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As another season of ineptitude draws to a close, I look back on a sad sack trip to Citi Field in 2012.
The scene is not completely dissimilar to a post-apocalyptic horror movie. The skies overhead are a misty shade of gray. Plastic bags and napkins float aimlessly in a deserted rotunda while swirling winds howl through the open corridors.
In the distance, giant metallic speakers amplify the sound of a trumpet. The familiar tune ricochets between empty seats and fails to be heard all at once. Instead, it arrives at the ears in strange intervals. The sound system is calibrated to account for the throngs of bodies and ambient noise which serve to stifle the movement of the sound waves, but the absence of these factors cause the “CHARGE!” melody to bounce around and distort chaotically. It sounds awkward and pitchy. It makes me anxious.
But this isn't a low-budget film about the end times. It is the end times. At least for the New York Mets. The place is Citi Field. The time is September 10, 2012.
The announced attendance for this division matchup versus the Nationals is 21,923 – but this is almost certainly an overstatement. Sure, Mets fans have made a habit of seeing the glass half-empty and there are close to two thousand people in the Shake Shack line at any given time, but the capacity of Citi Field is listed at 45,000 and the eyeball test quickly confirms that the place is nowhere close to half-full.
After grabbing a Shack Burger of my own, I arrive at my seats just as the third inning begins. I am just in time to witness Kelly Shoppach drop a foul pop-up behind home plate. This gaff is the catalyst for both the game’s first audible reaction from the crowd (a slight groan) and the game’s first run scored (a Kurt Suzuki bomb to left on the very next pitch). After pitcher Gio Gonzalez and homeless person Jayson Werth make quick outs, messiah Bryce Harper walks and infielder Ryan Zimmerman crushes a home run to dead center. The inning is certainly ugly, but my Shack Burger is dependably delicious.
The bottom of the frame is also eventful. The first two batters in the inning go down on six pitches, but the next two draw walks off a shaky Gonzalez. This brings David Wright to the plate with two on and two out. At this point a lonely bass drum is piped in through the speakers and a Jumbotron graphic instructs the crowd to shout “Let’s Go Mets”. Instead, most of the Citi Field patrons opt to check the Monday Night Football scores on their phones or sit quietly with their hands folded in their laps.
The silver lining of the painful silence is that it allows me to hear the audio from the SNY television broadcast being played in the field level concourse. As Wright buckles at a 3-2 curveball to end the inning, Gary Cohen graciously reminds the viewers at home that they just witnessed the 100th consecutive home inning in which the Mets failed to score more than one run – the MLB’s longest such streak in 99 years.
As their team approaches historic levels of ineptitude, Mets fans approach historic levels of apathy. Most people in my section continue to watch moving football helmets, several shrug, and a guy in a Strasburg jersey snickers.
Things don’t get much better for the home team in the fourth, as Ian Desmond extends the Nationals’ lead to 5-0 with a two-run shot to right with nobody out.
However, perhaps the second-largest crowd response of the night comes during the very next at-bat, when Danny Espinosa puts in a bid for back-to-back homers. Center fielder Andres Torres has other plans, chasing down the towering fly ball and making a leaping catch at the wall to save a run. After tumbling into the warning track dirt, he leaps to his feet and holds the ball triumphantly over his head. It briefly provokes memories of Endy Chavez’s game-saving catch during Game 7 of the 2006 NLCS, but then pretty much everyone – including Torres – realizes that this game is the polar opposite of the NLCS. I can visibly witness the moment this sinks in for Torres, as he swiftly drops the Statue of Liberty pose, chuckles awkwardly, and glances over at Scott Hairston in right field for approval.
Approximately 967 people look up from their phones, 145 people clap, and 32 people whistle. Two thousand people still stand in the Shake Shack line, oblivious to the entire play. According to the announced attendance figures, the remaining 18,779 people take no action at all – but it’s hard to say with any degree of accuracy since one-third of them are invisible.
This level of enthusiasm is only surpassed during the seventh-inning stretch, when Mr. Met arrives with a T-shirt gun – despite a bottom of the fourth that could be considered electrifying by recent standards. After Scott Hairston leads the inning off with a solo home run, Ike Davis walks. Kelly Shoppach and Jason Bay both promptly fly out, bringing Andres Torres to the plate. Making a serious case for player of the game, Torres doubles to center. Davis is inexplicably held at third base. Justin Turner flies out to end the inning. Someone must have told him (or the overly conservative third base coach) that a timely hit in that situation (or sending Davis) would have ended the prolific 100-inning streak mentioned earlier by Gary Cohen.
Instead, the Mets tack six more innings to it, never scoring again in a 5-1 loss.
As the remaining stragglers head toward the exits, after some unknown call-up strikes out on three pitches to end the game, the public address system reminds Mets fans that they can come back tomorrow night, as National League wins-leader R.A. Dickey goes for his 19th victory of the season. It’s worth noting that at this point in the night, R.A. Dickey is no longer the National League wins-leader. That title now belongs to Gio Gonzalez. You know, the pitcher who won the game that literally just ended.
A few disgruntled fans take notice of the error, claiming that the Mets management is purposely stretching the truth to increase the dismal (even when inflated) attendance figures. I concoct no such conspiracy theories, concluding that it is an honest mistake made by a public address announcer who wasn’t paying attention.
After all, it’s a Monday in September. The team in front of him is 22 games out with 21 to play. He probably has a fantasy football team. He definitely has a smartphone. Can you blame him? What would you be watching?