59: Monday, May 26 vs Marlins

Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen, to our Shea Stadium Final Season countdown. If, by chance, this is your first game at Shea this season, a quick reminder: At every home game this year, we are pausing in the fifth inning for a brief ceremony in which we introduce one or more individuals with a deep and abiding connection to Shea, tell you a bit about that person or those persons and have him, her or they take a number down from the right field wall to signify how many games remain in the life of this wonderful ballpark.

To continue the countdown tonight, we have someone who spent a great deal of time on Shea Stadium's pitcher's mound during a single game. It was October 2, 1965. The season was about to end but it wouldn't end all that soon thanks to what you would have to call the yeoman efforts of Rob Gardner. Rob took to the hill that Saturday evening in the nightcap of a twinight doubleheader and pitched…and pitched…and pitched some more. By the time manager Wes Westrum took him out, Rob had pitched 15 scoreless innings. His opponent that night, the Phillies' starter, the late Chris Short, matched him frame for frame, zero for zero…and struck out 18 Mets while doing so.

It was a pitching performance for the ages even if eventually it was put in the books as a tie. The Mets and Phils played 18 innings that night, neither team scoring a run. They had to play a doubleheader the next day, the last day of the season.

Tonight, we want to give Rob the opportunity to get some kind of number next to his name for authoring perhaps the greatest forgotten Met pitching performance in the history of Shea Stadium. We can't give you any runs, Rob, but we can offer you the honor of peeling number 59. And to join you, we've asked the two relievers who backed you up to take the walk with you. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome home to Shea Stadium, from your 1965 New York Mets, Darrell Sutherland, Dennis Ribant and Rob Gardner.

58: Tuesday, May 27 vs Marlins

Ladies and gentlemen, throughout the years at Shea Stadium, management has strived to offer you, within reason, a fine selection of food and beverages to make your baseball-watching experience relatively pleasant. Rest assured, when Citi Field opens in 2009, the culinary effort will be kicked up a notch.

Until then, we ask you to remember as fondly as possibly some of what you've eaten and drunk here and if you do and if you are old enough, one particular Shea Stadium sponsor's product will stand out in memory above all others.

From the opening of Shea Stadium in 1964 through the thrilling pennant run of 1973, Rheingold was the beer of choice here in Flushing and a big part of New Yorkers' lives. Brewed in Brooklyn beginning in 1883, Rheingold gave us the Miss Rheingold contest, the Ten-Minute Head and of course a jingle that echoes down the corridors of time. It has been relaunched under different ownerships since and has even returned to Shea on occasion. True, other beers have taken its tap space, to say nothing of its spot on the scoreboard, but at heart, Shea Stadium will always belong on the Rheingold beat.

To commemorate Rheingold's place in Shea Stadium history, we have asked Terry Liebman, one of those who worked to bring Rheingold back to New York in the late 1990s and a member of Rheingold's founding Liebmann family to join us, take down number 58 and toast the memory of a great Mets sponsor. Feel free to join in with a chorus of “My beer is Rheingold the dry beer…”

57: Wednesday, May 28 vs Marlins

Have you ever wondered why, ladies and gentlemen, the Mets are here? That's not an existential question but rather a query pertaining to the Mets having set down their roots in Flushing Meadow. The answer can be traced back to one man.

For the balance of the 20th century, that individual held sway over New York City in ways that are unimaginable today. His name was Robert Moses. He held various job descriptions across more than four decades of government service, but he is probably best known by the title of the masterful biography that explained him to succeeding generations: The Power Broker.

Moses believed the future of the New York metropolitan area lay ever eastward. Demographic trends validated his vision as more people left the five boroughs and began to call Long Island, right next door to Queens, home. He saw a future driven by the automobile and set out to build a network of highways second to none to accommodate it. And he recognized the potential of parkland in the geographic center of New York City, Flushing Meadow. He worked tirelessly to develop it and included within his blueprints for growth a modern baseball stadium the likes of which New Yorkers had never seen. The result was Shea Stadium, a structure Moses consciously modeled on the Roman Colosseum.

Robert Moses lived from 1888 to 1981, a time when the world changed and changed again. His legacy remains up for debate in matters large and small, but it is clear that he helped shaped New York as we know it, particularly Flushing Meadow. If you're wondering why the Mets are right here, you can be certain Mr. Moses had something to do with it.

To recall the impact of Robert Moses, we asked his Pulitzer Prize-winning biographer, by no means an unalloyed admirer of the man, to join us and remove number 57 from the right field wall tonight. One of America's greatest writers and kind enough to take time out from his rigorous research on the life of Lyndon Johnson — president of the United States, incidentally, when Shea Stadium opened — please welcome the author of The Power Broker, native New Yorker Robert Caro.

56: Thursday, May 29 vs Dodgers

This evening, ladies and gentlemen, it gives the Mets great pleasure to welcome back an old friend to Shea Stadium. He played his first game here as a member of the Milwaukee Braves on May 12, 1964, catching a complete game shutout. He would visit often over the course of eleven seasons until 1975 when he became a Met. Midway through his third season as a player for the home team, he became the Mets' manager, a post he'd hold for five years.

