Tuesday, September 23, 2008

6: BOOGIE NIGHTS.

Mets v Cubs
9/23/08

I confess that I did not head off for tonight’s game feeling the most optimistic ever. This wasn’t helped by getting on the 7 at Times Square only to find the car invaded by Cubs fans; within 3 minutes of getting on the train and sitting down, I heard discussion of 1) the goat 2) the black cat and 3) Moises Alou.

By the time the train came out of the tunnel, I was already being trash talked by Texy via Twitter:
Texy: “Go Cubs Go! Go Cubs Go! Hey Chicago, whatta ya say? Cubs are gonna win today!”
Me: “Eddie Vedder called. Don’t quit your day job.”

Section 12 was busy tonight, with every regular in attendance, including the Walrus, who showed up just after first pitch and occupied all four of his seats. (Hey - they’re his - he can dictate what happens to them.) There were no Cubs fans in attendance in our section (unlike most other games, where it seems like the Mets specifically send them to us), except someone who shall remain nameless who brought a female fan - who promptly put a sweatshirt over her regalia not long after she sat down. I don’t know if it was because she was scared or because she was cold, but I did hear some murmuring of, “See, I told you they’d give me a hard time.”

And welcome to Section 12.

There was much discussion this evening of what if this happens and IF they win, then what, and what happens if it rains on Friday (or Saturday - or Sunday) and when will we know what playoff games we have, deities willing, and will the goddamn Mets actually get their act together and let us come in the stadium early and walk on the goddamn warning track or do SOMETHING and where are you sitting on Sunday and how early should we get here and what are good breakfast tailgate foods.

Oh, and the little matter of: WHEN ARE THE METS GOING TO GET SOME RUNS?

It was tough there, for a while; one of the twins behind me kept muttering, “No one seems to want to play baseball today,” while the other cried out in agony every time Luis Castillo came to the plate. I pointed out that I have a non-stop argument with TBF about Luis Castillo (who still is greeted with an exhortation of DON’T BUNT every time he comes to the plate), but TBF will point out that Luis Castillo’s stats are still better than Argenis Reyes, “who is not a major league player.”

Of course, all was forgiven and forgotten around the time Mr. Reyes came to the plate for what would be his 200th hit of the year:

[Please bear with me. I just got the camera last week so I would have it for this week, and it will take me a little bit of time to figure things out.]

There was so much to watch and pay attention to tonight that I am completely befuddled that people would start doing the fucking wave on TWO levels. We’re trying to watch the Phillies, the Brewers, and the Red Sox, as well as PAY ATTENTION TO THE GAME. This is a reason I did not take many photos tonight. This continues to befuddle me.

Santana was a fucking champion tonight. It was a great, great game, down to cheering on Luis Ayala while doing the tomahawk chop, and dancing on the ramps on the way out with Coop when she found out the Red Sox had won.

One down, five more to go.

Flickr feed is here. Sorry, these will not be very photo-heavy posts this week but I will get everything into Flickr.