...losing my religion at Shea with my nephew Will and some F.O.G. (friends of George, the man responsible for our amazing seats).
(Click to watch)
As you can see, I was taking the proceedings very seriously, despite the fact that we had a two run lead. I just had the feeling that two runs would not be enough for our erratic closer, Billy "Armando" Wagner. And, of course, as it turned out, the game was tied by the time Billy was given the ball to completely blow the game for the home team. (Note to Billy: You might want to think about losing your entrance song, Enter Sandman -- you can steal it here, Metallica/Napster fans -- it just doesn't seem to have the consistent, desired effect on your opponents anymore. Just sayin'...)
Anyway, even though we lost, it was a great night at Shea. We got to see Carlos Delgado belt two big home runs and watch Jose, Jose, Jose, Jose...Jose, Jose Reyes break out of his excitable slump and go 3-4.
Sadly, Nicole (goddess of beer and hot dogs) was not in our section Friday night. Instead we were treated to this:
Her lipstick made quite an impression on my nephew.
We were also treated to Jon Stewart throwing out the first pitch:
...Chad Bradford knuckle-dragging his way through two innings:
...and, unfortunately, Tony LaRusso's pants:
However, the highlight of the night may have come before my nephew and I even left Manhattan. As we were walking toward the subway, some guy asked us if we were Mets fans (it was a pretty good guess considering the fact that Will was wearing a Mets shirt and I was wearing both a Mets sweatshirt and ball cap). It turns out that Pedro (yes, that Pedro) was around the corner buying perfume for his lady at Bond No. 9. So we waited outside for about 10 minutes
...and he eventually came out and graciously agreed to take a picture
(note the excercise ball in Pedro's hand)
...and sign my ball cap.
After that, the rest of the evening was gravy.
Mets in six...
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