This year's annual pilgrimage to see the Mets - my 52nd consecutive year in doing so - was a spur of the moment affair. A combination of a good weather forecast, no other plans, and 50 percent off the face value of "Excelsior Level" seats in the shade contributed to the impromptu decision.
After a lunch of those magical ShakeShack burgers and fries, my wife, son, and I were in our seats in time for the first pitch. The game started out promising. Mets starter Rafael Montero retired the first three Philadelphia Phillies batters. Those pretty much were the Mets highlights. After that, a series of poor defense, untimely hitting, and unhelpful bullpen relief resulted in a 7-1 Phillies victory, with the Mets limited to three hits, one of which was a TJ Rivera homer to avoid a shutout. I can say that I witnessed the Phillies' catcher Andrew Knapp score from second base on a wild pitch. So there is that. Or the Mets hitting into a bizarre double play when the Phillies' center fielder Aaron Altherr dove for a ball, juggled on his body as he rolled over, and managed to not let the ball hit the ground, fooling the Mets baserunner Jay Bruce and doubling him off first base. Plus I saw Knapp at it again when he beat Mets relief pitcher Chase Bradford in a footrace to first base in what I thought would be the third out in an inning, only to open up the flood gates for three more runs. I can safely say this game ranks in my Top 10 worst games attended ever. Mind you, I can't name the other nine, but I know this one is on the list, ranking high on the uninspired chart. (Hey, if you are a Phillies fan, you most likely have a different view and I tip my cap.)
So that leaves some random observations about the rest of day to share. I'm not sure if this applies to all of Major League Baseball, but Mets management believes that fans need to be entertained in between innings. I call it the two minute barrage. Three "hosts" entertain the crowd on the big TV screen that sits in center field. There are contests to guess this or that, people-powered car races on the outfield warning track, and not one, but two tee shirt tosses. I expect this stuff at the minor league park ten minutes from my house; I don't expect it in Queens, at least not with the frequency that they do it. They usually play Piano Man in the 8th inning so everyone can sing along, but I guess they didn't want to add to the day's depressing atmosphere. And the biggest shock is that when it's time for the 7th inning stretch, a long-standing baseball tradition, no one gets out of their seats until instructed to do so. This is when my wife sees the veins in my head bulge.
Over the last fifteen years or so, baseball has added "walk up" music, personally selected by the home team batter to inspire them as they face a 95 MPH fastball. Some are amusing. Yoenis Cespedes uses the Lion King theme. Lucas Duda uses Jimi Hendrix' All Along the Watchtower, appropriate for this 50th anniversary of the Summer of Love. The rest is pretty forgettable. I cringe at thinking what Ty Cobb or Dixie Walker would have selected.
And that leads me to my next observation: the noise. There was a loud speaker directly over our heads. While that's great for hearing announcements like who the batter is, or "New Jersey plates 123-ABC, your lights are on", it also allows for an overdose of bass-pumping, heart stopping sound effects. Honestly, I couldn't hear my son two seats away. We both chuckled at "The Noise Meter" shown on the big TV, which is supposed to reflect the amount of cheering (it's more like yelling) in the ballpark when the entertainers who control barrage want you to make noise, like time to turn it up to 11. For me, attending a baseball game is part observation, part conversation, part anticipation, and part playing manager - cheer when it's appropriate and frown when things don't go your way. This was a frown game. Give me a day where there is gentle organ music in between innings, and an organic "Let's Go Mets" chant started. All the instructions to make noise down 7-1 with two outs in the bottom of the 9th isn't going to happen. Plans for shiva were being made after the 2nd inning.
Do I sound like a curmudgeon, perhaps Andy Rooney returning to wax not so poetically on the current day baseball experience? Probably so. My next birthday ends in a zero, so that means it's time to question life's achievements, think about what's ahead, and face my own mortality. When Shea Stadium was christened in 1964, Bill Shea's speech mentioned the "Old Breed" making way for the "New Breed". So maybe its time to let the "Even Newer Breed" take over and have their fun. But I'm not going away. My hope is to conquer the next decade as I hope the Mets do - with new achievements and sustained success. But would it be too much to ask for this to happen with just a little less noise and a few more wins?
