The random baseball player in Bruce Springsteen's 'We Take Care of Our Own' video

There he is. He pops up during the refrain in the final minute. He fades in next to Bruce Springsteen's head, then fades out in the sun, back to Bruce.

I've just noticed this report that says Bruce will be the leadoff act for tomorrow night's Grammy Awards show. An appropriate place for The Boss. I presume he'll be performing "We Take Care Of Our Own," rather than something off of The Promise, the only thing he's nominated for (in some category about box set packaging or something).

A farewell to Ollie

I guess we can blame that cab driver in Miami. If it weren't for that accident that cost Duaner Sanchez the final two months of the 2006 season, Omar Minaya wouldn't have had to make the trade for Roberto Hernandez, who didn't come to Queens alone. Whether Hernandez himself wasn't enough value for Xavier Nady, a starting right fielder, or whether Oliver Perez was a throw-in, the young lefty came along with the setup man needed to fill a hole in the bullpen and help the Mets end the Braves' run atop the NL East.

In baseball, young, hard-throwing left-handers are sexy by nature, so we didn't think of Perez as a throw-in or an extra piece at the time. Hernandez was old -- 41, in the penultimate season of his career -- and Perez seemed to be the future benefit of the trade, a potential rotation stalwart ... if he could only harness his heat and learn to control that fastball.

By the end of the 2006 season, the future seemed to have arrived. Perez started two games that postseason, earning the win with 5 2/3 servicable innings (despite giving up five runs) in the Mets' 12-5 Game 4 victory in St. Louis and pitching a stellar six innings, allowing one run on four hits, in that fateful 3-1 Game 7 loss. All told that postseason, he walked three in 11 2/3 innings.

He went 15-10 with a 3.56 ERA in 2007, striking out 174 in 177 innings and maintaining a manageable 1.31 WHIP, thanks to 79 walks. There were 22 home runs allowed, too. But in 2008, despite a league-leading 34 starts, he was just 10-7 with a 4.22 ERA and an alarming 1.40 WHIP. The 180 strikeouts in 194 innings still looked nice, but a league-leading 105 walks and 24 home runs stood out more.

Yet there was something -- the .158 batting average left-handers compiled against him? -- that still made him attractive to Minaya and the Mets but, it appeared, to no other team. At least not to the tune of three years at $12 million per. What I would give to see the binder compiled by agent Scott Boras that offseason that convinced the Mets that such a deal was worth it.

And here we are today, the day the deal no longer became worth anything -- the headaches, the frustration, the stubborn refusal to accept a Minor League assignment. It's still worth $12 million to Oliver Perez, but today was the day it was decided that money was better spent ensuring he would not pitch than when or where he would. In the end, the Mets got next to nothing for their $36 million, and broken down into yearly increments, the best $12 million spent is probably this year's, the season that brings peace of mind knowing that we won't have to watch No. 46 throw the fifth pitch of the game (or an earlier one) from the stretch.

(Quick side note: I have a promise to myself to buy an authentic Mets jersey with the name and number of the first pitcher to throw a no-hitter for the franchise, in the style worn when he accomplishes the feat. And yes, that means if it happens while they team is decked out in those horrendous black tops, I will purchase a black jersey. But more than that, I feared that somehow, it would read PEREZ 46 on the back. Hey, if Edwin Jackson can do it, and if A.J. Burnett can work around 10 walks to do it, anyone can.)

Looking back, the last good game Perez pitched for the Mets came on either Aug. 7, 2009 (6 1/3 innings, two hits, one run, two walks and seven strikeouts) or April 16, 2010 (6 1/3, four hits, one run, three walks, four strikeouts). The Mets lost the 2009 game, 6-2, to the Padres and dropped the 2010 game, 4-3, to the Cardinals, but neither one was on the starter. Those two games mark the only instances Perez recorded an out beyond the sixth inning of a game he started over the life of his three-year, $36-million deal. Let that sink in for a moment.

