…but that wouldn’t be good for me and my Saturday plan, so maybe not so much.

So another Saturday/Sunday combo leaves the Mets with no wins. That’s 2 in a row if you’re scoring at home.

As for Saturday, it was a wonderful day all around. Too bad the ballgame didn’t match the peripherals. I was trying something new as I decided to take the train from Jersey. I figured I’d get to stretch out the iPod and save a couple of bucks in the process, seeing as parking at SheaCiti is up to $15 a pop! This’d be the first time I ever went from NJ by something other than automobile, so I was quite excited. I ran over to O Bagel to get a cuppa, stoped in Stop & Shop & pick up the News & the Star-Ledger, then over to the Lyons station to pick up the 10:10 to Penn Station. Changing in Summit as usual, I got to ride in one of those fancy-schmancy new double-decker trains to the City. So I get to Penn Station and hop over to the LIRR. I forgot that there are no ticket booths for the Long Island anymore, just the electronic kiosks. So for an $8.50 round trip to Shea Stadium, I put a $20 into the machine and got back a quarter and…11 Sacajawea dollar coins! My pocket weighed 57 lbs. I stood on the LIRR the 2 stops to Shea, up the Boardwalk, down the new steps — I miss the old rotunda, btw — over to gate C to leave my other ticket at the will-call for my nephew.

Once I took care of that, went up the escalator at gate C and I could smell the hamburgers frying and the Premio Italian sausages with the peppers & onions steaming and said to myself, “I’m home.” It was a kind of an “Amen”-moment, like I only have when I’m alone with my wife or among my rather large family: this is where I belong. Right here. In this place. At this moment. And I thought, “I am gonna miss this old dump when it’s gone.” It’s where I grew up, where I could first flaunt my “independence” as a teen — driving in with my buddy Tino when I was 15 & 16 and in no need of adult supervision. He was the nominal adult, all of 6 years my senior. The ballpark was ours then. The team was perpetually rebuilding and was drawing hardly anyone. But we were good for 7 or 8 games a year, until we all got proper jobs and could begin to afford the various available ticket plans post-College. By then, of course, tickets were at a premium, because we had an elite team on our hands. In the various ups & downs these past 20-odd years, there was always Shea. And of course in our memories, there always will be.

As I say, the only thing to spoil the idyll was the damn game.

Much as I hate to say it, I gotta pin the loss on Johan the Magnificent. We all knew he had a gopher, he decided to feed it on Saturday. 3 long — I mean long homeruns and a vapor-lock with a runner on third resulted in a 5-3 loss. Hey, even Michelangelo had an off day, right?

Sunday’s game was just ugly & disgusting. 5 double plays? What the hell is that?

OK, so an off day to lick wounds and mend psyches. I know I’ve been off the Willie Randolph bandwagon of late, but he finally has started saying the right things when they put up a stinker like this. Maybe he’s got an inner Gil Hodges after all…