The Columnist Manifesto

[New York City, Wednesday, August 9]

Let me say, first of all, that I'm honored to spend $5 on a bottle of Snapple in order to help pay Carlos Beltran's salary

Let me also say that it was a beautiful, warm-but-not-too-hot summer evening, tailor made for baseball. Mets ace Pedro Martinez was on the mound, pitched a good game, and the Mets won, 4-3.



And B and I were lucky enough to be attending during the 3-game visit by the San Diego Padres. Piazza, who had been my favorite Met for the previous eight seasons, as he led the team to two League Championship Series and one World Series, parted ways with the Mets after last season and now plays for the Padres. And he's having a bit of a rebound year, bless him.



Anyway, a Mets fan necessarily holds his breath wondering whether his ornery Mets-fan colleagues will behave churlishly. This is group, after all, that will mercilessly boo its star players for each and every screwup, no matter how they performed before. I'm sad to say that Mets fans are among the league's nastiest. Would they boo Piazza in the foreign uniform?

As it turns out, everybody was just verklempt. On the first night, Piazza was given a fitting tribute: standing ovations, chants of his name, fans holding signs saying things like "we miss you Mike." There was even a Piazza highlight reel on the Diamondvision. On this night, we turned it into a sort of impromptu "Mike Piazza" night. Again, the standing o's. And this time, he hit a home run in his second at bat. And got a standing o for that. And took a curtain call.

A visiting player getting a standing ovation and taking a curtain call at Shea? It's unthinkable. But Piazza was that good as a Met. We owed him.

In his third at bat, he hit another home run. And got another standing ovation, and another curtain call. It was crazy.

Both home runs were solos -- the Padres only runs, in fact -- and the Mets were winning 4-2, so I guess we all felt we could be gracious. But when Piazza came up for the fourth time, with two runners on, and a chance to put the Padres in the lead with a home run, the fans had had enough. The boos predominated. And Piazza hit a gigantic blast to straightaway center field. Oy vey! Carlos Beltran reeled it in on the edge of the warning track -- the damn thing missed being a three run homer by about 3 feet.

Can you imagine a better game to see in person? Nothing could spoil it. And now for the list of things that didn't spoil it.

Let's start with the flyovers. Shea is famous for its proximity to Laguardia Airport and the fact that numerous flight plans go right over the stadium. You get about two jet flyovers per inning.


Not such a big deal -- you quickly get used to it.

The seats left something to be desired. I signed up for "best available" seats on line, but by the time I had entered my credit card information, they were gone. The next "best available" seats were all the way out in right field, second highest deck.



And then there was the small matter of the foul pole.


Next item: the two obnoxious guys sitting in front of us.


At Shea, you have to be prepared to be dissed by someone sitting in your vicinity, and these two obliged by making us feel stupid for having a bit of trouble finding our seats. I could have dealt with the rude behavior had it not been accompanied by this.

I think you know me well enough to know that I would not take a picture of someone's butt crack, let alone post it, unless there was good reason. But this was too much. [Editor's note: on the advice of persons with better taste and judgment than me, the photo of the actual butt crack in question has been removed.] I don't care how big a beer belly he has. He can pull his pants up. Or wear a shirt with shirttails -- tucked in our out, either would do the job. Or even wear boxers, for gosh sakes. There's really no excuse for this look in this day and age.

Then there was the promotion. I don't need to get free stuff at a ball game -- I expect to overpay for absolutely everything, and feel grateful that you're no longer expected to tip the ushers at Shea. But if you're going to have a promotional giveaway, how about something nice? In my life as a fan, I've gotten one or more of the following promotional giveaway items: baseball cap, plastic batting helmet, baseball bat, tote bag, photo, baseball, baseball with a photo on it, bobblehead, t-shirt.

But what is this? An ID card holder with DHL logo lanyard? A damned dork tag? This is not a promotion -- it's an insult.


To sum up: Tickets for two: $96. Italian sausages and drinks for two: $23. Seats behind foul pole: lousy. Flyovers: noisy. Butt crack: gross. Promotional dork tags: insulting. Seeing Mets eke out a win on Piazza Night: on the whole, worth it.