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Greg Prince and Jason Fry
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.

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Welcome to the Club, Mike Hessman

My contempt for my team was utter and total as the bottom of the ninth inning unfolded at Citizens Bank Park Friday night. I imagine yours was, too. What a travesty this evening had been. At the risk of proving everything Bobby Ojeda, Andy Martino, and Brian Schneider have been saying about the Mets lacking the confidence their weekend opponents apparently possess in spades, I knew it was coming — I mean I knew it was coming. I just didn’t have a precise idea how it would get there.

I made the easy pick: K-Rod, blowing it in the ninth, conjuring up ancient visions of Bo Diaz, Neil Allen and the upper reaches of Veterans Stadium.

Yes, Bo Diaz. This is how I watch the Mets lose — in the present and 27 years ago, simultaneously.

Wanna know why Neil Allen was so tradeable for Keith Hernandez? I’m almost certain the route to the trade that changed the face of the franchise began nine weeks earlier, April 13, 1983, when the Mets carried a 9-5 lead into the bottom of the ninth at Philadelphia. Big offensive night for the Metsies: 17 hits, including four for Dave Kingman. The Mets were only 5-for-20 with runners in scoring position and left 13 on base, but so what? They had outlasted the Phillies through 8½ innings, and all they needed were three little outs.

Yeah, you know how that goes.

Rick Ownbey, later thrown in with Allen for Hernandez, but at the time considered a real comer, was in his sixth inning of relief. He had taken over for an ineffective Craig Swan and had carried the Mets this far, giving up only one unearned run in five innings. Manager George Bamberger asked him to carry them a little further. Just those three outs.

Ownbey justifies Bambi’s faith, to a point. He retires Pete Rose on a fly to left, but then walks Gary Matthews and Joe Morgan. Bamberger was big on throwing strikes, and from the fourth to the eighth, Ownbey had walked but one Phillie. Now he was losing the strike zone. Mike Schmidt came up, but Ownbey got him to fly to left. Two on, two outs. Just one more.

But Ownbey can’t put it away. He walks pinch-hitter Len Matuszek to load the bases. So that’s it — Bamberger takes out the kid and brings in the still unproven Jesse Orosco. Phillie manager Pat Corrales counters with another pinch-hitter, Bill Robinson.

And Orosco walks him. It’s now 9-6 Mets. The bases are still loaded. Catcher Bo Diaz is coming up. Bamberger removes Orosco and calls on his relief ace, Neil Allen, he of the 59 saves (when saves weren’t necessarily or automatically one-inning affairs) in the previous three seasons; he who was trustworthy enough to permit the trade of Jeff Reardon to Montreal for Ellis Valentine; he who was the hidden star of the very first Rotisserie League in 1980.

Neil, Bambi essentially said, go take care of Bo.

Bo hit a grand slam off Neil.

Mets lose 10-9. Allen’s off to a miserable start in what becomes a miserable season for him and the Mets. By June, he’s gone. The Hernandez part works out, of course, but I’m sitting here, 27 years later, and all I can think is it’s 2-1 Mets at Philly, and pretty soon, somebody on that other team is going to play the role of Bo Fucking Diaz.

Yet I was wrong. There was no Bo Diaz for the Phillies Friday night, just as Francisco Rodriguez did not have to play the role of Neil Allen. That’s because the Mets couldn’t hold their lead all the way to the ninth inning to get it to Frankie. No, they coughed it up in the eighth — coughing like they were auditioning for a Robitussin commercial.

It’s not that Bobby Parnell helplessly turned a one-run lead into a furball. It’s not that Pedro Feliciano couldn’t suppress the coughing after Parnell left with what had turned into a chronic hack. It’s not even that Jerry Manuel checked the meter on Jon Niese and decided anyone who had pitched as well as he had deserved the rest of the night off.

It’s that I knew it was coming and it came. There was no stopping it. In fact, it arrived early by an inning. No time for Neil Allen to reincarnate himself in the Met bullpen. The Mets let the Phillies score six runs in the bottom of the eighth.

