Last night, Andy and I went to see the Mets play against the San Diego Padres at Shea Stadium, courtesy of season tickets from Andy's work. Not the best game in the world from a technical stand-point, but there were three home runs (two from the Mets) and the seats were great. Dog and beers and a great night. Mets went down 9-4. It all seemed lost with the Mets down 5-0 after the fifth, but scoring three in the sixth made a win seem possible. The Padres wrapped it up in the eighth.
It was a strange environment, one with its positives and negatives. First of all, it didn't have the same amount of passion as would a Premiership match. This is understandable, given that they play around 160 times in a season (almost every day) before you even consider the play-offs. This must dilute the passion somewhat, and it's certainly something that Alex Ferguson wouldn't put up with. Season ticket holders must pay a fortune (our tickets were $58) due to the sheer frequency of the games. However, I think the passion which people take to Premiership matches brings with it a certain level of hatred and animosity that I didn't see last night. The racism and sexism that is all too prevalent in football wasn't there, and it was good to be in such a diverse crowd. Although I was cut short by Andy on beginning to applaud a Padres play (in America, everyone plays to win, losing is not an option, in any walk of life), it didn't feel in any way like sitting with Ben (avid Leeds fan) in the home section of Stamford Bridge - stay stumm or die.
It was odd to see so many people leaving early (to get out of the parking lot), even a number of the Padres fans. Although you see this in soccer (sorry - have to differentiate now), it's only when the result is sufficiently in the bag/down the toilet.
I have to choose now between supporting the Mets (à la Man. City) or the Yankees (à la Man. Utd.). Mets fans are the best fans (so I was told by the announcer last night), and I'm proud to be one of them.
