NEW YORK -- By the time David Wright stepped into the Citi Field press conference room early Saturday afternoon, the faces of his past were already assembled there.
One row of chairs held his most cherished former teammates, from Daniel Murphy to Michael Cuddyer to Joe McEwing. His old managers Terry Collins and Willie Randolph sat nearby. Scores of Mets employees and media members were scattered around the room, many familiar to Wright from his playing days.
Behind them, José Reyes caused a stir cracking jokes in his burgundy tuxedo and matching fedora.
“It almost feels like that feeling you get when you come home from a long trip,” Wright said. “You’ve been away, and you get the chance to come home.”
Before the Mets drafted him in 2001, Wright had never been to New York, had never met any of those faces. He eventually made the city into his home, embracing the boroughs and -- more accurately -- the people within them.
Along the way, Wright became the most accomplished position player in franchise history, which is how he found himself returning to Queens on Saturday as the guest of honor, seven years after his final game.
At around 3:15 p.m. ET, Wright’s chosen celebrants took the field. Those included Collins, Randolph, Cuddyer, Murphy, Howard Johnson, Josh Satin, Cliff Floyd and Wright’s longtime agent, Keith Miller. Reyes joined later, casually late. So did one of Wright’s best friends, bullpen catcher Dave Racaniello.
It’s a group that shepherded Wright through his highest highs and lowest lows, both public and private. They won together. They lost together. They attended each other’s weddings.
“I was so lucky,” Wright said. “I think seeing the faces that made an impression on my career as a baseball player and a person the last few days, I’ve become even more appreciative of how lucky I was.”
Collins recalled the early days of his relationship with Wright, who had already spent close to a decade in the organization before his manager came aboard in 2011. One day not long after becoming manager, Collins happened to be in the clubhouse when Wright walked inside.
“I looked around the room,” Collins said. “There were 15 other guys in there, and every one of them looked up. ‘He’s here. The man’s here.’ And that’s the impact he made.”
How to measure a presence like that? With statistics? With 242 home runs, with 970 RBIs, with a National League pennant? How about with this: By 1 p.m. Saturday, traffic was already snarled along the Citi Field exit ramp of the Grand Central Parkway, a route Wright had traveled so many times before.
Fans carried signs, books and even a “Captain America” shield into the stadium, eager to show off their adulation. They wore the No. 5 jerseys they had purchased decades ago. The stadium bowl was packed well before the pregame ceremony began.
A few minutes after Wright’s former teammates and coaches took their seats, his family walked out to a standing ovation, including his parents, wife and three children. The oldest, Olivia Shea, is “almost 9” now. She had last stepped onto the Citi Field grass on Sept. 29, 2018, to throw a ceremonial first pitch before her father’s final game.
That night, Wright exited the field with tears in his eyes. Saturday afternoon, he was already welling up as he emerged from a gate down the left-field line, pausing atop a ceremonial third-base bag installed for the occasion. One by one, Wright hugged his friends, former teammates, coaches and family members.
The day’s emcee, longtime broadcaster Howie Rose, presented Wright with a framed No. 5 jersey as well as a mosaic made from photographs of important people in his life. The Mets had tailored a baby-blue Hall of Fame jacket for Wright, along with a smaller one for his 4-year-old son, Brooks. Eventually, a pair of stadium workers revealed a No. 5 placard installed above the left-field seats, which Rose called one of “the most anticipated and happiest occasions” in franchise history.
Then Wright launched into his speech, the contents of which he had been fretting about for months. He spoke about working harder than everyone else, about wanting it more, about making the most of his natural abilities. He thanked Mets fans, whom he has long lauded for their blue-collar sensibilities. For around 10 minutes, Wright spoke, closing with a nod to his children.
Before climbing onto a golf cart for a lap around the stadium, Wright referenced the fact that Olivia, Madison and Brooks often use the phrase “for real life” to describe something that is true.
Standing in the ballpark where he experienced so much triumph, so much failure, so much elation, so much adulation, Wright looked up from the podium.
“This sure doesn’t feel like ‘for real life,’” he said.