The Mets at Citi Field

Baseball is known as 'America's pastime', and a lot of time definitely passed as it took over three hours for the New York Mets fall to defeat in my first experience of one of the country's Big Four sports.

Leaving Citi Field at the game's conclusion, I couldn't figure out why it is that Americans so willingly embrace this game whilst cricket remains so obscure in this part of the world. Both are essentially similar, but there are far more moments of excitement in the British game.

When I first got to the States I learned that our version of football didn't catch on earlier because there was a perceived lack of scoring involved. My experience of baseball posed something of a contradiction to that as there were five scoreless innings in a row lasting over an hour in total. Not much to celebrate there.

Although the eventual score was 5-6 in favour of the Miami Marlins, a ball was hit maybe once every four or five pitches. Compare that to cricket - where nearly every ball is hit and hundreds of runs are scored - and it is hard to see why Americans are in love with this bat-and-ball game whilst entirely disregarding our own.

That is not to say, however, that the game we watched wasn't enjoyable. In fact, we witnessed a bit of Mets history as pitcher Jacob deGrom struck out the Marlins' first eight hitters, thus breaking his team's record and equalling a Major League Baseball record that has apparently stood since 1986.

Thanks to this strong start, the Mets looked comfortable going into the final few innings but somehow the team from Florida managed to turn the game on its head to secure a 6-5 victory. I can't claim to know enough about baseball to say this with much confidence, but it looked to me as though the removal of deGrom from the pitcher's mound had something to do with it.

Mets rookie Jacob deGrom, wearing a specially-themed jersey to recognise the service of America's veterans (metsmerizedonline.com)

I've been in New York City for nearly a month and in Madison Square Garden and the Arthur Ashe Stadium I've seen two of the more stunning sporting venues this city has to offer. Citi Field could rival them in stature, but not in style.

Although it was an impressive structure, it looked as though the stadium had eaten too many adverts and vomited them all over one of its own corners.

To make matters worse, those parts of the stadium that weren't replaced by advertising hoardings were far from full with people. When I enquired as to why, I got the response that "we suck." It seems the team's own fans agree with Joey Tribbiani's assessment of the Mets on NBC's Friends.

Whilst it's true that the Mets' hopes of making the playoffs are over, it occurred to me that the fact there's a game virtually every night can't help attendance figures. Only the extremely committed (and well-off) could possibly dedicate eighty-one evenings and afternoons to these marathon games of baseball. Either way, the 40,000-capacity stadium couldn't have even been more than a quarter-full.

Although it can be a little slow at times, the appeal of baseball is clear: it is a simple game with a rich history. Even in Britain, the likes of Babe Ruth and Joe DiMaggio are household names. The New York Mets are not without their 'own' history either, as I found out upon leaving the ballpark.

I write 'own' in quotation marks because much of the celebration surrounds Jackie Robinson, who was a Brooklyn Dodgers before they moved to Los Angeles, and before the New York Mets were formed in 1962.

I must admit that I hadn't heard of Jackie Robinson in a baseball context before last night, but knew something of his significance in challenging the basis of segregation. As it turns out, when the Dodgers played him at first base in 1947 they were the first team to play a black man since the nineteenth century, thus ending the relegation of black players to the Negro leagues.

Robinson would go onto win the World Series with the Dodgers in 1955, before being inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame seven years later. His impact was so far-reaching that, since 2004, every player on every team in the MLB wears Robinson's number 42 on 'Jackie Robinson Day'.

Since the Dodgers' move to LA, it seems the Mets have 'adopted' Robinson as one of their own, and it isn't hard to see why.

"A life is not important except in the impact it has on other lives" - the Jackie Robinson Rotunda

Afternoons on Broadway

This weekend another box was ticked as we took advantage of 2-for-1 tickets on Broadway and went to see the revival of Les Miserables at the Imperial Theatre.

I've been to Times Square and Broadway a couple of times since getting here and obviously was aware of its theatrical history, but the famous jungle of theatres is fairly well tucked away from the main road. Unless you're looking for it, it's unlikely you'll just stumble into it.

In the event, it took us a while to actually find the theatre we wanted among the countless others showing big names such as Chicago and Mamma Mia!

