With Covid seating restrictions lifted and life attempting to get back to normal, it was time to visit a ballpark. On Saturday June 26, I did just that as the Mets hosted the Phillies at Citi Field. Excluding the 2020 season when no fans were allowed to attend games, I’ve been to at least one Mets home game each year since 1966, a streak I’m very happy to have. Joining me at the game was my personal color commentator Susan, our son Andrew, who travelled from Brooklyn, and two of his friends, Eion and Tommy, both Red Sox fans who also delight in Yankee defeats. In other words, we had the perfect team to be sitting in the first row of Section 415, directly above home plate.
And on this day, the Mets’ starting pitcher was Jacob deGrom, who is having a season like no other has had. Coming into the game, his Earned Run Average (ERA) was an unheard of 0.50 and he had driven in more runs as a hitter than he has given up as a pitcher. On this particular day, deGrom was a mere mortal on the mound, giving up 2 runs on only 3 hits and striking out 5 in six innings of work. His ERA “jumped” to 0.69. To put this in perspective, Bob Gibson’s 1968 ERA was 1.12, the lowest in modern history. deGrom did collect another hit at the plate, going 1 for 2, and raising his batting average to .414. Incredible – the highest in the lineup.
deGrom left with the Mets trailing 2-1, but the Mets tied it up on Kevin Pillar’s homer in the 7th. The Phillies took the lead in the 9th, benefiting from a hit by pitch, a stolen base, a wild pitch and a sacrifice fly.
Would our trip be a total loss? Not this year. Phillies pitcher Hector Neris gave it all right back, with the help of 3rd baseman Luke Williams, who allowed Mets’ pinch hitter Travis Blankenhorn to reach first base on an error. That was followed by a walk by Billy McKinney and a base hit for Pillar, loading the bases for Luis Guillorme, who also walked, forcing in Blankenhorn and tying the game. After a Francisco Lindor strikeout, Michael Conforto, just recently back from the Injured List, hit a fly ball to center field. Odubel Herrera’s arm was no match for the speedy McKinney who slid head first, well ahead of the ball, to give the Mets a 4-3 victory, and row 1 in section 415 something to celebrate. It’s really too bad that the woman, who bought the largest bucket of popcorn in history and was sitting to our left, had departed early, but I digress. Our entourage took celebratory selfies and departed for the stairs, joining in a chorus of Let’s Go Mets as we headed outside.
Baseball clearly is changing, making way for a younger fan. It is evident in its marketing – most pictures of players show facial grimaces, kind of like pro wrestling photos. Rules are being tinkered with, like 7 inning double headers and a “free runner” to start extra innings, designed to shorten games. The pumped-in noise level at games is an all-time high, even in between innings, leaving very little time to come up for air. As I write this on Monday, my voice is still hoarse from trying to have a conversation. At least the 7th inning stretch remains in place, where you can sing along to Take Me Out To The Ballgame, kiss your spouse, then clap along to Lou Monte’s Lazy Mary.
I get the feeling that the marketing folks at Major League Baseball are going out of their way to rip off a band aid that holds tradition together. Despite all that, I have hope. Before the game, Susan and I toured the Mets Museum and Hall of Fame. It contains the plaques of those inducted into their hall, displays the two World Series trophies, and includes a very nice tribute to the Mets’ greatest pitcher, Tom Seaver, who passed away in 2020. Other miscellaneous memorabilia is on display. And there is a nice wall with a timeline of significant events and achievements since 1962. Susan commented on the day that the Mets acquired Mike Piazza in 1998, and remembered me calling her from an early model cellphone, ecstatic that we had done so. “The Mets got Piazza! The Mets got Piazza!”, I shouted. There was a dad near us with his young daughter, maybe 10 or 11 year’s old. He also was taking about Piazza, pointing to the date, and also glowing with the nostalgia it triggered. “You know, I was there for his first game with the Mets. I went with Pop Pop. He was a big Mets’ fan too.” She seemed to give him mild interest, and I was thinking you are about to lose her for a few years, but don’t worry; she’ll be back. But I also got a little choked up for that father had just connected generations, baseball’s greatest attribute that should not be lost or taken for granted. That conversation grounded me for the rest of the day, and couldn’t have been any better if James Earl Jones said it himself.
We saw a great game, and even though baseball now consists of more strikeouts, fewer balls put into play, and constant “in game” entertainment on the big video board, it’s still baseball. We saw deGrom in what could be the ultimate year by any pitcher in history that goes back to the 19th century. I’d like to think many generations were connected Saturday.
This write-up is so great! Thank you for bringing the game to life for fans near and far.
Posted by: Marissa Despain | June 28, 2021 at 05:23 PM
Excellent post! I love it when poets talk about baseball.
Posted by: Rivkah Rubinstein | June 30, 2021 at 03:28 PM