His last win as a Met (as a Major Leaguer?) came on Aug. 18, 2009, after five innings and four runs on five hits and a walk against the Braves in a 9-4 triumph. Of his 17 appearances in 2010, only one came in a Mets win, his fourth game (and start) on April 27 in the second game of a doubleheader with the Dodgers. He allowed three runs on three hits and four walks in 3 2/3 innings in a game the Mets went on to win, 10-5. And how appropriate that his final official pitch in a Mets uniform was ball four with the bases loaded to force in what would prove to be the winning run for the Nationals in the final game of the 2010 season.

And so we now close the book on Oliver Perez, New York Met, for good. For the greater good, actually, of the team, of the fans. Unless the Mets return home from their season-opening road trip with an 0-6 record (crap, it just hit me that such a scenario shouldn't be waved aside), we should be able to get through team introductions on April 8 with minimal booing. (I wanted to write "without any booing," but then I remembered that it will be the first time we see Francisco Rodriguez in uniform since last August, so ... yeah.)

But to end on a positive note, I will say this about Oliver Perez: If it's true that the Mets' starting pitcher is the one who decides what uniform the team will wear (and there are conflicting reports on who has decided that over the years), I've seen very few images of Perez pitching in the black jersey. And for that, I can say, Thank you, Ollie.

See for yourself (the first nine photos, up to and including the foul-line leap, are mine):

(Yes, that was meant to be ironic ... or not, if you know the true title to the song.)

Just a bit of a break from the norm

Happened to find myself watching the video for Will Smith's -- ahem, sorry -- the Fresh Prince's ... OK, DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince's "Summertime" today. Not only does that song take me back to 1991 (DAMN!), but it gives us a look into early-'90s jersey fashion, mainly in the form of Starter duds.

Go ahead, watch the video and see how many you can spot. Below it, I'll point out all those that I found.



Did that take you back? Of course, now you'll have the chorus in your head for the rest of the day. Here's my answer key. Let me know if I missed any. (Click on any of the images to see larger, though grainier, images in Picasa Web Albums.)

Philadelphia 76ers



DJ Jazzy Jeff -- aka Jeffrey Arnold Townes -- starts us off in a 76ers baseball jersey. As you'll see, all the jerseys are baseball jerseys, no matter the sport of the team they represent. That's appropriate for summertime -- and for this blog, I suppose.

Philadelphia Flyers

Jazz quickly shifts from the NBA to the NHL, donning a cap and jersey of the 76ers' roomates, the Broad Street Bullies.

Cartoon timeout

OK, not a jersey, but worth noting, I figured. The Fresh Smith goes retro with a Speed Racer T-shirt.

West Phila.



Will Smith represents the neighborhood with a West Phila. jersey. He's wearing it in the basketball scene, too, and you can see the No. 1 on the back.

San Francisco Giants

Must be a relative in from the West Coast. Actually, that would be kind of cool -- whether a relative or just an extra in the video, it would neat if they were instructed to wear gear of their favorite or hometown teams, rather than simply being handed something from Wardrobe. There aren't many logos from outside the Philly area, as we'll see.

New York Mets

Let's go Mets! Was surprised to see this one, to say the least. Though, that's from a 2010 perspective. In '91, the Phillies were 78-84 and the Mets 77-84, finishing 20 and 20 1/2 games behind the Pirates. The only rivalry was for third place, and the Phillies had to share it with the Cubs.

Also, if you watch this scene again, in front of the woman in the Mets hat is someone wearing a Simpsons T-shirt -- another early-'90s fashion statement. It wasn't a clear enough shot for me to bother redoing the screengrab.

The Eagle dance

I'm making an educated guess that this is an Eagles jersey, but I'm unable to confirm that hypothesis.

Georgetown Hoyas

The only confirmed college in the video, a Georgetown Hoyas baseball jersey. On the basketball court. Consistent with the theme. In the previous photo of the presumed Eagles jersey, the guy in the yellow shirt behind him might be wearing a Michigan hat, but I couldn't get a clear enough screenshot, so I'm not including it.

