Meet the Mets

Riding the wave of nostalgia for ye olden ballparks that has swept over New York City (and, let's face it, all of major league baseball) the New York Mets recently unveiled a gorgeous $850 million dollar love letter which, unlike its predecessor Shea Stadium and its namesake corporation, will be in no need of a bailout. Since Fallon and I had little to do on Mother's Day after the obligatory (and richly deserved, I might add) phone calls home, we decided to drop in at the newest hangout just a stone's throw away from John Rocker's favorite MTA subway line.


I had two major objectives on Sunday. A breakdown of what they were and how we made out:

1. To hear, live as it was intended to be heard, a full-throated rendition of the original recording of "Meet the Mets". If you're unfamiliar with this ditty, a brief primer can be found here. There's something delightfully corny about a professional sports franchise in the largest city in America attaching itself to a song that sounds like a cross between Main Street USA's Dapper Dans and the banjo players from Deliverance, with a strong dose of 1961-era Big Bands thrown in for no apparent reason. For a reason I can't quite pinpoint, it would be impossible for any other team to get away with this, but for the Mets it couldn't have been a better fit. They went through the full-out sing along with requisite "follow-the-bouncing-ball lyrics" only once during the game, but when meeting the Mets, once is never enough.
2. To watch the Big Apple itself rise from center field. Unfortunately this proved difficult from our seats in the "Left Field Landing" area, which didn't offer much of an angle into the apple's home beyond the batter's eye in center field. Also complicating matters was the lack of a home run by the Mets, which is the only time the apple rises (to my knowledge; it may come out pre-game or after a Met victory, but some LA-habits die hard: I arrived late and left early. Oh well.) The preserved "old" apple and the accompanying New York skyline are on display in the center field food court.

As far as ballpark ratings go, Citi Field would have to get high marks in virtually all categories. Not a perfect 100, but it's got to be an seismic improvement over Shea Stadium, a park I never had the privilege of visiting. New York's NL franchise hasn't caught as much flack as their Yankee brethren over their ticket prices leading to rows and row of empty premium seats, but like any shiny new toy an afternoon at the park comes with a cost. Not $50 for upper-deck like you'll find in the Bronx, but the wallet definitely gets a little lighter after a trip to Citi box office.

As far amenities, Brian and I made a point to visit the food court where a local legend was growing - a legend known as the Shake Shack. As a recent emigre to the east coast I'd never heard of this, but to offer some context for you Chicago/L.A. types, this place is like a cross between Giordano's Pizza and the In'n'Out. Locals practically speak in a whisper about it; throw in the type of lines you might find at Pink's on La Brea during a hot Saturday in Los Angeles, and the myth is one of epic proportions. Even the website for this place is keen to remind you of how long you'll have to wait.

So what is Shake Shack? A burger and milkshake joint, primarily, with some hot dogs on the menu for variety. I did not taste their "cleverly" titled Shack-ago Dog, but on its face I'd offer the seal of approval for descriptions: Vienna all-beef on a poppy seed bun with mustard, relish, onion, cucumber, pickle, sport peppers, and celery salt. Sounds promising, but as we all know there are many pretenders to the "Chicago style" throne. Not all are worthy.

The Shake Shack got its start (and is still thriving) inside of Madison Square Park in downtown Manhattan; Citi Field is its third location. The greatest accomplishment I guess you can afford these guys is that the burgers are so good people will waste money just to get inside Citi Field and then stand in line for one. I mean, really stand in line. I felt like I was about to join the queue for Toy Story Midway Mania! when I saw the mass of humanity. I've admittedly not been to every pro sports stadium, but I'm pretty sure I've found the only one that felt the need to set up an extended rope line for a concessions stand. Maybe the patrons were unaware that a baseball game was being played - but then again, the Mets addressed this contingency by adding a video screen on the back of the main scoreboard to face all those waiting in line at the Shake Shack.

Since Fallon and I had no particular allegiance to the on-field result (the Mets wound up winning comfortably 8-4) we waited in line. And waited. And waited. About 25 minutes later we approached the counter and were promptly greeted with the fact that one of the famous shakes was gonna cost us $6.50. Now we really were in a scene from Pulp Fiction. I wanted to do a quick double-check with the cashier just to make sure they weren't sneaking something in on the side. A shake is, after all, milk and ice cream. We can haggle over quality of the ingredients, and I'm sure the Shack prides itself on top-quality grade items, but I have a difficult time imagining how any combination of milk and ice cream is worth $6.50. So we passed and instead picked up one of the famous Shake Burgers for only the slightly less ludicrous price of $5.75 (for a single; a double would've been preferable, but it cost a whopping $8.75). Even allowing for the inevitable supply-and-demand price jack which applies in three distinct places (sports arenas, airports, and Disney theme parks), these prices were out there. All told it took more than 30 minutes and almost two full innings, not to mention clost to $20 when you include fries, to obtain a Shake Shack burger. Would the meat and cheese live up to the hype?

Eh, yes and no. Price gouging aside, this was a quality burger (one might have even said, "MMM, this is a tasty burger!") To describe the taste for those of who weren't there, it was very much on par with what you might get at Culver's, almost with a really rich "buttery" feel to the bun and a somewhat crisp touch on the meat. I wouldn't be eager to waste almost one-third of the baseball game to get one again, but don't interpret that as a slight - not many things would be on that list, least of all a burger that despite all promises to the contrary falls short of being "the greatest thing ever created". It was good, but not that good.

I've got more thoughts on Citi Field, specifically the sometimes odd disconnect between the franchise occupying it and baseball history, which apparently didn't bother any of the Met brain trust. Then again, these are the guys who entrusted their team to Jerry Manuel (snark!). I'll save further rumination on the House that The Collapsed Banking Industry Built for another post. In the meantime, I encourage all of you in the greater NY area to step on up and greet the Mets!