I'm no theatre critic, but I'm a fairly solid fan of the film so was expecting a fair bit from seeing the musical in the flesh. More to the point, I wasn't sure how Broadway's Marius would stand up to Eddie Redmayne's pretty flawless portrayal in the 2012 epic. 

Thankfully, this Marius didn't disappoint and nor did the show. For starters, there's no way the voices of Russell Crowe and Hugh Jackman would hold up on stage. Even the young performers portraying the likes of Cosette and Gavroche showed not an ounce of trouble in hitting every note.

I don't have enough experience of attending musical theatre to compare this against many other productions, but some of the big numbers definitely beat the wow factor of Lion King's impressive opening.

In fact, the only gripe I could have about the entire afternoon is the fact that Americans spell it Les Miz. Not sure what that's about.

St. John's and its strange brand of 'soccer'

Seeing as the Premier League is so big in these parts, it was no surprise to see a similar buzz surrounding the university's 'soccer' team. On Saturday night, St. John's University's men's team faced Syracuse University in something of a local derby.

The four-figure crowd that showed up wasn't bad - the kind of numbers that would show up to a Conference fixture in England - but I had been given the impression by advertising that the stands would be full. As it was, St. John's students filled a stand behind one goal, whilst a few paying customers were littered across what would be described as the 'main stand'.

Impressive compared to the one-man-and-his-dog that attends the average football match at the University of Leicester, but underwhelming versus the filling of huge arenas at American football games in the South (a la Friday Night Lights). 

As a fan of non-league football, I am all-too-aware of the perils of attempting to entertain a half-filled stadium. The half-time dancers looked a little lonely as they performed to a main stand that was more interested in their mid-match snacks.

The cheerleaders were a little more painful to watch, not least because their 'show' lasted the entire ninety minutes. Perhaps I'm just too British to ever really understand their purpose, but it seemed as though no-one was inspired by their well-rehearsed routines.

In fact, the most entertaining thing about them was the fact that, whilst supporting a very Catholic institution, they were chanting, "Let's go, Johnnies, let's go!", blissfully unaware of the word's meaning in British slang.

Sadly, the cheerleaders weren't the only aspect of college soccer I didn't understand. As the game kicked off, I was surprised to hear the sound system continue to be utilised beyond your usual pre-match announcements as play-by-play commentary was forced upon the crowd. Though its intention was to be informative, sound systems are never particularly clear and the incessant, garbled attempts at description merely resulted in a headache.

The fact the announcer used terms such as 'goalbox' (making Twitter's US Soccer Guy sound worryingly less satirical) didn't exactly help proceedings.

Furthermore, the game itself was plagued by 'time-outs' which involved roll-on roll-off substitutions that began after twenty minutes. I'm sure Sven Goran Eriksson would have loved it, but I'm not sure how beneficial it was to the players who were - in theory, at least - on the final rung of the ladder to playing the professional game.

This strange circus sadly detracted from what was, at times, high-quality football. There may have been a distinct lack of quality in the final third and there was a clear emphasis upon individual talent over team cohesion, but the pace at which the game was played was impressive.

St. John's even boasted one or two players that wouldn't have looked out of place in the upper echelons of England's non-league game, but it wasn't enough to stop their team falling to a 1-0 defeat.

The referee blew his whistle bang on ninety minutes - they have apparently done away with injury time this side of the Atlantic - to draw to an end a pretty peculiar evening.

Although Saturday night was just a first taste of college soccer, it was hard to shake the feeling that America has tried to fix a game that isn't broken, trying far too hard to force its own character onto a game that already has plenty.

The "EPL" in the USA - some initial observations

Since I've arrived in New York, I've heard more talk of soccer than any of America's so-called 'Big Four' sports. Perhaps it's because I'm English and so conversation naturally leans towards our national sport, but it seems as though everyone here follows a team in what they call "the EPL".

In a strange coincidence, the first Premier League game I watched with American company was Arsenal's visit to Leicester. Seeing my university's local team on television from NYC was a peculiar experience, but not quite as strange as hearing my new American flat-mates refer to the place as "Lie-chester". I let it slide once or twice before I had to correct them.