Bruins colors

It may be some team other than UCLA, but even though I can't confirm it, I'm including this one because it's a good enough shot of most of the jersey. Plus, when I see those shades of blue and gold, my first thought is UCLA. I'll also use this moment to express my surprise at learning the other day that UCLA just picked up its first win in the College World Series in school history. I know the Bruins don't have the hardball history of USC, but I'd heard enough of UCLA baseball over the years -- from Chase Utley and Troy Glaus, Erics Byrnes and Karros and Todd Zeile, all the way back to Jackie Robinson -- that I figured they had to have a CWS win or two in their history somewhere. But no.

Philadelphia Eagles



This guy's double-dipping with the jersey (baseball style, of course) and hat. Plus you've got the presumed UCLA jersey to the left of the woman and, on the left edge, a Chicago Bulls baseball jersey. I couldn't get a clearer shot of the Bulls shirt, but there are previous frames where he's in the background and the script "Bulls" is legible, plus one shot where you can catch the Bulls logo on the sleeve.

Chicago Bulls

One more Bulls shot on the hat on the right, making Jordan's club the only non-Philly team represented more than once. And we've got a good look at Jazzy Jeff's Flyers cap.

So that's what I came up with. After two viewings (one to watch it, when the idea came to me, then another to take the screengrabs), I was all set to write that every Philly team in the four major pro sports was represented, but I just realized that the Phillies are not, as best I could tell. I don't recall seeing any maroon caps or jerseys, which were the Phils' colors in the early '90s. The only reds I remember were the brighter hues of the Sixers and Bulls. I don't think I'm off base in saying that if this video were filmed today, it'd be littered with Phillie gear -- and perhaps absent of any Sixers threads. Plus, I feel like we'd see more out-of-town logos -- like at least one Yankee cap -- because I feel like '91 may have been just before the explosion of hats and jerseys as status symbols instead of just an indication of fan loyalties.

Here's the final tally:

1 76ers jersey

1 Flyers jersey

1 Flyers hat

1 West Phila. jersey

1 S.F. Giants hat

1 Mets hat

1 Eagles hat

1 confirmed Eagles jersey

1 presumed Eagles jersey

1 Georgetown jersey

1 presumed UCLA jersey

1 Bulls jersey

1 Bulls hat

1 Speed Racer T-shirt

1 Simpsons T-shirt

What a destructive day!

March 26 is a big day in sports stadia demolition. Ten years ago today, the Kingdome was imploded; this is the demoversary.

In New York today, another stadium from the '70s saw the last section of its upper deck pulled down.

On Aug. 21, 1983, I saw my first baseball game. It was Angels-Yankees, and we sat in the upper deck. I remember wanting to keep going higher; at that age (I was a few weeks from turning 7), you don't get many bird's-eye views. These days, I do prefer the closer angles, as much for taking pictures as anything else, but I go to enough games that I like to mix it up.

Wonder what will turn out to be the last piece to fall.

Little Old New York

The still image above is from a British tourism film about New York City in 1963. Along with scenes from Idlewild (pre-JFK) Airport, Chinatown and the downtown skyline is a segment on Yankee Stadium. The footage was taken on July 25, 1963, which was the only home game against the Angels that year started by left-hander Al Downing. The announced attendance was 15,716, but it appears the actual figure was a bit less. There's also a segment near the end about the construction of the World's Fair attractions -- including the Unisphere -- for the 1964-65 exposition. (Thanks to Uniwatch for pointing out this video.)

LITTLE OLD NEW YORK

Willie plays all fields

11:29 p.m. update -- The Daily Show interview was great, of course, and Jon Stewart's New Jersey roots made it unique, when Stewart mentioned Mays' days with the Trenton Giants in 1950. Back when the Trenton Thunder came along in 1994, the coverage of the city's baseball history had featured that connection, but I'd completely forgotten it. Mays was the first black player in the Interstate League, which was noted on this baseball signed by Mays that year.

