Here in the tiny burgh of New York, we’d been forced to endure the massive indignity of attending baseball games in old, “charming” ballparks. We subsisted on hot dogs and beer, rather than on prime rib au jus or fresh crab cakes delivered via helicopter precisely 40 minutes before the first pitch. We sat in unforgiving plastic seats that weren’t oriented toward home plate. We had to wait patiently when entering and leaving the joint, because the narrow corridors couldn’t accommodate the rush-hour traffic. That’s right—NARROW CORRIDORS.

That all changed in April, when both the Mets and the Yankees cut the novelty oversized ceremonial ribbons that heralded the debut of their new joints. We already did a Nü Yankee Stadium walkabout, so last night it was time to give the pesky younger sibling’s new home its turn in the spotlight. Fast assessment? Citi Field is a nicer, more carefully thought-out, more accommodating stadium in every way that matters and a few that don’t. Here’s our pictorial report.

Duh.


Teens with clarinets = harbinger of an off-the-hook stadium experience. Screw the Van Halen, gimme some Benny Goodman.


I reported his parents to the child-welfare authorities. Green? Plaid? That’s both cruel and unusual.


The rush for tickets claimed 32 lives and left 184 more fans hospitalized.


Even the entrance gates are all bright and shiny-like.



A sorta-panoramic shot of the Jackie Robinson Rotunda, which greets visitors as soon as they enter the ballpark. It’s beautifully appointed and obviously he’s deserving of every honor we can accord him… but, uh, the guy never played for the Mets or anything.

 

 

The character of the surrounding neighborhood hasn’t changed all that much.



But can the Pirates, Tigers or any other team with a shiny newfangled ballpark lay claim to a scenic vista like this?

 

Or this?



In the who-has-the-biggest-dick contest that is stadium scoreboard sizing, the Mets’ Jumbotron pales besides the Yankees’. But the Mets make up for it with trivia…


…and disturbing text-message displays. I’d have answered this one with “J.J. Putz on the hill in a tie game.”



The Mets have hired attractive young women to wield the t-shirt cannon, as opposed to grunty old hags or some unshaven dude who’s 90 percent gut. Damn, they sure know how to make that thing explode, ifyaknowwhutimean.



The sales guy who convinced the producers of a Broadway musical to spring for a huge ad at a ballpark—where most visitors consider Seinfeld the epitome of western culture—deserves a raise.

 

What he said.




Francisco “K-Rod” Rodriguez engages in yet another of the arrogant, aggressively jubilant post-victory celebrations that have earned him the wrath of his peers. Take it down a notch, guy.