Faith and Fear in Flushing

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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About the Cream, It's Clear: Close, But Not Quite

by Jason Fry on 24 November 2009 5:14 pm

Update: It’s official. I don’t believe the Mets that the natural color is from 1962.

It’s an open secret that next year the Mets will have a cream-colored version of the pinstripes uniform, though reports are all over the map about whether the white pinstripes will still exist and whether the annoying black drop shadow will remain in either or both.

Like a lot of things the Mets have done in the last year or so, most significantly the big new mostly but not completely great stadium they now call home, I want to like this but think it misses the mark by a small but frustrating degree. And again, I detect an unhappy whiff of trying to give the franchise some manufactured antiquity.

The original Mets’ pinstripes were white — reappropriating the blue of the Brooklyn Dodgers and the orange of the New York Giants. Jet-age white, JFK Camelot white, moon-race white, pre-hippie Sixties white. A basic and enduring legacy of the Mets is that they’re the New Breed — the successors to the Dodgers and Giants, the Anti-Yankees, the team you’d root for by being funny and raucous and ironic instead of dour and demanding. The Mets were shiny and new, not some pre-aged franchise meant to feel like it had roots in the days of John McGraw and Connie Mack. (And in their early years, remember, they consistently outdrew the Yankees.) Yes, the first Mets clubs were an old-age home for a number of former Dodgers, Giants and Yankees — but with a couple of exceptions (Casey Stengel, irrepressible in any context) those players were sops to Joan Payson’s sentiments. The legends of the early Mets aren’t great players in their autumn years, but castoffs and never-to-be’s — Marv Throneberry and Hot Rod Kanehl and Choo Choo Coleman. They’re the players the early Mets were stuck with, rather than the imports the club thought would draw fans.

This is the same misconception that I objected to with the collages of Mets that appeared outside Citi Field before Opening Day and inside Citi Field late in the summer. I understand that the Mets wanted to create an old-style park that departed from Shea’s My Chevy Van aesthetics, and for the most part that was fine with me — I like the mix of brick, green seats, black walls and ironwork. But while applauding the Mets finally adding actual Mets stuff to the park, I don’t think the sepia images work — as I’ve written before, Tug McGraw and Lenny Dykstra and Turk Wendell were vivid, Technicolor players. I don’t want to see them through a nostalgic patina, any more than I want to hear, say, “Ashokan Farewell” after a loss. I love Ken Burns, but this isn’t the place for him.

Stripped of racing stripes and drop shadows and other fooferall, the pinstripes are a perfect Mets uniform, mindful of ancient baseball traditions yet mildly rebellious against them — the garish blue and orange atop the classic pinstripes almost looks like a graffiti version of the Yankees’ classically stodgy uniform. Put cream in the mix, though, and they look like manufactured nostalgia for an old-timer’s day. Bring the pinstripes back, but not as some faux imagining of what they might have been.

* * *

If that sounds conservative and retrograde, know that I often arrive at Citi in my black NEW YORK road jersey and a gray-and-blue Mets cap with the NY in stars and stripes. I like the black uniforms, just as I like hearing that an upcoming game will feature special, one-off uniforms.

I’m not against cream — I think it could be a great addition to the palette. But instead of adding cream to the pinstripes, why not take a page from the Giants and use it as a replacement for the white home uniforms? That would be a classic look but feel new instead of fake antique, and it would look a lot less busy than the cream pinstripes.

With that, can I revisit something that’s bugged me for years? I hate not knowing what uniform Charlie Samuels has picked out on a given day. Besides the fact that it ignores the very definition of “uniform,” there’s always a jarring moment when I’m listening to the radio and Howie Rose tells me what the Mets are wearing for the game. It makes you realize whatever image you had in your head of the Mets down there on the field was wrong, and it throws you right out of the narrative — until Howie fills you in, they’re Schrodinger’s Mets. That sense of randomness stopped being cute a long time ago. By now it’s just irritating and makes the Mets feel like they’re making it up as they go, a feeling there’s been entirely too much of in recent years.

I know the die is cast for 2010, marketing plans and budgets being what they are, so here’s a plea for the Mets to consider in 2011. It’s a predictable plan for what the Mets would wear, one that includes cream uniforms and enough variations that the marketing folks would have plenty to sell:

Home night games: White pinstripes and blue caps (burn those horrid two-tone caps).

Home day games: Cream uniforms and blue caps.

Weekend night games and holiday games: Black home uniforms and black caps.

Road night games: Gray uniforms and blue caps.

Road day games and holidays: Black road uniforms and black caps.

Switch those around if you like — cream unis can be for home night games, black road unis can be for road night games, etc. Just make it make sense.

To this, add a wildcard: Do whatever you want on commemorative days. I love Negro League throwback jerseys. I’m all for one-off throwbacks like the uniforms with the big NY. (Minus David Wright taking a fastball to the head.) Wear the New York-area agency caps on September 11th. Wear the racing stripes next time the ’86 Mets are honored. Wear stars-and-stripes uniforms on a day to salute veterans. Wear pink uniforms along with the pink bats and money for breast-cancer research on Mother’s Day. Heck, have Jeff McKnight Day and wear that horrible uniform with the tail for one game. By now the Mercury Mets would probably draw a nostalgic laugh (as long as the other team played along). Have fun with this stuff — we won’t mind, and we’ll open our wallets. But give us a baseline for experimentation. And leave alone what doesn’t need to be messed with.

