For those who wondered what would come first, the Mets playing in a new ballpark of their own or Gary Sheffield wearing a Mets uniform...it's a tie!

All-time reserve Never Met Sheffield has been signed. Unwanted elsewhere, unlikable in general, unskilled relative to what he was a few years ago, yet Doc Gooden's nephew (though they're practically the same age) is here until further notice. The roster will be readjusted ASAP, one presumes, with Nick Evans maybe taking the hit for now and Marlon Anderson drifting away days later. His next homer will be his 500th. We'll like him fine if he gets it.

I don't know if it's going to stop raining altogether tonight. I don't know that Sheffield isn't a waste of Major League minimum salary. But I do know that with Castillo, Hernandez and now this guy, we must lead baseball in 1997 World Champion Florida Marlins. World's longest-running fire sale, indeed.

You are more in need of a night in Atlantic City than any man I've ever met.
—Will Bailey, upon meeting an overwrought Toby Ziegler, The West Wing

I need a trip to the ballpark. Honest to god, I need a trip to the ballpark.

Have we got a ballpark? We do, don't we? It's not the same old ballpark that I loved. It's the gleaming new ballpark I'm only beginning to think about trusting. But it's the only ballpark we've got, so that's good enough for me.

I get my first genuine look at the new home of the New York Mets Friday night. By this time tomorrow, I could be affirming it is the greatest thing since sliced Shea. It will, by every informed indication, exceed its predecessor in form and function. It's up to me (and you and you and you and...) to give it a heart. I imagine we're up to the challenge.

In our final Shea trip together, Jason said to me that he'd walk over broken glass to watch the Mets, which was his way of declaring Shea Stadium, as much as he found fault with it, was better than nothing. Citi Field (brrr...what a crappy name after all this time) is more than a bag o' glass, to be sure. I may have hesitated to embrace it in its construction phase, but now that it's here and I'm going to be in it, it's going to be mine. It has to be. It's got the Mets.

And I need the Mets. I need the Mets to be not just some holding action in Florida, some place for WBC All-Stars to stow their stuff while they're off Representing Their Country. I need the Mets to get to a 48th season. I need the Mets to make history, not merely be history. I need something new to talk about. I'm the guy, it says in my book, who can talk about being a Mets fan all day and all night. At this moment, I'm not interested in talking about being. I'm frothing to be doing. What I'm going to be doing, under the familiar threat of Flushing Meadow weekend rain, is going to the ballpark Friday night to see the Mets.

It will feel good, even if it doesn't count.

***
Thanks to the Faith and Fear devotees who took themselves out to Varsity Letters Thursday night to spend quality time chilling with/listening to Jason and me. We got to meet some fine folks, renew some great acquaintances, hear three other wonderful authors (one poetic Met, one soulful Yank, one odd man out) and cap the offseason in undeniably unique fashion. Thanks to the organizers, too, for having us on the bill. Will notify all here of other, hopefully geographically amenable (depending on where you live) appearances as they are arranged.

Order Faith and Fear in Flushing: An Intense Personal History of the New York Mets from Amazon, Barnes & Noble or find it at a bookstore near you. Keep in touch and join the discussion on Facebook.