Out of the Iron Triangle

I have fond memories of Opening Day at Shea in 2005. The day was April 11, 2005. That morning I had an interview that would ultimately land me the job I currently have now. Afterward I grabbed breakfast with the Hound near his office, and then it was back to the Upper West to pick up the car, Sip, The Kid, and Jawn-Jawn, and head out to Shea.

It was all going perfectly. We grabbed a couple 30 bangers at a deli, breezed out on the Triborough and we were on our way. The first sing of trouble came at Exit 9 (or is it 8?) towards Shea Stadium. Cars were piling on to the off ramp, the traffic went from zero to horrible in a matter of moments.

By the time we made our way past the off ramp and in to the Shea Stadium parking lot, all the spots were taken. Panicked that we would miss the player introductions before the start of the game, we dove head first into the Iron Triangle.

Not familiar with the Iron Triangle? Here's the only way I can possibly describe it. One spring break I was in the Dominican Republic with Denver D's and some friends. Good soul that he is, Denver D's had spent summers living and working in a remote, third world village called Los Conucos.

You've never heard of Los Conucos, and don't bother looking it up. When I Googled it for a picture, the horrifying image above was the first thing that appeared.

The people in Los Conucos are lovely, but the area is broke as shit. There's no sewage, no running water, the electricity is sporadic at best. The buildings look like they could collapse after a strong wind. You sleep under a mosquito net. It's the kind of thing that really gives you some perspective; it shows you how much you have, and it shows you what you lack.

Little did I know that instead of traveling a couple thousand miles for that kind of experience, all I had to do was hop on the 7 train and head out to the area right next to good old Shea.

The Iron Triangle is like visiting the third world; or it's the closest thing to it that you'll find in New York City at least. If you replaced the Iron Triangle with Los Conucos, nobody would be able to tell the difference.

Look, I love Los Conucos. The people there were incredibly warm and welcoming, and cheesy as it sounds, what they lack in material possessions they make up for in their community-mindedness. It really is enviable in a way.

But when it comes to the area surrounding Shea Stadium, well, I like the idea of Fenway/Kenmore or Wrigleyville more than I like the idea of Los Conucos. And so it was with excitement that I heard Mayor Bloomberg announce a massive, 10-year redevelopment plan for the Iron Triangle.

There's a lot to like here, even if the Robert Moses haters in the crowd might recoil a bit. Yes, a lot of people would lose their jobs -- 1,300 jobs would be displaced -- but evidently there is only one resident of the Iron Triangle, so only he would lose his home. On the flip side, the project would create 20,000 jobs during the building phase, and 6,100 permanent jobs.

But come on, that's nice and all but this is a baseball site. Think of how awesome it would be if there were a thriving, Mets-loving community flanking Shea. After a big win you could head out to the local bar and yuk it up with some fellow-feeling fans. Subway rides home after the games are great, but it's a means to an end. The chance to sit down and hang out with your own after a game is something I really envy Red Sox or Cubs fans for, and the idea that this could be coming to a ballpark near us somewhere down the line is a tremendously exciting prospect.

Or as Sip put it yesterday when I e-mailed him the article from Newsday:

"would be a lifechanger...

UNFUCKING REAL"

He's got a way with words, that one.

Now come on already, let's take 1 of 3 at least.

- A.F.O.M.G.

(Images courtesy of nyc.gov and blogs.timesunion.com)