(Images thieved from Metsblog and No Mas.)

Making Their 'Presence' Felt

by Greg Prince on 22 November 2009 3:27 am

Earlier this week, esteemed FAFIF commenter Kevin from Flushing sent me a link to a video report out of Minnesota regarding the new Twins ballpark with the following warning:

“kick in the balls 23 seconds in”

I didn’t necessarily want a kick there or anywhere, but with a come-on like that, how could I not click? I did and, as promised, at 0:23, Jana Shortal of KARE-TV wound up and delivered. As the camera lingered over a wall devoted to an immense image of Kirby Puckett, she let loose with what caused Kevin and now me to cringe in agony:

“Reminders of past Twins greatness at every turn.”

Target Field is opening in April and it will not be shy about letting you know who plays there and, just as significantly, who played in the Metrodome and Metropolitan Stadium. Target’s the name on the front, but Twins is the clear subtext. In May 2009, more than ten months before a first pitch would be thrown at the new Minneapolis ballpark, the team announced the following:

The opening of Target Field will not only mark a new era of the Minnesota Twins, it will launch the 50th season of Twins baseball. The Minnesota Twins, in conjunction with the Minnesota Ballpark Authority, have unveiled their plans to recognize every Twins player since the inaugural season of 1961 on the Twins Tradition Wall, a dramatic piece of artwork that will be located on Target Plaza.

Here’s some more information on Target decor from the Minnesota Ballpark Authority:

All of the handles on the exterior gates are in the shape of the state of Minnesota. Pictures of players are highlighted in the signage on the concourse level. Hardwood murals of Kirby Puckett and Rod Carew are featured in atriums on the club level. A collection of all-time great lines from Twins broadcasts are etched in wood planks on the wall outside the radio and TV press box. The original flagpole from the old Metropolitan Stadium has been installed on Target Plaza.

In addition, the celebration sign in center field features the original Twins logo from 1961. The logo is two characters dressed in old-time uniforms — one from Minneapolis and one from St. Paul — and whenever a Twins player hits a home run, the sign will light up, making it look like “Minnie and Paul” are shaking hands across the Mississippi River.

If I were a Twins fan living in the vicinity of Target Field, I’d be plenty excited. If I were a fan of the Pirates or the Orioles or the Reds or the Cardinals or just about any team that has opened a new ballpark in the past twenty years, I’d simply nod reading that, knowing that that’s how you inaugurate your new place: by celebrating as much about your heritage as you can as you pave the way toward a hopefully stellar future.

As a Mets fan, I cringed in agony.

We know what the Mets didn’t do for the first year of Citi Field. We were assaulted by the lack of Metsiana for four months before we were granted a taste in the final third of the season with a few small murals on heretofore blank surfaces; with some overdue lightpole banners between the Rotunda and the subway; and with the seven postseason markers on the high left field wall, insignias that had been hidden from common view prior to August.

It was something, but it wasn’t enough. When you plan a ballpark for three years and wait until four months into the fourth year to get serious about your history, it’s going to take some time to even begin to approach enough.

I was reminded just last week how little the Mets’ history mattered to the Mets organization when I visited the park for the Ryder Chasin Bar Mitzvah. As pleasant a space as the exclusive Acela Club is — with brickwork and steelwork evocative of the rest of Citi’s theme park architecture — there was not one picture of any Met nor any hint of Met lore on the premises. No hint of Mets greats, Mets mediocrities, Mets anything. I wonder if Fred Wilpon meant for it to be called the Ace L.A. Club as a tribute to Sandy Koufax and something was simply lost in the translation. And as I sat by those glass windows in left (where I don’t expect to be sitting again for a long while) and took in the sweeping vista of the field, the signage, the stands…nothing screamed or even said Mets unless you squinted real hard. Citi Field was as bereft of team association in November as it was from April to October.

The Mets had grudgingly made noise in the direction of the right thing as part of their dreadful dog and pony show right after the regular season. The Mets also made the slightest peep about it when they dedicated the Jackie Robinson Rotunda, but only when the principal owner was asked and only when he answered the query as vaguely as possible. Thus, when I (as most New York sports fans were no doubt doing this fine Saturday afternoon) was watching the yet again bowl-eligible USF Bulls trample the Louisville Cardinals on SNY, you could have colored me a surprised shade of blue and orange when the news crawl announced the Mets would have a greater Mets “presence” at Citi Field in 2010.

My first thought was, “This is news?” I’ll bet it wasn’t news in Minnesota that the Twins were building their ballpark with a Twins presence, just as nobody was surprised when the current iteration of Yankee Stadium came with a Yankee presence or that the Nationals, with what little history they had, managed to gin up some National presence at Nationals Park. It’s what you do…unless you’re the Mets. Then it’s not what you do. Then it’s news when you actually do it.

My second thought, after being singed by my raging cynicism on this matter, was “well, good.” I put aside the Bulls and went to read the Mets’ news release; odd that they’d issue it on a Saturday, but it’s not like we stop being interested in the Mets during non-business hours.

The SNY crawl was borrowed from the awkward headline the Mets themselves issued:

Mets expand club presence at Citi Field

Kind of sounds like they’re going to be removing rows of seats and putting in more private clubs, doesn’t it? But that’s not what they mean…I don’t think.