We speak, of course, of Brooklyn's own Joe Torre. While Joe hasn't exactly been a stranger around these parts, we are happy to have him back as a National Leaguer again. Joe will be removing number 56 from the right field wall tonight and joining him are two of the most popular players from the Joe Torre era at Shea.

He was an All-Star four times, three under Joe's tutelage. He was also one of the hardest-charging Mets of any period in team history, someone who gave no ground on the basepaths, at the plate or anywhere the field of play extended. Please give a warm welcome to the Dude, John Stearns.

Another Brooklynite, he spent his rookie season at the elbow of manager Joe Torre, learning the game and mastering his trade. By 1979, he was a Mets All-Star and a stellar one at that, homering and later walking with the bases loaded to ensure a win for the National League. He enjoyed two tenures in New York, the second of them commencing just in time for the 1986 World Series when he played a key role in securing victories in Games Six and Seven. Ladies and gentlemen, Lee Mazzilli.

55: Friday, May 30 vs Dodgers

Ladies and gentlemen, the next time a Met homers — provided all functions as it should — an apple will rise from a top hat and all will be right with the world. As has been the case since 1981, the Home Run Apple remains Shea Stadium's most recognizable and beloved landmark.

How did this apple come to take rise at Shea? We can thank one of advertising's most legendary minds for the inspiration. In 1980, when the team's new ownership was looking to garner attention, it hired Jerry Della Femina to produce an ad campaign. He came up with one of the most memorable lines in baseball advertising history: The Magic Is Back. A year later, the hat you see today was installed, sporting the phrase Mets Magic. It would take a little while for the club itself to pull out of the proverbial hat enough wins to contend, but by 1986, a world championship was conjured right here in the Big Apple.

Jerry joins us tonight to remove number 55 from the right field wall and, accompanying him, are two of the original Magic Mets of 1980, a pair of players who stirred the sleeping giant that was the New York National League fan base and gave it reason to hope that lasting success would someday soon be more than an illusion.

Craig Swan pitched for the Mets for over a decade, earning the N.L. ERA title in 1978 and always throwing his heart out from the Shea Stadium mound. His right arm bridged the gap from Seaver to Gooden like the Triborough connects Queens to points north, including Swannie's home in Connecticut.

Doug Flynn joined the Mets in 1977 and manned second base as no other Met had previously. Little got past Doug and his defensive brilliance was recognized in 1980 with the Gold Glove award. Bob Murphy liked to say Doug would look ground balls into his glove and we're happy to get another look at Dougie tonight.

Please give a big hand to Jerry Della Femina, Craig Swan and Doug Flynn.

54: Saturday, May 31 vs Dodgers

Ladies and gentlemen, we hope you're enjoying your Saturday in the park. Saturday has been a great day for Mets baseball over the years, particularly when the sun starts going down. Though it will probably still be light out when we're done today, we wanted to pay homage this late afternoon to some of the most memorable Saturday night fireworks in Shea Stadium history.

Our first sparkplug joins us from the active roster of the New York Mets. On June 11, 2005, he did one of the most difficult things there is to do in baseball. He came off the bench as a pinch-hitter and delivered a big blow off an ace reliever. What made this feat all the more amazin' was that not only was it a game-tying blast in the ninth off the superb Francisco Rodriguez of the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim but it was an inside-the-park job. He was already one of the best pinch-hitters the Mets had ever seen but this hit — and his mad dash around the bases while blowing his bubble gum — made him an instant legend with the Shea fans. We're thrilled he's a Met again, please greet Marlon Anderson.

As evening began to fall over Flushing on September 13, 1997, it appeared the Mets were going down to a rather dreary defeat at the hands of the Montreal Expos. The score was 6-0 for the visitors and the end was at hand…until an unbelievable rally unfolded that scored two runs, loaded the bases and brought up this man to face Ugueth Urbina. There were two outs and two strikes, but this valuable fourth outfielder had a game-tying, grand slam home run left in his bat. He sent the Shea crowd into ninth-inning euphoria and, as would be the case in the Marlon Anderson game, the Mets would go on to win in extra innings. Please welcome back the slugger Carl Everett.

What Marlon did and what Carl did no doubt spurred memories all over Shea Stadium of what one more Met did on a Saturday night when things looked desperate. On June 14, 1980, Joe Torre's Mets fell behind the San Francisco Giants 6-0. But typical of how they operated that spring and summer, the Mets battled back and closed the gap on the Giants to 6-4 in the ninth. Then, with two on and two out, our next guest, who will peel off number 54, swung and belted an Allen Ripley pitch into the Mets' bullpen. Just like that, the Mets had won, 7-6. So thrilled was the Shea crowd that it demanded a curtain call — a response almost unheard of here or anywhere in those days. Those who saw it will never forget it nor the man who came back on the field to wave to the fans. Ladies and gentlemen, Steve Henderson.

