“No.”

It’s an answer no one likes to hear. Lord knows I’ve heard it far too often in my lifetime for my liking. I’ve heard it from parents first, family members as a whole later, then with jobs, women and in general for the most simple of questions. You name it, I heard no for it. But Thursday night, it was part of night of events that I may never forget.

But first background- Friday, 13th of July marks a monumental day in my life. I move from New York to North Carolina.

For the first time, I will be departing the place I have lived for my entire life with no idea when I’m returning. The culture and familiarities will be gone as I trade the heart of Northern industry for Southern Comforts--- or something like that if you are a believer in 19th century stereotypes.

The transition should be interesting- and I’m excited and fearful. I’ve made far too many backwoods of Virginia jokes for anyone’s taste. Who knows how things will end up? Who knows, I could be back where I started in a few months time.

But that is the future; Thursday was about remembering the past.

My biggest regret leading up to this should have been saving my packing to the last minute. Instead, it was that I had yet to go to a New York Mets game at Shea Stadium this year. As a die hard fan, I’ve gone to Shea at least once every year for over ten years. But after accepting a new job in Charlotte, I knew I’d likely be moving before I could get to one this year.

It may not seem like much but the Mets mean a lot to me. My first favorite player in any sport was Darryl Strawberry. My first memory is Mike Scoscia being interviewed after hitting the big home run against the Mets in 1988. I have vague memories of the back page of Newsday when Bobby Bonilla was signed and more vivid memories of his intense booing. I loved the Bobby Valentine era, not just because of his last name.

’99 was great until Kenny Rogers, 2000 up until strike three wasn’t called in game one. I cursed when Scott Kazmir got traded. I cheered when Oliver Perez was named game 7 starter. I ran around my house screaming when Endy Chavez made the catch. I looked down dejectedly when Carlos Beltran struck out to end the game.

Thus getting to Shea IS a big deal to me. My hopes were temporarily elevated when I saw the Mets had a game Thursday against the Reds. I tried to convince David to go. He told me “no.” Instead we ended up meeting up with the old college crew instead.

So in a sense, I was choosing my social past over my entertainment past. Like or not sports is a large part of many people’s lives and I am no exception. I was a guy who once considered going to NYU a plus because I could watch all my teams. But with so many people, what kind of person would I be to turn them down? Even if I actually AM that person, it still would be wrong.

It was a night of mixed emotions; e were celebrating a friend’s return for as our buddy Aaron was in town for a visit. For David and me, it was a departure. Being from San Francisco, I’m sure David felt more of what Aaron had. For me, however, it was like the closing of a chapter in my life. And I couldn’t have picked a better cast of characters for the after party. Among them were, John and Lance, who of course are often guests on our weekly show.

Also accompanying me is an old college friend of mine who I’ve known since freshman year. I also will leave her name out to avoid her getting in any trouble because she’s someone I cannot seem to lose my enormous crush on. It’s always an interesting time with her, because I always have loads of fun with her, in fact, that’s probably why I can’t get rid of the crush. But since she’ll never ever feel the same way, it leaves me the general feeling of “so close yet so far.”

This night would be no different; early on she mentioned she had a boyfriend. conversationally, or maybe to drop that hint on me to not even bother. Yeah, she knows me that well- which is impressive because 99 out of 100 girls I wouldn’t ever try that tact with. But in any case, not that I openly held any ambitions on my last night, I had been shot down prematurely. That alone would be enough to put me on pins and needles for the night; but as it turned out that was small potatoes. Funny how life can do that.

After an amusing conversation where the two of us, along with David and close friend of his, wandered from Penn all the way up to the edge of midtown around the 59th street bridge where we were supposed to meet the rest of our crew. The last one to arrive was Lance, as usual, which led to a series of jokes I had heard a million times before about the co-owner of my fantasy baseball team. But you know what? They were still funny and I wouldn’t be hearing them for a long time. Lance was smug about it as normal, with the usual casual “I don’t give a *^#(!, I’m here, so shut up,” attitude that we love about him.

But he needn’t have hurried. Seating 11 is not easy, and we had to wait for another 20 minutes at least after Lance arrived. After being there for about an hour, we finally sat down. Once we had ordered, Aaron, David and me ended up toasting. Mine was the worst. It’s the whole lack of broadcasting experience thing and just having two many memories. How do you recount NBA Live games, nights at San Marcos, being treated collectively as “others”, remember the hundreds of people, places and feelings you had in a six year period. And that was just for those guys. Looking back, it was the hardest speech to make because I had no idea where I wanted to go with it.

