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Jason Fry and Greg Prince
Faith and Fear in Flushing made its debut on Feb. 16, 2005, the brainchild of two longtime friends and lifelong Met fans.

Greg Prince discovered the Mets when he was 6, during the magical summer of 1969. He is a Long Island-based writer, editor and communications consultant. Contact him here.

Jason Fry is a Brooklyn writer whose first memories include his mom leaping up and down cheering for Rusty Staub. Check out his other writing here.

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It's a Stump, But It's Our Stump

This Saturday at noon, what is left of Shea Stadium will be celebrated by the denizens of Baseball-Fever and all who wish to join them. They're meeting at noon on the Northern Boulevard side of the street, at the plaza where the traffic circle sat, if you're interested. The occasion will be marked by walking around, taking pictures and remembering that there used to be a ballpark there. So bring your camera and a few Kleenex.

I've been morbidly attracted to the photos the Feverites, Stadium Page and others have been posting with diligence since the evening of September 28. Shea was the focal point of my life 'til now, so I suppose its demolition is a once-in-a-lifetime event. It's hard not to look, probably harder than it has been to look. The only time I really felt as if something inside me was being demolished was when I saw the Gate E entrance teetering on the brink of extinction. Let's meet at Gate E, I liked to say. Now Gate E was being permanently shuttered into oblivion.

The Gate E slice of Shea is gone now and I really don't want to gaze up close at what little remains, even if this weekend is probably just about it for Ol' Blue. I was out there in mid-October when the shell of Shea was still intact but many of its guts had already been pretty well hollowed. I don't need to see any more. I appreciate what the organizers are doing — it's very sweet — but, man, I don't want my last glimpse of Shea to be its stump. I wasn't that thrilled that I got a peek of it in post-September 28 form. That's not how I want to remember it.

That, of course, is not how I'll remember it.

5 comments to It's a Stump, But It's Our Stump

  • Anonymous

    Haunting photos – like seeing one's old neighborhood being torn apart.

  • Anonymous

    Personally, even though they say it's not a funeral, i don't see how it's not going to be with it in worse ruin than the rest of the Worlds Fair. The time to do this was early October.

  • Anonymous

    I think the reality is hitting these pilgrims in a way it probably didn't hit them in October. These folks have done an outstanding job of photographing Shea's demise so understand as well as anybody how little of it is left. It's only right they're there for the most bitter end. I salute their intestinal fortitude (and urge them to stay away from any leftover chicken tenders they might happen upon).

  • Anonymous

    Those chicken tenders will be there long after Citi Field is gone even. Even the cats don't want them.
    The reality is just hitting them now, but it's because they've had a 'head in the sand' mentality about it for years. I drove by it yesterday, just on the GCP, I didn't stop, and it's sad looking. It's a funeral. I paid my respects and honored it in my way at the end of September, and now as I finish booking my spring training trip and count the days until Pitchers and Catchers, I can't help but put it in the past and focus no the future, and Citi Field.
    A more fitting day would've been your Mets Baseball Equinox at 3:40 AM, January 2. But I guess better late than never. I wonder if they'll be able to walk completely around it, as in walk on the 'field' (or if they have to encircle Citi Field to do so) or if that part is still part of the demolition mess.

  • Anonymous

    It would be too upsetting for me to be there as well – just seeing those progress pictures is haunting enough and feels like a slow death.
    Our first visit to Citifield will feel a bit somber as we pay our respects at the gravesite.
    Those who can't comprehend how hard the passing of Shea is for some of us are in a way quite fortunate.