Not that I wanted to end the game shellshocked à la Diaz. It’s just that it wouldn’t have given me time to think and stew and hate. Instead, the Phillies left me with an opportunity to gather my contempt in big, bulging buckets. My contempt for Manuel. For Parnell. For Feliciano. For Wright not knowing how to play a bunt. For Beltran being creaky. For the elder Wilpon’s idiotic response about the sun coming up when asked about whether Minaya was gonna be GM next year (he couldn’t have just waved?). For the whole lot of them, save maybe Niese. Niese did his job. The rest of them didn’t.

Well, check that — they didn’t do their job, but they did play their part. They drew just close enough to victory to allow us a shred of optimism and then they pulled back. Between the Mets and victory grew an ever widening gap. First we were up a run. Then we were tied. Then we were behind by one. Then two. Then so on. And so on. And so on some more.

Mets 2 Phillies 1 became, in as methodical a fashion as any mass production efficiency expert would admire and recommend to clients, Phillies 7 Mets 2. Mike Sweeney turned into Pat Burrell, even wearing that fucker’s number, 5, for good measure. Sweeney, Burrell, Bobby Abreu, Bo Diaz…what’s the fucking difference after a while?

The top of the ninth had to be played despite the game being over. More stewing, more brooding. When I finished berating every Met who wasn’t Jon Niese, I began berating myself not just for falling for the Mets over and over and over, but for enabling them.

That’s it, I concluded: I’m an enabler. This blog is an enabler. Sweet, sincere posts enumerating reasons to feel good about being a Mets fan — a hansom cab ride designed to ferry us from losing disgustingly in Atlanta to losing nauseatingly in Philadelphia — are enablers. Jason and I and our writing…we ought to be taken into custody by protective services. We’re not good for you. We’re not good for ourselves. Stop us before we tell you again why you should root for the Mets. Run for your lives. Run for your sanity. Run!

After there were two out in the ninth, because I’d run out of beratings and enablements, I just took off my glasses. Would the Mets suck any less if I couldn’t see them clearly? It seemed an odd protest, and it was giving me a headache, so I put them back on. And when I did, I saw Jeff Francoeur tap a ball about three feet and watched it roll…roll…roll…fair. It was so fair even Bob Davidson wouldn’t dare call it foul.

Jeff Francoeur had an infield single. Now I was even madder.

1) This game wasn’t just over already.

2) Francoeur looked way too pleased with his good fortune. You hit it three feet, you’re down by five runs, stop smiling, even if it’s from embarrassment.

3) I had to take this fucking thing semi-seriously now, didn’t I? Ike Davis had somehow gotten on base while I was stewing, so we had first and second and the Phillies bullpen may be our only saving grace — not having to face Ryan Howard, Chase Utley or the schmuck from Hawaii certainly wasn’t.

4) Forty-two seasons of never giving up in the face of the logic that forty of those seasons have presented to the contrary kicked in.

Damn it, I have to believe, don’t I?

Jerry Manuel’s gonna send up Chris Carter. Charlie Manuel counters with J.C. Romero, whose history of undependability makes me wonder how he’s never been a Met. Anyway, Jerry Manuel, true to The Book, sends up a righty to face the lefty. He sends up Mike Hessman, the king of minor league swing. the dude who pounded a two-run double in his Met debut last week and has done close to nothing since then.

Hessman rips into the third pitch he sees from Romero and becomes the only Met to fully comprehend that Citizens Bank Park is a bandbox. It’s a three-run homer, and the Mets are within 7-5. Get a guy on, and Reyes up, and…

I should point out that I didn’t believe for a second this would work out. Not consciously. Not seriously. In fact, I couldn’t even get the kinks out of the You Gotta Believe reflex completely because just as I earlier imagined Bo Diaz, now I was whisked into the land of Prentice Redman.

Anybody else remember Prentice Redman?

