I miss Citi Field more than I can say.
I miss Citi Field like a smoker misses a cigarette, like an old man misses his childhood, like a sailor misses his girl back home. I miss walking out of the subway station and seeing that beautiful stadium painted against a bright blue sky. I miss the entrances, the escalators, and the giant card lineup. I miss the first sight of the field, sparkling green and perfectly groomed. I miss sitting in a sea of empty seats in the upper deck. I miss Nathan’s hot dogs and overpriced pink lemonade.