Outside Counsel

Shea Stadium is the second oldest ballpark in the National League. Just a fluke, really-- Wrigley is the oldest, of course, but the Nationals went on a building spree in the 60s and 70s. The Mets came into the league at the same time as the Houston Colt 45s, who played at Colt Stadium until the Astrodome was finished. Shea opened in April of 64, in time for the season. The Astrodome opened in November. It was the first place I saw a big league game-- my folks had been Dodger fans, and we were a National League family. The fashion of naming ballparks after people has largely gone out of vogue, but I have always like the fact that the Mets played in a stadium named after a lawyer: Bill Shea, of Shea & Gould, brought National League ball back to the City (and hockey to Nassau County-- it'd be a nice gesture if the Coliseum were to be renamed for him). It is still a little hard for me to get my mind around the fact that there is no more Shea & Gould-- they were a classy shop-- and now there won't be a Shea Stadium any more either. Funny to think that there is no monument to the man, stranger still that the stadium outlived the law firm.

As a ballpark what Shea had going for it was that it was a ballpark. The sight lines were okay, but it was somewhat sprawling, so there wasn't really that sense of being right on top of the action that you get at newer parks (or older parks). I suppose this was part of why it was such a good pitcher's park-- the big foul territory had to have helped. When you consider the players who took the mound in the Mets colors it is pretty remarkable that none ever pitched a no-hitter there. I've been to plenty of ballparks I like better, but Shea was my home field. It's where we saw Gary Carter hit an extra inning walk-off home run on Opening Day to win his first game as a Met. (We had field level seats that day. It was freezing. Neil Allen, who had gone to the Cards the year before in the trade that brought Keith Hernandez to the club had spotted some people he knew sitting in the row in front of us and came over to chat with them about a prospect they knew, and what a "bird dog scout" had to say about him.) We were in Row U for Game Six. (The guys behind us, Boston fans, were pretty vocal. Throughout the game they chanted, "We. Are. Row V!" When Dave Henderson hit his home run in the top of the 10th to put the Sox ahead one of them yelled, "They're going put a statue of that guy in Copley Square!") We were there when Kirk Gibson hit his homer in the 88 NLCS. And there were plenty of games before those seasons, when the best reason to go was because the city was like Calcutta, and Shea was a place to catch a breeze. The New York Roadrunners had a race that started in the parking lot, when out past the National Tennis Center, around Flushing Meadows Park and back, down the third base line and across home plate, where you were greeted by Mr. Met. EGA, GJA and I ran it a few times-- you got a ticket to that evening's game, too. I'll miss it.

UPDATE I am not alone in my affection for the Big Shea. Paul Lukas chimes in, on a make-or-break weekend for the Metropolitans, with a homage to the place, including a few details that I was unaware of.