Don’t feel bad if you don’t. He was more recent than Allen and Ownbey but left little reason for you to recall him, and I’ll hold to that assessment even if he someday comes back to seek revenge. He could, too. Despite a major league career that lasted just over one month seven years ago, Prentice Redman is still playing baseball. For the seventh consecutive season, he a Triple-A outfielder, at the moment with the Dodgers’ Albuquerque affiliate. He has ten homers in a notorious hitters league, but ten homers is ten homers in any league.

Prentice Redman hit one homer in the major leagues. It came on a night that felt not altogether unlike this one. Same city, too. The Mets were playing the Phillies on September 4, 2003. Back then, the Phillies were scrambling for a Wild Card spot. The Mets had been eliminated from the ’03 race sometime in February. We would try our hand at spoiling others’ chances, and we would fail miserably. We lost constantly that September to every contender we played. But we didn’t know that on September 4, for this was the beginning of that stretch of taking on teams with something to play for.

The Phillies led the Mets 4-2 after six and 5-3 after seven at the Vet. Ty Wigginton, the absolute embodiment of those 2003 Mets, reached base when Jim Thome couldn’t handle a throw. It allowed Mike Piazza to score and make it 5-4 in the eighth. That was the score Jose Mesa was asked to protect to start the top of the ninth.

Instead, Prentice Redman took him deep. Tie ballgame. The lousy, last-place Mets had tied the contending Phillies. It was 5-5. Prentice Redman had his first homer. His first of who knew how many to come.

The answer, by the way, was none. No more came. That was Prentice Redman’s only homer. That was also the Mets’ only resistance of note where Mesa was concerned. There’d be a Timo Perez single, but he wouldn’t be driven home. Then, in the bottom of the inning, Mike Stanton and David Weathers did their thing (Armando Benitez had been traded in July, leaving Art Howe to go closerless), and the Phillies won 6-5. They wouldn’t win the Wild Card in 2003, but it wasn’t because the Mets spoiled their chances.

Prentice Redman was on my mind when Mike Hessman’s ball cleared the right field wall. It’s not that I had particularly high hopes for Redman, then 24 and sold to us as a prospect. It’s not that I had high hopes for spoiling anybody else’s September. It’s that I allowed myself to think something good had happened for a moment on September 4, 2003, when his blast made it 5-5. I remember thinking, nah, probably not, they’ll find a way to not cash in, but I tamped that thought down for a few minutes and clung to the concept of it not being over until it was over, et al.

I did that with Hessman, and for a couple of minutes I believed the 2010 Mets — who had blown a narrow lead in the eighth and were falling inexorably from whatever smidgen of respectability they left Atlanta with — weren’t totally dead. I saw Lidge come in. I saw Blanco called back in favor of Jesus Feliciano and I let myself think…

Never mind what I thought. It didn’t happen. But I did stop berating the Mets and myself and instead kept mulling the similarity between the Redman home run and the Hessman home run, and it got me wondering about Mets who hit no more than one home run as Mets.

Thus, I spent a couple of hours exploring Baseball Reference and have since divined the following:

Mike Hessman is the 69th Met to hit exactly one home run. Perhaps by tonight, he will be off the list, but until then, he’s in the club.

• The most recent entrant to Club Hessman before August 6, 2010 was Josh Thole, who interrupted Barry Enright’s unforeseen brilliance in Arizona on July 20. Before Josh, it was  Johan Santana, who slugged the twelfth pitch he saw from Matt Maloney on July 6 (called in advance by yours truly).

• Of the 67 Mets with exactly one home run as a Met, 17 are or were pitchers. Three of those pitchers hit their single Met home run off future Hall of Famers: Al Jackson off Warren Spahn; Craig Swan off Ferguson Jenkins; and Tim Leary off Steve Carlton. In limbo: Shawn Estes’s home run off the mysteriously bulked up Roger Clemens (which is a separate issue from how Estes could have possibly missed Clemens’ bulk when he attempted to graze it).

