I've always wondered, had I grown up or ever found myself living in New York City, where my baseball allegiance would lie. Mets or Yankees; how does one choose? The masochist in me believes, without a doubt, that I'd be a Mets fan. I'm all about the struggle; the lean years, when I could easily throw in the towel. When all that remains is hope without reason. I'm afraid that if I was a Yankees fan, I'd take the playoffs for granted. That I'd take winning for granted. As a sports fan, those are my greatest fears. Luckily, I live in Toronto, where those fears will never, ever be realized.
Monday night, on the way to and at Citi Field in beautiful Queens, New York, my latest stop on The Baseball Road Trip Of A Lifetime, I attempted to find out: why the Mets? Here are some of the better responses I got:
"They're not the Yankees."
"I'm from Queens. And when you're from Queens, the Mets are your only option."
"My dad and brothers were Mets fans. Simple as that."
"Pardon my language, but f**k the Yankees."
The last one was my favourite. Because I never thought I'd hear a New Yorker say "pardon my language" before dropping an f-bomb. I love New York. And Mets fans are great, easily some of the best in the business. They're passionate about their team, and very easy to talk baseball with.
Citi Field
From Herald Square in Manhattan, at 5:30 pm, I hopped aboard the W Broadway Local train, heading north, and then east, to Queens. I transferred to the 7 Flushing Local, which drops you at Citi Field's front door, at Queensboro Plaza station, at the east end of the Queensboro Bridge. For my Seinfeld heads out there, Queensboro Plaza is the renowned gyro stall station. Unfortunately, it doesn't exist. All in all, in rush hour, and thanks to a number of delays for both traffic and medical reasons, the journey took about an hour. And remember: it's $2.25 one-way on the NYC subway.
Upon exiting Mets-Willets Point station, Citi Field stares you in the face. And she's quite the looker. Most stunning of all: The Jackie Robinson Rotunda, modeled after Ebbets Field, which serves as the ballpark's main entrance. Inside, Robinson is immortalized, and deservedly so. There's an eight-foot-tall no. 42, and etched into the archway you'll find one of Robinson's finest quotes: "A life is not important except in the impact it has on other lives."
Adjacent to the Robinson Rotunda is the Mets Hall of Fame and Museum. I only managed a quick run-through post-game, after I pleaded with a Citi Field staffer to let me in. On display are the Mets' two World Series trophies, and even the infamous ball that went through Bill Buckner's legs in 1986. There's even a rather freaky looking statue of Mr. Met.
The sightlines all over the park are great, and $40 will get you a chair 12 rows behind Jason Bay in left field, but without a full view of the massive scoreboard in centre field. In what I found to be a nice touch, Citi Field's foul poles are painted orange, instead of baseball's customary yellow.
One more thing: the ushers in New York, at both Citi Field and Yankee Stadium, are serious about their jobs. It doesn't matter how many times you've already shown your usher your ticket stub, you've got to flash it again. Every time. Mr. or Ms. Usher will even kindly hold your food and drinks while you fish the blasted stub out of your pocket. Ridiculous.
Chow