I ended up stumbling, pausing and somehow individually thanking people awkwardly. Afterwards John called an old member of the NYU radio crew. I pulled out my phone to give Zach a call, he unfortunately could not be in New York for the events, so he can chat with the reunion crew. But I didn’t get that number out- instead I got stopped when Rachel, Aaron’s girlfriend looked up, her eyes as big as dinner plates and said:

“That’s David Wright!”

I turned around then returned to direction I was facing before. All of a sudden as if it clicked, I spun around again. Sure enough, or as sure as I’ll ever be, David Wright was sitting down with a guy and three girls a mere six feet from me.

I checked my watch; it was past 11:30. The Mets game had likely ended well over two hours before. So the time fit. We all agreed- it had to be him.

But what were we to do?

A fan’s dream is to meet one of their favorite athletes. But a good fan also knows that the athlete is nothing more than a person with a more public persona. Wright is 24 years old, just two months older than I am. We’re roughly the same height, he might weigh 5-10 pounds more than me. In a different world we could be contemporaries, associates- in this one, he’s a big star, I’m just the insecure fan. Slobbering over him in a restaurant is rude and certainly not classy.

Yes, there are times when even I try to be classy.

We joked about the situation. Rachel said she would but that she had already made awkward eye contact. Everyone else was apprehensive. Then I started to wonder, who was the guy with Wright? I didn’t immediately recognize him as another player, but the size of his forearms- nearly on par with Wright’s tipped me off to something. Then it hit me- Joe Smith, the middle reliever.

I wasn’t sure about this one as much. Wright I was 99% sure. Smith I hadn’t seen as much, so even though it made sense. Then John made an interesting wager;

“I will throw down 100 bucks right now if you go up to Wright, look him straight in the face, nod and introduce yourself to Joe Smith.”

I declined, saying I wasn’t sure if it was Smith. So the topic was dropped from conversation but not my mind. I called Zach, who said I had to meet Wright. I mean a Mets fan as big as I am can’t pass up the opportunity right?

Of course I can- it’s what I’ve done well throughout my life. I’m the guy who once turned down a girl he liked for junior prom. Sometimes you lose yourself in the moment, rightly or wrongly, no pun intended.

But it ate at me. There he was, David freaking Wright, six feet from me. It’s my last night in NY, I’ve been dying to go to a Mets game, this HAS to be a sign. I’m not sure what it’s a sign of, but it has to be one, right? But we go over it, and I started discussing a plan of attack that was similar to John’s but different in a few ways. I occasionally glanced back to see if they were planning on leaving.

Eventually we all had to go ourselves. The trip to Charlotte is long even when cut into two days. As I got up, I waited, I wanted someone to tell me to go ahead, to do it. I wanted someone with me. I tapped Lance on the shoulder as we were leaving. He didn’t stop. In the past I would have followed.

Tonight I stopped. I walked up to the table and said:

“Excuse me.” They all stopped and looked up at me. I was in too deep, so I continued; “Are you Joe Smith?”

The guy promptly said “no.”

This could have left me with nothing, but instead:

“That’s pretty good,” Wright replied. “He does look like him.”

It made me feel at ease and now that I was already in, I could make my explanation quick. In hindsight, I could have dropped a name, but hey, really does it matter? I then went on to briefly explain, I’ve been a New Yorker and a Mets fan all my life and that tomorrow I was moving down to Charlotte. So it absolutely blew my mind to be out on my last night in New York and see one of my favorite athletes sit behind me. Then I said to keep up the good work, thanked him for his time, shook his hand and walked out.

Inside I screamed and jumped for joy. Outside followed once I was out the doors.

My friends all gave me props- it took guts to do that. And in one sense it does. Yet on the other, if the opportunity presents itself to you, why the hell not? Lance was right when he told me; “Hey, it’s not like you’re going to be in New York tomorrow.”

I won’t be. And I might as well leave the city with bang.

Which is exactly how I’ll remember that night. The night that never would have happened should David not wanted to go to the Mets game. Or that never would have happened if we had decided to leave and go somewhere else after waiting an hour. And it goes without saying, that this will be forever remembered as one of the greatest nights of my life. It started with seeing old faces I had not in sometime and was a last night where symbolically, I got to shake hands with the part of what has made me what I am today.

Thanks New York, for the memories.