by Phil Trygar
When my friend Paul called me a 1:00 A.M. on a Thursday night/Friday morning after I had had 4 hours sleep the night before, needless to say, I was not in a pleasant mood. When he told me he had Opening Day tickets for the Mets, it did not change my mood, for I am that glutton for punishment beyond all others…a Phillies fan. The year was 1987, a spring training removed from that glorious Met season of 1986 and the Mets were to receive their championship rings. But as a Phillies fan, I especially could not get excited, nor did I care to drive for hours to see them play that night. Besides, I had to go to work.
Paul was a huge Mets fan and had been since he was a kid, and he usually coerced me into doing things I may not have really wanted to do. “Work, Schmerk” he said. “When has having work ever stopped you before?” I must admit, he had me there. But he realized he needed a hook…bait…a bone…something to make me want to go. “What if we drive over to Long Island and see Strat. I want to pick up a set of cards for myself. (we used a community set of cards back in those days). Then go see the Mets and stop off at East Stroudsburg on the way home and stay over?” Well, now he had me listening. We had always wanted to go out to the game company, and the promise of a frat party or 2 after our day was done was really tempting. In the end, Strat-O-Matic, a Major League game and college parties was too tempting a menu to pass up.
So we left Scranton, Pa at 7:30 that morning to begin a trip that should have taken about 3 to 4 hours depending on traffic. I was curious why we were leaving so early, since the game was at 7:30, but I wasn’t driving, so it wasn’t my call. “It’s a 1:00 game.” Paul informed me. What! How are we going to get to the middle of Long Island, pick up your cards, then drive to Shea by 1:00 I wanted to know. Don’t worry he told me. Plenty of time.
Needless to say, after getting hopelessly lost several times(who gave us those directions anyway?) we arrived at the game company building around game time for the Mets. It took a while for it to register what we were seeing. This is Strat-O-Matic?, we asked each other. Granted, the area itself didn’t look all that much different than northeast PA, but we were expecting something else entirely when we saw the building. Maybe it’s the Long Island mystique or the fact that a game that good had to come in a glitzier package, but the fact was, it wasn’t what we were expecting.
The people there were great, and let us listen to the opening day ceremonies and the 1st inning on the radio with them. Then they took us on a tour of most of the place. We saw where they stored a lot of the cards (stacks of cardboard boxes full of rubber banded Strat cards). We saw a few other rooms that I can’t even remember what was in them now, they were so unobtrusive. Then, armed with our purchases (I broke down and bought the football game), and with a fresh set of directions, we headed back down the LI Expressway towards the city. We also had a fresh appreciation for the game and the game company. Amazingly, the building was just like the game box. Not glamorous, not overblown, but also not what you expected on the inside. Years later, after attending my first official Opening Day and seeing fellow Fanatics parade out the front door with their cards, I also realized what came out of the game box and that white cinder block building was far better than most of us expected too. It really was just like the old saying, ‘Looks can be deceiving.’
“We can still catch the last few innings” I said innocently to Paul as we hit the road again that day. “We came all this way, we might as well not waste the tickets.” His hesitation should have clued me in immediately as to what was to be coming next. “Well,” he said “I don’t really have tickets to the game, so if we don’t go, it’s ok with me.”
“Paul, “ I told him, “You are one amazing M(et)F(an).” (insert the proper expletive).