• Though the Atlanta Braves made the Mets’ lives decisively miserable for a generation (and still do on occasion), the pitchers who formed the nucleus of their torture chamber each gave up a One And Only Met home run. Pat Tabler’s sole Met homer came off Greg Maddux when he was a Cub, in 1990; John Smoltz surrendered Raul Casanova’s lone Met longball in 2008; and when Darrin Jackson went yard once and only once as a Met, it was off T#m Gl@v!ne, in 1993. Gl@v!ne, incidentally, had his number retired by the Braves Friday night, perfect symmetry considering Gl@v!ne’s three-start implosion in September 2007 paved the way for the Phillies to become the Phillies as we know them.

• Say, let’s forget T#m Gl@v!ne and note Darrin Jackson and the guy for whom we traded him are both members of Club Hessman — Tony Fernandez’s only Met home run also came in 1993, albeit off someone less automatically recognizable than Gl@v!ne…unless you are achingly familiar with the work of the San Diego Padres’ Kerry Taylor.

• Seem strange that the Mets trade a guy for a guy and neither hits more than one homer for them? You’d think — yet Fernandez-Jackson wasn’t the first time it happened. Two-termer Tim Foli hit one Met homer (1978, off the immortal Tom Bruno of the Cardinals), then he’d be swapped the following season for Frank Taveras, who would also hit one homer — August 18, 1979, versus Mike LaCoss of the Reds at Cincinnati.

• Solitary Met home runs were in vogue at Riverfront that series. One day after Taveras cashed in, Gil Flores did the same: August 19, 1979, against Bill Bonham.

• But if you want proximity, you can’t beat Stanley Jefferson and John Gibbons. They each hit their only Met home run in the same game — the only Mets to pair their lonely dingers. At Shea on September 20, 1986, with the Mets having clinched the N.L. East three nights earlier, Davey Johnson stacked his lineup with youngsters. He’d be rewarded when Jefferson arrested a Tom Hume pitch in the sixth and Gibbons laid a glove on Mike Jackson in the eighth.

• Since we’re talking about the Phillies, and got off on this tangent because we were contemplating Prentice Redman by way of Mike Hessman, you might wonder if anybody else hit his only Met home run at Philadelphia. Why yes, it’s happened eight times. Leary’s shot off Carlton took place at the Vet. Pepe Mangual reached Lefty there, too. Pete Falcone and Paul Wilson, pitchers both, took nicely to the Vet’s hitting dimensions. Brian Daubach was the first Met to play one-homer trick pony at Citizens Bank, in 2005. That’s seven Mets hitting their only Met home run in Philadelphia. The eighth? Bob Bailor, off Sid Monge. The date: April 13, 1983…the very same game in which Neil Allen gave up that grand slam to Bo Diaz.

I could throw a few more One And Only factoids at you (three were good for Met walkoff victories; two were thrown by the same pitcher seventeen days apart; one was a grand slam hit by a Met pitcher off an ex-Met pitcher in what became a losing cause; one turned out to be the last swing of a playing career by a future Met manager; another was served up by a future Met manager and is legendary for who hit it and how he rounded the bases after hitting it; and one, amazingly enough, was hit by Alex Cora), but I’ll stop here, I think. The larger point is not so much that Mike Hessman became the 69th Met who has hit, to date, exactly one Met home run. It’s that after a positively revolting loss, I latched onto this little Met curiosity and immersed myself in it from like midnight to three. I am thrilled to have distracted myself from that 7-5 debacle in Philadelphia. I went from having no idea how many Mets hit only one Met home run to knowing every Met who hit only one Met home run and I find myself caring deeply about it.

Yet again, I have enabled myself, damn it.