Here’s the lede from the release:

FLUSHING, N.Y. — The New York Mets today announced plans to expand the presence of club history at Citi Field next season in a variety of ways including renaming areas of the ballpark after Casey Stengel, Gil Hodges, Tom Seaver and William A. Shea.

I’m really trying to resist the impulse to ask where this announcement was last November, and instead greet it with unalloyed enthusiasm this November. Last November and last season are over. The Mets are trying to make up ground. So let’s let them try. Here’s what they’re naming after their loftiest legends, the three men whose numbers have been retired for what they did while wearing Mets uniforms and the one New Yorker above all others who ensured there would be Mets uniforms:

The Mets will rename and visually theme Citi Field’s VIP entrances and outfield bridge after individuals who made an indelible mark on the club.

I can’t argue — nor would I want to — that Stengel, Hodges, Seaver and Shea aren’t Very Important People to us. How many fans will get to enjoy the upgraded VIP gates is unclear. I was able to use them a handful of times last year and noticed they were the only areas where, once inside their doors, you saw Met memorabilia. You saw yearbook covers and framed photos and all the stuff we who weren’t usually VIPs had been hollering for. Now, I’m inferring, users of those entries will get less of a hodgepodge and more of a Hodges podge while the bully security guards high on authority recklessly frisk them and randomly demand surrender of their bottles of water. I also assume (always dangerous, particularly in a Met context) the exteriors will be dedicated to the greats in question, so that should make for some nice photo-ops outside the park.

First Base VIP will be named after Hodges to honor the manager who led the Mets to their first World Championship in 1969. Third Base VIP will honor Seaver, the Hall of Fame pitcher and Mets leader in wins, earned run average and strikeouts. Left Field VIP will be named after Stengel, the first manager in Mets history.

Gil was a first baseman. Casey’s Stengelese seemed to come from out of left field. That leaves Seaver for third, and he did briefly lead the National League in triples early in the 1983 season. Whatever the alignment, it’s a nice gesture. One hopes there is more. A statue of each man, visible to all — even those on the outside consigned to non-VIP entrances — would be most appropriate.

The outfield bridge will be dedicated as Shea Bridge, honoring the legacy of the man who was the driving force to bring National League baseball back to New York after the departure of the Dodgers and Giants.

I called some time ago for that span to be named for Willie Mays, a Giant and a Met in New York and an immortal always. I’d love at least one damn iota of Citi Field to permanently acknowledge our Giant DNA amid all the Dodgerness, and I thought Willie’s career represented a great metaphor, bridgewise. That said, I’m not disappointed at the naming of the Shea Bridge, not at all. It’s a fine decision.

If it were up to me, 126th St. would have been christened Bill Shea Way on the hundredth anniversary of our founding uncle’s birth in 2007. Shea never owned the Mets, didn’t own the Stadium for which he became known and had no official ties to the organization. Yet he’s the baseball-loving attorney who moved mountains to get the National League back where it belonged. The Mets did well to “retire” his name before the final Shea Stadium Home Opener and I’m thrilled he’s going to get some of his due inside the ballpark that succeeded Shea Stadium. It means the Shea name stays alive and it also means, I believe, that the Mets are no longer insecure about acknowledging that they existed before 2009. I honestly think they were so hung up on Citi Field being Not Shea that it made perfect sense to them (and them alone) to ignore both the old yard and the great man when they opened the new place.

Excellent makegood. I look forward to a suitable plaque and explanation for all generations of who William A. Shea was and why we should appreciate what he did. Present it correctly and I will cross Shea Bridge with pride for the rest of my fan days.

Here’s the other big news, via the release, regarding club presence:

The Mets also have re-formed the Mets Hall of Fame Committee, and will increase the number of visuals commemorating great players and moments both inside and outside the ballpark. The Mets previously announced a 2010 opening of the Mets Hall of Fame & Museum at Citi Field.

Whoa! As Terri Nunn of Berlin implored Tom Cruise on the Top Gun soundtrack, take my breath away. Seriously. That’s as Very Important as it gets around here.

The Hall and the visuals are two separate issues, so let’s skip to the less breathtaking but still key aspect of appearance.

Next season, fans will be greeted by Mets colors as they approach Citi Field with full-color banners of Mets players on Mets Plaza in front of the Jackie Robinson Rotunda. Mets logos will be added on entry points to the parking areas and on the light poles in the parking lots. The addition of team colors will continue inside the ballpark with staircases painted with blue and orange and more Mets logos throughout the ballpark. Flowers in the gardens at Mets Plaza in front of the Jackie Robinson Rotunda will also be blue and orange.

OK, my breath is back.

This is so simple that a child running a major league team would have come up with this before 2009. Logos? Team colors? Blue and orange flowers? Parking areas not adorned (to borrow my wife’s line on this portion of the release) with Disney characters so you can remember that you parked in Lot Goofy? This took a year to come up with? This was something on which, as Dave Howard’s quote puts it, the Mets had to “hear our fans loud and clear”?

Whatever. I don’t know the cost of these augmentations, but imagine the public relations grief the Mets would have saved themselves in ’09 had all this pretty obvious stuff been installed while measuring the dimensions of the Jackie Robinson Rotunda and studying photos of Ebbets Field. If there’s any gladness to be had that it took the Mets drowning in a steady stream of complaints to do Team Image Basics, it’s that we’ll probably appreciate these items a little more now than we might have had they been where we (rightfully) expected them last season.

