David. Sandy. PDP, perhaps the next GM. Steve Phillips, the GM who drafted and signed him. Jim Duquette, the GM who promoted him to the big leagues. Omar Minaya, the GM who signed him to his last deal, still currently active. The Trust: Fred, Saul, and Jeff, just to make clear that not everything can be fun. Terry, to speak prolifically and poetically about what David means to him personally. Elisa and Rhon Wright, proud parents. His three brothers, to underscore that they are relative failures. For we all are relative failures. Molly Beers, to get the tabloids waggin'. Basically, I'm looking for about a hundred people on the dais, some real over-the-top stuff... Joe McEwing and Cliff Floyd, early MLB mentors. Piazza, Staub, Mookie, and Seaver, brand ambassadors. Gary, Keith, and Ron, because they need to talk a lot about this day next year. (OE: Not to be a tv snob: Rose and Lewin, too. And Kiner, Ojeda, Burkhardt, Coleman, Alicea, and Jiminez.) Jon Olerud and Steve Henderson, because number five is officially dead as an option for any Met going forward. Bring in Ed Charles, also, and they can have an official Goodbye Five ceremony. Dave Johnson may be otherwise occupied. Michael Bloomberg, Andrew Cuomo, and Chris Christie, come on down. Great day for all your citizens. Chris Rock, Jerry Seinfeld, What'shiskingofqueensname. You guys bring the funny. Cal Ripken, Chipper Jones, Mike Schmidt, George Brett, because great thirdbasemen who stick with one organization their whole careers are cool. Adrian Beltre, not so much. Jeromy Burnitz, his idol in Norfolk. Joey Cora, his first pro manager. Nick Boothe, the college coach he worked out with in high school. Unless there's something creepy about that. Then no. Mike Hampton, who made this day possible. Invite the superintendent of Denver schools, too. How hard is it to throw these things together? OE: Mr. Met! Duh!