What’s good for the goose may be good for the gander, but what’s grist for the Grid didn’t do the Guardians any good this week. That’s my way of saying my recent exploration [1] of Mets who were Brewers/Brewers who were Mets and how they fit into nine little boxes is about to receive a sequel stemming from the outcome of the American League Championship Series, and any appearance of any player connected with the baseball enterprise based in Northeast Ohio is purely coincidental.
Condolences to the Cleveland club for missing out on a trip to not just this feature but the World Series, with my specific regret focused on a good friend (North America’s finest birding wordsmith [2] as far as I can tell) who’s been waiting to relish The Big One his whole life, what with his whole life having transpired since long after 1948. I’ve known a few Cleveland fans over the decades and I hope they get theirs someday. Had the Guardians won the AL pennant, I was ready to go full Cuyahoga in terms of Mets who were Indians-Guardians/vice-versa in Immaculate Grid [3] terms. I was likely going to share my Tom Veryzer fascination, express my specific Harry Chiti frustration, and revisit that hardy perennial involving the mysterious decline of All-Star second basemen who came from there to here while leaving much of their ability there. Plenty of grist existed to celebrate a Guardians flag the way we celebrated the banner won by the Brewers.
Instead, with congratulations due to the American League champion Tampa Bay Rays, I have the team I must admit I really wanted for this feature, the team I really needed for this feature. The more reps I can devote to naming Mets who were Rays and Rays who were Mets, the better I oughta be at naming them when confronted by the challenge Immaculate Grid presents me every time it asks me for a Ray.
[4]The Rays are about to get the Brewers treatment despite my being twice as familiar with the Brewers.
The Rays are my Grid Kryptonite, ranking as my least favorite column or row header to encounter — them and First Round Draft Choice (thank goodness Gregg Jefferies changed uniforms several times). As noted previously, my personal rule is whenever possible, I have to use a Met to fill in my Immaculate Grid boxes. If, for example, I’m asked for a Tiger who was also an Astro, I will race to type in Rusty Staub. If I need a Red who was also a Cub, I will almost immediately think of Frank Thomas (our Original, not the Big Hurt) or, because I am the way I am, Mike Vail. Using only Mets when applicable on Immaculate Grid is my jam.
When I’m asked for any combination that includes Rays, my jam jar tends to come up practically empty. The reasons make sense to me, though they do not create answers.
• As they were founded in 1998, I did not grow up amassing Tampa Bay Devil Rays cards, thus I wasn’t exposed to dozens of individual player affiliations that never vacated my consciousness the way I just know Tom Tischinski was a Minnesota Twin in 1970 (and batted .191 for them in 1969).
• I have not seen the Mets play the Rays year in and year out forever and ever the way I have National League expansion teams of their general vintage. After the exclusive East vs. East alignment of early Interleague play and before the current state of everybody playing everybody, Mets-Rays series were infrequent. From 2002 through 2017, the Mets and Rays got together for all of three three-game sets.
• I’ve been to only three Mets-Rays games in person, each at least an era removed from the one it preceded or succeeded. Rick Reed flirted hard with a perfect game in 1998 (it was broken up by Wade Boggs). Brian Schneider hit first home run of 2009 (the only time I sat in the very last row of Citi Field in the very last section of Citi Field, the fightin’ 538th). Blake Snell pitched into the eighth inning of a 3-0 shutout victory in 2018 (Snell would win the AL Cy Young with a 1.89 ERA and a 21-5 record that same season, the season Jacob deGrom went on to win the NL Cy Young with a 1.70 ERA and a 10-9 record).
I know the contours of the Rays/Devil Rays narrative. I respect the success they’ve achieved since sharply turning the corner from eternal cellar-dwellers to near-regular contenders in 2008. I’m happy they finally seem to have a new ballpark coming together on the side of Tampa Bay where they’d prefer to play. I always get a kick out of the Bay Area, as it calls itself, having a ballclub, since I went to college there in the years when MLB membership was a regional pipe dream. And I remain grateful that they enabled another glorious Elimination Day just this month [5].
