To my darling daughter before her first Mets game…I’m sorry

metscitifield

This Sunday, I’ll travel to CitiField with my wife and daughter to watch my beloved New York Metropolitans face the Bravos on Easter. It will be my two-and-a-half year old’s first major league baseball game. I can’t wait. Maybe Mr. Met will be dressed like a bunny. Heck, maybe the Mets will even win. Regardless, I’ll do my best to explain a few things to her leading up to the first pitch, but I also feel obligated to capture my thoughts on paper as well as, of course, my apology to her. Just for the record… 

Dear Ellie:

You know how daddy always asks if you know how much he loves you? Right, as big as a house. You know I do. And remember how we talked about going to the baseball game on Sunday? Well, we’re going. It’s going to be SOOO much fun. It’s at a place called CitiField. Just remember, whatever happens there, and in your future with baseball, DADDY STILL LOVES YOU.

I can’t wait for Sunday afternoon. When you came into this world more than two years ago, mommy and I made a deal. You know how you always say “is it a deal?” It was deal, and it is a deal. Just like that. Mommy’s favorite teams are the Giants and Yankees. Daddy’s favorite teams are the Mets and Jets. You can’t like all those teams equally (it’s against the rules),  so we made a compromise. We can talk about what compromise means at another time, because it’s not the quickest thing to explain. One day when you can read, you can go here to get all the background. If blogs still exist…which is weird to think about…but that’s a total tangent.  Let’s just say mommy and daddy’s compromise is why you always wear those “big blue” t-shirts on Sundays in the fall, even though Daddy can’t stand it.

Back to this Sunday. We’re going to go in a car…or maybe a choo-choo train… to the stadium. There will be lots of people there. You’re going to get to see and share daddy’s baseball team. OUR team is called “the Mets.” We haven’t been very good at baseball for a little while now. But I think we’re going to get better. Remember how Marco and George the monkey — and Wyatt from Super Why — practice their baseball and get better? That’s like the Mets. They just need some more practice together.

The best teams in baseball play in something called the World Series each year. Daddy was nine years old when the Mets last won the World Series. One of his favorite players was a guy named Mookie Wilson. Every time he used to come to bat, the crowd would say “Mooooookie.” In the dugout, where the players live, they did all sorts of sillystuff that season like this thing called the hotfoot where they rolled up gum around a cigarette and stuck it to the back of someone’s shoe and lit in on fire. I know, funny. I mean, not funny. Fire is bad. The point is, that was almost 30 years ago now!! Maybe you and I will get to see them win the World Series again. That would be fun.

Anyway, this is all to tell you that I really hope you enjoy our trip to see the Mets. We’re going to make sure you are dressed in blue-and-orange because those are the New York Mets’ colors. I hope you love the game and the crowd and the grass and the stands. I hope you can’t take your eyes off the scoreboard and fall in love with the apple (assuming you get to see it rise out of its hat).

I hope you discover cotton candy and turn your entire face blue (wait a second, is this starting to sound like Shawshank Redemption? What? Forget it…). I hope you can’t stop clapping. I hope you make it to the seventh-inning stretch. I hope you stand up and cheer but don’t participate in the wave. I hope Cowbell Man is there and maybe you get to meet him. I hope you enjoy the intro video better than the Jumbotron airplane race. I hope you can say “I remember Zach Wheeler when” one day.

If this goes where it could go, we’ll find time to talk about Beltran’s strikeout and that Castillo dropped pop-up that sent dada off the deep end for a few weeks five years ago. (somebody even wrote about in a rival team’s newspaper). Oh, we’ve got all kinds other CRAZY stories. We can talk about Bonilla, Bay and Benitez. Tank and Turk. Willie and Art. Doc and the Kid. Mike Scott, Kevin Bass, Dave Henderson and even a guy they called the Rocket — just like on Little Einsteins. But that’s all for much later.

On Sunday, I hope your first date with the Mets is a memorable one. But, most of all, assuming you do fall for this game and this team, I hope you’ll forgive me when you get older. If you read this years from now, I’m sure you’ll understand my preemptive apology. Although, I hope I’m wrong.

All my love,
Daddy

Filed Under: BaseballMLBOUT OF BOUNDS

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About the Author: Cecilio's Scribe is the founder of The Legend of Cecilio Guante and a generally pessimistic fan of the Mets, Jets, Knicks and Rangers. A fine NYC-based gentlemen who hones his marketing skills as his primary trade by day. Husband, chef, father of a newborn and after-hours blogger by night. Proud alum of the mighty Big Red of Cornell. University. Hot sauce devotee. Staunch protester of the continued wussifcation of American sports. Sometimes I rhyme slow, sometimes I rhyme quick.

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