🍎 Memorable Mets games I've been to (Part 1)

Hello fellow Mets fans! Andrew here. Welcome to today’s (different) edition of Almost A Met.

So, I recently read (friend of the newsletter) Greg Prince’s amazing book Faith and Fear In Flushing, where he noted that so many moments of his life were intertwined with the Mets. That resonated with me. I think I sent my family like 10 pictures of text from the book and was like “same.”

Then it dawned on me that I have been lucky enough to have been at a lot of monumental Mets games. Y’all said in the survey I did a while back that you wanted more personal Mets thoughts from me. So I figured why not share them with you?

I won’t be as eloquent as Greg, that would be quite difficult. (Seriously, go read the book if you haven’t). And it’s not that I need to prove my Mets fandom: I think my obsessive Mets knowledge is clearly evident with me writing about the likes of Jhonny Peralta, Brian Fuentes, and Gerardo Parra every week.

I’ve just covered them professionally, but also been a rabid fan clicking refresh to buy tickets. The result is the same: My fandom has led me to being at a lot of great Mets moments.

These are in no particular order, so I’m not ranking experiences, just sharing them with you. Some of the games are huge Mets moments, others are just important to me personally.

As I was writing, I hit the limit for the email clipping, so I realized that I needed to break this out into multiple emails. So, expect at least a part two in the future.

Were you at any of these games? Let me know in the comments. Maybe we unknowingly sat next to each other!

Andrew

For those of you who don’t know, I used to work at a daily newspaper in New Jersey. I covered local news, but also broke some major MLB news later in my career there.

When the Mets made their magical run to the playoffs in 2015, my editors asked me to cover the “fan” side of things for every home game. So while the beat reporters were doing their normal work we all love to read, I was mingling with fans every day.

I spoke to people in the parking lot, those who were tailgating, and folks who took the 7 train before the games. Before the first pitch, my press pass allowed me to wander (almost) anywhere in the stadium, so I spoke to fans on the various concourses. I wrote so many fun stories, and I’ll never forget just being able to revel in the passion everyone had during every game.

When giving me this assignment, one of my editors — knowing I was a Mets fan — said “get there early and just take a moment and let it all sink in.” I did just that. I walked through the tunnels below Citi Field and to the field. I just took it all in. I’ll never forget it.

Anyway, while I was working like crazy during the hours before every game, I was able to relax after I went to the press box and filed my story. (Early in the postseason it was the actual press box, which was obviously a thrill for me. During the World Series they put me and other media in an overflow press box in Left Field where the Metro Market is today). But after the first pitch, I just got to be a fan. I’d throw a sweatshirt over my button down shirt and tie and get to watch the Mets be in the playoffs. It ruled.

I watched so many of the iconic moments of that postseason unfold. I was tweeting like a madman, and generally having the time of my life.

I was still pretty new in my journalism career and one of my best friends texted me and said something along the lines of “Andrew, whatever happens in your journalism career, at least you got to do this and cover the Mets.”

Couldn’t have said it better myself.

OMG.

This was probably the most fun I had at a game. The mood at the stadium before the game was joyful. How could it not be? Every Mets fan (including me) was coming off the high of the Gay-Grimace-OMG-Mets ride that the 2024 season was. We were facing the hated Phillies. We had a chance to eliminate them on our home field and continue this wild season.

I went with my friend Connor and spent an absurd amount of money on an OMG sweatshirt at the team shop before we settled in. I was able to snag tickets in the 500s directly behind home plate.

It's funny, the vibes were great before the game. But for the first few innings, the crowd was kind of muted. The Mets kept being unable to capitalize on having runners in scoring position. They kept missing chances.

But there seemed to be an unspoken deal with everyone at Citi Field. When the Mets break through — and we all expected them to, given their season — this place is going to explode.

And then it happened. Lindor hit that grand slam. And we were loud. Really, really, really loud. (Seriously, watch this, it’s wild).

You couldn’t hear “OMG” play over the stadium speakers. Everyone was yelling. A stranger hugged me. I got beer spilled on me. I didn’t care. It was insane seeing 50,000 people all just experiencing pure joy. I’ll never forget it.

Apparently my wife was on a phone call with my mom when this happened and both of them freaked out and were saying how crazy it was that I was there. They probably feared that I’d drop dead.

After the game, no one wanted to leave the stadium. We all did the obligatory “Let’s Go Mets!” and “Phillies suck!” chants down the Citi Field staircases, but when we got outside, no one wanted to go home.

Crowds of people were celebrating outside of the stadium. Some went to the stage the Mets had set up, but most people were just basking in the moment. Random groups of people started dancing next to folks who brought speakers. I saw a group of like 50 people dancing to “Don’t Stop Believing.” We were just reveling in the happiness. Pure baseball joy.

The magic of 2024 will be hard to beat.

Howie Rose said it best in his final call of that season: “Once the immediate disappointment … wears off you’ll realize what an incredible ride this team took you for this year… People watch baseball for a lot of years and never see the run that the Mets went on during this postseason.”

I’m grateful to have been able to witness one of those incredible moments.

Being an extremely online Mets fan helped me here.

I remember reading Twitter rumblings that Wright was going to announce something big. We all knew his injuries had taken a toll, I had a gut feeling he would announce some final farewell. I knew that if he was going to announce a final game, I needed to be there.

Mike Piazza was my favorite player when I was young, but Wright quickly became my next favorite player. He was the face of a franchise that I loved despite them being mostly bad during so much of my life. In some ways, he resembled so many Mets fans — sticking with them despite all evidence that you shouldn’t. That meant a lot to me.

So as I watched the press conference that was announced, I had my fingers ready to secure tickets to whatever games I needed to. After refreshing a million times, I was able to snag three tickets, and two of my friends tagged along for the game.