But when push comes to shove, and Immaculate Grid asks me to name a Ray and, as Gene Rayburn would say, a “blank,” its’ my mind that goes blank as it seeks to make my answer a Ray who was also a Met. I’ve begun to train my mind to come up with such players, much the way the Mets used to train in St. Petersburg, but it hasn’t been second-nature. The fun of Immaculate Grid is so much of it is second-nature. I’m wandering through life aware that Lenny Randle played for not just the Mets, but the Rangers, the Mariners, the Cubs, and the Yankees. I’m on top of Jesus Alou’s travelogue from San Francisco to Houston to Oakland to Flushing. Damn right I instantly recall Tommie Agee was an Indian and White Sock before he was a Met, and an Astro and a Cardinal after he was a Met, but never actually a Dodger despite the umpteen-dozen TRADED cards I pulled in 1974 indicating he was about to summer in Chavez Ravine. These are the types of affiliations that stick inside the head.
But the Rays? Or even Devil Rays? The first player name, sometimes the only player name I can come up with on demand, is Evan Longoria, their version of David Wright. Unlike David Wright, Evan Longoria wasn’t a Met. So I can’t use him. The second name I come up with is usually Fred McGriff, probably because in addition to playing for Tampa Bay in their first several seasons, he’s actually from Tampa, neither of which is a fact that makes him a Met. so I can’t use him, either. Then I sit stumped groping for a third name.
Maybe I’ll have an AHA! moment and feel good about remembering Scott Kazmir, until I remember my caveat that my answer has to be someone who actually played for the Mets, and I only use Mets-adjacent answers when I absolutely can’t come up with the real thing. Mets-adjacent includes players who were Met minor leaguers but didn’t appear as one of our own in the majors (Pete Crow-Armstrong being the most nettling contemporary example); players who played elsewhere but managed or coached for the Mets (Frank Howard’s come off the bench for me on occasion); non-Met players who announced for the Mets (Ralph Kiner is as much a Met as anyone who’s ever lived); players who are relatives of Mets (I used Luisangel Acuña’s brother Ronald a couple of times until it made me feel unclean); New York Giants; Brooklyn Dodgers; and maybe New York Cubans for when Baseball-Reference’s makes one of its Negro Leagues forays.
Just this week, I got excited as I prepared to fill a box that asked for a Mariner and a Tiger with Bill Laxton, 1970s reliever of modest renown. Then I remembered Bill Laxton got only as far as Tidewater for us and had to let Mets-adjacent Bill Laxton go, much as Joe McDonald did when he threw him into the Rusty Staub-for-Mickey Lolich deal. It took a few minutes of seeking a substitute, but I somehow conjured 1988 deadline acquisition Edwin Nuñez from the mists of memory as a Tiger/Mariner/Met (Baseball-Reference calls him Ed Nuñez, the same way it insists on referring to Tommy Herr as Tom Herr, and Jimmy Piersall as Jim Piersall, but I’ll let that go as Joe McDonald and I did Bill Laxton).
Scott Kazmir, or rather the trade of Scott Kazmir, was a lightning rod in its day, him being a First Round Draft Choice with a presumably bright future ahead of him, only to have him and it sent by the Mets to the Devil Rays in 2004 because the Mets had to have Victor Zambrano, the kind of pickup you make when you’re convinced the veteran starter you’re acquiring is going to convert your realistic playoff dreams into reality. It didn’t work out that way in any way, except for the bright future for the guy we traded. Anyhow, Kazmir is Mets-adjacent, therefore not a full-fledged Mets/Rays answer for my purposes.
But I am getting better of late at knowing Mets/Rays in an effort to get better at naming Mets/Rays. The American League Championship Series provided a splendid backdrop to break out of my Rays haze, especially considering four members of their pennant-winning roster were previously Mets: Steven Matz, Cedric Mullins, Cole Sulser, and ALCS MVP Freddy Peralta…though it is possible this was a different Freddy Peralta from the one who pitched for the Mets earlier this season. If there could be two Bob Millers, two Bobby Joneses and, as mentioned in the Mets/Brewers piece the other day, two Mike Marshalls, there is a non-zero chance that there are two Freddy Peraltas gallivanting about Major League Baseball, each yielding vastly different results when he fires his fastball. Certainly the one we thought would be our ace in 2026 bore only a passing resemblance to the one who’s going to the World Series with somebody else.
[6]Probably not the same guy.
On Tuesday, while the latter Peralta and those other Rays were in the process of wringing the champagne from their newly issued commemorative t-shirts, the Grid presented me with a Rays challenge, and I’m happy to report I responded to it with something approaching alacrity.