The most interesting promise here is the “full-color” banners. Jason’s brought up on occasion that what pictures there have been have been in black and white and that he didn’t think it was a proper Metropolitan look. Those current exterior banners are not bad by any means, but since when are we a black and white franchise? The Mets were conceived as a Technicolor production, particularly when they emerged into the future of 1964 next door to the World’s Fair. It’s one thing to pay a little homage to their forebears. It’s another to pretend the Mets are bathed in sepia. Full-color is the way to go. Good call.

And anything that makes the staircases feel less like an elementary school fire drill is welcome.

As for the Hall of Fame…here goes my breath again:

The centerpiece for Mets memorabilia will be the Mets Hall of Fame & Museum, located adjacent to the Jackie Robinson Rotunda and accessible from both inside and outside the ballpark. A re-formed Mets Hall of Fame Committee will evaluate potential inductees, and is comprised of a combination of media members with a long-standing connection to the club and Mets front office staff.

My breath is still not back. I am shocked and delighted that the too-long dormant institution will be figuratively unshuttered and physically created. The devil will be in the details, but the details we’ve been dealt are delightful, too. They’re almost shocking in how delightful they are, particularly this set of them:

Media members on the committee are: Marty Noble, the Mets.com beat writer who is entering his fifth decade covering the team; Gary Cohen, the New York native and voice of the Mets on SNY who has been a Mets broadcaster for 21 years; and Howie Rose, a Queens native and radio voice of the Mets on WFAN who has covered the team for 21 years on radio and television.

If you asked me to name the three traditional media members I’d want representing the best interests of Mets history, I’d name Noble and Cohen and Rose without blinking. You know Gary and you know Howie. They are a Mets Hall of Fame unto themselves every time they speak into a Met microphone. Among tenured everyday writers, Marty Noble is institutional memory personified. If you’re not as familiar as you should be with his work (he was a staple for us Long Islanders during his extended term with Newsday), check out Mets By The Numbers’ exclusive three-part interview with him from early 2008.

The Mets committee members are: Dave Howard, executive vice president, business operations who has been with the organization for 18 years; Jay Horwitz, vice president, media relations who just completed his 30th season with the team; Tina Mannix, senior director, marketing who has been with the Mets for nine years; and former Mets pitcher Al Jackson, a pitching consultant who is entering his sixth decade with the Mets. Chief operating officer Jeff Wilpon serves as ex-officio.

Al Jackson and Jay Horwitz, impeccably Met-credentialed as they are, strike me as great choices. Dave Howard, despite the quotes that have caused some of us the shakes, has a lot of experience with and a lot of passion for the Mets. Tina Mannix I’ve never heard of until now, but then again, Tina Mannix has probably never heard of me, so I’ll have faith that she’s up for the task (though marketing the team and selecting its Hall of Famers seem, on the surface, like disparate disciplines).

I can’t find a full list of the previous longstanding Mets Hall of Fame committee. I know it included both Bob Murphy and Ralph Kiner, along with all-time beat writer Jack Lang, Original Met official Bob Mandt and, in some capacity, Frank Cashen. There were several others, I’m pretty certain. It was a marvelous group, one that sadly couldn’t stay intact forever. The only thing that was substantially wrong with the Mets Hall of Fame selection process between 1981 and 2002 was that it was allowed to go intermittently and then indefinitely dark. Most of those named to the new committee could have been named as replacements on the old committee years ago. Nevertheless, I couldn’t be happier that the light has gone back on.

Wherever they establish it adjacent to the Rotunda (I can’t imagine the Mets will remove retail in deference to celebrating their history), I look forward to visiting the actual structure. Judgment is, per usual, reserved until it opens and we see what it shows us. One of the great disappointments I had at my beloved Shea was that the only manifestation of the Hall of Fame there was a pair of trophy cases in the lobby to the Diamond Club. It was a low bar I’d like to believe the Citi Field Mets are capable of clearing.

From the release once more:

“The re-formation of the Mets Hall of Fame Committee is central to our concerted efforts to better connect our present and future to our past,” said Wilpon. “It reinforces the organization’s and our fans’ shared desire to recognize our greatest players. With our 2010 opening of the Mets Hall of Fame & Museum at Citi Field, now was the time to bring this group together.”

That Jeff Wilpon is making the whole thing sound magnanimous is, of course, laughable. What “shared desire”? I personally have been desiring this publicly since 2005 and making detailed suggestions on its behalf since 2006. And I know I haven’t been the only one. Maintaining annual inductions into the Mets Hall of Fame has been our desire. Establishing a physical Mets Hall of Fame has been our desire. If management shared that desire, it would have been done by now.

It’s about freaking time that it has.

You know, when the Mets first started inducting Hall of Famers in 1981, it was partly an effort to distract the fans from the dismal baseball that had pervaded Shea for too long. When the Mets put up player banners throughout the concourses in 1994, it was partly an effort to distract the fans from the dismal baseball that had pervaded Shea for too long. When the Mets decorated the facing of the press level with photography that marked great moments and personalities from their past in 2003, it was partly an effort to distract the fans from the dismal baseball that had pervaded Shea for too long.

Sense a pattern here?