53: Sunday, June 1 vs Dodgers

As you know, ladies and gentlemen, Shea Stadium has been the home of the Mets since 1964. Sometimes, however, the Mets share their digs with others. Never were they as generous with their real estate as they were in 1975. During that calendar year, thanks to various construction and renovation products taking place around the metropolitan area, Shea Stadium played host to not one, not two, but four big league professional teams. In 1975, if you were at Shea Stadium, you were at the home of the Mets…and the Jets…and the Yankees…and the football Giants. Together, they kept the ushers and the grounds crew very busy.

To remember that unusual year, we have invited back a representative of each of those teams, starting with one of the best punters in NFL history. Dave Jennings gave the Giants great field position for 11 autumns, one of them right here in Queens. He finished his career kicking for the Jets and has been an excellent broadcaster of New York football ever since. Please welcome Dave to Shea again.

On Sundays when the Giants weren't playing at Shea, a more familiar football team set up shop. In 1975, the Jets depended on a talented Kansan to rush the ball for them and did he ever. He racked up 1,005 yards, the first Jet to run for four figures in one season. He would later rush to even greater glory in Washington but it was at Shea where he established himself as one of the great ground game threats in the NFL. Loosen up and say hi to John Riggins.

During the 1975 baseball season, for the second year in a row, when the Mets were on the road, they laid out the welcome mat for the New York Yankees. Someone already at home here after a stint with the Mets in 1967 was a stalwart for the temporarily Flushing Flashers at second base. He played 151 games for the '75 Yankees and the next year would take under his wing an up & comer named Willie Randolph. From the third base coaching box right here at Shea, give a warm hand to Sandy Alomar, Sr..

And leading our troop of 1975 Sheamen down the right field line to remove number 53 is someone who was most familiar with the terrain here. He came up in 1972 and earned Rookie of the Year honors for the Mets and would go on to contribute mightily to the National League championship run of a year later. In 1975, he pitched well enough for a second trip to the All-Star Game, emerging as its winning pitcher and co-MVP. One of the best southpaws to ever pitch in a Mets uniform, give a great big hand to Jon Matlack.

Numbers 66-60 were revealed here.

66: Friday, May 9 vs Reds

Ladies and gentlemen, to remove number 66 from the right field wall, we call on a player intimately associated with tonight's opponent, someone who ordinarily would not be setting foot inside Shea Stadium without buying a ticket, but someone so intertwined with the history of this ballpark that it would be impossible to say goodbye to Shea without saying hello to him one more time.

For a quarter-century, as a player, a player-manager and a manager, he was a regular visitor to Queens. Nobody in baseball was more recognizable, more controversial and, as it pertained to the Mets, more notorious than our special guest tonight.

He played his first game here on May 6, 1964 and in his second Shea Stadium at-bat doubled. Fourteen years and many individual and team accomplishments later, he tied and broke the modern National League hitting streak record right here to the cheers of the home crowd. As a Philadelphia Phillie, he would be the first batter Tom Seaver would face in his Flushing homecoming in 1983 and back with the Reds in 1986, he'd collect the last of his 189 regular-season Shea Stadium base hits off Dwight Gooden.

But it would be a postseason appearance that would inextricably tie Pete Rose to Shea Stadium, specifically a hard — some would say too hard — slide into Buddy Harrelson at shortstop in the third game of the 1973 National League Championship Series that brought Pete the kind of lasting infamy only true passion and a level of regard elicits.

Tonight, however, with only 66 games left in the life of this stadium, we believe it is time to greet Pete Rose if not forgive him or forget his role in the most memorable brawl Shea Stadium ever saw. That is why we secured permission from Commissioner Bud Selig for Pete's return to Shea, his first time in a New York ballpark since being banned from baseball for gambling in 1989. That is also why we asked the Glass Distillery Packaging Association to sponsor Salute to Pete Rose Night.

GDPA was gracious enough to provide the commemorative Pete Rose bottles of whiskey from which every fan has been enjoying since entering the park and the Mets remind you that when you're finished with your liquor, there are better ways than recycling to make use of your empty bottles.

65: Saturday, May 10 vs Reds

That sound, ladies and gentlemen, can mean only one thing. The sound is that of a cow bell and it belongs to a Mets fan everybody will recognize instantly, Eddie Boison. You might know him better by the name on the back of his jersey, Cow-Bell Man.

Eddie has been coming to Shea since it opened in 1964 but has truly become a fixture in the 21st century, strolling every section, making a joyful noise and stirring up his fellow fans from the field level to the upper deck.

We had planned to ask Eddie to reveal number 65 in partnership with another true Shea Stadium original, a fan who, like Eddie, became synonymous with enthusiastic and unique support of the Mets. Alas, Karl Ehrhardt left us this past winter, but in light of the tributes he received upon his passing, we are confident the placards held aloft by Shea Stadium's own Sign Man will live in the mind's eye as long as there are Mets fans. To represent Karl, we have asked his children, Richard Ehrhardt and Bonnie Troester, to join Eddie in making the walk to right field. Please give them a warm welcome.