We tailgated beforehand, obviously booed 1B Peter O’Brien after he made that catch in foul territory, and chanted “Win for David!” as the game dragged on into extra (extra) innings.

Luckily, it was capped off with a win and Wright’s speech was great.

It felt like a bookend for a certain era of my fandom. My childhood Mets fandom was over, it would form into something else in the future. (You’re reading it).

I know I opened this newsletter with the 2015 playoff run. But I guess technically I covered every Mets home game during that time expect for one.

There was a lottery system to get tickets, so naturally I asked everyone I knew who would be even remotely interested in attending to sign up so I had a better chance of going to the game. My wife (still masquerading as a Yankees fan) was actually the one who won tickets in the lottery system to snag seats. I told my editors at the time I’d be happy to cover everything except for this one game. I needed to be there as a fan.

The Mets hadn’t been to the playoffs in forever. Citi Field’s first-ever playoff game would have been enough for me to want to be there. But we all know the entire story surrounding it: Chase Utley’s dirty slide into Ruben Tejada.

If I was pumped to see playoff baseball in Citi Field for the first time ever, I was equally as pumped to see what would happen next as the drama between the two teams unfolded.

Before the Lindor 2024 grand slam, the boos raining down on Utley were the loudest thing I’d ever heard in a ballpark.

I think Hank Azaria said it best when he described this game and the feelings among Mets fans perfectly: “It was Roman in there. It was like the Coliseum.”

As the Mets went on to pummel the Dodgers, chanting “We want Utley!” became common place. But the best part was: If there was ever a lull in the crowd, you’d hear someone somewhere just scream “Fuck you Utley!”

It was an amazing experience, and I left that stadium truly feeling like the Mets were the team of destiny that season. Unfortunately, as well all know, they weren’t.

O.K., I didn’t know this would be DeGrom’s last game as a Met, but I think I knew in my heart.

Even after the incredibly disappointing way 2022 ended, I needed to get back in the stadium for playoff baseball. I was able to get tickets for Game 2 of the Wild Card Series against the Padres. I knew I might see an elimination game, which would have been heartbreaking, but I also knew it might be the last time DeGrom pitched for the team.

DeGrom was certainly going to opt-out, and while it seemed like the Mets would try and keep the best pitcher in baseball, it was no sure thing. In fact, I expected him to get more money elsewhere.

Regardless, if this was going to be it, I wanted to watch DeGrom degrominate for one last time.

Somewhat surreally to me, as I was waiting in line to get a beer, me and another fan watched the game on the screens. He said something along the lines of “DeGrom is dealing. Can’t wait to watch more of it next year.” And I responded: “I hope so, but I wouldn’t count on it.” His response was: “Wait, what?” It was one of those moments where I was like not everyone is as crazy invested in this team as you are.

Anyway, DeGrom wasn’t his usual dominant self, but he still was awesome. Six innings, two earned runs, and eight strikeouts.

The Mets won 7-3, and it felt like maybe just maybe they would be able to turn their end-of-season disappointment around and sneak themselves further into the playoffs in the third game of the series the following night.

We all know they didn’t, but at least I got to cheer DeGrom off the mound for the last time.

On September 19, 2015 my (now) wife and I went to our first Subway Series game together. She knew I was an obsessive Mets fan. We worked on the college newspaper together and she watched me for over a year stay up until 3 a.m. every Wednesday night to write my Mets column so it made it into the paper the next morning. She grew up in a Yankees household, but I was willing to overlook it because she was (and is) the best person I’ve ever met.

I promise you she’s basically a Mets fan now. To be fair, I think it would be hard not to be living with me. The Mets even made it into her wedding vows. At the very least, she recognizes that the Mets play a very large role in my mental health.

(I know this is unhealthy. Logically, I know this. But if I wasn’t this way, we wouldn’t have Almost A Met, so consider my ridiculous obsession with the Mets a win, alright?)

The result of the game? A 5-0 Mets loss, including a three-run home run from old friend Carlos Beltran in the first inning. Weirdly it didn’t matter though. I was too happy to be at a baseball game with someone I loved. What can I say, I’m a simple guy.

To be honest, I think her Mets fandom began to develop just a few weeks later as the Mets went on their magical run to the World Series that I was covering. She would be texting me throughout every game.

Fast forward around than a decade later: The two of us running around our apartment screaming after Pete Alonso hit his home run in the 2024 NL Wild Card Series would become a foundational memory in my brain.

Some back story into my Mets fandom: My dad and I went to a lot of Mets games when I was growing up. We split a season ticket package with our neighbors where me and him would essentially get to go to every Sunday home game throughout the season. (Kind of like Max Kranick).

I’ve got so many memories of walking into Shea Stadium on sunny summer days. Our seats were on the first base side in the green seats. I don’t recall the exact section, unfortunately. My dad would always buy me some merch (sorry, I can only imagine how much that cost).

I’d eagerly get the latest edition of the Mets Magazine if there was a new one and score the game, and we got to be friendly with the people sitting around us. One person — I can’t remember their name — would always be there in a puffy jacket, scoring the game, and listening to the Mets on the radio. Another regular in the section spilled beer on me one time and offered to buy me whatever I wanted. (We declined the offer). A vivid memory I have is just after the Mets traded for John Thompson in 2001 (If you are reading this far down, you are welcome for an awesome Immaculate Grid pull), they were like “he’s no different than the last guy.” I don’t know why this stuck in my head, but it did.

Anyway, one of the games we ended up at was Todd Zeile’s last game. It’s random, but hey, he had a very memorable final MLB game.

Stay tuned for a Part 2 of this series in the future! There are number retirements, HOF ceremonies, funny anecdotes and so much more to come.