Willie Mays is making the rounds in New York this week -- he's even on The Daily Show tonight -- to promote a new biography, the first that he has authorized. Last night's sit-down with Bob Costas on "Studio 42" was a joy to watch for someone who wasn't born until after Willie ended his career with the Mets in 1973.

My favorite Mays story has always been his afternoon stickball games on the streets of Harlem before he'd head up to the Polo Grounds for the game. In this day of SUVs with tinted windows and underground players' parking lots, you're not going to get that kind of interaction anymore. Though with blogs and Twitter and camera phones, who can blame the players?

Another thing that struck me during the two-hour program was that New Jersey's own Larry Doby was the runner when Mays made the catch on Vic Wertz's drive to center field in the 1954 World Series at the Polo Grounds. Mays said that he was more worried about making the throw to the infield -- knowing that he had scored from second on fly balls to the ballpark's vast center field -- than making the catch, but Doby had already rounded third, so by the time the ball got back to the infield, Doby was just getting back to second.

Two more segments of the interview are here and here, but they don't include one moment from early in the show when Costas refers to Mays' "classic Giants cap" on his head. It's bothered me for several years now that Mays regularly wears the hideous batting practice cap at his public appearances. But he must like the feel of it, because he wore the Mets version at the closing ceremonies for Shea Stadium. But Costas' reference to it as "classic" was grating. A cap with the SF logo would be nice to see, and a New York Giants replica lid would be truly classic.

I'll update this post tonight with the Daily Show clip -- if Willie's able to get there in all this snow. And though I have dozens of unread books around the house, someday I may have to get the Harry Potter-sized bio that has prompted this look back at Willie's career.

Dead Ball days

Great stuff here: a montage of black-and-white baseball photographs from the Dead Ball Era, set to the theme from The Natural.



You'll find a couple of pictures of Babe Ruth on the mound for the Red Sox, Ty Cobb at bat and Honus Wagner near the end. I love the uniform styles, too: the long sleeves, the collars turned up (the fact that there are collars at all!) the high socks and baggy pants. Early-20th-Century fashion is funny.

Dance-Off '86

Not only did the Mets win 35 more games than the Dodgers in 1986, but they produced an exponentially better music video that year.

Photo Friday: Cardinals vs. Cubs, 1998

Mark McGwire, May 1, 1998, Chicago

With the way the week started out, I had to go with this set for Photo Friday. When I went through the negatives to find that photo of Mark McGwire I used on Monday, I scanned in the rest of the worthy images to use for today's slideshow. I had a fitting song picked out, "The Apologist" by R.E.M., but YouTube's gotten smart enough to recognize music tracks and disabled the audio because of copyrights. And I didn't even use the complete song. Anyway, here's the photo-only slide show.

Update, Feb. 19: It occurred to me that Blogger has a video uplink button that I'd never used. Maybe, I thought, I can upload the video with the track that way. I finally remembered to try it and it worked out, as you'll see below. The version without the song can still be seen here, where the photos are a bit larger as well.

Randy Johnson retires

After 22 seasons, Randy Johnson has announced his retirement. After originally planning a conference call for tomorrow, the Big Unit moved it up to tonight so as not to step on tomorrow's announcement of the new Hall of Fame class.

My lasting memory of seeing the Big Unit in person was on May 21, 2000, at Shea Stadium, when two of the most impressive home runs I've seen in person were hit. One was by Mike Piazza, who obliterated one of Johnson's pitches and launched it 492 feet into the mezzanine in left field. The other was hit by 5'11", 170-pound Joe McEwing.

And then, of course, there was this:



11:51 p.m. update...

Johnson leaves the game ranked impressively among baseball's greatest pitchers. His 10.6098 strikeouts per nine innings are the best among pitchers with 1,000 innings and, of course, he's second only to Nolan Ryan in strikeouts. His 303 wins rank 22nd, and many have speculated that he may be the last hurler to reach 300 victories. He's 30th in winning percentage at .646 and nine of those in front of him are Hall of Famers, with another two (Pedro Martinez and Roger Clemens) Hall-worthy and two more (Johan Santana and Roy Halladay) seemingly on that track. He's also 22nd in allowing 7.2821 hits per nine innings.