The impression I've got in the week since that game is that 'soccer' has grown in popularity not just since the USA's impressive showing at this summer's World Cup, but for a while before that too. David Beckham's presence in Los Angeles has been mentioned without prompting on numerous occasions, emphasising the influence he had on the game in this country.

That said, it is not the MLS that captures the imagination of the locals but our Premier League. I have heard only one mention of Thierry Henry's New York Red Bulls since I've been in the States, and even that was born out of a conversation about Arsenal.

Thierry Henry: one of the many Premier League stars that have graced the MLS in recent years

The Gunners are surprisingly popular in these parts (perhaps a measure of Henry's star quality) and apparently share the affection of the locals with - less surprisingly - Manchester City. One Chilean I came across professed his love for both sides: Arsenal for their signing of Alexis Sanchez, and City for the Manuel Pellegrini connection. I asked him what the Chilean word was for loyalty but I'm not sure he got the joke.

Similarly, a Manchester United fan in my flat has lamented the decline in support for his side over the last twelve months - confirmation of the apparently fickle nature of Premier League 'support' in these parts. Americans may appreciate the quality of our league, but they have found it harder to understand what it really means to be a fan of English football.

Perhaps I am expecting too much or being too protective of the English game, but there is a lot to be said for the idea that they won't be able to fully appreciate our game until they become familiar with the history, rivalries and loyalties involved. Over here, there is an emphasis upon individual talent, big-money transfers and NBC's bloated Premier League schedule. But then, some would argue that England is heading the same way...

It's fair to say that Americans have been well exposed to football, but exposure doesn't necessarily equate to understanding. On more than one occasion when people have asked who I follow and I tell them about non-league St. Albans City, I've been met with blank faces and the response: "Ok, but who's your EPL team?"

Although there's a naivety about the American interest in the English game, it's still serious enough to suggest that the Premier League is here to stay - in this part of the country at least. Even our visit to Seth Meyers involved the Late Night host (a West Ham fan himself, incidentally) asking my Manchester-based friend if he was "City or United?" - an indication of the way our game is becoming indelibly stamped upon the American sporting consciousness.

How a routine trip to Central Park turned into an impromptu evening with Seth Meyers

It was only meant to be a casual trip to Manhattan, to sort out some banking administration and to enjoy the ridiculous New York sun at Central Park, but somehow we ended up in Studio 8G of 30 Rock.

We were simply browsing the NBC store on the famous building's ground floor when we were approached by a lady asking if we were interested in attending the monologue rehearsal for Late Night with Seth Meyers. I recognised the name and knew the show itself from when Jimmy Fallon was host, but it's safe to say that Meyers hasn't penetrated the British market in the same way that Fallon and Jimmy Kimmel have.

Nevertheless, we accepted the tickets and joined the back of the queue on the second floor. At this point, airport-esque security kicked in and phones were suddenly banned before we'd even got up to the studios on the eighth floor.

The lack of opportunity to take photos was a shame, as the corridors were lined with stills from NBC shows both past and present. Comedy stars such as Jason Sudeikis, Steve Martin and Amy Poehler were all featured.

We were interrupted from admiring the famous faces by the less-than-subtle entrance of two of the show's writers. They told us they'd been away for three weeks as though it was some kind of excuse for their hyper-activity. They had so much energy that it hurt to look directly at them, much like the sun.

After this fast-paced introduction to the world of television writing, we filed into the small and dark studio. In typical American fashion, there were 'windows' offering views of Manhattan at night - a staple of any late-night US talk show.

Meyers himself came out from behind his desk and explained a little about the studio, how it was a new set across from where Saturday Night Live was filmed. It was at this point that I remembered where I knew him from - he'd hosted the Weekend Update on SNL after Poehler left the show.

Time was tight, though, and it wasn't long before he began reeling off jokes the writers had written for him - so quickly that it would be impossible to remember them all. The volume of our laughter was seen by the staff as a measure of their success, but there were some so poor that only the writers themselves laughed.

