Judging from this past weekend, it's not very good.
I went against my general ballpark routine last night several different ways in the hopes that it might change the Mets luck and bring them a few runs last night. Some of my efforts might have been more for the preservation of my own sanity more than anything else. Whatever I tried, however, I tried in vain as rather than witnessing the Mets kick the Yankees in the nuts and avert a sweep, I saw the Mets play the part of the Mets perfectly, squandering opportunity after opportunity and eventually embarrassing themselves, getting swept and being the victim of Mariano Rivera's 500th Save.
It's a great team.
I started out by getting to Citi Field at around 5:45pm. The only time I get to the stadium this early is either on Opening Day or the Playoffs. Or when I was younger and trying to get autographs. Nonetheless, I got there just as they were opening the gates. I had brought a cap for the cap trade (something I always forget), an old Jets cap that I'd bought for $5 in the Port Authority Bus Terminal on my way to a Jets game last season. I'm not a Jets fan, so I didn't have any particular attachment to it. But the cap they were giving out was such a cheap piece of crap that I think they got the better part of the deal.
Once inside, I figured I would walk around a bit, since there's nothing much else to do. What I did was make an amazing discovery: I finally figured out the way to beat the lines at Shake Shack! If you want to beat the lines, the solution is to get there 2 hours before the game! After my last attempt to eat there resulted in a 30-minute wait, this time, I zipped through the line in 5 minutes! Man, what a difference!
I managed to pass the time walking around and snapping photos of the Citi Field interior, and I'll share them this week, hopefully. By time the game started, I was feeling pretty grim. The stadium was full, there was a solid presence of Yankee fans, and I figured the only way I was going to get through this was with a few beers. So, going against convention, I started drinking. Then, I started updating my Facebook status en masse, my comments becoming more and more snide as things progressed. In fact, you could have figured out what was going on, more or less, just from following along.
3:44 pm - I sincerely hope I don't regret going to the Mets/Yankees game tonight...
8:58pm - 3 in the 1st for the Yankees. Mets making Wang look like Juan Marichal. F This, I'm drinking. Where the hell is the beer guy!?
9:11pm - I'm wearing my David Wright jersey tonight. In honor of this, David Wright has hit into a double play. I want to go home.
9:38pm - Holy Crap! The Mets score 2!
9:50pm - Dear Major League Pitchers: Struggling? High ERA and WHIP? In need of confidence? Just face the New York Mets! The cure for the common pitcher.
10:02pm - My choice for player of the game: Robbie Cano. DON'T YA KNOW!
10:09pm - Joe Girardi has just asked for a Coke with his Wang.
10:29pm - Buy me some peanuts and SACK O' NUTS!
10:47pm - And a big dish of gooey chop suey in the puss to you too, Matsui!
11:08pm - Mister Sandman, bring me a dream...
11:13pm - DAMMIT, SWING AT THAT PITCH OMIR!!!
11:23pm - I could use a nap.
11:33pm - WALK HIM!!!
11:37pm - I live in Hell. I live in Hell.
11:49pm - I hate being a Mets fan. Have I ever said that before? Probably. Well, it's because more often than not, I do. Baseball sucks. Fuck this fucking game.
12:02am - I spent 3 hours and 40 minutes watching this crapfest? Jesus. What sort of a masochist am I?
There was one saving grace for the evening. Usually, these games, if they go wrong, can turn into a gigantic horrible mess of Drunken, high and mighty Yankee fans starting trouble and picking on Mets fans. Fights generally ensue. Sometimes, this doesn't happen. Early, I thought there was a transplanted Bleacher Creature in a Joba jersey nearby. It could have been Joba himself. But outside of him, the crowd was actually pretty calm and peaceful. I sat next to a Yankee fan who was there with a Mets fan and we had a perfectly pleasant conversation throughout the game. Once the game got ugly, rather, when Rivera walked, most of the crowd emptied out since it was well past 11:30. And once the game ended, I breezed right out of the stadium and onto a 7 Express home. No screaming, no yelling, no wanting to choke someone. Just the ill misery of rooting for a team thats gone horribly awry. They had opportunity after opportunity to push a tying or perhaps a lead run across, and they failed every time. They didn't move runners up, they couldn't get runners in, and once the Yankees stretched the 1-run lead to a 2-run lead, everyone knew the game was over.