The ceremony concluded with one last pitch thrown in the stadium, caught by Piazza and fittingly thrown by Tom Seaver, aptly nicknamed "The Franchise." The scene had occurred countless times in my head as I discussed my all-time Mets lineup with my friends and fellow fans, but this time it was real, and it instantly joined the unforgettable images replayed earlier. Then with cameras flashing and a capacity crowd still cheering, the Mets' two proudest sons walked through the center field gate, directly in front of the entrance of CitiField, the Mets' new stadium, and closed the door behind them. The metaphor clearly wasn't lost on me, but even if the Hall of Famers pitch a tent in CitiField and spend the rest of their lives there, they could never close the door on Shea Stadium. It remains open in our memories that transcend baseball. Shea Stadium will forever be the place not only where I argued face-to-face with Jimmy Rollins for seven innings, saw Billy Joel, Paul McCartney, Steven Tyler, and some the greatest musicians ever rock a soldout stadium, or sat with snow in my shoes after braving an October Buffalo blizzard to see a Mets playoff game. It is the place where I grew up, where friends became best friends, and where Mets fans went to believe, whether or not Tug told them they hadda. Many were forced to say goodbye, but Shea goodbye? Never.

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