When I heard that the Mets were hosting a Halloween sleepover, I thought it was a cute idea. When I heard they were charging $200 a head to sleep at Citi Field, I was annoyed, but I showed up anyway. Here’s what happened.
But I never got over the steep price and grumbled to myself until I fell asleep in the visiting team’s bullpen.
Courtesy NY Post
As hundreds of loud kids in costume ran around their sleeping bags, I found myself in the Mets dugout. An older man in an old-school Mets uniform paced and shook his head in disgust. “This is a joke!” he growled. “These guys don’t know how to play the game, and now we’ve turned the ballpark into a slumber party!” “Stengel” was printed on the back of his jersey. Before I could respond, I walked down the stairs to the clubhouse. I ran after him, but he vanished.
A few moments later, I took a seat on home plate, and an older vendor selling peanuts and pennants strolled past me.
“Pennants! Peanuts!” he barked. “Getcha pennants and peanuts!” We made eye contact.
“You in?” he challenged.
“How much?”
“If you gotta ask, it’s too much,” the gray-haired vendor laughed.
“What do you do when you’re not hawking pennants and peanuts?” I asked.
“What do you do when you’re not having a slumber party with kids?” he snapped back.
“I know you from somewhere.” Indeed, this guy looked very familiar. I couldn’t place it.
“Keep it down, guy,” said the vendor nervously.
I didn’t like him referring to me as a guy. “Who are you?” I asked.
“You want to know who I am?”
“Yeah.”
“I helped build this place,” he declared proudly.
Courtesy NY Daily News
“You?” This vendor was absolutely nuts!
“The Yankees have The House That Ruith Built. The Mets have The House That Madoff Built. I wanted to come and see this place for myself.”
“But you’re in jail.”
“I got a night off – paid for it. Everyone has a price.”
I reached into my pocket, opened my wallet, and took out a twenty. I was gonna buy a pennant and some peanuts from Bernie. I would always be able to say that I purchased something that was actually real from Bernie Madoff. But when I looked up, Bernie was gone.
By now, the kids were asleep. I planned on crashing, too, but had to relieve myself. I had spent a bundle on over-priced water. As I did my business, I was interrupted.
“You’re a long shooter, kiddo,” cracked a man in an orange prison jumpsuit who was frantically chewing gum. I didn’t care for being called “kiddo.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re excused,” he said with a smirk.
I concentrated on the task at hand. I wasn’t going to miss.
“I was just messing with you,” said the man, holding out his hand. I just looked at him. Who on earth would want to shake my hand as I urinated?
It was Nails – Lenny Dykstra. I washed my hands and toweled off.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to sleep in the stadium for kicks.”
“Why are you wearing that?”
Courtesy Mr. Met on X
“Hey, Orange is the new black! You got a lot of questions there, kiddo.” Again with the kiddo.
“Why’d you do it?”
“Do what? I did everything. I did the stuff on the field that wasn’t supposed to be done. You’re not supposed to run into walls! In business, I ran into walls too, and I ran around them. And then they put me behind walls!” Nails laughed. “People wanted to believe I was a genius, but…”
I was embarrassed for Nails and looked down. He had once owned this stadium. When I looked up a moment later, Nails was gone.
I tossed some water on my face and toweled off. In the reflection, I saw a familiar face with a moustache in a Red Sox uniform.
It was Bill Buckner.
He was muttering to himself.
“It’s karma! They won a world championship because I messed up, and now they have to host this bush league BS!”
Photo courtesy NY Times
I don’t respond.
“Aren’t you gonna ask me? Everyone does.”
“What do you want me to ask?”
“How’d I miss the ground ball?”
He didn’t give me a chance to answer. He was gonna tell me whether I wanted to hear it or not. This was therapy.
“It was a bad hop – and I missed it. That’s it, pure and simple. It ruined my life – for a while. Hope you’re happy.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Save it. Mookie and I are doing very nicely on the speaker circuit. Mookie’s an incredible teammate.”
Bill Buckner walked away without using the restroom. I guess he just needed to vent.
When my eyes opened, I was in my own bed and not $200 poorer. When the Yankees have their sleepover, they’ll ask for double.
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Jon Hart is the author of Unfortunately, I was available. Illustrated by Coverkitchen.
