NEW YORK, NY – Regular Monday MTM lightening rod, DJ Eberle, has today off. But we’re hoping you’ll be entertained with today’s piece enough not to notice. With that, how about this MLB Fan Tale of Joy, Expensive Seats and Ignominious Mets?
The other night Buffalo Joe came down from “God’s Country” on Niagara Falls (Buffalo) with his crew of big-shot contractors (they earned it laying cemen/hauling Sheetrock, so stop judging, JG Clancy) for a Citi Field tailgate and needed Mets-fix. Our phone rang at 5:28 pm. “Kid, I have a ticket for you. 8 rows back of home plate. Kid, get here.” With a trip to the ballpark with Tall Matt and Replacement Matt to see Logan Verrett get shellacked scheduled, this was not the no-brainer it seems it would be.
After a quick conference with Mrs. Short Matt, it was determined that yours luckily would join Buffalo Joe (originally from Staten Island) and leave the Verrett appearance to the poor sots destined for Hades. A quick bicycle ride to Times Square got me there for the 6:08 pm 7 Express. Lots of Mets fans and Asian folks on the train, FYI. That’s fact, not a John Rockerism. Arrived at 6:29 pm and hustled to Parking Lot B, by the Casey Stengel sign, for some quick Coors Light shotguns.
Temporarily satiated, we headed to our Expensive Seats, 8 rows behind home plate and free… everything. The Coors Light exited as quickly as it entered, via sweat, no vomit from the theater of the absurd taking place on the diamond. It was stiflingly hot, after all, and we were sweating more than Terry Collins with a one-run lead in the 7th. Collins did manage the Mets into trailing 2-zip into the 9th, when his guys stopped listening to him and scored a deuce to tie it up. 17 innings of no-booze-to-ease-the-pain later, they lost and hopefully feeling remorse for punishing us there to watch…
After the tragic comedy ended with our heroic Ignominious Mets suffering another calamitous defeat, we laughed, commiserated and parted ways. Buffalo Joe and his boys had a near two-hour drive to Monticello, Triple F was bound for Long Island and yours truly was headed back to Hell’s Kitchen, which is fully earning its title in this oppressive Gatsby-like heat. Boom, the 7-Express was there waiting and within the time it takes Sandy Alderson time to say “No!” to spending any money properly, I was home.
Reflecting with humor about the night’s events, great seats and shouted commentary that the Mets bench clearly heard, like “Yeah, pitch to Goldschmidt, Terry. It’s not like he can hit!” – I bustled to my trusty 1995 mountain bike, only to find this:
Really? It’s a 1994! Nothing like your team taking the air out of your tires only to have someone up the ante and better that… by literally taking them. When Buffalo Joe heard of this abomination he aptly noted, “People suck, Kid.” He’s right. They suck the bib wazoo sometimes, don’t they?
But at least this night sucking on certain levels meant NOT having to attend Logan Varrett’s swan song. Thank you, Sweet Baby Jesus.
Viva Las Vegas, Logan.
Feel free to go opine (invoking douchey Bill O’Reilly) below and come back tomorrow for pal Bangin’ Ben Whitney, a man that doesn’t like women’s beach volleyball. And please follow us on Twitter – @MeetTheMatts and like our Facebook page, Meet The Matts. Thank you.
P.s… More with a man cursed as a Mets and Jets fan… living in Buffalo.
P.s.s… Buffalo Joe and Triple F both completely misjudged a foul pop (not a cursing father). It landed directly in front of them. Some accountant type scurried off with it. More insult to injury.