It's bad news when you load up the game on mlb.tv, and the first thing you see is skyrockets in flight. The nighttime, non-delightful kind. The score is now: Angels lots and lots of runs, Red Sox not so much.

So I'll just move on to my experience at Shea Stadium tonight.

Brian (left, in shower) and I arrived at the big, drab piece of concrete in Queens in time for gates opening. I'd never taken the subway out there before, so I didn't realize that the whole time you're in Queens, you're above ground, el-style. Pretty scary up there, like being on a roller coaster that's never checked for safety purposes.

We went in, and the Mets were on the field, taking batting practice. We went out to right field to try and catch home runs. The stands at Shea are set up so that most home runs land harmlessly behind the fence without any chance of a fan getting it. For all of BP, not one ball went to a fan, with the exception of the "picnic area" in left field.

Pedro was right near me, and I kept trying to get his attention, but he had the iPod on, so it wasn't to be. And almost as if to add insult to my own injury, I got Jose Offerman to wave to me by yelling his name. Can you believe he's in the major leagues?

One Pirate did try to throw me a ball. A dude named Torres. But it didn't reach me. The spot where we were is about twenty feet above the field.

Then, Chan (right, behind a bearded me a decade ago), who scored the sweet seats, met up with us right around first pitch. Our seats were down the right field line, in the field boxes.

Great view of the game, but a crappy game it was, for the most part. The Mets' offense was anemic. And everything just went by so fast, National League-style. I swear, that league is a different sport to me. It's like being at some kind of "Kids Baseball Land Fun Park," where the game happens in fast forward so they can get to the between inning entertainment. That worked out tonight, though, since I did want to get home for the 10 P.M. Sox game, and I wanted a donut from this awesome place on 86th Street. It's the only place where I've ever gotten a donut that I had to put away to finish later.

The Pirates won 6-0, behind the solid pitching of Zach Duke. Before the game, I said I liked the name to be spelled "Zack," while Brian preferred "Zach," because "it's like Brach's." Good call. We think "Zack the Lego Maniac" spelled it with a "k."

Anyway, Duke had a no-no into the sixth, until Chan jinxed him.

And Mets fans despise Kaz Matsui.

Also, going back now, to before we left for the game, we walked to Grand Central to get the subway, and stopped to sit down in the Hyatt. Of course, we saw some Pirates. I couldn't tell you which ones. (Maybe that Tike guy.) But as they headed out of the lobby, me and Brian followed them out, and tried to "pretend to be players," hoping one of the Pirate fans outside would try to get our autograph. At Brian's suggestion, we tried to "look big" as we walked out. However, my Space Invaders T-shirt and Red Sox hat, as well as Brian's mohawk, might have tipped them off to the fact that we weren't Pittsburgh Pirates. Still, we decided that if we were asked, we'd sign "Paul Welch," as that sounded like the name of a player, or that of a son of a coach.

That's my story. I can't wait until the Mets get a new stadium. And Jack Wilson looks like Jerry Seinfeld.