64: Sunday, May 11 vs Reds

As you know, ladies and gentlemen, at every game throughout the 2008 season, we are taking a moment and pausing our game long enough so that individuals connected to the long and rich history of Shea Stadium can enjoy a moment in the sun. On this Sunday, however, we turn our attention to the Mets' only other home to date, the Polo Grounds.

It is true that the modern and attractive ballpark under construction right before our very eyes pays homage primarily to Brooklyn's Ebbets Field, but it is just as true that the Mets never played in Ebbets Field — it was gone two years before the Mets were born. It was left to the Polo Grounds in upper Manhattan to serve as launching pad for this franchise we all hold so dear. When Citi Field opens in 2009, no matter what the exterior would indicate, proper tribute will be paid to the Polo Grounds' role in the development of the New York Mets and New York baseball.

Until then, there is today, which Mayor Michael Bloomberg has officially proclaimed Polo Grounds Appreciation Day in the city of New York. In Manhattan, the portion of the Harlem River Drive that runs past the site of the Polo Grounds has been renamed the Ottway in recognition of legendary New York Giants slugger and all-time New York City home run king Mel Ott. And here at Shea, to commemorate this admittedly overdue occasion, in addition to presenting every fan who entered Shea this afternoon with a handsome, glossy 96-page program filled with pictures and essays devoted to the Polo Grounds, we have invited a quartet of Mets whose presence speaks to roots of the club.

• Frank Thomas hit 34 home runs in 1962, 18 of them at the Polo Grounds, establishing a team record that would stand another thirteen seasons. He was the Opening Day leftfielder the day Shea Stadium opened and would remain a Met into the 1964 season.

• Roger Craig was the ace of the Mets in 1962 and 1963, pitching in hard luck but always giving it his best. His appearances at Shea would come in other uniforms, yet he would always be remembered warmly here for his work at the Polo Grounds.

• Choo Choo Coleman gained a measure of immortality as a catcher on the 1962 and 1963 Mets. He may have been quiet, but the stories shared by those who played with him and interviewed him spoke volumes. Choo Choo returned to the Mets in 1966 for a brief stint before retiring as an active player.

• And leading these three original Mets out to right field to remove number 64 is a teammate of theirs whose story becomes complete today. Ted Schreiber played one season in the big leagues, 1963, when the Mets still called the Polo Grounds home. In fact, Ted turned out the lights, in a manner of speaking, on the historic bathtub-shaped ballpark at Eighth Avenue and 155th Street. He came to bat as a pinch-hitter in the bottom of the ninth on September 18, 1963 and grounded into a double play, one involving two future Met coaches, Cookie Rojas and Bobby Wine, as the Mets lost to the Phillies, 5-1.

It was the last play in the baseball history of the Polo Grounds. Ted left the Mets after 1963 and never made it to Shea. It only seems right to invite him here now and give him the honor of taking down the next number in the park that he just missed playing in. Ted's presence also reminds us that no matter where we are at a given moment, whether it's this year or next, there is usually something that came before that deserves to be remembered.

63: Monday, May 12 vs Nationals

Ladies and gentlemen, if you can't hear me or I have to stop speaking for a moment so you can hear me, it is not a technical difficulty on the part of Shea Stadium's often erratic public address system. It is almost certainly for the same reason conversations have been interrupted, batters have been stepping out of the box and pitchers have been leaving the rubber for 45 seasons.

It is the airplanes.

We have a very famous neighbor just slightly to our north, LaGuardia Airport. While it is in many respects a fine airport, one once voted the greatest in the world by those who made their living in aviation, its presence may not make for ideal company during a ballgame. While passengers on the planes overhead no doubt thrill to a glimpse of Shea Stadium, the players on the field and the fans in the stands have mostly tolerated and learned to live with some pretty powerful jet noise.

But the airplanes are a part of the Shea Stadium scene, just as we sense they will be around when Citi Field opens, so we may as well acknowledge the unusual role they have played at Shea. To do so, we have asked Anthony Coscia, chairman of the Port Authority, the government agency that runs LaGuardia, to remove number 63 from the right field wall. Anthony's being such a good sport about representing noise and distraction, we have asked to join him the one Met more likely than any other to disrupt air traffic from below.

He hit 73 Shea home runs in two tours as a New York Met, and seemingly each and every one of them was a cause for concern among pilots flying into and out of LaGuardia. It's no wonder that he once did television commercials for United, one of the airlines that flies regularly from the airport next door. Please welcome back to Shea the slugger more likely than any other on any given day to reach the clouds and part the jets, Dave Kingman.

62: Tuesday, May 13 vs Nationals

Ladies and gentlemen, there are many factors that have made Shea Stadium one of the most distinct ballparks in America, none of them as juicy and tasty, however, as what we can rightly call its native crop.

How many stadiums do you know where tomatoes were grown as a matter of course? We refer, naturally, to the agriculture in the home team bullpen, the tomato plants that for decades were an integral part of the Shea scene.

