from the 7

I took the 7 to Flushing today, and so went by the absence of Shea and the presence of Citi Field. I didn't have my camera with me and it was dark and rainy out, so these pictures aren't very good, but the sight had me standing in the window of the train looking from every angle I could see.



















It says Lets Go Mets above the big screen, below the big Citi Field sign. What do we call that screen now? It's not DiamondVision anymore.




















Of course, we might not be calling it Citi Field for long, either. Perhaps it'll be re-named appropriately, as Taxpayer Field.





















That's where Shea was. It's rubble.





















More of the garbage heap that used to be Shea Stadium.



The signs on the subway haven't been changed yet; they still all say Willets Point-- Shea Stadium. Perhaps the MTA didn't want to commit to Citi before they're sure it'll still exist on Opening Day?

with my own eyes

I took the train to Manhasset today, which is the Port Washington line, the one that goes to Sh... Citi Field. So I strained to see it from every angle possible from the train, and I have to say, it's a beautiful park. I couldn't be more looking forward to going to games there.

But.

Shea really isn't there anymore. I said a few days ago that it would take me seeing it with my own eyes to believe it, though I said at the time that it would be when I first got off the train to go to Citi Field that it really hit me that Shea was gone. I was obviously wrong about the second part, because the lack of Shea made me a little teary-eyed.

I'll miss you, old girl.

not the first time, nor the last

in posts over the last couple of weeks, I've both said that I've been affected by the end of Shea and that it hasn't really hit me yet that it's gone, and that it has hit me in some ways. Contradictions in terms, all of then, but still true.

I felt the end of Shea at the last game I went to at the stadium. I was aware the last time I went to the park that the next time I'd be there, she would no longer be standing. Saying Goodbye to Shea was something I acknowledged at the time; never the less, I am SURE that it will be a very, very strange experience the first time I go to Cifi Field, when Shea is merely a parking lot.

so, I contradict myself. I'm a human being; this is bound to happen any times in my life. I feel a lot about the end of Shea, but I think I'll feel excited to visit Citi once I get there. The two opposite feelings contradict; never the less, I'm sure I'll continue to feel this way until I wake my way to Citi Field. After that... well, that's another post.

Shea, Nostalgia, friends and facebook

I posted in my status on facebook this afternoon about watching the last standing piece of Shea come down today, and my friend Dave (one of the many fantastic people who have re-entered my life as a result of facebook, and as devoted as fan as one will find in this city) commented on the staus update. This is one of my favorite things about facebook: the ability to connect with other people on exactly the level that is right for the relationship you have with that person.

Here's the text of our status-commenting:

Dave at 7:41pm February 18

it really just hit me that shea is gone, and i have very mixed feelings about citifield (starting with the name, the color of the seats, etc.). i can vividly recall coming to shea as a kid, seeing the last game of the '88 season there, chanting "darrrrryyyyyl". perhaps it's just nostalgia taking hold and i'll get over it. although putting it in perspective, i feel for the yankee fans (dare i say it), especially the older ones.

This Fan at 2:56am February 19

it still hasn't really hit me that Shea is gone. I don't think it will until my first trip to Citi this year and I see with my own eyes that Shea is no longer standing. I also have such a hard time thinking of the "Shea Faithful" being referred to as the "Citi Faithful" that my brain shuts down when I consider it.

and, wrt nostalgia, I just don't think there's a baseball fan in the world who doesn't feel its pull. I mean, as much as I love the Mets (and I don't think I have to convince anyone of how much I love the Mets), I would be so happy if Robert Moses hadn't fucked it all up and we still had major league baseball in Brooklyn. Nostalgia for something you've never actually experienced?! now THAT'S the kind of magical shit only baseball can pull.

I'm trying to have the long-view on this one: I'm thinking about how I'll tell my kids about Shea, about my experiences there, about how I acquired one of the true loves of my life there. Still, it's not real yet to me that she's gone, and I know I'm gonna feel it hard when it finally does hit.

**************

In truth, I'm sure it will hit me hard when I go to Citi Field for the first time and Shea is a parking lot. I'm sure of it because I'm a nostalgia addict, and I'm sure of it because despite all its many faults, Shea has been my baseball home my whole life. But the fact is, no matter how many pictures and videos I see of Shea's destruction, it doesn't yet feel real to me that it's gone. This reminds me, interestingly enough, that I felt similarly (though obviously of different emotional impact) that I needed to see the remains of the World Trade Center before I could really believe it was gone (and this after seeing the second tower fall with my own eyes, out a window, not on TV). Until I'm there and can see it, until it's tangible, very little is real to me. And that's definitely the head-space I'm in with regard to the absence of Shea; it won't be real until I get off the train for the first time to go to Citi Field.

I'm sure I'll have a whole post about that when it happens, but until then? In my mind, there are still two stadia in Flushing, standing next to each other, and I go to see my team play in the old, decrepit, inferior of the two parks. It's going to take lived experience, I think, to change that vision.

All Gone

via Marty Noble's blog:

"The final upright moment of any part of Shea Stadium passed at 11:25 a.m. today. That piece was from Section 5, between the plate and first base. Jeff Wilpon says the plan remains to have all the debris replaced by a parking lot by Opening Day."

Somehow, I feel this deserves more commemoration than it's getting. Of course, as was pointed out to me last night, I get very sentimental over baseball. And I'm a sentimental Mets fan, so I think pretty much everything about its coming down deserves some sort of commemoration.

UPDDATE:

This is from William Valderrama, and is almost hard to watch. The sound of the fall is intense.

Noble on Shea

I've mentioned before that I generally agree with Marty Noble, enjoy his writing, and especially love his answers to fan's questions. And like most of the press and a lot of Mets fans, he didn't expect to feel any nostalgia for Shea. Because I'm a bit of a nostalgia freak, I expected to feel something at some point, but it didn't really hit me until the last game I went to there, the second-to-last of the season and among the most beautiful (if not THE most beautiful) games Johan Santana has ever thrown. In fact, it didn't even hit me until I was pulling up to the Shea station on the LIRR.


But it did hit me. Shea, for all it's faults (and there were many), is the only place the Mets have played in my lifetime, the field on which they've won both their World Series pennants. It's where I went to my first baseball game; it's where I've had so many happy times with my father and the rest of my family. And as much as I am looking forward to Citi, I know I'll miss Shea.

As it turns out, it took much longer to hit Marty Noble than it did me that he would fell nostalgia for the old stadium, and writes about it nicely today.