Forty-four degrees Fahrenheit ain’t exactly baseball weather. That’s one thing I learned attending the Mets’ eighth home game of this season, their 45th and final season at Shea Stadium. Yes, Citi Field looks amazing. The bricks have that brand-new pinkish-red quality, as if they’ve yet to be rained on. And the whole complex looks as though it will be sprawling in an inviting sort of way—more a collection of neighborhoods (The Rotunda, The Concessions, The Park Itself) than a cylindrical stand-alone entity like Shea.

But on to the game itself. I was still finding my seat when my man John Maine walked the first batter of the game, Cristian Guzman. Then Guzman went in motion and Met-killer Ronnie Belliard poked a single through the hole. Was that a hit-and-run, or just a straight steal where the batter happened to swing? It looked like the latter from the third base-side field box, although my perception of the play might have been tainted by my knowledge that Manny Acta manages the Nationals.

After Maine got out of it only allowing one run, I went on a food run (pretzel for my girlfriend, dog for me). I missed Jose Reyes’s at-bat, but I returned in time to see Ryan Church hit one a long damn way. “I guess he can hit lefties,” I said as he rounded the bases. The stadium blared “Whoop, There It Is.” I flashed back to painful high school dances.

Maine continued to look scary in his subsequent trips to the mound. Our old friend Lastings Milledge (more on him in a minute) looked to be robbed of a home run by a gust of wind, as he absolutely crushed a two-strike fastball and it ended up short of the left-field fence. Then the next guy, Austin Kearns, really crushed one and no wind could’ve kept it in the park. I’m not gonna lie, I thought we were in for another long night. Leave it to Reyes and Carlos Beltran to come to the rescue. I’m not letting Maine off the hook, though. Four walks, one home run, and at least two near-home runs? Against the Nationals? Not good enough, my man. You’re a better pitcher than that.

I heard some of the booing I’ve been reading about. My take is that most of the people who booed Met players last night, during a victory, were idiots—or at the very least, soulless, mirthless sad sacks. For example, after Beltran hit the three-run homer, Carlos Delgado followed with a strikeout. A few people booed. The Mets had just taken a three-run lead with a mammoth home run, and people booed the next batter. How bad does your life have to be that you can’t enjoy a home run long enough to avoid booing the next guy who comes to the plate? Worse than the booing, however, were the people who cheered when Milledge was hit by a pitch, and cheered louder when the trainers came out. I can understand booing Lastings (though I applauded when he came to the plate), but how does a person become so morally bankrupt that he cheers when another human being has possibly broken his hand? I think some of the “fans” who come to these games think the players are fictional characters.

But I am not a despairing blogger, so enough about the bad fans. There were plenty of great fans at the park, and this was a great win for this team. Reyes looked fantastic, and Joe Smith looked like a legitimate major league reliever, coming in and striking out Ryan Zimmerman with two on. I don’t see how we send that kid down when Matt Wise is ready to come off the DL. And finally, you gotta love Beltran’s basket catch to start the ninth (another ball that appeared to be knocked down by the wind, by the way).

Let’s try to stay above .500 the rest of the way, shall we boys? Let’s go Mets!