Do the Mets really have to sink to new depths to get some history up in here? Is that the tradition that’s made its way to Citi Field? If the Mets were coming off a good year in the standings and had a Halladay or a Holliday waiting in the wings for the holidays, would any of the flowers be replanted?

My breath is taken away as much by shock as by delight from this sudden devotion to a Mets Hall of Fame & Museum, but however it got here, here’s to doing it right. We know nothing is guaranteed where future Met performance is concerned, but they have every opportunity to finally nail their past.

According to the release, Hall of Fame “candidates will be evaluated on their impact on the field while in a Mets uniform, how they represented and affected the organization and their place in Mets history.” Just as “the Mets will announce further details about the Mets Hall of Fame & Museum in the coming weeks,” I’m sure we’ll all have a word or two to send the Mets’ way vis-à-vis doing it right.

Like the man said, shared desire.

Amazin' Medley

by Greg Prince on 20 November 2009 1:47 pm

Welcome to Flashback Friday: I Saw The Decade End, a milestone-anniversary salute to the New York Mets of 1969, 1979, 1989 and 1999. Each week, we immerse ourselves in or at least touch upon something that transpired within the Metsian realm 40, 30, 20 or 10 years ago. Amazin’ or not, for the final time, here it comes.

This is literally the Flashback to end all 2009 Flashbacks, which is appropriate since its subject is the tribute to end all tributes to the Mets season to end the last millennium.

Prepare to meet the Amazin’ Medley, my musical homage to the 1999 Mets.

What you are about to read is a transcription and explanation of all 156 segments of a montage I produced almost ten years ago. I sat on the floor in front of my stereo with cassettes, LPs, 45s and CDs laid out around me and I created a twenty-minute remembrance of what I’d just recently lived through. It exists as a tape, not the most Internet-friendly format here on the cusp of this century’s second decade.

Nevertheless, I take it out now and then, maybe twice a year, pop it into a cassette player (I still have several) and listen to it. It shoots me right back to that December day when I decided to follow through on my impulse and hit PLAY, RECORD and PAUSE a whole lot. It shoots me back a little further, to the 1999 postseason, then to the 1999 regular season and to seasons before that. It may be the purest expression I have of how my mind works where the Mets are concerned, particularly those Mets. I didn’t write a word of anything on that tape. It’s all songs and play-by-play. But it all makes sense to me as if it’s coming from me.

Over the years, I’ve dubbed a dozen, maybe fifteen copies for friends whom I thought would enjoy it. Some said they did. Some said they’d let me know. Some people are weirded out by stuff like this. I understand. But obviously I don’t care. I love the Amazin’ Medley. In revisiting it here, I love it all over again. I hope you like it. I hope you kind of get it.

But mostly, I love the Amazin’ Medley and the team that inspired it.

Some of these audio choices require little explanation, but I’ll at least drop in a token thought for each of them. Links are provided where possible to the music to give you an idea regarding anything with which you’re not yet familiar. Some of these songs I like a great deal on their own. Some of them I don’t care about stripped of their Met context. I did gather each of them up to make sure this project would be exactly what I wanted it to be in 1999. These days I just make playlists and the whole thing goes a lot quicker. Back then, doing a tape like this was the ultimate labor of love. But so was what the 1999 Mets did for me, so we’re even.

Without further adieu…meet the Medley.

1. Final notes of “Meet The Mets” (organ instrumental)

FROM “Meet The Mets” by Jane Jarvis, 1996 recording, given away at Shea on Meet The Mets CD Day, 9/15/96

BECAUSE Not that I needed to fall in love with this song all over again, but I did. The fall of ’96 was a very bittersweet time to be a Mets fan. You had the usual melancholy of a losing season winding down. You had the distracting uplift of the team records tied or set by Lance Johnson, Todd Hundley and Bernard Gilkey. And you had that whole other thing elsewhere in the city. Hearing “Meet The Mets” over and over again on CD was just what I needed.

2. “It was a very good year.”

FROM “It Was A Very Good Year” by Frank Sinatra

BECAUSE 1999 was a very good year.

3. “Many years since I was here.”

FROM “New York Groove” by Ace Frehley

BECAUSE First playoff appearance in more than a decade. I had this song in my mind as the soundtrack for the 1996 run to glory that never occurred. I could see Jason Isringhausen and Bill Pulsipher starring in a video that would be shown before every game on DiamondVision. I swear I could.

4. “The summer here is over in a million different ways.”

FROM “It’s Never Too Late To Be Alone” by Del Amitri

BECAUSE The pervading sadness that the playoffs and all that preceded them were over in a million different ways.

5. “Give me one more summer.”

FROM “One More Summer” by the Rainmakers

BECAUSE The pervading determination to relive those playoffs and all that preceded them.

6. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon. We’re gonna get it started.”

FROM “C’mon C’mon (We’re Gonna Get It Started)” by Sloan

BECAUSE Rebooting and reliving 1999. When I discovered this song via the defunct MuchMusic channel in 1998, I wished the Mets would take the field to this.

7. “Are you ready?”

FROM “Are You Ready For Love?” by Elton John and the Spinners

BECAUSE The Mets’ ’99 enigmatic marketing theme was Are You Ready?

8. “Baby, I’m ready to go.”

FROM “Ready To Go” by Republica

BECAUSE After the painfully short Wild Card bit of ’98, I sure as hell was ready to go in ’99. Orel Hershiser warmed up to this jock jam staple as a Met though I doubt he specifically requested it.

