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The Attack and Aftermath
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New York puts on its game faceNEW YORK – Baseball, game of children and pastime of a nation in wartime and peace, returned to New York on Friday night. With each pitch, the New York Mets and their fans assured themselves that life goes on, that the city can dust itself off and stand tall. "What we're doing is the simplest thing of all. The president mentioned it – fighting fear with freedom," said Mets manager Bobby Valentine, who led a visit to ground zero with some of his players a day earlier. If terrorists threw America a curve, the Mets and their fans were determined to hit it out of the park. Donald D'Elia, a 25-year-old copy machine operator who lives in Howard Beach in Queens, had an American flag wrapped like a shawl around his shoulders. His uncle escaped from the World Trade Center, and he came to Shea Stadium for the same reason that many fans did, to stand up and say: We're still here. "We're trying to show them that nothing can stop New Yorkers," he said. Baseball is a game of numbers, and numbers were on many minds Friday night: 3, 51/2, 6,333. The first is the Mets' standing in their National League East division. The second is the number of games they lagged behind the first-place Atlanta Braves going into their three-day series, a formidable deficit this late in the season but only a slice of the 12-game difference of two months ago. The last is the number of missing or dead at the World Trade Center. As if anyone needed it, reminders were everywhere. Above the scoreboard, a neon silhouette of the New York skyline had a red-white-and-blue ribbon blocking the Twin Towers. The batter's boxes were painted with ribbons, too. Flags flew at half-mast. "We return to our national pastime, in part, to show that America can and will go on," the announcer told the crowd. The Mets have been wearing New York Police and Fire department caps since baseball returned to play this week. Friday, some found caps to honor Port Authority police and New York State Court Officers, too. Behind home plate, the umpire wore a Police Department cap. Ten minutes before game time, to the tune of "I'm a Believer," Mayor Rudolph Giuliani walked onto the field through the Mets' dugout. The mayor is a famously rabid New York Yankees fan, but such distinctions meant little. The crowd whistled and clapped and cheered, chanting "Rudy! Rudy!" as a small token of thanks for his tireless cheerleading and calming leadership since the attack. Diana Ross sang "God Bless America." Marc Anthony sang the national anthem. Liza Minnelli was on tap for the seventh-inning stretch to belt out her trademark "New York, New York." Four rescue workers each threw out a first pitch. Security was tight. A half-hour before game time, huge crowds were waiting to get to their seats, prompting a 20-minute delay that no one seemed to mind. "This is New York," said Bob Skorvanek, 43, a contractor from Greenwich, Conn. "You can't be afraid." The Mets donated their game salaries – about $450,000 – to the New York City Police and Fire's and Children's Benefit Fund. Former Mets star Rusty Staub started the nonprofit group in 1985, partly to honor an uncle who died in the line of duty as a New Orleans officer. Shea Stadium has hosted a number of memorable games – from World Series championship games in 1969 and '86 to the final game of last year's memorable "Subway Series" won by their Bronx rivals, the Yankees. But it struck several Mets that Friday's game was the most important any had played. "Sports is the fabric of this city," said third baseman Robin Ventura, "and I don't know that even those World Series games are as emotional as [last night]." There were empty seats scattered in the field boxes and bleachers, a silent reminder of the fans who might have come – the bond trader with season passes and VIP parking, the cop who dug deep for an evening with his son. There were cheers when the starting lineups were announced, when sailors unfurled an enormous American flag in center field, when everyone in a Braves or Mets uniform converged for pre-game embraces, when the bagpipers marched off the field to "Give my Regards to Broadway." . Shea was strangely quiet when a Marine sergeant's commands for a 21-gun salute echoed off stands devoid of chatter or foot-shuffling, as did the crack of the rifles. A moment of silence was as silent as 33,000 people can be. Jets usually punctuate games at Shea as they rumble in and out of La Guardia Airport, a few seconds' away by plane. But the Federal Aviation Administration has imposed a temporary ban on flights within three miles or 3,000 feet altitude of sporting events. Players, like the fans, saw the game as a chance to show the world that they aren't afraid to return to the activities that defined everyday life before the attack. "It felt like a piece of my insides were ripped out after last week," said Mets reliever and team captain John Franco, a lifelong New Yorker who has worn an orange New York Sanitation Department T-shirt under his game jersey for years. "But this is good for the city. A couple of firefighters talked to me and told me that they were happy to see us playing again. It will help them to get away and just watch baseball for a few hours." Special contributor Sam Borden, a free-lance writer based in Larchmont, N.Y., contributed to this report. |
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