That he rates pretty low in a few other categories shouldn't prevent him from being a first-ballot Hall of Famer. For one thing, voters will see the 4,875 strikeouts and 303 victories. Known for stretches of wildness, Johnson did walk 3.2580 batters per nine innings, ranking 716th all-time, three slots behind Babe Ruth (who had other things going for him), and ahead of just three Hall of Famers: Early Wynn, Goose Gossage and Hal Newhauser (at least among the top 1,000 ranked by Baseball-Reference). His 190 hit batters is third all-time, but Nos 1 (Walter Johnson), 2 (Eddie Plank) and 4 (Joe McGinnity) are all Hall of Famers. But despite his wildness with bases on balls and hit batters, the Big Unit only ranks 62nd in wild pitches, with 109. So either he was wild around the plate, or had a run of excellent catchers. The top six on the list are all in Cooperstown, led by Nolan Ryan's 277.

Following Randy Johnson's announcement, writers chipped in with their appreciations. In the style of Buster Olney ...

Jerry Crasnick likens Johnson to NBA Hall of Famer Kareem Abdul-Jabbar.

Tim Brown says Johnson never made it look easy.

Maybe because it didn't come easy, Scott Miller writes.

Johnson's legacy won't diminish over time, posted Carl Stewart of the Oakland Tribune.

The Big Unit defined dominance, according to Ed Price.

Cooperstown awaits, writes Craig Calcaterra.

And, finally, Tyler Kepner offers an appreciation and a quartet of MLB.com reporters have the story, plus a look at his stops in Arizona and Seattle, as well as a tribute by Mike Bauman.

Hello Citi

Shiny and new

The Mets' home opener this year was a night game because the team preferred to play the game on a Monday and leave Tuesday open, probably for two reasons: To hold its annual Welcome Home Dinner and to have the flexibility of pushing the game back one day in the event of rain. That way, fans who bought tickets specifically for the home opener would have them, rather than those who bought tickets for Game 2 of the season lucking into the first game at the new ballpark.

By choosing Monday, the Mets were told it had to be a night game because their opponent, the Padres, played on the West Coast on Sunday. MLB or the Players Association (or both) would not force San Diego to play Sunday afternoon in California, fly to New York that night and play the next afternoon.

Too bad -- it probably would have worked out better for the Mets if they had.

So it didn't quite feel like Opening Day in New York on Monday. I didn't have to get up too early after working Sunday night; I didn't have to be ready to go when my mom arrived at the house. The Mets were opening the gates at 4:30, two and a half hours before first pitch, so we were in no rush. Figures that we arrived in Manhattan with no delays and found free street parking on the first block I turned onto. Our wait on the 74th St. platform in Queens was long because we just missed a departing 7 train, but we still arrived at Willets Point at 4:10, and the crowd outside the Jackie Robinson Rotunda was already filling up the fanwalk.

Of the 42,000-plus fans who attended the sold-out opener, probably half that arrived before 6 p.m. When we walked in, we made our way around the field level concourse to make our way to Danny Meyerland behind the scoreboard in center field. Mom wanted a Shake Shack burger in her first Citi Field experience, and who was I to suggest otherwise? We crossed the Hell Gate Bridge, gazed upon the old Home Run Apple, and waited a mere 10 minutes for a pair of perfect burgers, fries and two beers. We shared a picnic table with an older father and son and, once finished, continued our walk around the field level.

The temperature hovered in the 50s, but the warm sun made it feel like a pleasant 60-something. If only it had been a day game. In the end, though, whether it was a truly mild night, or the roof over our heads in the upper reaches of the Promenade level kept some body heat in, or the park's construction cuts down on the wind gusts coming off the bay, I walked out of there at 10:30 feeling the warmest I can remember after attending every Mets opener -- all of them day games -- since 2000.

