Yeah, But It's My Dump

Even though my final memory of Shea Stadium will be a bitter one, most of the rest of my times there were pleasant.
Just in the three years since I started this blog I've written about many great times.
There was a rain-soaked 10 hour double-header against the Giants that ended with a walkoff win, there was Game 6 of the 2006 NLCS, when the Concierge almost broke his ankle and there was technically Chase's first game.
But those were just the games in the last couple years. What about when I was a kid, and Papa Poop used to sit down with the schedule and pick out a couple games each year. I almost always got to go to one on or near my birthday. I remember the score of my first game and the starting pitcher (Mike Scott). There was the 18-inning game against the Pirates when Rusty Staub had to play the outfield but they kept moving him between left and right field to make it less likely for him to have to field a ball. That was one of the only games we ever left early, and we never let Papa Poop forget it.
I remember going on fireworks night, the only night of the year Mama Poop would agree to go. I remember eating pretzels from the guys with the shopping carts in the parking lot after the game.
But mostly I remember going there with my dad. When I was a little kid, when I was a teenager, and even now, I still try to get to a few games a year with my dad.
And I guess it's fitting that now I've got my own kid, he can have his own stadium (my dad had Ebbets Field and the Polo Grounds, I had Shea, Chase will have CitiField), where we'll make new memories.
But for now I'll cherish the old ones that I made in Shea Stadium.
As I exited Shea for the last time, I kissed my hand and tapped her bricks, then looked over my shoulder and said goodbye for the last time.
During the winter they'll tear her down brick-by-brick, but the memories will always be there.