The blog for Mets fans
who like to read

ABOUT US

Jason Fry and Greg Prince
Faith and Fear in Flushing made its debut on Feb. 16, 2005, the brainchild of two longtime friends and lifelong Met fans.

Greg Prince discovered the Mets when he was 6, during the magical summer of 1969. He is a Long Island-based writer, editor and communications consultant. Contact him here.

Jason Fry is a Brooklyn writer whose first memories include his mom leaping up and down cheering for Rusty Staub. Check out his other writing here.

Got something to say? Leave a comment, or email us at faithandfear@gmail.com.

Need our RSS feed? It's here.

Visit our Facebook page, or drop by the personal pages for Greg and Jason.

Or follow us on Twitter: Here's Greg, and here's Jason.

Art On The Air

A winter’s night like this one? Twenty-five or so years ago? I would be dying for Mets news. I’d surely have checked my favorite blogs, except there were no blogs. I’d have watched MLB Network or SNY in hopes they had some information on their crawls, but there was neither an MLB nor an SNY. Naturally, the inclination would have been to tune in WFAN, but y’know what? There wasn’t even a WFAN before 1987.

Not an outlet was stirring, not even a Tweet.

You wanted live streaming hot stove baseball talk around here, you had one option if you were lucky: Art Rust, Jr. There was no guarantee that Art would be talking baseball. But if he was…oh boy! Maybe he’d have a Met or a Met announcer or a Met beat writer on the phone. Maybe he’d just be taking a call from a Mets fan. You leaned forward, even though you suspected you weren’t going to learn anything.

“Art, do you see the Mets improving their roster by maybe getting some new players?”

“Mark my words, my friend, when Opening Day rolls around, the New York Mets will be ready to go in the National League.”

It wasn’t much, but I can’t tell you how much better it was than nothing.

Art Rust, Jr., who died Tuesday at 82, was the sports talk voice of New York for quite a while. I don’t mean he dominated the field. He was the field. He was it on commercial radio. Generally speaking — which was something Art did with élan — if you wanted a sports fix before July 1, 1987, the date the FAN took flight and forever changed our expectations, you had Art, or you had radio silence. WFUV aired a late-night weekend program, and WINS and WCBS each gave you scores at :15 and :45 each hour, but for most of the 1980s, the only way to surround yourself with sports talk was to keep company with Art Rust, Jr.

We’re spoiled now. We have each other and so many other vehicles to feed our obsession. But when it was just you and Art, you valued Art. I know I did, particularly when I first encountered him one night in the summer of 1980. The Mets game had ended on WMCA (570 AM), and on came a smooth, sharp, unironic voice — apparently airlifted in from one of those radios Bugs Bunny might have been listening to in the ’40s — telling me there was no doubt about it, my friend, the New York Mets are playing great baseball and there’s going to be playoff baseball out at Flushing By The Bay this October, you can count on it.

You could always count on what Art told you. Art dealt in definites. Mark his words, he insisted to almost every caller after those Mets games on ‘MCA in 1980, you’re going to have interleague baseball by the end of this decade…and every team is going to be playing under a dome by then. So he was off by a few years on one prediction and ridiculously wrong on the other one. Art was certain, and that was somehow assuring. In that Magic Is Back summer, when I dared to dream the Mets would catch and pass the Phillies, him telling me the Mets were going to the playoffs was good enough for me.

Other talk radio hosts tell you the way it is and brook no dissent. Art wasn’t that way. He’d let you have your say, no matter how wrong it was. His big sport was boxing, which even in the early ’80s seemed rather old-timey. There was a huge bout coming up. I want to say it was Thomas Hearns vs. Sugar Ray Leonard; might have been Larry Holmes vs. Gerry Cooney. Whichever one it was, Art declared it over in advance. Hearns would beat Leonard…or Cooney would beat Holmes.

Next caller.

Except the guy Rust picked lost. Did it make Art look bad? Not really, because when a tol’-ya-so caller called in to remind Art of his incorrect prediction, Art shrugged, “I got it wrong, sir” and moved on to the next subject. A simple admission, but difficult for so many who talk into a microphone to make.

I remember that. I also remember that Terry Moore was Art’s favorite ballplayer. “My guy — Terry Moore of the St. Louis Cardinals.” Art would talk about Moore, a centerfielder from the ’30s, in the same vein defensively as DiMaggio and Mantle and Mays. He was that good. Was he? I’ve since read that he was, which is neither here nor there. Art said so, which was all I had to know.

Art really was old school. He was just a shade older than my father but his lingo arrived bubble-wrapped from another era. Shea was always Flushing By The Bay. Yankee Stadium was The Big Ball Orchard In The South Bronx. A good defensive catcher could Swish That Leather Behind The Dish, my friend. Circa 1980, that sounded like an impolitic assessment of the nightlife in certain precincts of Greenwich Village, but whatever. Art expanded my vocabulary as he did my horizons. Without him, I wouldn’t have known who the hell Terry Moore was.