In fact, the only quip that was of any real quality was one about the fact that Keanu Reeves has just turned fifty, which is good because "any lower and the bus explodes". That one apart, even Meyers himself seemed a little pained by the quality of the gags he was having to read.

The tight schedule and the nature of US television meant that our job was done in about half an hour, and we were shepherded out of the building as quickly as we'd come in, leaving the writers to analyse our response and decide which gags had made the cut for that night's broadcast.

The jokes may have been questionable but the evening as a whole was a top experience - an unexpected glimpse behind the curtain into the world of comedy where legends such as Chevy Chase, Bill Murray and Tina Fey have all plied their trade.

The US Open

Back in January, when I first learned that I would be moving to New York in the last week of August, one of the first things I did was look into the possibility of getting hold of tickets to the US Open. After all, I wasn't sure if I'd ever find myself in NYC at this time of year again.

Having been to Wimbledon already this summer, I thought I might know what to expect when arriving at Flushing Meadows. Obviously I was aware of Wimbledon's unique qualities, but part of me wondered just how different two Grand Slam tournaments could be when the game, players and schedule went virtually untouched.

But as we entered the grounds via Queens' famous Unisphere, subtle differences between The All England Club and Flushing Meadows became immediately apparent. Although both championships proudly celebrate their respective histories, your eyes at the US Open are drawn to sponsors rather than statues as you walk through the gates.

There are plaques listing previous winners, but you're soon distracted by the Heineken logos that dominate eye-level. More commercialization than commemoration.

That said, the imposing exterior of the Arthur Ashe stadium soon grabs the attention. Like at Wimbledon, you walk past a couple of outer courts before reaching the show courts and although there is no ivy climbing up the walls and no golden clocks giving it added glamour, the view of the US Open's centre-piece still carries the same authority as Wimbledon's Centre Court.

The Arthur Ashe Stadium's exterior - and a bearded bloke

We had arrived at the gates for entry to the evening session - itself an alien concept to me. Presumably it's another shameless method of increasing turnover at the turnstiles, but I wasn't complaining when the schedule drew up Roger Federer and Maria Sharapova on the same night. To see two former champions for around £50 didn't seem too bad, considering the tickets I inherited at Centre Court in the summer cost more than twice that amount.

If Madison Square Garden attempted to find a balance between size and intimacy, the Arthur Ashe Stadium made no such effort. They say everything is bigger in the United States and this stadium is testament to that - and it has to be, considering the US Open is the busiest tennis tournament in the world. The 'nosebleeds' (as our taxi driver condescendingly called our seats) offered panoramic views of the city, giving an idea of the sheer size of the arena.

The stadium is bigger, and so is the show. At Wimbledon the atmosphere is famously polite, a word you wouldn't necessarily associate with Flushing Meadows, or indeed New York as a whole. Five-time champion Federer was introduced amid a crescendo of rock music - a gimmick I can't see the All England Club adopting any time soon.

The same can be said for the way the marketing that was plentiful outside the stadium had managed to worm its way into the Arthur Ashe. Wimbledon has not been immune to the necessary evil that is commercialism in sport (even its strawberries and cream are sponsored by HSBC) but I can't imagine a break in play on Centre Court being filled by Tina Fey appearing on screen to try and sell the crowd bracelets.

The typically understated Federer provided a stark contrast to his loud surroundings as he disposed of the unseeded Australian Sam Groth in straight sets. However, my view of the opening exchanges were constantly interrupted by the mass of people trying to find their seat. At Flushing Meadows, movement around the stadium is not restricted whilst the players are in action.

This was a by-product of the far 'messier' nature of the tournament compared to Wimbledon. From the bustling crowds outside the venue to the way the ball-boys would throw the ball the length of the court rather than roll them about in a more organised fashion, the whole event seemed decidedly and unsurprisingly less regimented than Wimbledon.

Crowds outside the Arthur Ashe Stadium, with the Unisphere in the background

Whilst this was not how I was used to watching tennis, it created a refreshingly relaxed atmosphere that was more suited to the busy city that is New York. With the advertising, colossal arena and show-like atmosphere, it was a lesson in the fact that - contrary to popular belief over here - bigger doesn't always mean better. It just means different.