One man was more responsible for those tomatoes than any other. He was the planter, the farmer and the inspiration, to say nothing of a pretty fair tutor of relief pitchers across 14 seasons. Please give a warm hand to coach Joe Pignatano as he trots out to right field to remove number 62 and then, presumably, continues into the Mets bullpen to check on the soil.

61: Wednesday, May 14 vs Nationals

As Mets fans, ladies and gentlemen, it is your inclination to root, root, root for the home team. It has never been common to cheer an opponent at Shea Stadium. It is almost unheard of today unless it is for a certifiable superstar.

The man whom we have asked to take down number 61 would be the first to tell you he was no superstar, just a guy doing his best. Sometimes, because he is human, his best wasn't good enough. Unfortunately for our special guest, the fates were not with him on the biggest stage baseball has to offer, the World Series. In one game, Game Two, he made three errors and his team lost in extra innings. The club owner for whom he worked was not pleased and attempted to circumvent the rules regarding postseason rosters and attempted to have him replaced by another player. A firestorm of protest erupted and this player's place was preserved.

The World Series in question was 1973, which means the action began in Oakland and shifted to Shea Stadium, which is why we honor A's infielder Mike Andrews here tonight. Mets fans recognized the raw deal Mike was receiving from Charlie Finley, so when he came to bat as a pinch-hitter in the fourth game of that Fall Classic, Mets fans rose as one and supported him with a long and loud ovation. They gave him a second round of applause as he made his way back to the Oakland dugout after he grounded out.

Mike never forgot the reception he got at Shea, normally a tough place for visitors to play, that much more intense with a world championship on the line. Mike would say of Mets fans, “The ovations gave me chills, it surprised me. I don't think I've ever had a standing ovation in my life. To me that meant everything.”

Mike retired after that World Series, the only career appearance at Shea Stadium for this lifelong American Leaguer. We thought it would be appropriate to have him back here once more. Ladies and gentlemen, please remind Mike Andrews what good fans Mets fans are.

60: Thursday, May 15 vs Nationals

Ladies and gentlemen, if you own a 2008 media guide, available at Shea concessions, or have visited rich and informative Web sites like Ultimate Mets Database or Mets By The Numbers — now available in book form — you know where to find a list of every player who has ever played as a Met. Yet one of the most lovable Mets of his era won't show up in any of these reputable reference sources.

Nevertheless, Mets fans will always remember the contributions infielder Chico Escuela stitched into the fabric of the 1969 and 1973 Mets even if the boxscores from those seasons don't reflect his presence. He is probably better recalled for his comeback attempt, tracked ably by Weekend Update anchor Bill Murray, during the spring of 1979 when he had to overcome the doubts and grudges that arose from his classic tell-all volume, Bad Stuff 'Bout The Mets. Anyone who remembers 1979 would have to admit there was plenty of Bad Stuff to write 'Bout The Mets in those days, but Chico's presence in blue and orange surely was one of the better things the franchise had going then. You might even say he was “berry, berry good” for the Mets. He certainly brought laughter to a fan base mired in an understandably dark mood.

Chico Escuela lit up Shea on Old Timers Day in '79, appearing alongside “other” members of the '69 Mets at their first on-field reunion, and baseball was better off for it. Unfortunately, Chico had a speaking engagement this afternoon and couldn't make it when we called and asked him to take down number 60 from the right field all as homage to his many fine years as a Met. But Chico being Chico, he was thoughtful enough to send in his place a great performer in his own right, a cast member on Saturday Night Live at the exact same time Chico was making his Met comeback. Please give a berry, berry big welcome to Garrett Morris.

Numbers 72-67 were revealed here.

Art Howe was a fine man with the misfortune to be rather seriously miscast as manager of the New York Mets. But his finest act might have come on Oct. 3, 2004, in his final inning at the helm. (Which also happened to be the final inning in the history of the Montreal Expos, and the endpoint for various other histories. I'll get to all that.)

Joe Hietpas had been called up from Binghamton in mid-September as an emergency catcher, though 2004 was so horrible that most any position could have been considered manned on an emergency basis. He was 25, and known as a defensive whiz, but an indifferent hitter if you were in a kind mood. (Seriously. Look at his minor-league stats and see if you can call the offensive glass one-eighth full.) Here he was nonetheless, waiting for the backup catcher to get injured, waiting for his shot in the Show. Waiting. And waiting some more.

I got used to seeing Hietpas on TV and from the stands as the season sputtered to an end — he'd be right there in front, leading on the dugout railing, staring at the field. It went from vaguely comic to decidedly tragic: Couldn't Art find a place for Young Joe, the Forgotten Catcher? Some absurd blowout, some extra-inning tilt, some something? Nope. The second half of September went crawling by, and still that dugout rail separated Joe Hietpas from where he wanted to be.

On the last day of the season, I was there in field-level seats with Greg and Laurie, saying farewell to a hideous Mets season, farewell to never-again Mets Todd Zeile and John Franco, farewell to a well-intentioned but unfortunate choice as Met manager, and farewell to a franchise treated like a stepchild by the sport that should have done right by it. But what I really wanted was to say hello to Joe Hietpas.