The 1980 season ended with the Mets missing the playoffs by a mere 24 games. Art continued to do sports talk on WMCA that winter and then made a well-publicized move to WABC. I listened as much as I could stand to, considering WABC had just become the Yankees’ station. He had plenty of Mets guests nonetheless. One night he reunited, via phone, Cleon Jones and Davey Johnson, parties to the final out of the ’69 World Series. Cleon and Davey were each now working for the Mets in the minor leagues, Art said. (Who knew?) Another night he had on Steve Albert, then partner of Ralph Kiner and Bob Murphy. The Mets had been playing surprisingly competently, motivating me, for the only time, to call the Art Rust, Jr. Show.

I asked Steve what that big black thing beyond centerfield at Shea was.

“You mean the scoreboard?” Art and Steve asked in unison.

No, that other thing.

“You mean the batter’s eye?” Steve asked.

Uh, yeah, I said.

God, I felt stupid. I’d heard that phrase all my life and I’d seen that thing all my life, yet I never knew what either of them was. Nobody told me I was an idiot, however. Instead, Art asked me if there was anything else.

“I just want to say the Mets have the best fireman, the best second baseman and the best broadcasters in the National League.”

They chuckled and thanked me for calling. And I stand by those appraisals of Neil Allen and Doug Flynn.

9 comments to Art On The Air

  • Joe D.

    Hi Greg,

    Can’t believe that, as an eighteen year-old, the author of the book and blog of the same title would call up Art Rusk, Jr. to ask what the thing in centerfield was.

    But then in the winter of 66/67 there was this 15 year-old who was excited about speaking to Mel Allen (subbing for Bill Mazer). He asked who he thought was better, the Mets or the Yankees. Allen asked how old the caller was, was told he was 15, and said he was surprised for from the sound of his voice he thought the caller was much younger.

    At that point he felt just as stupid as you did, having essentially been called immature over the airwaves (true in retrospect a more intelligent question would have been which team had a better chance of improving the following season, but still).

    Yet this also shows how Mel Allen wasn’t close to being the class act that Art Rusk, Jr. was. Art didn’t say anything to humiliate you and hurt your feelings (hate to think what a Mike Francesca would have said).

    And for those too young to remember him, Art was an African American and ground breaker at a time when most black sportscasters were still limited to working on ethnic stations.

    P.S. Am sure you figured out who that 15 year-old was.

  • Mets Fan Since 1962

    I was a frequent caller to Art’s show. What I liked was he would let callers speak to his guests. He said something to me at the end of one call that I disagreed with (I forget what). So I wrote him a letter. A few days later, as I was pulling down my driveway, my wife called out “Art Rust is on the phone”. He had called me before going on the air. We had a nice chat.
    We generally talked baseball and football. I’d end each call with a “See you in (and then mention one of the old stadia in which the American Football League teams had played. As if my mention would keep the memory of that league alive)”.
    One time, the call screener/ producer said the guest was the editor of Ring magazine (Burt Sugar?) and added that I would have to start out with something about boxing. I said “OK” and led with a line I had remembered from MAD comics. I said “Max Schmelling would have beaten Joe Louis in their second fight if Louis hadn’t landed 50 or 60 lucky punches in the first round.” Both of them laughed for about a minute. Art then told the guest that I was one of his favorite callers. I appreciated that.
    I was thinking about him the other and about how much of a gentleman Art was. I’ll miss him.
    Later
    Ron

  • [...] This post was mentioned on Twitter by You Gotta Believe! and bmfc1, Greg Prince. Greg Prince said: Art Rust, Jr., the only streaming hot stove media we used to have. #Mets http://tinyurl.com/yd5gfpb [...]

  • I don’t want to get embarrassed in this intimidating comments arena for not knowing why there are two on-deck circles–oh, they took those out?–anyway, I’m going to give this a shot. And I’m older than 15.

    When I was 18, I commuted with my dad for a few months in summer and we had those long awkward pauses that fathers and sons always do, especially when it’s been established their interests vary widely. But Art Rust Jr. was there to fill the void and tell us to definitely expect “October baseball once more in that Old Ball Orchard in the South Bronx.” Thankfully, Art Jr. was often wrong. And, unlike those who’ve followed him in the craft on New York airwaves, he was professional.

    Farewell, my friend.

  • Guy Kipp

    Art Rust was great radio at that time. His show was a lifesaver in the Summer of 1981 during the strike, and his weekly conversations with Hub Arkush from Pro Football Weekly were must-listen events. His favorite Yankee was Larry Milbourne. He always insisted Larry Milbourne get more playing time, presumably at the expense of Willie Randolph.

  • [...] at the beginning of his tenure on WABC. It’s a Spring Training show during which Art — whom we lost this week — forecasts unseasonably blue skies for the rapidly improving the Mets. Lots of guys who can [...]

  • [...] for me, at any rate. I would have been happy to have found otherwise. Each trip to what the late Art Rust, Jr. referred to as the Big Ball Orchard in the South Bronx was a time-consuming journey. For the hours [...]