• The Grid wanted a Ray who played at least one game as a Ray as a third baseman. I came up almost instinctively with Ty Wigginton, who I should come up with a lot more often, honestly, since if Ty Wigginton were a cartoon character — and I always thought he resembled Nancy’s significant other Sluggo — he’d have toted around one of those suitcases covered in stickers attesting to how many places he’d been [7]. Wiggy was also a Pirate (traded to Pittsburgh the same day Kazmir was sent packing), an Astro, an Oriole, a Rockie, a Phillie, and a Cardinal. His only misstep as a Met was his shoulder got tapped on by David Wright. Ty Wigginton knew how to take a hint and a hike.
[8]People often asked the same regarding Ty Wigginton.
• The Grid wanted a Ray who was also a Red. Well, shoot, that sounded like a job for Asdrubal Cabrera, typical of the Mets/Rays oeuvre in that his Rayness occurred without my noticing it. When we got Asdrubal ahead of what turned into his 2016 MVM campaign [9], I thought, yes, I know him. He was with Cleveland. He played for the Nats, too. And I’ve maintained enough Asdrubal awareness to recall his post-Met time as a Phillie, a Ranger, a Diamondback, and a Red. But only through playing Immaculate Grid and looking up what players I could have chosen as answers have I learned or relearned he spent 2015 with Tampa Bay. That was his immediate pre-Met locale. I watched three Mets-Rays games on television in August of ’15. The record shows Cabrera played in all of them. Who knew? Not me for quite a while.
• The Grid wanted a Ray who was also a Dodger. Amazingly, it’s finally sunk in that Hideo Nomo played for Tampa Bay, the same franchise against whom Nomo made his Met debut in 1998. I remember that game at the drop of a hat. I remember Hideo’s Tornadic arrival in L.A. in 1995 and the shocking no-hitter he threw at Coors Field in 1996. I remember him making a comeback as a Red Sock (funny how so many players require a comeback once they’re done being Mets), throwing another no-hitter in 2002. I even dimly recall Hideo Nomo as a Brewer. The Rays part is yet again one of those data points I’ve gleaned from Gridding rather than organic memory. Don’t take it personally, AL champs. I also don’t remember Nomo as a Tiger or a Royal, but he was each of those as well.
[10]Getting better at this.
I can feel my Mets/Rays muscles loosening. See what training does for you? Makes me ready to take the field at Al Lang. But that’s not what they do in St. Pete anymore. What they do is clinch pennants and inspire the naming of a bunch more Rays/Mets.
1. Cliff Floyd
When the Rays shed both their Devil and their futility in 2008, Cliff Floyd was as good a reason as any to root for them to win that year’s World Series. An even better reason was the Rays were playing the Phillies. That matchup didn’t work out to our satisfaction, but Floyd and spite did their best to light up Tropicana Field. The former Expo (which qualifies him in Grid-focused eyes as a National), Marlin, Red Sock, Cub, and Padre was as much the heart and soul of the Mets during his 2003-2006 stay as anybody. I steadfastly believe the healthier 2005 version of Cliff transplanted into 2006 would have powered us to ultimate glory twenty Octobers ago. Alas, they don’t let you rearrange impact as such.
2. Dwight Gooden
You already know how spectacular my favorite living Met was when he strode Apex Mountain in 1984 and 1985. You may not realize how much Immaculate Grid versatility Doc accumulated in his seventeen big league seasons. Depending on the corresponding row/column, you can fill Gooden’s name in when the Grid requests 2,000 career strikeouts; an All-Star appearance, large amounts of WAR, a no-hitter, a Silver Slugger from back when pitchers used to have the chance to earn one of those; even the dreaded First Round Draft Choice designation. Sadly, Doc won’t get you a correct answer for Hall of Fame or the square that seeks a one-team-only player (that’s what the likes of David Wright at one end and Dave Liddell at the other are for). Although it’s helpful for the Grid, I don’t love that Doc Gooden fits boxes labeled Guardians, Astros, Yankees (groan), and, yes, Rays. Dwight being from Tampa made his detour to the Bay a reasonable stop. Given how many Tampans the Devil Rays snapped up early on, I sometimes have to remind myself Gary Sheffield and Dave Magadan never played home games at Tropicana Field. But it would be cooler if they did.
[11]The Devil, you Rey!
