Earlier I recapped all the pro-shot David Wright stuff including his walk-on, walk-off and speech. This post is my personal account of the night.
Eventually the summer ends. The nights get longer, the daytime temperatures can’t overcome the lack of sunlight, and it’s time to admit to wearing long pants.
Driving to Citi Field I felt like I was on my was to The Last Game. Not David’s last game, it felt like it was going to be the last game ever. Maybe the Mets really were just a TV show and this was going to be the final episode . What other stories could there be left to tell, where could we possibly go from here that would matter.
This time I wasn’t chasing my own youth. I had my son with me, now taller than me, but somehow still squeezing into his David Wright 2013 All Star Game jersey that I must have “bought him big” – so it was nice to see that jersey make an appearance. This time not chasing my youth but his. Him on my right side, in more or less the same seats we had when he was younger and we went to games. My son now old enough to see HIS favorite player leave the game.
It actually looked odd to see Wright’s name in the lineup
And out came David by himself…
and back at third where he belongs
And next out came The Virus…and for tonight it was nice to see them together.
This was the “saddest” I got. The night was far less sad than I had feared, and I never lost it.
I took about 300 pictures. Pictures that at any other game would be nothing, but for this game I wanted to get every last shot of David on the field…because it might be the actual last shot.
After David popped out a man in my row got up to go to the bathroom. I told him, “They might take David out on defense” and he seemed like I might be a wise old sage. “Up to you.” He said he’d hold it. He made the right decision. After DW came out the man thanked me and we laughed about how I would forever be “that guy” in his story. You’re welcome.
Then David was gone. It wasn’t sad. It was glorious. I wondered if I should end the blog. I had lived long enough to see the Mets finally get a Big Moment right. AND they were properly dressed in pinstripes (well except David, violating MLB Uniform rules as always). People told me no. OK, I will stick around until Mission Accomplished (the Mets win the World Series while nicely dressed).
Then the game slogged and slogged – I talked about that in the Morning Laziness, and the spirit of this post is not the spirit of THAT post, which is why I split them – but finally the game ended and David said goodbye to us. And it somehow wasn’t sad.
As I told my oldest kid yesterday, if you run this blog for 11 seasons, these are the moments for which you do them. Yesterday was about everything this blog was about. It’s why I do this.
Today – back to goofing on the Mets and then finding a way to kill off winter until we do this again next summer.
But yesterday – instead of chasing my own childhood, my own spring, I chased my son’s. I’m almost 50 now and my own summer is turning to fall. The games no longer about me and my long-gone dad, now about me and my son. And that’s what baseball does best.
Thank you David Wright.
