never letting go of their chokehold on the East (especially at Turner Field where we went 0-6, including 0-3 on the final weekend to assure our playoffless streak would reach 11 years) and the MFYs never letting go of their chokehold on the city and the McGwireans coming in six weeks later and Franco going 0-8 and now, out of nowhere, it had the fucking Merengue Night crowd joining those who seemed to be lining up against me and my team in my stadium, as in "where the fuck did this come from?" I mean, yeah, I understood the dangers of letting the MFYs in, and I got that McGwire was a phenomenon (the Cubs' one visit took place before Sosamania) and Franco was Franco (I watched him blow two other Friday nights sans soundtrack) and the Braves could hardly be helped, but this one just had it all...and Merengue.

As postscript, for years the Mets broadcasters would insist, "The Mets have never lost on Merengue Night." Like fun they didn't.

A-hole who sat behind me on the final Closing Day, 2008, spitting and cursing and telling Schoeneweis he should blow his brains out and insisting hats be removed for "GBA" and calling the ump a communist and screaming into his phone while getting updates from the Jets-Cardinals game at the Meadowlands and repeating himself in endless cycles was probably the single worst individual I encountered, and of course the echo collapse against the Marlins was a shiv to the heart -- along with the ballpark being torn down afterward -- but the ceremony kind of saved the whole thing.

Single worst competitive moment that somehow transcended the blowing of playoff spots in '07 and '08: Benitez allowing the 4-1 lead to become a 4-4 tie on 9/23/01, setting up the loss in extra innings to Atlanta, effectively ending the September 2001 Mets Rescue New York dream...though the sweep of Montreal that followed up north set up even worse heartache at Turner Field on 9/29/01, which was, somehow appropriately, the combined handiwork of Benitez and Franco (they'd only pitch in the same game three more times, in 2003). That was the 5-1 lead that became an 8-5 loss, and truly end the dream. I rationalize away September 23, 2001, in that it (and not the Piazza HR of two nights earlier) is what signaled to me that life would return to normal because if I could be that pissed off about a baseball game after what Real Life unleashed on New York 12 days earlier, then, well, the new normal wasn't so new after all. But I told some kid minding his own business in a Braves cap en route to the 7 train after that game to go fuck himself, so maybe it wasn't my finest hour.

Dishonorable mention for the Sunday afternoon in 2004 when overzealous security refused to allow me to walk the six feet inside Field Level in left to patronize a concession stand because my ticket was for Loge and told me if I wanted to talk to a supervisor about it, I'd have to go up to Loge, walk the length of that level and then sneak back down on the other side (right after having dropped a pretty decent amount in the new team store)...and the last unscheduled doubleheader of 2008 when between games I waited in a Mezzanine line a good 10 minutes for a pretzel to be told "the pretzels aren't ready" and was then not allowed to ascend back to the Upper Deck on a particular escalator because No Reason Given, I just couldn't.

All of the above said, 402 regular-season games, 13 postseason games, 2 exhibition games, 1 public workout, 1 baseball card show, 1 concert, at least 4 postponements after I walked through the turnstiles, overwhelming heat in July and August, punishing cold in April and October, rudeness, idiocy, violence, drunkenness, filth -- yet no regrets.

[Ceetar]

G-Fafif wrote: Many of the Merengueans are obliviously using Loge as their as their ramp to Field Level for the impending concert. I don't mean they were coming down the actual ramps. I mean they were climbing over rows of seats from wherever they came while the game was going on.

Flashbacks to some of the constant hassle of people walking in front of you in some spots in the Loge. And that weird almost connected spot between the loge and field level which was probably a result of the rotating field level or something.

[dgwphotography]

The final day, 2008. Between the Marlins prolonged celebrating, and the Mets ineptness in butting up cardboard figures, this was easily the worst day I spent at Shea. But it still beat the best day I spent in Citi.

[A Boy Named Seo]

John Cougar Lunchbucket wrote: There was that night Cookie got squeezed, I fell off the wagon and followed some strippers to the Airstrip.

I never get tired of that one.

[Lefty Specialist]

My worst game experience was Opening Day 2003. Brand-new Met Tom Gl@v!ne on the hill. In the last row of the upper deck, which was extra fun due to the low-30's temperature and 30-mph winds. To add to the excitement, Tommy pitched abysmally in an eventual 15-2 loss to the Cubs. Couldn't even drown my sorrows in beer it was so cold.

[G-Fafif]

Coldest Shea day for me was Game Four, 2000 NLDS, in the back row of Mezzanine in left field, fair territory, wind whipping off Flushing Bay directly onto my back despite multiple layers to shield me from the elements. Bobby Jones pitched a one-hitter, so I survived quite nicely.

More randomly, one night early that season, it was freezing against the Reds and Manny Aybar took his fucking time throwing every goddamn pitch, ensuring that when he became a Met in 2005, he heard one home team fan mysteriously booing the mention of his name on Opening Day.

[A Boy Named Seo]

Would you believe I've only been to 3 Met games in NY in my life? Two at Shea, and one at Citi with Sheila. Mets lost 2 of those 3 (maybe all 3??) but all of those times were great.

Back to your regular scheduled misery.