In the same way that Britain likes to think that Wimbledon reflects the country as a whole, the US Open had America written all over it - it even came complete with a nerveless twelve-year-old's rendition of 'America the Beautiful'. And like everything else at Flushing Meadows, it was impressive.

Madison Square Garden

As mentioned yesterday, the purpose of our journey into Manhattan was to visit Madison Square Garden. The option of visiting Times Square instead was offered too, but the opportunity to have a guided tour of what they unashamedly call the 'World's Most Famous Arena' was too good to miss.

It's a bold tagline to attach to a venue, but by the end of the two hours it was clear that it wasn't a statement without justification. Anyone with a passing interest in sport or music has heard of 'The Garden', but I'll admit that I expected nothing more than something along the lines of Wembley Arena with a little added sport. This was a preconception reinforced by the building's modest exterior but completely shattered once we got inside.

We were led by a chap who, despite having led this tour countless times, was still clearly in awe of the place. He may have simply been good at his job, but he'd have had to have been an incredible actor to fake that kind of enthusiasm.

He took us on what he called a 'New York walk' around the arena, beginning with the food and drink stalls that surround any large venue. These echoed the kind you'd find at Wembley Stadium - overpriced and heavily sponsored, but what caught the eye was what hung above each one.

Running the long length of the stalls was a picture accompanied by a date from a particular year, going all the way from January 1st to December 31st. An event from music, sport or politics for every single day of the year. I struggle to believe that the same could be done even if Wembley Stadium and Arena were combined.

Also adorning the outer parts of the stadium were displays paying tribute to key moments in the Garden's history. As a New York Rangers fan, the one that caught my eye was a case dedicated to Wayne Gretzky's final game in the NHL. It included his famous number 99 jersey, a number they retired across the entire NHL at the end of his career.

Translating that into English terms, it's very hard indeed to imagine Manchester City and Liverpool agreeing to retire their number 11 shirts when Ryan Giggs retired at the end of last season.

Even the most casual hockey fan would have heard of Wayne Gretzky and his appeal was evident in the photo that sat next to his shirt. I can't remember seeing too many hockey players tuck their jerseys in completely, and when the guide referred to him as 'a gentleman' I was reminded of images of Bobby Moore wiping his hands on his shorts before shaking the Queen's hand in 1966.

There were also tributes to the concerts MSG had hosted, including gigs that had raised millions after Hurricane Katrina in 2005 and Hurricane Sandy seven years later (for which Simon and Garfunkel came out of retirement). It was also interesting to hear the way the tour guide spoke of Elton John, who holds the record for the most shows played at the Garden - strange to hear how someone who grew up just a few miles from St. Albans is such a big part of this huge city's history.

Our first sight of the arena itself came via an exclusive lounge from which the view of MSG needs to be seen to be believed. I thought the lounge I worked in at Leicester Tigers was nice but the view from here was something else.

The strange thing about the Garden is the way it feels intimate yet enormous at the same time. The roof moves convexly from the top of the steep seating, down towards the GardenVision at the arena's centre, thus combining the Colosseum effect of a huge outdoor arena with the almost claustrophobic nature of an intimate theatre.

We were taken up onto the Bridge - seating that hung from the roof, suspended above what would be the court or rink. Once you'd gotten over the vertigo, the views were unique in that you were almost looking directly down upon the arena's focal point. It was just one of the technological miracles MSG had to offer, as the guide explained how the ice was created and then protected using fibre-glass to allow a basketball court or stage to be built on top of it.

Although the views were spectacular (even better than those you'd find at Clarence Park), it was the history of the place that provided the goosebumps. Banners hung from the ceiling commemorating Stanley Cup winning teams and musical records that had been broken at the Garden. The likes of Billy Joel, Michael Jordan and John F. Kennedy had all been the centre of attention at this famous arena.

Yet the tour guide spoke with most emotion as he described one particular New York Rangers game in October 2001, the first game at the Garden since the terrorist attacks of September 11th. As he described how Rangers captain Mark Messier donned the hat of fallen Fire Chief Ray Downey, you got the sense that this was not just the history of a sporting arena or musical venue, but the history of an entire city.