Those are scattershot impressions from a single, very odd day with a small crowd and no actual big-leaguers on the field. (The plink of aluminum bats was borderline sacrilege.) I’m going to be lost for a while (what’s Empire level, anyway?), and to really start getting to know Citi Field I’m going to need to see it after a Met comeback that leaves the faithful bellowing LET’S GO METS! as we march triumphantly out. And I’m going to need to sit it during some hot-as-hell night when the boys are down 10-2 in the third and the relievers have applied to enter the Witness Protection Program. I’m going to need to see it during close plays and managerial rhubarbs and slow-building rallies and tense extra innings and torpid middle ones. I’m going to need to see National Anthem singers and throwers of first pitches and giveaway days and ceremonies. I’m going to need to build up a backlog of Citi Field knowledge the way I did at Shea, in other words.