9. “Keep the ball rollin’, keep the ball rollin’.”

FROM “Keep The Ball Rollin’” by Jay & The Techniques

BECAUSE Twofold meaning here: a desire to keep this positive vibe going and a reference to the most famous play in Mets history, one that involved a ground ball rolling ’til it rolled through a first baseman’s legs. I secured this 45 during the summer of ’99 for reasons unrelated to baseball. Every Memorial Day, WABC would air “Rewound,” a salute to their awesome MusicRadio heritage. I’d come out of it with a yen for three or four songs I hadn’t heard before or in ages. This one wasn’t on CD — and what was an MP3, exactly?

10. “Heaven let your light shine down.”

FROM “Shine” by Collective Soul

BECAUSE The runup to 1999 begins with the theme songs I attached to the years directly preceding it. I had a song for the 1994 Mets, and this was it. Perfect confluence. The Mets were playing not bad, which was a big step up from previous seasons. And this was a big hit on the radio while they were improving.

11. “These are better days.”

FROM “Better Days” by Bruce Springsteen

BECAUSE This was 1995’s theme, second half, when the Mets finished on a 34-18 tear, leaving me bursting with optimism for ’96.

12. “It’s going to take some time this time.”

FROM “It’s Going To Take Some Time” by the Carpenters.

BECAUSE The cold slap of reality in 1996 showed me it wasn’t going to be easy to follow up the perceived steps up from ’94 and ’95.

13. “Hope of deliverance from the darkness that surrounds us.”

FROM “Hope Of Deliverance” by Paul McCartney

BECAUSE This described the mood that came over me as the 1997 season revealed itself as the delightful surprise of the decade. We were being delivered from the disappointments of the preceding six losing campaigns. Temporally, this song also reminds me of the early spring of 1993 when there was a horrible nor’easter that foreshadowed a horrible blizzard of baseball to come.

14. “Coming out of the dark.”

FROM “Coming Out Of The Dark” by Gloria Estefan

BECAUSE Continuing the 1997 deliverance theme.

15. “I want something else to get me through this semi-charmed kind of life, baby.”

FROM “Semi-Charmed Life” by Third Eye Blind

BECAUSE As revelatory as 1997 was, I noticed that as the Mets rose, I became more and more wrapped up in all their ups and all their downs. I hadn’t felt that way in a long time and, as exhilarating as it was, it was also wearing on me. 1997 really ignited a whole new level of passion for the Mets that I continue to maintain to this day. It’s often a wonderful thing. Sometimes it’s only a semi-wonderful thing.

16. “It’s been one week since you looked at me.”

FROM “One Week” by Barenaked Ladies

BECAUSE The one week in question is the final week of the 1998 season, the week when the Mets went 0-5 and lost the one-game Wild Card lead they held on the penultimate Sunday of the season. The song was a hit that fall. Seemed too close to be a coincidence. That last week of ’98 weighed heavily on me vis-à-vis making it to the playoffs in ’99.

17. “Everything falls apart.”

FROM “Everything Falls Apart” by Dog’s Eye View

BECAUSE Everything fell apart during the aforementioned week.

18. “Someday, you will ache like I ache.”

FROM “Doll Parts” by Hole

BECAUSE Future collapses have perhaps obscured it, but boy did that one week hurt.

19. “Through all the gloom, through all the gloom, I can see the rays of ravishing light. And glory!”

FROM “Is Anybody There?” by William Daniels as John Adams in the motion picture version of 1776

BECAUSE For some people, the Beach Boys represent a summer soundtrack. For me, it’s this movie’s soundtrack. It has been a staple for Stephanie and me every Fourth of July since 1991. John Adams saw victory over the horizon despite the odds stacked so dauntingly against him. And that’s how I had to make myself feel after 1998 and again as 1999’s regular season careened to its exciting conclusion.

20. “Turn this thing around. I will not go quietly.”

FROM “I Will Not Go Quietly” by Don Henley

BECAUSE This first became a Mets song for me in 1997 as that season progressed, though the first time I heard it was the first time I was dragged (yes, dragged) to a strip club, in 1989. It was a beverage convention in Las Vegas and kind of a rite of passage. It was a cringey experience, but least I got this song out of it.

21. “Take this losing hand and make it win.”

FROM “Leaving Las Vegas” by Sheryl Crow

BECAUSE Same principle as above (same city, too!). Heard it one morning on my Walkman in ’97 and its match for what I was thinking floored me. I walked around thinking about the Mets a lot in 1997.

22. “It’s not over ’til it’s over.”

FROM “It’s Not Over (‘Til It’s Over)” by Starship

Revived from the 1987 divisional run when this was a hit. Points to Starship for co-opting from Yogi when he was managing the Mets. Points deducted for this and most of their songs rather sucking. And for the Mets being over a few games too soon in 1987.

23. “Maybe I’m amazed.”

FROM: “Maybe I’m Amazed” by Paul McCartney

BECAUSE Thought I should have a song with some variation of Amazin’ in here. Was surprised I didn’t own it when I was doing the medley. Ran out to the CD Warehouse in Rockville Centre to purchase a used copy. I was quite devoted to my medleys.

24. “Here they come again. Catch us if you can.”

