In that blinding shot of ephemera (you don't remember it? It wasn't THAT good? Oh fine. HERE.), I made a politician-like promise to respond to an actual dream I had, and post my 100 most powerful memories of Shea Stadium.
Perhaps I blew off the challenge for the reason stated in that entry- that it would be hard to come up with that many recollections when, at best, I've been within its walls barely half a dozen times in the past 30 years (seven if you count this year's two-day blowout as a twofer).
Ah, but then Greg reminded me today of the way you Git-R-Done around this Cable Modem Internet of ours. You use a countdown. I ought to know such things, since I crammed six posts into the last two days of LAST YEAR (you remember, the one with the Mets choking incredibly down the stretch but still having a chance on the final weekend which they blew? Right. Me neither). That one was themed around the old WABC year-end countdown of the 100 top songs of the year, the year I based it on being 1971 because that's the one I actually ordered at the time. That drunken stroll down memory lane began here and generally got worse.
And so I see the road ahead. It ain't pretty, but it's doable. Between now and Ben Grauer time on Wednesday night, I will catalog and post those 100 memories. Few will be of actual visits. Some will be tied to "where were you on...." moments we all share to one extent or another, where I can remember where the hell I was. Some I will not remember at all. (The first and next one, in fact, already cerebrally written but not yet taken down.)
I don't know how I'm gonna get that many in that few days, but ya gotta believe. Rooting for me (or even against, if you've had enough of these things) is always appreciated.