I didn’t stay for the ceremonies.  I will make that admission at the beginning in case anyone was hoping for my take.  I’m sure they were touching.  I’m sure they were very sentimental.  I’m sure if I had stayed through the very long delay between the end of a season and the last goodbyes to a stadium, I would have been feeling suitably nostalgic.  It was not to be.

In retrospect, the events leading up to the end should have served as a warning.  Once again, my Mets went into a final weekend series against the Florida Marlins fighting for their playoff lives.  Once again, a Mets pitcher threw the game of his life on the final Saturday in order to keep hope alive.  Last year it was John Maine throwing a one-hitter.  This year it was Johan Santana tossing a complete game shutout on only three days rest.  If those parallels didn’t serve enough warning, the weather should’ve been the final signal of what was to come.

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