FROM “Catch Us If You Can” by the Dave Clark Five

BECAUSE Another 1997-born Mets connection. In very early July of that seminal year, the Mets had begun to look like pretenders. Then they re-energized and took three in a row from the Wild Card-leading Marlins before the All-Star Break. Here, I thought, we come again. And maybe we’ll be the ones being chased before this semi-charmed kind of year is over.

25. “Said that we can do it, you know I wanna do it again.”

FROM “Every Morning” by Sugar Ray

BECAUSE A call for another playoff year in 2000. And a call to replay the thrills of 1999.

26. “No retreat, baby, no surrender.”

FROM “No Surrender” by Bruce Springsteen

BECAUSE This was the theme of the official highlight video for the patron saint of near-miss Met seasons, 1985. No surrender in ’85 and we got ’86. No surrender in ’99 either, baby.

27. “You make me believe.”

FROM “You Make Me Believe” by Simply Red

28. “And I just can’t help believing.”

FROM “I Just Can’t Help Believing” by B.J. Thomas

29. “Now I’m a believer.”

FROM “I’m A Believer” by the Monkees

30. “I believe…”

FROM “My Heart Will Go On” by Celine Dion

31. “Still I look to find a reason to believe.”

FROM “Reason To Believe by Don Williams

The previous five tracks are BECAUSE You Gotta Believe.

32. “If you believe within your soul, just hold on tight and don’t let go.”

FROM “Make It Happen” by Mariah Carey

BECAUSE It’s not enough just to Believe.

33. “Don’t let go. Don’t let go.”

FROM “Don’t Let Go” by Isaac Hayes

BECAUSE When you’ve lost seven in a row in September, it’s tough to hang on.

34. “I’m alive. Yeah, yeah.”

FROM “Power To The Meek” by Eurythmics

BECAUSE We were alive after the mess we were in.

35. “Winter’s gonna turn to spring.”

FROM “It Only Takes A Minute” by Tavares

BECAUSE Spring equals baseball. Baseball equals hope. Hope equals 1999 Mets.

36. “There’re just so many summers, babe, and just so many springs.”

FROM “The Last Worthless Evening” by Don Henley

BECAUSE We only get one baseball season per year. Let us not blow it.

37. “No, they can’t take that away from me.”

FROM “They Can’t Take That Away From Me” by Lisa Stansfield

BECAUSE Win or lose, my baseball season is my baseball season. Most every season in the ’90s gave me a reason to want to give that up, but my love for this game was too strong.

38. “Show a little faith, there’s magic in the night.”

FROM “Thunder Road” by Bruce Springsteen

BECAUSE The “because” is pretty obvious, but a word on the version used, the acoustic one from the Live box released in the fall of 1986. I was visiting a friend shortly after the World Series and we were in my rented convertible playing the first cassette from the boxed set, and it was only then that the lyric struck me as perfect for what the Mets did on October 25. It also didn’t hurt that we were on Nebraska Avenue. I knew a guy in high school who used “the town full of losers” line as his obnoxious yearbook quote, so I never really liked this song until that moment. Post-Buckner, I claimed it for the Mets.

39. “I see fireworks! I see the pageant and pomp and parade!”

FROM “Is Anybody There?”

BECAUSE John Adams saw great things that awaited beyond Independence. I saw those awesome fireworks they set off at Shea during the NLDS and imagined a whole Continental Congress worth of ticker tape.

40. “A miracle in the rain.”

FROM “Riders To The Stars” by Barry Manilow

BECAUSE You tell me what the Grand Slam Single was.

41. “I guess the Lord must be in New York City.”

FROM “I Guess The Lord Must Be In New York City” by Harry Nilsson

BECAUSE You tell me Who was in the Upper Deck that night. (Song re-entered my consciousness after hearing it in You’ve Got Mail, which was the only redeeming feature of You’ve Got Mail.)

42. “Can’t you feel the town exploding?”

FROM “With A Little Luck by Paul McCartney & Wings

BECAUSE In the spring of 1986 when the Rangers reached the Stanley Cup semifinals, WAPP (The Apple 103.5 FM) put together a montage not unlike this one to cheer on the local team. This very snippet was used, and I couldn’t wait for October, anticipating the even greater montage the station would compile on the Mets’ behalf. ‘APP switched formats to dance in August, so there went that modest dream.

43. “So baby, you better believe I’m back — back in the New York groove.”

FROM “New York Groove”

BECAUSE The town exploded because of the Mets.

44. “Heaven — it was heaven. I have never known a bliss. Witnessed anything like this.”

FROM “The Way To Your Heart” by Soulsister

BECAUSE This was a minor hit in the summer of ’89 that I spent about four years trying to track down until something called the Internet made it available on CD in the summer of ’99. First thing I ever found via this crazy series of tubes. Anyway, I never witnessed anything like the next sound you’ll hear.

45. “Ventura is waiting. McGlinchy staring in has his sign. The two-one pitch. AND A DRIVE IN THE AIR TO DEEP RIGHT FIELD! THAT BALL HEADED TOWARD THE WALL… THAT BALL IS… OUTTA HERE! OUTTA HERE! A GAME-WINNING GRAND SLAM HOME RUN OFF THE BAT OF ROBIN VENTURA! VENTURA WITH A GRAND SLAM! THEY’RE MOBBING HIM BEFORE HE CAN GET TO SECOND BASE! THE METS HAVE WON THE BALLGAME!”

—Gary Cohen

46. “The New York Mets are on the air!”