32 comments to Welcome to the Club, Mike Hessman

  • […] This post was mentioned on Twitter by You Gotta Believe!, Greg Prince. Greg Prince said: #Mets make me stew, brood, realize I'm an enabler, then spend 3 hours researching their obscure accomplishments. […]

  • JimmyD

    Nice piece! Your best writing seems to come from the depths of despair. I’m surprised that Tim Foli only had one homer as a Met. Makes sense, since the guy only spent a fraction of his career in NY. But for some reason I always think he had a significant Met career, when he clearly did not. If you set the over/under at 20 on Foli Met HR’s, I would have taken the over, without hesitation. Really ridiculous, since I now see he only had 25 career HR’s!
    Neil Allen! Oh, Neil Allen! I remember one Saturday afternoon: a defining moment for me as a young Met fan. I had to go baseball=reference to find the game: Saturday, April 19, 1980. Mets lead the Cubs 9-1 in the sixth. Soon the game is 9-5. Allen comes into the game in the 8th, strikes out Barry Foote, then gives up a solo shot to Carlos Lezcano(Sixto’s cousin). Then, the floor drops, a couple more runs score, and then the only thing I can really remember in detail without the help of baseball-reference is Sky King’s grand-slam to make it 12-9 Cubbies.(another former Met, Lenny Randle, was on base, as was Bill Buckner(he played for the Mets -right?:) ) And the day ended with a “Cubs Win!” instead of a “back with a happy recap”. Devastating!

    • Tim Foli: Not in there for his power.

      Frank Taveras: Even less so.

      Neil Allen: I always liked him despite the blowups. Was actually saddened when he was traded. Delighted, mind you, over who we got, but Neil was a nice surprise when he emerged as the post-Lockwood closer.

      Would love to have back all the late-inning heartbreakers…and keep all those we inflicted on others.

  • Andee

    And here I was feeling guilty because I wasn’t as diehard as you. This is why I could never maintain a Mets blog, you see; unlike when I was in my teens, these days, when my team becomes unwatchable, I find other things to do, and I’ve got truckloads. (I just finished a first draft of a YA novel I started last year, in fact. Yes, it’s about baseball. Yes, there is a Mets fan character. Yes, it’s way too frigging long and needs serious editing. But the damn pages are there, well over 400 of them!)

    But it’s people like you who have made me hang on as long as I have. As long as you were still waxing eloquent about this team, I could never switch. Switch? To who, the Mariners? They might well be as snakebitten as us. And I will never root for the vertical swastika, never ever.

    Still, this team allegiance thing…what makes people stay Mets fans after leaving New York, even decades afterwards? What is our damage? You, I understand. You live in a sea of vertical swastikas and must stick up for the underdog on a daily basis because shit, someone has to. But here, I could wear a Nationals cap, a Padres cap (though we’re losing the Padres’ AAA team after this year, snurfle), pretty much any cap, and there will be someone else marching down the street wearing it too. Nobody cares what my allegiance is. Why else would I even bother, if not for people like you?

    But if you’ve finally reached your breaking point, I can’t possibly blame you for that, considering that I pretty much checked out a month ago.

    • I’m so fed up with this team right now that I’m planning my evening around their game and going to Philadelphia tomorrow to watch them in person. I’m in for the duration.

      Sorry you’re losing your team. Getting another one?

      • Andee

        Not a baseball team, I’m afraid. The situation is, the Beavers lost their downtown stadium to MLS soccer, which after this baseball season is redoing the whole place for soccer and adding a whole bunch of seating capacity, and they haven’t found anyone else locally who’s willing to build the Beavers a new ballpark.

        So the Pads’ PCL team will be sold (maybe to Jeff Moorad, who I think wants to buy it), and will probably wind up somewhere in the San Diego area like Escondido or Carlsbad, with a stopover in Orange County (where there are already California League stadiums). That probably makes sense from the Padres’ POV; players wouldn’t have to relocate when they were called up or sent down, and the stadiums would be just a short car trip apart.

        But it kind of sucks that we can’t even manage to support a PCL team. That kind of makes it hard for us to make the shortlist for an MLB franchise, although I think that if they had a retractable-roof park like the one in Seattle, a lot more people would go. Summers here are beautiful, but spring is just day after day of 45 to 50 degrees and raining.

