Following Sunday’s season-ending loss to the Marlins, the Mets honored Shea Stadium with a post-game ceremony that included more than 40 of team’s most revered players.

To check out video clips from the post-game ceremonies, go to the video pages for the Daily News, Newsday and MLB.com.

For some outstanding photographs, check out John Delcos’s NY Mets Report.

…from what i can gather, SNY will likely re-air the post-game celebration at some point this weekend, though they have yet to make that official…

For me, a few specific things stood out…

By giving Mike Piazza such a prominent role, having him catch the stadium’s final pitch from Tom Seaver, then walking off the field with Seaver, just the two of them, with no other players in sight, it suggests the team finally values Piazza in a proper way.  It’s Seaver, the team’s best pitcher from their first era, and Piazza, the team’s best hitter from their second era, and then hundreds of other players behind them.  In other words, I am now confident the Mets will eventually retire Piazza’s number, as they should, in Citi Field – and they should do it sooner than later.

There are a small group of people who seem to think the ceremony should have occurred before the game.  From what I can tell, most people, including the city’s most stern media critics, all seem to agree that doing it afterwards was a good thing.  I loved the image of Piazza and Seaver making one final pitch, which would have made no sense had it been done beforehand.  The fireworks and the shutting down of the light towers, among other elements, all carried an poignant relevance that would not have been the case had it taken place earlier in the day.

The image of Dwight Gooden and Darryl Strawberry shaking hands on the infield gave me goosebumps, and brought a tear to my eye.  Like I have written before, in a way, the excitement these two men provided in the 80s was like a friend to me, and to see them together again was very special.

Earlier in the day, I was given the amazing opportunity to spend time in the Player’s Suite in Shea Stadium, which is like a small banquet hall overlooking left field, where all of the players gathered during the game, before the post-game celebration.  It was amazing and yet weird to see all of these men who I grew up idolizing, all within arm’s reach, just acting as normal people.  Robin Ventura was not in uniform hitting a grand-slam single, instead he was in street clothes filling up his plate with Chicken Parm.  John Franco was not warming up in the bullpen, he was in line for his third hot dog.  Edgardo Alfonzo and his wife sat alone at a round table, moving their drinks around in silence, looking like the guests at a wedding who only know the groom through work.  Todd Ziele’s hair was a mess, he was wearing a t-shirt and looked like he just rolled out of bed.  Jesse Orosco was sporting a goatee, but looked like a jewel thief wearing black pants, black shoes and a black turtle neck.  Like I said, amazing, but awkward.

Lastly, the game ended, the celebration ended, and I walked down the ramp with my dad for the final time.  I’m excited about Citi Field, but there is something painful about knowing you can’t go home again…ever.

The ramp spiraled down to the press gate.  I used my credential to walk through the tunnel and on to the field for the final time.  It was amazing.  There was a delicate hush in the air, as wide-eyed police officers, players, reporters, team employees and others wandered around the infield taking pictures, scooping up dirt and just spending one last moment in their home away from home.

Unable to help myself, I walked up the pitcher’s mound, stood on the rubber, set, and made a pretend pitch to the plate, pausing to look up at the lights, clinging to a sensation that will be as close as I ever come to being a major-league pitcher, on the mound I grew up dreaming about.  Similarly, I nuzzled my feet in to the dirt in the batter’s box on the right-side of home plate.  In my best mock batting stance, I took a swing, then kneeled down, touched home plate, and scooped up a hand-full of dirt that will help make these and 30 years of memories a bit more tangible.

I left through the tunnel, but not before stopping, turning around, and taking in one last look before saying goodbye.

For other experiences from Sunday, check out Brooklyn Met Fan, Faith and Fear in Flushing and Hot Foot.