Bill Young attended last night's Expos game, and sends his thoughts on the evening:

For thirty years that was how Expos’ announcer Dave Van Horne would call a home run hit by a Montreal player. “Up, up and away…..” No matter where we were, at home, or in the car, or out someplace where the radio was playing, whenever we heard Dave’s velvet voice make this call, the ears would perk up and we would smile. “Up, Up and away”. It was a sound of our summers past, a sound of joy, a sign that something good was happening.

But last night, September 29, 2004, “up, up and away” took on a different connotation. This time, more than just the ball was leaving the park: this time, the whole Expos team was on its way out - and they were taking with them 35 years of memories, of life experiences, of traditions. They were taking a piece of us with them, and frankly, it hurt. (And as if the sting were not sharp enough, our beloved Dave van Horn is currently the voice of the Marlins. He was in town, doing this game!)

And so on this final night, over 30,000 of us gathered together at the Olympic Stadium one last time to wish them all ‘au revoir’. But it wasn’t a going away party; it was a wake. There was little joy in this Mudville.

Some of us were still in denial - one poster read “My head says ‘au revoir’ my heart says see you in 2005”. Others were angry, with a typical placard calling this date Black Wednesday (as opposed to that other day of infamy, Blue Monday). There was resignation, there was gratitude, there was plenty of nostalgia, and there was sorrow.

In the beginning, there was a surprising amount of bitterness in the air – and it was directed in an amorphous sort of way at those faceless, heartless men in suits who had allowed this thing to happen. It is convenient to blame the fans, but you might as well blame the passengers for the state of modern train service. The fans were the last to give up.

And so when Kim Richardson began to sing the American national anthem, she was greeting with loud an extended round of boos. It was disrespectful, to be sure, but it was not meant as an insult to our US neighbours. Rather, or so I believe, those doing the booing were seeking an outlet to express their profound displeasure at the way Bud Selig and his American partners in crime had done us in, and this seemed the best available. The booing was greeting immediately by an equally loud round of clapping and cheering, a kind-of, “Hey! This is Montreal. We don’t do things that way here”.

The Canadian national anthem was received respectfully, and when the singer reached that part where she sings the English words, you could hear many voices from the crowd joining in. This was a surprise.

The pre-game ceremonies featured a muted celebration of the 1994 Expos – the team destined to become world champions, except for the fact that the series of which they were to become champions was never played – with starter Ken Hill the only key member present. He threw out the first pitch.

We were all hoping for a victory – a rout would have been nice - and in the beginning the Big "O" was rocking once again. After all, the visitors were the hated Florida Marlins, Expos’ nemesis and now owned by the detested Jeffrey Loria. Unfortunately, by the second inning, thanks to some shoddy pitching and sloppy defence, the Marlins had scored four runs and taken our side right out of the game,

The crowd reacted badly to this turn of events, and after another round of booing, accompanied by several objects, including a golf ball or two, tossed onto the field, the umpires issued a warning that any more of this and the game would be forfeited. Forfeiting the last game - now there’s a threat!

Frank Robinson, who has fallen deeply out of favour with the fans, over reacted and pulled his players off the field – which just stirred things up all the more, and for a few moments it looked as though the situation might truly get out of hand. Fortunately, the androgynous Youppi, long-serving mascot and best-loved Expo of them all, reacted heroically by leaping up on the dug-out roof and leading us in a remarkable, and extended orgy of clapping and cheering and singing, reminding us once again why we were here. It worked; the sourness of the moment passed and the game went on.

As the Expos took the field at the top of the ninth, we all rose as one, and began cheering yet again, a standing ovation in a 1-9 ball game. And when they played Sarah McLaughlin’s “We Will Remember You” over the loud speakers, even the toughest among us lost it.

After the game, the players gathered on the field, for picturing taking and to say good-bye. While the cheering continued, now more subdued, the forever-classy Claude Raymond addressed the crowd, en français, super sub Jamie Carroll followed with more words of thanks, and the heroic Livan Hernandez, a throw-back to baseball’s golden era (he had 9 complete games this year!) spoke in Spanish.

We all just hung around, for a long time. Nobody was in a rush to leave – players and fans and staff. Nobody was ready to close the door.

When I finally made my way out sometime after 11 p.m. there were, even still, several hundred folk milling around. Every now and then one player or another would come back out and wave. And then disappear.

It was very sad. It was also very final. It is over.

For the record the Marlins won 9-1. Former Expo Carl Pavano was the winning pitcher; Sunny Kim took the loss. Juan Rivera had the last-ever hit by an Expo player at home, his third of the night. Termel Sledge (best-ever baseball name?) made the final out. Fittingly, he popped weakly to third.