Hietpas had warmed up pitchers between innings before — a routine duty for backup catchers, but one made particularly cruel by his situation. But this time, in the top of the ninth, he was staying. At the last possible moment, Joe Hietpas was getting his shot. He'd catch Bartholome Fortunato, raising his own curtain as the Mets lowered the curtain on the season. It was 8-1. Fortunato got in a bit of trouble, and I briefly entertained ridiculous imaginings: The Expos would spit in Bud Selig's eye by scoring seven runs, staving off their own extinction, Greg and Laurie and I wouldn't have to say farewell to baseball quite yet. And sometime in extra innings Hietpas would bat — and crack one over the fence to send us all home.

Why the heck not?

Nah. With two men on Fortunato gathered himself, struck out someone named Josh Labandeira and struck out Maicer Izturis and then got future friend Endy Chavez to ground out, Keppinger to Piazza. John Franco's Met career and Todd Zeile's career and Art Howe's Met tenure and the Expos were history. As, in all likelihood, was Joe Hietpas.

Hietpas got a baseball card the next spring, a rather optimistic declaration from Upper Deck SPX that he was an SPXciting Rookie, and went back to the bus leagues. Where he offered a mathematician's degree of proof that he couldn't hit: .216, ,194, .130 and .185 in tours of duty over two years with Binghamton and Norfolk. With Paul Lo Duca and Ramon Castro hitting up a storm for the big club, it was obvious his fate was to be the Mets' Moonlight Graham.

So Hietpas tried what more than a few guys who get called into the office and told the grim facts try: He said something along the lines of “Hey skip, I can pitch.”

Only he actually kind of could: It didn't go so well for one inning with the Tides in '06, but down at St. Lucie last year, Hietpas put up a 2.47 ERA in 43.2 innings. He didn't strike many guys out, and he gave up a lot of hits, but hey, he didn't walk a lot of guys, either. And then there he was today, cleaning up after a parade of Met minor-league pitchers. In a Met uniform again. Pitching.

At this point, it's time to ignore some inconvenient facts. Like the fact that he was wearing 92. Or is in A ball with his 29th birthday soon to arrive. Or that his stuff was consistently up in the strike zone, and hit all over the place by Braves borrowed from minor-league camp, with only the unlikely glovework of Fernando Tatis and boneheaded Atlanta baserunning saving him from ugly results.

Never mind all that. It's March, whatever the Red Sox and A's are doing on the other side of the world in the nighttime. March is the time for ignoring inconvenient facts, and letting yourself imagine: Late summer '09, Hietpas trots in from the Citi Field bullpen as the latest middle reliever to get a shot as the Mets try to defend the title they won in saying goodbye to Shea. (I know, we're imagining a lot. Stick with me.) He throws an OK inning, and as he's sitting on the bench Reyes and Wright and Beltran and Teixeira and teammates start hitting rockets everywhere. A close one has turned into a rout, and Willie's decided not to burn up the bullpen for this farce. Hietpas goes to the bat rack. Borrows somebody's lumber. Finds a helmet. Steps into the on-deck circle. Then walks up to the plate.

“You know Keith,” Gary says with the first hint of arch in his voice, “he was drafted as a catcher.”

To be estranged from your favorite Met is strange. I know. I've been sort of on the outs with mine since last September.

I still wear my three REYES 7 t-shirts; my overpriced Jose Reyes button is still affixed to my plush home run apple; no Met has been elevated above him in my esteem, official or otherwise. Yet Jose Reyes and I haven't communicated much since things unraveled. I haven't lit up at the thought of him, haven't embraced the sight of him, haven't Jose-Jose-Jose'd hardly at all. And Jose hasn't really reached out to me.

Is there hope for us yet?

The annual day of renewal is at hand, so the benefit of the doubt must be issued. On Opening Day, Jose Reyes will bat first in Miami and I will put my hands together and he will take it from there. There's no point going to bed angry at your favorite Met and emerging from hibernation in the same old snit. I've been down on Jose since September, down in a way I didn't think was possible, down for reasons I can fathom but don't like doing.

The Mets as an institution did not do themselves proud when last they played for money and honor. You can count on one hand the individuals who bathed themselves in glory and have enough fingers left over to tell Jimmy Rollins what he can do with his portfolio of predictions and pronouncements. We were laid waste by a teamwide epidemic, but with the exception of a certain undevastatable lefthanded pitcher who doesn't live here anymore, nobody was more of a poster child for determined underachievement than Jose Reyes.

My favorite Met sparked everything good about the Mets in 2006, just as he had since coming to the big leagues in 2003. If, in between, he wasn't as polished as some would have liked, it was just a matter of time, I swore it was. He was a work in progress, like young Jed Bartlet in the “Two Cathedrals” episode of The West Wing when Mrs. Landingham told him that he missed a spot.