3. The Devil Reys: Ordoñez and Sanchez
Rey Ordoñez isn’t that amazing an Immaculate Grid answer, given that he played for only three teams (though his three Gold Gloves represent useful trivial knowledge), but Mets Reys who were Devil Rays deserve some kind of acknowledgement. The Mets offloaded their greatest defensive showman ever on Tampa Bay following his 2002 comments deriding Mets fans’ mental acumen; he called those who booed him “stupid”. I never booed him, thus I never took his blanket dismissal personally. Rey Ordoñez was my wife’s favorite player during the Bobby Valentine years when Edgardo Alfonzo was my favorite player. Bobby Valentine was our favorite manager. Then, in one offseason, the Mets not only traded Rey-Rey for nobody in particular, they let Fonzie walk as a free agent and they dismissed Bobby V in favor of Art Howe. Anybody who replaced the Mets who almost went all the way in 1999 and 2000 was immediately suspect in my eyes. That included 2003 Met shortstop Rey Sanchez, who didn’t hit any better than the real Rey, certainly didn’t field as well, and allegedly received an in-game haircut from Armando Benitez, a follicular act [12] that greatly offended Mike Stanton, who is an excellent Grid answer himself but someone I hesitate to use because a) I associate him with the pre-2003 purge (it took me a spell to warm to Cliff Floyd for the same reason); and b) his Grid photo shows him in a cap I don’t care to look at (I try to avoid using Robinson Cano for the same reason). Anyway, like Ordoñez, Sanchez was a Met, a Ray, and a Cub, but was also a Yankee (à la Stanton), a Giant, a Royal, a Brave, a Red Sock, and a Mariner. Plus someone who apparently couldn’t wait a few innings for his next trim.
4. Roberto Hernandez
I’ll say this for not the Mike Stanton who became Giancarlo Stanton but the Mike Stanton who stayed Mike Stanton: his associations with the Yankees and Braves are turnoffs, but he pitched for a lot of other teams (Red Sox, Rangers, Nationals, Giants, Reds) in addition to the Mets. That’s really all an Immaculate Grid enthusiast needs to value. It’s that form of peripateticism that makes Roberto Hernandez — not to be confused with the Roberto Hernandez who used to be Fausto Carmona — a Grid God. More than a thousand games pitched. More than 300 saves recorded. And a Ty Wigginton’s suitcase worth of affiliations: the Mets in 2005 and 2006; the Devil Rays from 1998 to 2000; and the White Sox, Giants, Royals, Braves, Phillies, Pirates, Indians/Guardians, and Dodgers somewhere along the way from 1991 to 2007 (a lot the same teams as the other Roberto Hernandez played for, though the former Fausto Carmona was never a Met). If you’re in a Grid pinch, refamiliarize yourself with relievers who populate the Baseball-Reference career leaderboards in saves and games pitched. Most of them got around, Quite a few dropped off their gear at Shea and Citi and began warming up. Or have you already forgotten that in 2026 Craig Kimbrel, he of 897 appearances and 441 saves, pitched for both the Mets and the Rays, not to mention the Royals? Kimbrel gained fame as a Brave, but was also a Padre, a Red Sock, a Cub, a White Sock, a Dodger, a Phillie, an Oriole, and an Astro. Grid Gods get around!
5. Rick White
Scott Kazmir for Victor Zambrano, and Freddy Peralta for convincing myself there may be two Freddy Peraltas notwithstanding, the Mets have been known to make a deadline deal with the Rays that helped them. Helped the Mets, I mean. In 2000, in their perpetual quest to shore up their bullpen, the Mets sent two of their previous First Round Draft Choice box-fillers, Paul Wilson and Jason Tyner, to Tampa Bay for Rick White and Bubba Trammell. White came north and took a little pressure off Messrs. Benitez, Franco, Wendell, and Cook, acquitting himself competently in 22 games over the final two months of the season, then eating up seven innings during the postseason. Rick remained a pen stalwart in 2001 before resuming his yeoman journey, one that began as a Pirate before he was a Devil Ray, then continued as a Rockie; a Cardinal; a White Sock; an Astro; an Indian; a Pirate again; a Red; a Phillie; an Astro again; and a Mariner. I don’t know if anybody ever called Rick White the righthanded Dennis Cook (he of the Giants, Phillies, Dodgers, Indians, White Sox, Indians again, Rangers, Marlins, Mets, Phillies again, and Angels), but from a Grid perspective, it fits.
