Shea it aint so!

Many people don't know it, but I grew up in The Long Island suburbs of New York City. I've met lots of people who claim New York as home - some native, others transplants - but oddly, I never seem to really connect with these people. Someone once told me that if you live in New York City, you'll end up never leaving, because no other city can match the energy of New York. Perhaps that is true, and maybe that's why I don't seem to have too much New Yorker in me. I left New York when I was still pretty young; around age 11. Most eleven year olds from the 'burbs don't go into the city to tie one on. At least, not when I was a kid!

To be more precise, I never really left New York, because I never really knew I was from there; at least not from New York City. Growing up in Nassau County wasn't that different from other suburbs. As a kid, my world revolved around school, friends, and my neighborhood on the North Shore. I didn't even realized that my father actually commuted into the city for work until I was 8 or 9!

The city seemed like an exotic place, far removed from my daily grade school concerns. I visited the city with my parents or classmates on a few occasions, but most of my voyages into the boroughs were to catch a plane to Florida that was leaving from JFK or La Guardia.

Most of our family vacations began at La Guardia airport, and I remember passing by Flushing Meadows on the cab rides into Queens. I remember seeing Shea Stadium sitting near the airport toward the end of the cab ride - this was always much more spectacular at night, when the neon player silhouettes were lit up. In many ways, Shea Stadium is one of the few icons of New York that actually had meaning to me growing up. I didn't go to any Mets games as a kid (baseball didn't really interest me), but I still considered myself a Mets fan. You see, when you were a kid growing up near New York, you are either a Mets fan or a Yankees fan - since I had never even seen Yankee Stadium, the choice seemed very logical!

I had plenty of friends who were legitimate Mets fans. They quoted stats and watched games. I'm sure some of them even went to games at Shea. Still, I could never muster the same level of excitement and intrigue that they did.

I understood the basics of the game. I even learned some names of players that were famous at the time: Daryl Strawberry, Mookie Wilson, Lenny Dykstra, Keith Hernandez. I had Mets baseball caps and baseball cards, and a baseball signed by the 1986 World Series Champions. Still, the game itself never really interested me - not then and not now.

I've since become more attached to other stadiums...

Oddly enough, I remember playing baseball (or softball or something similar) in fourth grade, when a friend of mine got tagged out at second base. I remember one of my friends (I think his name was Brendan) running over and shouting at the second baseman. Brendan was a huge baseball fan (Yankees, unfortunately. Nobody's perfect), and I can still remember him shouting, "Tide goes to the runner! Tide goes to the runner!"

This made no sense to me, but I chalked it up as some strange "baseball-ism" and didn't pursue it further. If you are imagining this scene in your mind's eye, perhaps conjuring up images reminiscent of the Little Rascals or The Sandlot, don't linger there too long, because it's time to fast-forward twenty-four years into the future!

You see, this weekend I was reading the book On Writing, by Steven King. I learned something enlightening today, and it didn't have to do with plot, theme or character.

I learned that Brendan had it all wrong! It's TIE goes to the runner, not tide! As in, if the runner touches base at the same time the baseman catches the ball (that would be the tie part), the runner is safe.

Now it all makes sense! Pity it took twenty-four years to clean up that miscommunication.

Hope you all have a happy Presidents Day!

-Lee