First-Person: Spring Training with the New York Mets

There is nothing as welcoming and warm as a Grapefruit League ball park during spring training. Maybe it's the hot sugar-dusted funnel cakes sold side by side with the foot long hot dogs. Maybe it's the fact that you can have a beer in a real bottle during a game, the $13.00 seats, or the tiny dugouts supplemented by white plastic lawn chairs. A day at spring training banishes all thoughts of the previous season's blunders, collapses and humiliations the moment you enter the gate, to give way to fresh dreams of playoff matchups.

Under an achingly blue Florida sky, still dressed for the morning chill, I stood among a small group of fans, waiting just inside of the press gate in Tradition Field, winter home of the New York Mets. That afternoon, the Mets would play the 2007 World Series champion Boston Red Sox to a 1-1 tie in front of the largest crowd in the history of Tradition Field, giving us an early glimpse of the powerful left arm of Johan Santana. That morning, we huddled together in the cramped area between the training fields to watch the squad warm up and run drills on one field and a pitching practice on another. Players and staff ran through our little enclave, conferred and set-up mini drills. Young Joe Smith seemed both embarrassed and amused at our rapt attention to his warm up and quick, low submarine hurl. Rick Peterson, the Mets' pitching coach, murmured his corrections to Jorge Sosa, whose velocity increased with each pitch. We scanned for any signs of Jose Reyes, lined up like kids behind a high fence to catch a glimpse of Jason Varitek in the batting enclosure, and swooned when Pedro Martinez smiled and pointed at us, realizing well after that we had completely ignored Orlando Hernandez, who was walking by Pedro's side.

So many of the players, both the young and the old-timers stopped to sign our baseballs with the uncapped Sharpies held out by eager hands as they moved between the fields. We greeted them like old friends: "How are you doing? Good to see you back on the field. How's your knee? How's the training going?" Howard Johnson printed his number "60" under his signature, and listened to every fan reminisce about 1986. Fred Wilpon, the longtime owner of the Mets, stood in the sun and joked with the fans. "What's your prediction for the season, Mr. Wilpon?" "That we'll play 162 games" he replied, as he gave away his brand new cap to a young fan. Willie Randolph, manager of the Mets, ran between the fields looking as fit and intense as in his playing days, apologizing to us for not stopping because he was busy trying to get us a win against the Sox.

The morning ended, giving way to the heat of the day, the players drifted from the fields to ready themselves for the game. And as we headed to our seats, we watched young Nelson Figueroa hold up a fan's cell phone to his ear, to explain to the fan's mother that yes, it really was Nelson Figueroa speaking, and "how are you doing today, Ma'am."

Just another warm afternoon in Port St. Lucie.