6. Kelly Johnson
If you love in-season trades that don’t blow up in the Mets’ collective face, you gotta adore the Mets trading for Kelly Johnson in consecutive years, Johnson contributing as a guy who could do a little of everything, and the Mets making the playoffs both seasons, in 2015 and 2016. I can overlook him being pictured by BB-Ref as a Brave; hell, it’s where we got him from twice. In addition to NYM, ATL, and TBR (in 2013), Kelly’s itinerary included ARI, TOR, NYY (or MFY if you prefer), BOS, and BAL.
7. Michael Variations: DiFelice and Cairo
Prior to 1968, the Mets never had a player who went by Mike. Then along came local product Mike Jorgensen, whose two Met tenures covered three Met decades (putting him in the esteemed if trivial company of Tom Seaver, Alex Treviño, and David Cone). Since 2013, the Mets haven’t included among their ranks a player who goes by Mike, with local product Mike Baxter having broken the mold, not to mention sacrificing his body for the greater no-hit good the season before. Within the intervening 45 years, between the debut of the Mike who went to Francis Lewis High School in Fresh Meadows and the farewell to the Mike who went to Archbishop Molloy High School in Briarwood, the Mets were lousy with guys named Mike. Which is not to say their Mikes were lousy. Three of Rick White’s teammates on the 2000 National League champions were recent All-Star (if not for us) Mike Bordick, NLCS MVP Mike Hampton, and future Hall of Famer Mike Piazza. The biggest Mike in that group was still around in 2005 when we were even lousier with Mikes — no denigration intended.
The 2005 Mets had, at one point or another, Mike Piazza, Mike Cameron, Mike DeJean, Mike Matthews, and Mike Jacobs, none of whom was ever a Devil Ray or Ray. They even used their First Round Draft Choice on Mike Pelfrey, who somehow also missed Tampa Bay on the back of his baseball card. But Mike DiFelice of the 2005 Mets sure didn’t. This Mike had one of those backup catcher careers I’m not sure you see anymore. He played across thirteen major league seasons, never appearing in as many as 100 games in any of them. As a Met, he got into 32 contests spanning 2005, 2006, and 2007, his most memorable performance coming when he served as caddy to Piazza on that Mike’s final day in orange and blue. Willie Randolph made a show of sending No. 31 to his position, then removing him for one more standing ovation, replacing him with No. 33. No, not Matt Harvey or Ray Sadecki. DiFelice wore 33 in ’05, 6 in ’06, and 9 in ’07. The catcher who couldn’t keep a number and didn’t see much action as a Met was a Devil Ray from 1998 to 2000 and returned to St. Pete in order to call himself simply a Ray in 2008. There were also two terms as a Cardinal and one apiece as a Diamondback, Royal, Tiger, and Cub.
In the spirit of Mets-adjacent Grid answers, a Mike drop is warranted in the direction of Miguel Cairo, a handy utility type (certainly in Randolph’s eyes) whose first name might have been anglicized to Mike by Topps had he played in the days of Bob Clemente. During the golden age of Mikes, Miguel broke through as the first Met of his specific identity. Miguel Batista showed up around the same time as Mike Baxter. Miguel Castro played alongside Michael Conforto. No Met went as Michael until ex-Brave villain Michael Tucker slid into Shea in 2006. The Mike-Michael balance was en route to tilting in the 2010s and 2020s: Conforto, Cuddyer, Wacha (a future Ray), Perez, and Tonkin have all gone about answering to a slightly more formal version of Mike. Meanwhile, we were talking about Miguel Cairo, who besides being a Met (2005) and a Devil Ray (1998-2000) was a Blue Jay, a Cub, a Cardinal, a Yankee, a Mariner, a Phillie, and a Red.
8. Wilson Ramos
If Asdrubal Cabrera had been a catcher, he could have been Wilson Ramos, in that my surprise at realizing Ramos was a Ray is very similar to my surprise at Cabrera having been a Ray despite plenty of evidence that should have made it obvious. That last Mets-Rays game I attended, in 2018? Blake Snell’s catcher was Wilson Ramos. Asdrubal’s fellow Venezuelan had two hits and two runs batted in that day. The Mets’ starter was current Ray Steven Matz. Nope, had no idea Wilson Ramos was a Tampa Bay Ray. I remember Ramos pre-Met mostly as a National. He also got his crouches in with the Twins, the Phillies, the Tigers, and the last edition of the Guardians to be known as the Indians. As a Met, he could get in a groove. Wilson hit in 26 consecutive games during the Mets’ second-half surge of 2019, mounting a streak two games longer than Mike Piazza’s then-Met best, four games shy of Moises Alou’s enduring franchise standard from 2008. (Though to me, “Mets hitting streak” will always be synonymous with Mike…Vail, in 1975. because I am the way I am.)
