The Final Game
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The crowd was so loud all I heard was silence. The final pitch was thrown and the Mets were the 1969 world champions. Shea Stadium rocked like a Roman coliseum during a chariot race.I felt the ground trembling but no one feared a collapse. I jumped up and down as sparatically as i could, despite my coat restricting me.The shivering winds typical to October baseball made my fingers numb but I didn't care. Some people were clapping, others were hugging each other but everyone was shouting as if finally releasing a demon that was hiding deep inside. over 30,000 people and not one soul was sitting. Cascades of fans wearing blue running onto the field grew onto waves, covering the peaceful green grass. Fans climbed over the walls into a new world had been out of reach. I stared at the jumbo screen congratulating the team. It all felt like a dream. I noticed how blue the sky was for the first time today. Fans rushed in all directions on the field. Some fans jetted towards home others ran aimlessly, grown men acting like children. I high fived a stranger next to me, but for that day we were all family. Fans consuming the champions picked up some of the players as if kings who conquered a new land and this was new territory for all Mets fans, our first World Series Title.