Overall, there was a weird feeling to the game. Yeah, it was the Mets' first official game back in New York since last September, but with the St. John's-Georgetown game (which I attended) and the two Red Sox-Mets exhibitions at Citi Field (which I did not go to), this one didn't feel quite as significant. Maybe the late date played a part, and the fact that Spring Training went so long and included the somewhat meaningful games of the World Baseball Classic put me in midseason form back in March. But despite the significance of the game, I didn't have the Opening Day butterflies of anticipation I usually have.

Yet at the same time, once Mom and I climbed up to our seats, I didn't want to leave. I got hungry later, but didn't bother to go get the nachos I was interested in trying. We had peanuts with us, but I didn't feel like waiting in line for a beer. I didn't want to miss much of the action, so I'll save more exploration and taste testing for future games.

It wouldn't be a Mets game, though, without the bitching. Fans behind me, fans in the bathrooms, fans on the concourse -- they all found something to whine about. Yeah, the concourses were a bit crowded, but that's to be expected for the first game in history. Not many of the 42,000 tickets went unused, I'm sure. Now imagine 15,000 more people at Shea, where you couldn't see the field from any of the concourses (with the exception of behind home plate on the limited-access field level), and Citi's walkways are boulevards.

Exiting is a bit cramped, with thousands of people making their way through relatively narrow doorways to descend switchback stairways, but again, nearly 42,000 people waited until the last out, not wanting to miss the potential for a comeback. There won't be too many games in which 98 percent of the people in attendance go the distance. There are always the early exiters, those who want to beat the rush to the subway, the LIRR, the parking lot. That's the only thing about which I would raise even the slightest gripe.

I'm sorry -- as much as I enjoyed going to games at Shea, the new place is better. It was needed. It was time.

A pile of rubble, blue steel and concrete

[NOTE: Updated, as you can see, with some of the pictures I took. I also embedded a great home video from 1982 Opening Day found on YouTube.]

After having lunch with two dear friends this afternoon, I had four hours to kill before work at 6 p.m., so with my camera bag slung over my shoulder, I rode the 7 out to Willets Point in Queens. The stop is still labeled "Willets Point-Shea Stadium," but that moniker is true in name only. As of yesterday, Shea Stadium no longer stands.

It's now just a pile of steel and rubble, not even the entire remnants of the old ballpark. Taken down in stages, it was likewise hauled away over the winter weeks so that what was left today is only a fraction of what has come down since September. (I'll add some of my pictures tomorrow; I'm just too drained to muster up the desire to deal with them tonight.)

You first notice the change leaving the Junction Blvd. station. Where you used to see the hulking blue edifice of Shea peeking over the rooftops along Roosevelt Ave., you now get a glimpse of Citi Field's light towers and the name of the ballpark emblazoned atop the scoreboard. It's a drastic change that fits more with the neighborhood -- the black steel of the light supports replacing the bright blue of the former stadium's walls -- yet still leaves a feeling of something missing. Then as the train approaches the Willets Point stop, you take note of the freshly paved parking lot, one that was already there but appears to have been resurfaced and re-lined, with new guard booths at the entrance.

But then the new lot leads to a construction fence, beyond which lie the piles of debris and a few small hills of crumbled concrete. Citi Field rises behind it all, even more beautiful now as you get a full look at the brickwork and archways that define the ballpark's architecture. Upon arriving at the station, I first walked east along Roosevelt Ave. on the sidewalk outside the fence that runs along Citi Field. The parking lot was full, a bright red Pepsi-Cola sign rests high above right field and the video screen was in action.

Construction workers continued to make progress both inside and outside the ballpark. Inside the Jackie Robinson Rotunda, I could see men on a crane working in the rafters, while crews outside laid sections of concrete for the walkway from the subway exit to the Rotunda's main entrance. A circular section midway between the station and the ballpark looks like an area set aside for either a fountain or landscaping, and the wide sidewalk covers the entire gap, ensuring that Citi Field's parking lots along the first- and third-base sides remain separated by a pedestrian thoroughfare. It'll be a nice break, aesthetically, preventing the ballpark from feeling surrounded by parking lots, as Shea was.