  • pfh64

    There was no doubt that this was going to be the outcome of this game, as soon as the guy who fills out the lineup card took out the starting pitcher. I admit that this is not a Jerry Manuel specific rant, but a hope that every time a manager takes out a starting pitcher that is throwing as well as Niese was last night that they lose. My question would be, Jerry just what exactly did you see that the rest of the world did not, that made you take Niese out of the game, other than the world’s dumbest book says take out the starter when he its 100 pitches? As flammable as your bullpen has been why would ever take out the starter unless you absolutely have to? Even the other night in Atlanta, my anger was not that you left Pelphrey in to face Jones & McCann, it is the way that these guys get pitched. For the folks with better memories than I have, has any Mets’ pitcher ever knocked one of these guys on their rear end? Get them to stop being so comfortable in the batters box? Just once in a while can we get a pitch up and in, instead low and away? If I hear one more time, that we wanted him to come out with a positive feeling, about his performance, I am going to commit hari-kari (notice the spelling as not to be confused with the guy that made me hate the Cubs, I was only five in 1969). You know what would have given Niese confidence? A win. In what you have called the biggest series of the year, do you really want second tier guys on the mound? If you had brought Alka Seltzer Rodriguez for a six out save, I would have been more accepting of it. As a baseball fan, I pray that Nolan Ryan and his anti-pitch count stand in Texas works out, so this charade ends. Was there any Mets’ fan out there that wanted Niese taken out of the game? I doubt it.

    By the way, I am a Mets’ fan, that is who I am, that is who I will always sufferingly be, it is in my DNA. Maybe one day the guy that owns the Mets will be a guy that wants to own the Mets and not the Dogers, but that is a different rant for a different day.

    • The Wilpon part is the immovable object. Every historical analysis involving futility post-1986 always comes back to the silent conclusion: look at the one constant.

    • Andee

      The Dodgers will most likely be up for sale by the end of this year. The McCourts’ divorce hearing is supposed to be this month, and Jamie McC. is claiming her XH has a net worth of $1B. CA is a community property state, so if the judge agrees with her, he has to fork over $500M. Frank doesn’t have that kind of cash lying around; even if they rule his net worth is only half that, he’d still have to come up with a lot more dough than he has immediate access to. And I don’t imagine she’ll be awarded the Dodgers outright as a settlement.

      The thing is, what owner wouldn’t rather own the Dodgers than the Mets? The Dodgers own Dodger Stadium outright, and it’s a license to print money. They don’t have any real competition for asses in the seats; the Angels play 30 miles away, which feels like more than that with traffic, and they’re no Yankees anyway, so team allegiances are a lot more divided by geography. (Just try finding an Angels fan on the entire west side of LA, just try.) They don’t even have to worry about losing fan interest to the NFL! So even if the Dodgers are roughly equal in on-field dysfunctionality to the Mets (and right now, they certainly are), they’re still way more profitable.

      However, I don’t think Fred Wilpon himself has a whole lot of truck with the Los Angeles Dodgers, even if his pal Koufax had his best years there. It’s not unheard-of, though, for owners to switch teams (Jeffrey Loria and John Henry both did it a few years ago), so we’ll see if he’s interested.

  • Lenny65

    Neil Allen (shudder), no Met ever tested my loyalty like Neil Allen did. I remember a game in the early 80’s, back when Allen was still considered a “future star”, vs. Houston. Neil served up a brutal 9th inning grand slam that tied a game that was all but over. I just snapped and vowed that if they ended up losing that game, I was done with them for good. Fortunately they pulled it out and I was still happily on board when things really turned around a few years later (as if I’d have been anywhere else lol). But I was the happiest Met fan alive when they sent Neil packing (for freakin’ Hernandez!!!). If I’m putting together an all-time “most despised” Met “dream team”, Neil’s my closer (and Looper is the set-up man).

    • I tend to conflate that Houston game with the Bo Diaz game. I was going to write the Phillie debacle of 1983 took place on a Saturday night, but a check of the records said it did not — but that Terry Puhl’s big night did.

