To celebrate the 30th anniversary of their last World Series win, the Mets invited the unique and freakishly scrappy 1986 squad back to Queens for the Memorial Day weekend series with the Dodgers.

The primary on-field ceremony came before the game Saturday night when that beloved collection of talent was introduced individually by radio play-by-play man Howie Rose. The sellout crowd howled for all of them. It was especially emotional when Howie introduced the wife and son of Gary Carter. It’s been four years since Carter died of brain cancer. His constant smile as a player is something that sticks with me all these years later.

Carter’s wife Sandy wiped away a tear as she walked toward the other ’86’ers lined up on the dirt infield. She acknowledged the loud cheers of the crowd with – what else – a large grin.

Fox Sports had telecast rights to the game and didn’t carry the ceremony live so the Mets put coverage of it up for nothing on their web site whether you had a cable log-in – or not. That’s how I watched it.

The night before, I was at the ballpark for the major league debut of 19-year-old Dodger lefthander Julio Urias. I went with guys from work. The labor union I belong to bought out the space at field level in the right field corner. It was pretty cool. It’s kinda like your very own basement party space with beer and burgers and salted in-shell peanuts at the ready as you watch the game from the perspective of the right-fielder.

Jake pitched a gem Friday night. Seven frames, three hits, 100 pitches. The Dodger rookie had the jitters you’d expect he might get on the big stage and got hit around. Urias only got eight outs and was yanked.

The Mets were up 5-1 top nine and Terry inexplicably brought in Familia for a non-save. It made no sense to any of us given that Familia had pitched in the last game and the rest of the bullpen was rested. Sure enough, Familia got rocked and we went bottom nine tied at 5. The unexpected lengthening of the game prompted a return to our own exclusive beer fridge which stays open beyond what regular fans in the stands have access to. Plus, you’re not paying through the nose to get one. You’re charged a flat number to access the space and then it’s all inclusive.

Grandy led off bottom nine and hit it over the right field wall. Game over. And we all walked out happy.

-I saw the just-released documentary film “Weiner” at 86th Street Cinema on the UES last week and absolutely loved it. Former Anthony Weiner staffer and now a filmmaker, Josh Kriegman, was invited to blanket the day-to-day movements of Weiner when he ran for NYC mayor in 2013. Only a couple times did Weiner ask Kriegman to turn off the camera. Kriegman’s labor has been stitched together and is perhaps the best political documentary film ever made. It’s amazing. The film’s subject makes the movie. His flaw we all know about. What is extra-relevant about the content at the moment is that Weiner’s wife Huma is Hillary’s right-hand do-all, so you learn about her in a way you wouldn’t even dream of otherwise. Weiner’s self-made implosion as he leads early polls in that Dem primary (ultimately won by de Blasio) reveals stunning strength and talent from his communications director Barbara Morgan but significant gaps in his support system. His wife Huma Abedin should probably be immune from harsh scrutiny and judgment given Anthony’s absurd sideshow weirdness but I found myself aggravated by her failure to express herself in a constructive way as the bottom dropped out from underneath the couple’s life. Her documented facial expressions go a long way in telling this movie’s story. But so does Anthony’s participation in NYC neighborhood parades where he seems to electrify anybody in his presence. You see political calculations from Weiner during dark times that show him to be like all the rest. But when you take all of his qualities and failures and put them in a pot, what comes out is a guy who deserves one more shot at running this city given his vision, enthusiasm and smarts.