Your Season Has Come (No Really, It’s True This Time!)

By Metstradamus
Posted Tuesday, April 8, 2008

I know what you’re thinking. You’re reading the title and you’re rolling your eyes. Wasn’t our season supposed to come last year? Well, yeah. It was supposed to happen last season. Didn’t quite work out that way, did it? Well today, I’m here to tell you that your season has come. This time, it’s for real.

Don’t mistake that proclamation for any sort of promise of post-season glory, or any guarantees of anything. You see, your season comes with no guarantees or promises. But make no mistake about it, it’s here. It’s here because I say so.

All right, so “because I say so” never worked as an acceptable answer when it came from your parents (or mine). You’re looking for me to explain. I will … gladly.

As you know, this is the final season of our beloved (depending on who you talk to) Shea Stadium. All the moments that you’ve shared as a fan have most likely -- unless you’re old enough to remember the two seasons at the Polo Grounds -- come at Shea Stadium. For most of us, Shea Stadium is the only place we remember as the home of the Mets. And after October (hopefully late October), it’s all over. Your Mets will be moving across the lot to a brand spanking new ballpark with fewer seats, more Steak and Shakes, and hopefully more good memories.

But there’s one thing that has bothered me about moving from the very beginning (besides the fact that moving sucks when you’re the one that has to do it … boxes and boxes and boxes! Aargh!) Citi Field is going to be beautiful. Hell, it looks beautiful from the outside already. But for some reason, I can’t yet bring myself to wrap my arms around Citi Field being my home. I’m not sure that Citi Field, gorgeous as it may turn out to be, will ever feel like home to me like Shea Stadium feels like home. Maybe I need to give it time … I’m sure that’s what you’re thinking. But I’m putting myself five, ten, even twenty seasons in the future sitting in this ballpark and I’m wondering if it will feel like home, even twenty years from now.

That’s if the Mets don’t deal me my final blow by way of heart attack by then.

Now I say this without having decided whether I’m going to be more nostalgic about Shea or more excited for the new park. Half of Met fans acknowledge that Shea Stadium is a dump. The other half would probably tell you the same thing … except they’ll qualify it by saying that “it’s my dump”. So here’s the question I wonder about, will Citi Field ever be “my dump?” Or will it be an architectural beauty that stands as a monument not to the fans, but to the Wilpons and their visions of bringing back Ebbets Field? It’ll be beautiful. And yes, I acknowledge that it’s necessary. But will it be mine? Will I ever feel that connection to this new park as I will always have for Shea?

That, to me, is what makes 2008 so special (that and some guy named Santana … you’ve heard of him, no?) So this is the season that I’ll savor every moment of and really try to appreciate even when Ryan Church is in an inevitable 1-for-34 slump, or that future night when Oliver Perez is walking home everybody in the stands. While I’m screaming and yelling, I’m still going to have a heightened awareness of it.

And you should too, because really, you’ve got no choice. If you don’t take the time to really appreciate what this season signifies for you, then you’re going to spend this season all pissed off because of the uneven coverage that other team in town is going to get … especially since they’re also losing their stadium. You’re going to throw your shoe through the television the next time you see a sponsored vignette on ESPN called “The House That Ruth Built.” You’re going to throw your other shoe through the television set every time you hear somebody refer to the new stadium as “The House That Jeter Built” (don’t get me started). And if your television still works in July, then surely it will be on the curb waiting for the garbage man after the All-Star Game.

All the while, you’re waiting for that national coverage for Shea Stadium that will never come outside the occasional “hey, it’s the last season at Shea too (snicker, snicker).” And when it doesn’t come, you’re going to be upset. But screw ‘em, because no matter how you feel about Shea Stadium, whether it’s “a dump,” or it’s “my dump,” this is it. Shea’s leaving us after this season, and it’s up to us to enjoy it. It’s not worth your time to worry about the inevitable orgy of coverage that the other park is going to get. In fact, I’m offering my services as 2008’s designated fan that will get pissed off on your behalf. In other words, let me handle that.

For the rest of you, put it all out of your mind, because this season belongs to you and not anyone else. As far as you’re concerned, it doesn’t belong to Yankee Stadium; it doesn’t belong to the likes of ESPN (or any other entity that John Kruk belongs to); it doesn’t belong to any other national media member; and it doesn’t even belong to the Wilpon family or their marketing people. It belongs to you, and only you, dear Met fan. Your season has come.

Your postseason? No promises.