For the second year in a row the Mets season came down to the last day and again they are not going to the post season. In the early season I hated when people would say a loss it just one loss and it is a long season. Without that thinking one could make the argument that the Mets lost the season in April in a tough loss rather than today. But no matter how you spin it, having the same thing happen two years in a row is tough to take. One more win and you get another day for a playoff, but to only score five runs in the final three games doesn't get it done. Don't blame the bullpen. The offense went to sleep. Another loss season. And once again we say, "Wait 'til next year".
But to add to the sadness of the day is that it was the final game at Shea Stadium. Forty five years of games. It was more than a two tissue day watching the ceremony and all the highlights and all the past players. Maybe it was the two glasses of wine I had, or the 162 games I suffered through this year, or all those years of highs and lows at the stadium, but it was very moving. So many memories of games I attended. Games with my father and brother Bob including Jim Bunning's perfect game, games with Pat, games with Pat and the kids, one opening day with Kevin, games with guys from work, and games with my brother Rick which included the greatest game of all, the sixth game of the '86 series. Such good times, such good memories. Somehow the closing ceremony cushioned the end of the year collapse a bit by deflecting some of the sadness to more of a happy memory sadness, if that makes sense.
So, as numbers 41 and 31 walked to centerfield and through the gates, then turned and closed the gates, it was very moving, and very final. The end of a year, the end of an era. Shea is gone, but the memories will remain.
So, as numbers 41 and 31 walked to centerfield and through the gates, then turned and closed the gates, it was very moving, and very final. The end of a year, the end of an era. Shea is gone, but the memories will remain.