I didn't miss it. I just haven't gotten to it yet.

Jose got to it by '06 and in the first half of '07 he was on it but good. Then he got off it. The National League Player of the Month for April was nowhere to be found come September. It wasn't that he sucked (which he did), it's that he was almost on a mission to suck. He swung mindlessly, he ran recklessly if at all and he…he just wasn't Jose Reyes anymore. He was some time-marking pod person counting down to when he could ditch this stupid game and this stupid team and go hunting and fishing and maybe gravedigging. He comported himself like a latter-day Richie Hebner, for crissake.

I look at certain Met holdovers and I cringe a little for this year given how last year became last year and whatever troubling dispatch has wafted north from St. Lucie. Has Delgado completely fallen apart? What to make of Wagner's back? Beltran's limbs? Is the perpetual cold shoulder vis-à-vis being the one guy with the potential to fill the fifth-starter role yet never again given a chance going to catch up to Heilman? Is Ollie's arm OK? His head? Will Wright, as blameless as a Met could be as everything around him withered, have the strength to start it up and carry that weight again? Or will he be reduced to churning out quotes about how we're all out there giving it our best, Willie knows what he's doing, my circuits are fine, this does not compute? Contrary to how it looks sometimes, even David Wright is human.

Jose Reyes is way too human, it turns out. Jose Reyes has months, maybe even halves of seasons when he's not superhuman, when he's not the whirling dervish of home-to-third legend, when he's not beating out ground balls because he appears interested only in beating it out of town. He's having a nice March — every time I see a highlight, he's diving into something — but he had a fantastic early 2007 and in the end it amounted to a hill of nothing. No, it was worse than nothing. It was alarming the way he phoned it in on offense and wasn't nearly enough of an Ordoñez to make it up on defense. I was alarmed. I wonder if he was.

Does all that just go away now? I've seen him interviewed. He's smiling the Jose smile. He says everything is fine, everything is dandy. He looks a good bit like the Jose Reyes with whom I fell truly, deeply, madly in baseball love five summers ago. But I stare hard and I see the Jose Reyes from a September to dismember and I struggle to see the leadoff hitter of my dreams and the man who's gonna get on first base enough to get us back to first place enough.

Come back Monday, Jose. Come back for real. All will be forgotten and forgiven if you do.

72: Friday, April 25 vs Braves

Ladies and gentlemen, it took six seasons for Shea Stadium and the Mets to host their first postseason game. When they did, it was a doozy: Game Three, the 1969 National League Championship Series, an exciting, come-from-behind 7-4 win over the Atlanta Braves to clinch the N.L. pennant.

The happy ending should not obscure the efforts of a very special player on the visiting team who put his own mark on what would be the final postseason appearance of his brilliant career. He drove in the very first runs in Shea Stadium postseason history with a two-run homer in the top of the first inning. In fact, he hit a home run in each game of the 1969 NLCS, which should not surprise anybody since he would eventually retire with 755 home runs, for 33 years the standard in Major League Baseball and still recognized as an achievement that towers over the landscape of the sport.

Please welcome back to Shea Stadium, to remove number 72 from the right field wall, one of the greatest opponents this or any ballpark outside Atlanta or Milwaukee has ever known, Hammerin' Hank, Henry Aaron.

71: Saturday, April 26 vs Braves

Today, ladies and gentlemen, the New York Mets are honored to play host to Jack Lang Day, paying tribute to one of the most beloved sportswriters in baseball history. The late Jack Lang covered the Mets on a daily basis for the first-quarter century of their existence and continued to write about them for most of the next twenty years of his life. Proceeds from select ticket sales today are going to benefit the Epilepsy Foundation of Long Island, a cause close to the Lang family's heart. They thank you for your support.

In the spirit of the job men and women like Jack Lang have done throughout the history of the Mets, disseminating the goings-on of a baseball club to a fan base that always wants to know more, we thought it appropriate to invite three of his colleagues to remove number 71 from the right field wall. Each man we call on today has written about and been around the Mets since their beginnings. It is through the efforts of journalists like these that a team becomes more than a logo, that players emerge as more than figures on a stat sheet. Though the relationship is occasionally adversarial, the Mets appreciate the job that writers like these do and wish to salute it.

So please welcome from the Shea Stadium press box to the right field line, a trio of Jack Lang's most distinguished peers: George Vecsey, Vic Ziegel and Roger Angell, and, accompanying them, the Mets longtime vice president of media relations — one of Shea's most famous faces in his own right — Jay Horwitz.

70: Sunday, April 27 vs Braves

Ladies and gentlemen, it was 28 years ago that the New York Mets took their first tentative steps toward the rebirth that would lead them to an eventual world championship. It was then, in 1980, that the Mets tradition was granted new life under a vigorous new ownership group, one committed to growing a winner in Queens.

Though neither of them ever sought the spotlight, it would be impossible to tell the story of the New York Mets since 1980 without acknowledging their individual and collective contributions. That is why we asked them to take part in our Shea Stadium final season countdown together and that is why each of them graciously agreed to take the field this one time.