9. Jose Bautista
We gotta feature within this feature one of those superstars who is widely known by baseball fans everywhere but probably not recognized as a Met or Ray by anybody who isn’t a fan of the Mets or Rays, and even then. Jose Bautista was the Blue Jays’ flagship slugger (give or take Carlos Delgado) when they were between pennants. He led the Jays who the Mets almost met in the 2015 World Series, the team we could have beaten in the 2015 World Series, because they were probably more susceptible to the charms of our pitching than the stupid Royals were. Ah, water under the grudge-bearing bridge. We actually had this Jose Bautista (there was another in the ’90s) on paper for a few minutes on trade deadline day in 2004. We got him from Kansas City (“boo hiss, I hate Kansas City,” my father said in one of the final cogent thoughts he shared me with during the winter following the 2015 World Series) only to include him in the package that made Ty Wigginton initially itinerant. Apparently most teams who had Jose Bautista didn’t realize what he could do. Brief stints with the Devil Rays, Orioles, and Royals preceded his Mets-Pirates transaction agate. Pittsburgh shipped him to Toronto in 2008. Jose went on to hit 288 regular-season home runs in a Blue Jays uniform and flip one bat somewhere toward Thunder Bay in the 2015 ALCS. In 2018, we got him not just on paper but for real, after the Braves no longer wanted him. He hit a walkoff grand slam for us before we traded him to the Phillies, his final MLB posting.
10. Rich Hill
As far back as he can remember, Rich Hill always wanted to be a gangster. Oh, I’m sorry, that’s Henry Hill in Goodfellas. I’m assuming that as far back as Rich Hill can remember, he always wanted to pitch for every major league team. Rich came relatively close. He moved from club to club so often, that it was funny. Funny how? What’s funny about it? Funny like he’s a clown, he amuses us? What the FUCK is so funny about Rich Hill’s career?
As Ray Liotta as Henry Hill said to Joe Pesci as Tommy DeVito (the gangster, not the former Giants quarterback), get the fuck out of here. It seems quite a few organizations said the same to Rich Hill, but just as many at some point said, “Welcome to our clubhouse, Mr. Hill. We would like you to pitch for us this week.” In 2021, the Rays and Mets shared Rich’s services. That was the righty’s 17th major league campaign. He’d already been a Cub, an Oriole, a Red Sock, an Indian, an Angel, a Yankee, a Red Sock again, an Athletic, a Dodger, and a Twin. Then he’d pitch four additional seasons as a Pirate, a Padre, a Royal, and a Red Sock twice more. In case you weren’t sure, Rich Hill throws the baseball with his left hand. I would use the past tense of throws, except can you ever really be sure lefthander Rich Hill won’t be active in the future? Not just an active senior (he’s only 46), but an active major leaguer. It’s funny how this guy stuck around everywhere for so long. And if you don’t at least consider Rich Hill as a potential Immaculate Grid answer when asked for a Met, a Devil Ray, or anything, it is you who may fold under questioning.
We’ve mentioned a Met-ric ton of Rays, and Rays’ed our Metsian awareness of the American League champs. And that was without saluting others who populated the Tampa Bay-to-Flushing Bay pipeline, worthy individuals of varying Grid utility who include Kelly Shoppach, Steve Trachsel, Damion Easley, Jason Isringhausen, Marlon Anderson, Lucas Duda, Brian Stokes, Jae Seo, Tommy Hunter, Cory Lidle, Aaron Loup, Brooks Raley, Tyler Zuber, Travis d’Arnaud, and the unsinkable Julio Franco (unsinkable being a desirable quality for anybody playing on a team with Bay in its name).
Once more, a resounding high-five to Baseball-Reference’s Multiple Teams [13] search tool, found on its Frivolities [14] page, for its assist in excavating myriad Mets-Rays/Rays-Mets names. Someday, if I keep at my training, I won’t need to look up quite so many.