Friday, May 07, 2010

HOT ROD LINCOLN. [5-7-10]

Mets v Giants
5-7-10

It was going to be all my fault. It was going to be my fault for jinxing Frankie, because I was starting to fade and was a little chilly and put the camera away already for a quick getaway after the final out. It’s the kind of thing we usually do at the end of a miserable game, somewhere in the 9th there are a few words exchanged about egress plans. Or if the game is going well, and I want to get photos of a potential on-field celebration, I have to find a way to indicate this without jinxing it by actually saying the words, “So when we win this puppy, I’m going to go stand down in those seats so I can get some good shots.” Tonight it was just that it had been a long week and I was glad that the game pace had been brisk and yes I wanted to be on that first Baseball Special out of Willets Point, just as soon as Frankie got that last guy out.

And then, well, you know. Frankie.

That, of course, changed everything. The camera came back out, the phone got turned back on. The kids (and dads) next to us broke out the rally caps. I had watched a guy walk up the stairs at the start of the 9th carrying a plate of nachos, and I confess that we totally mocked the dude for clearly having NO IDEA what was going on in the game. “He looks like a genius now, doesn’t he?” said TBF. “Want some snacks? It could be a while.”

Glancing at the lineup as though we hadn’t been paying attention all nine innings, to reassure ourselves more than anything: Okay. It’s Francoeur-Davis-Barajas. But honestly, who thought lightning could strike again? I think “clutch” is a lame, nebulous statistic, and fer the love o’ Pete who was going to take issue with Ike Davis tonight, and you know, Rod Barajas - one of TBF’s confederates refers to his at-bats as scratch-off lottery tickets.

But it was just to make a “we aren’t going to win this are we” joke that I said, “‘Hey, you never know’” (which is a NY Lottery ad slogan for those of you not in-state) as Barajas came to the plate. And when that ball went into the air, I leapt to my feet, but in absolute silence. In silence because when the hits are big and important I tend to stand there and hold my breath through it, because the idiots in my section were irrationally screeching at balls that were clearly popouts or foul all goddamn effing night (but could they be bothered to participate in a “Let’s Go Mets” chant ONCE? Nooooo), and because, well, just because. Because I wanted to stand there and watch that ball cut through the lights and see exactly where it landed and there was also part of me that didn’t think we would get this. We wouldn’t, would we?

That ball went out, and then the air came rushing out of my lungs and I get in a few high-fives before I realize that the dugout is emptying and I need my camera trained at the plate. Kids are jumping up and down, grown men are hugging, dogs and cats, living together - okay, maybe not the last one, but we were not expecting this. No one was. We were expecting to have to deal with the hidden 100s of Giants fans that only made themselves known when John Bowker hit that ball off of Frankie, who were all going to be on the subway train acting like, well, acting like almost every team that beats us lately, especially beats us in the 9th.

But that didn’t happen. Instead, we had the team jumping up and down, Jose with his jersey untucked just like Cliff Floyd used to, and general celebration, and fans not packing up and moving out because they wanted to stand there and relish it. As we made our way down the stairs, I stopped as a cheer went up as Barajas came out of the dugout and headed over to Kevin Burkhardt for what they call the ‘game hero interview’ in Japan, and then everyone stops when they realize that the interview is going up on the center field video board for us to all see and hear. (According to Kevin, that was the first time they had done that, and based on fan reaction, they are likely to do it in future. Oh, that we should have many more occasions that would warrant this.)

The rest of the evening before all of this wasn’t too bad either. The Mets scored early again. Pelfrey seemed to get his mojo back, and went into the eighth inning!  Ike Davis hit left handed pitching. Ike Davis hit home runs. The Apple got a workout. Luis Castillo had a brilliant defensive moment. Ike Davis had an even more brilliant defensive moment, which regrettably I did not get because the camera was away (see first paragraph). Citi Field was not empty tonight, not by a long shot. I think part of the problem is that they do the wide-angle “here is the crowd tonight” photo at the very beginning of the game when people are still getting food and getting to their seats. We’d all like everyone to be prompt and in place before first pitch but to some people, Shake Shack is more of a priority than that.

The honored guests tonight included members of the NYPD, bomb squad, and the two vendors who spotted the car bomb in Times Square last weekend.

Things I didn’t like: People are not cheering in my section. They did not stand up to applaud Mike Pelfrey when Jerry idiotically took him out, but could not wait for the wave to get over to our section (which, thankfully, it never did). Angel Hernandez. Barajas getting beaned on the hand. The idiot wearing the A-rod jersey in my section.

I am back at Citi Field on Sunday for Lincecum’s start - traded in the Dodgers rain-out tickets for even better tickets for Sunday. As much as I will be all fangirling watching him pitch, don’t get me wrong, I will be rooting 10 times harder for the Mets to tee off on him. I am doing Mother’s Day tomorrow, so I am hopeful that my inability to pay attention to the game will secure a Santana win.