Please welcome, then, the chairman of the New York Mets until 2002, Nelson Doubleday, and his partner of more than two decades, current chairman and chief executive officer, Fred Wilpon, as they proceed to remove number 70 from the right field wall.

69: Monday, April 28 vs Pirates

No baseball season, ladies and gentlemen, is a static one. Player transactions happen regularly, sometimes frequently. For fans of a given team, it is a boon when a move is made and the payoff, in terms of a postseason appearance, is almost immediate.

There are several episodes in Mets history wherein a player came in and made that kind of impact. Unfortunately, there is a flip side. Somebody ultimately has to move on when someone else is added. And in the years when success lies just down the road for the team, it's a tough break for an individual who contributed to the rising to miss out.

With that equation in mind, we have decided to balance the books just a bit tonight by inviting back to Shea Stadium a quartet of Mets who played on four of our most successful teams but for one reason or another did not make it to October. Think of this, fellas, as our making it up to you.

From the 1969 Mets, traded on June 15 for eventual World Series MVP Donn Clendenon, please welcome a Met who made his debut with the club in 1965, Kevin Collins.

From the 1986 Mets, a victim of roster roulette, a pitcher who gave the Mets several gritty seasons and always his best, say hello again to Ed Lynch.

From the 1999 Mets, the centerfielder traded at the deadline in a deal intended to shore up various other needs, someone popular with his teammates and always a pro, Brian McRae.

And leading our group of would-be October heroes to remove number 69 from the right field wall, this outfielder played a major role on the 2006 National League Eastern Division champions. Circumstances dictated the Mets make a trade two Julys ago and the price was a stiff one. We were sorry to see him go, but we're happy to have him back, if just for three games in a Pirate uniform. Please give a warm hand to, from the 2006 Mets, Xavier Nady.

68: Tuesday, April 29 vs Pirates

We are playing ball, ladies and gentlemen, and we expect to finish playing ball sometime tonight. But there have been evenings in Shea Stadium's colorful history when that wasn't always the case.

One of those nights was May 25, 1979, better known as The Fog Game. It was these same two opponents, the Mets and the eventual world champion Pirates who played to a 3-3 tie. Why a tie? Because in the eleventh inning, the fog rolled in off Flushing Bay and it simply became too tough to see.

Here to relive that soupy night are:

• The Pirates' starter who went seven innings and surrendered only three hits, Jim Rooker.

• The Pirate pinch-hitter who belted a two-run homer in the eighth and was a perennial thorn in the Mets' side, the Hit Man, Mike Easler.

• He pitched a perfect top of the eleventh, striking out Dave Parker and Hall of Famer Willie Stargell to preserve the tie score, one of the Mets' most reliable relievers ever, Skip Lockwood.

• And leading us through the fog to number 68, the man who hit a ball to left that could not be tracked down in the pea soup of that May night and went for a triple. The conditions dictated the game be called right then and there and go into the books as a tie. He hit lots of balls in all kinds of weather that fell in unaided by the elements, however, and he had an arm that could rifle a ball through whatever the atmosphere had to offer. Please welcome back Mets All-Star outfielder, Joel Youngblood.

67: Wednesday, April 30 vs Pirates

This afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, we are please to recall a Pirate legend whose playing career had a funny way of bouncing through the annals of New York baseball.

He came to the big leagues in 1956. A season later, he was the starting second baseman for Pittsburgh in the final game at Ebbets Field and what appeared to be the final game at the Polo Grounds. Of course a few years later, the Polo Grounds would reopen for business with the Mets as the tenant, by which time this master of infield defense had become famous for hitting the first home run to end a World Series, defeating the Yankees and making their manager, Casey Stengel, available soon thereafter to tutor the new kids in town.

It shouldn't surprise you to know that Bill Mazeroski was in the starting lineup on April 17, 1964 for these Pirates when Shea Stadium opened or, given his credentials, that he was Ron Hunt's backup at second base when the All-Star Game took place here took three months later. Yet none of his accomplishments, not even his 2001 induction into the Hall of Fame, is why we asked the man known as Maz to remove number 67 from the right field wall today.

No, we invited Bill Mazeroski to Shea Stadium because he hit into a triple play…but not just any triple play and definitely not one that would show up in any box score. On June 27, 1967, prior to a day game right here at Shea, the director of a movie called The Odd Couple staged a triple play for fictional sportswriter Oscar Madison, portrayed by the great Walter Matthau, to cover…or not cover, as the plot dictated. The player captured forever on film making three outs with one swing? None other than Bill Mazeroski.

Maz, who never hit into a triple play in “real life,” was a good sport then and he's a good sport now. And since The Odd Couple is also something of an icon in Shea Stadium history, joining Bill for his trip up the right field line is the actor who would play Oscar Madison in the television series version of The Odd Couple. He is quite possibly the actor seen more than any other in a Mets cap on screen. Please welcome to Shea Stadium, the incomparable Jack Klugman.

Numbers 78-73 were revealed here.