      And then Allen stayed in to pitch the tenth, the eleventh and the ultimately losing twelfth. Even for then, Bamberger was weird.

  • Bo Diaz? Rick Ownbey? Neil Allen? Your name is Greg Prince, you were in an accident, and you woke up in 1983. At least on “Life On Mars,” Sam Tyler landed in 1973 and could see the Mets win the Pennant.

    So you’re watching 1983 and 2010 at the same time? Cheer up, maybe the Mets can trade Allen and Ownbey for somebody good. But, knowing the Mets, you’ll get the 2010 edition of Keith Hernandez, fat and slow and falling asleep in the middle of games.

  • Ken K.

    (another was served up by a future Met manager and is legendary for who hit it and how he rounded the bases after hitting it; )

    I’ve often wondered what was going thru the mind of that future Mets’ Manager (who among other things was not known for, let’s say, having much of a sense of humor) as he watched that former Red Sox eccentric doing his (I assume)unique-in-baseball-history round of the bases.

  • […] Welcome to the Club, Mike Hessman »    […]

  • dgwphotography

    So I was thinking of this piece, as I was at the Bridgeport Bluefish game last night. You invoked the name of Prentice Redman, who I remember watching play for Binghamton, and I end up watching his brother Tike play for the Bluefish.

    Postscript on the night – Brittany said she had her ball signed by one of the Bluefish, but she wasn’t sure who. I just looked at the ball – yep,, it was Tike…

  • Greg,

    That was four fucks, a suck and a schmuck. But who’s counting? I love you guys. Call me an enabler too, because I love this site. You guys write so well. I look forward to your posts, as they DO make a lifeless season move forward.

    By the way, was Prentice Redmond the guy that ran through the wall in a minor league game, while making a catch? That guy had an unusual name and I think had a brother (they both played basketball).

    Keep up the great work, and hang in there.

  • Semper Mets

    You want pain? I was at both the Friday collapse in Philly and the K-Rod collapse against the Nats July 3rd! Mets games are not easy to get to in my role in life and I honestly felt HURT the Mets would allow me to be broken like that 2 games in a row! Do you know what though? It will be that much sweeter when our time comes though, if I wanted easy I wouldve been a Yankee fan.

  • JerseyJack

    I actually have a Prentice Redman jersey (#20) in my collection! By the way, Greg, do u know who hit the ball that McCray caught, running into the wall (there’s a Mets connection)?…

  • JerseyJack

    You are correct ,sir! And Hessman- I always wondered what he’d been up to since KRP in Cincinnati…

  • […] umps both seemed determined to avoid that total. Mike Hessman hit his second Met home run — goodbye list! — until inconclusive replay evidence mysteriously refashioned it a triple — hello again […]

  • […] It only took eleven games, 29 plate appearances and one wack-ass video review to give Hessman one of the strangest quasi-cycles in Mets history. The man with the most minor league home runs among active professional ballplayers is having quite a ride. On August 6, he became the 69th Met to hit exactly one Met home run. On August 13, three umpires conspired to keep him the junior member of that particular club. […]

  • […] Greg Prince on 1 September 2010 2:00 pm While we wait for Mike Hessman to resign the presidency of Club Hessman (players with exactly one Met home run, current membership 68), we notice he suffers from a touch […]

  • […] children on the other side of the fence. He gets to take Thole’s recently vacated 69th spot in Club Hessman as a […]

  • […] best news where Hessmania was concerned Sunday is the admission into Club Hessman — One Met Home Run and One Met Home Run Only — of a 70th member, our second baseman of the present and future, Ruben […]

  • […] his first major league home run, making him — hopefully temporarily — the 71st member of Club Hessman, Mets with exactly one home run as Mets. After 40 at-bats, Duda has five hits as a Met, four of […]

  • […] pm Lucas Duda just blasted one out of Whatever It’s Called Stadium, his second homer, meaning Club Hessman loses yet another temporary member. Population of One Met Homer Village: 69 […]