I then walked back through the turnstiles and up to the subway platform on the Manhattan-bound side to overlook the former site of Shea Stadium. Four others stood there taking pictures, three of whom got on the next inbound train when it pulled into the station. Only I and an older man remained, cameras in hand, looking for a few new angles from our limited perch.

"We should've been here yesterday," he said. "That's when they brought down the last piece."

Even had I known that the last section was coming down, I'm not sure I would've dragged myself out of bed that early on a gray, wintery-mix-filled day to watch a small section of ramps crumble. But this gentleman was a regular commuter on the 7 train and said he kept telling himself to take the time to come by with his camera, but didn't act on in until it was too late.

I'm only slightly sad to see the old structure go, and I'm sure that feeling of nostalgia or loss is tempered by the disappointing finishes the last three seasons. Had any of them ended with a World Series appearance, I might find saying goodbye a bit tougher to fathom. But it was a dump -- it was our dump, of course, but a dump nonetheless. I went to enough games last season -- 11 in 2008 and 81 dating back to 1985 -- to get my fill, say my peace and give it a proper goodbye. I've had enough of crowded, dank corridors, of no standing room for a better view and of meals of peanuts brought from home to avoid paying way too much for horrible food.

I'm ready for the new era, the Citi Field era. I'm optimistic it will be a period of perennial winners, of pleasant summer evenings and sunny afternoons at a ballgame, of Mets wins and Phillies losses. Perhaps more than the better sightlines and the fresh, clean feeling of a new arena, I'm stoked for the new food options. Danny Meyer's offerings alone could keep me satisfied during as many of the 15 games I attend from the ticket pack Dave and I bought, and I'm not sure I'll even get near the Shake Shack on a busy summer Saturday afternoon.

When the next train bound for Manhattan pulled into the station, I got into the first car and sat by a window, looking over the last pieces of Shea Stadium as we pulled away. The next time I see that spot, it will be a paved grid of parking spaces, no doubt already scattered with cars on a Monday in April as the fans, the players and the new ballpark get ready for its true regular-season debut. The Padres will be in town and the Mets, I hope, will finish the night 1-0 at their new home.

Where do they find the time?

I don't know where some people come up with their ideas. More power to them, but this is a level of creativity and organization that I can't match, but the talent and dedication is apparent.

First, it was the guy who creates amazing art on an Etch-A-Sketch.



Then I was shown the guy who made a portrait of Cal Ripken out of more than 10,000 thumbtacks.



I guess you need to fill those long, lonely days until pitchers and catchers report.

The time is Wright for a walk-off

David Wright's walk-off homer, Aug. 7, 2008
Originally uploaded by NJ Baseball

On Wednesday night, I turned to a co-worker after David Wright committed the error that allowed the Padres to tie the game. "He needs a day off tomorrow," I said. After baserunning blunders the last two nights, some limp at-bats in clutch situations, and now this error, he looked worn down, sluggish. He looked like he needed a break.

Thankfully, he talked Jerry Manuel out of it. Wright had three hits and belted his first career walk-off home run on Thursday afternoon at Shea. That it came after Scott Schoeneweis could not hold a one-run lead in the ninth -- giving up a game-tying homer to Jody Gerut of all people -- was barely remembered on the 7 train back toward Manhattan. Though there are plenty of Mets fans who are only happy when they're bitching about something (Scott Kazmir actually came up, again, on the train ride back. Get over it, people), Wright rounding the bases was the lasting image in my mind as I counted the stops to 74th and Broadway and an escape from the packed, stuffy car.

I'm heading back to the ballpark tonight, my wife and I, for one more first-time-and-last-time experience at Shea: We're sitting in the picnic area. In 23 years of attending games there, I've only looked down at Shea's small section of bleachers and watched the home runs land there. Mostly a group-seating area, it is only opened for general purchase for certain games, and tonight was one of them. With just 27 dates remaining on Shea's calendar (postseason TBD), the opportunities are dwindling.

And for the first time in at least a decade, I'm going to have to bring my glove to the game.