FROM Let’s Go Mets, an LP of audio highlights from the 1964 season. The announcer welcoming you to Mets baseball is Ralph Kiner.

BECAUSE Believe it or not, everything up to “Ventura is waiting” was prelude. The real tribute starts now.

47. “We got the teamwork to make the dream work. Let’s go…let’s go Mets!”

FROM “Let’s Go Mets!” by New York’s Dream Team

BECAUSE Some concepts, such as teamwork and dreams working are eternal, whether it’s 1986 or 1999.

48. “Wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles.”

FROM “Miracle Of Miracles” by Leonard Frey, who played Motel in the film version of Fiddler On The Roof.

BECAUSE I saw Fiddler on Broadway in 1971, but it always puts me in mind of 1969.

49. “It’s a miracle (miracle), a true blue spectacle, a miracle come true.”

FROM “It’s A Miracle” by Barry Manilow

BECAUSE Hitting you over the head with a big Met theme, of course. This song also pulls me back to 1975, the Sunday I attended my first baseball card show at the then Statler Hilton across from Penn Station. We went out to dinner afterwards and my dad asked to see which cards I got. I handed him a bunch of old Mets, one of which — Ron Locke, 1965 — he dropped in some salad dressing. Not much miraculous there, I admit.

50. “You have to believe we are magic, nothing can stand in our way.”

FROM “Magic” by Olivia Newton-John

BECAUSE In the summer of 1980, The Magic [Was] Back. And as it was tightening its grip on my imagination, Olivia Newton-John gave the season a soundtrack.

51. “It’s a kind of magic, magic, magic, magic.”

FROM “A Kind Of Magic” by Queen

BECAUSE I somehow managed to never hear this song ’til like 1995. But once I did, I knew what it was about, about, about, about.

52. “Oh, ho, ho, it’s magic, you know, never believe it’s not so. It’s magic.”

FROM “Magic” by Pilot

BECAUSE I think we have a pretty solid theme going here. Big favorite when it came out in 1975. Amazin’ revival for it, in my head, in 1980.

53. “We’ve got magic to do just for you. We’ve got miracles plays to play.”

FROM “Magic To Do” by Ben Vereen

BECAUSE In the fall of 1973, a commercial for Pippin showed up an awful lot on local TV. Off Broadway, over in Queens, an even bigger production was generating great reviews. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that the Mets were making magic at the same time.

54. “Mantei’s one-oh, and a high fly ball deep to center field, back goes Finley, goin’ back, warning track, AT THE WALL…JUMPING…”

—Gary Cohen

55. “We’ve got parts to perform, hearts to warm. Kings and things to take by storm…”

FROM “Magic To Do”

BECAUSE The song came roaring back to me 25 years later, down the stretch in 1998. Didn’t work, but it bubbled up yet again in June of ’99. We had been making something of a move on first place just before Stephanie and I were heading to Boston to visit Fenway. Of more import to me was the Mets were traveling to Atlanta that very same weekend. “Kings and things to take by storm,” eh? The Mets won the first game of that series. A sweep would tie them for first. It didn’t work yet again, but the Mets were always finding magic to do.

56. “AND…IT’S OUTTA HERE! IT’S OUTTA HERE! PRATT HIT IT OVER THE FENCE! FINLEY JUMPED AND HE MISSED IT! THE METS WIN THE BALLGAME! THE METS WIN THE BALLGAME! ON A HOME RUN OVER THE CENTER FIELD FENCE, BY TODD PRATT! THE METS HAVE WON THE SERIES, THREE GAMES TO ONE!”

—Gary Cohen

57. “As we go along our way.”

FROM “Magic To Do”

BECAUSE Miracle plays to play, you say?

58. “True believers livin’ on the borderline.”

FROM “Hot Rod Hearts” by Robbie Dupree

59. “Do you believe in life after love? I can feel something inside me say I really don’t think you’re strong enough, no.”

FROM “Believe” by Cher

60. “I must confess, I still believe (still believe).”

FROM “…Baby One More Time” by Britney Spears

61. “Don’t stop believin’, don’t stop believin’, don’t stop believin’.”

FROM “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Olivia Newton-John

62. “Good god, I’m a believer.”

FROM “Are You Jimmy Ray?” by Jimmy Ray

63. “I believe in miracles.”

FROM “I Believe In You And Me” by Whitney Houston

The previous six tracks are also BECAUSE You Gotta Believe.

64. “When the night is falling, you cannot find the light (light). You feel your dreams are dying, hold tight.”

FROM “You Get What You Give” by New Radicals

BECAUSE Well, sure, the not giving up and all that, but on a more personal level, as the 1999 season was revealing itself as something special, I opted one Sunday to drive to Shea instead of taking the train. That’s never an easy decision for me, prone to panic attacks when behind the wheel, particularly on a highway. I tried it with trepidation. This song came on a tape I was listening to as I merged on to the Southern State. I accelerated against all doubt. (As an aside, I liked that this, as well as several selections dotting the medley, were actually from 1999. I didn’t realize I was still paying that much attention musically at the then ripe old age of 36.)

65. “Talkin’ baseball — baseball and the Mets.”

FROM “Talkin’ Baseball (Baseball And The Mets)” by Terry Cashman

BECAUSE Dreams dying…holding tight…you know what you’re talkin’ when you’re talkin’ like that. And you know who’s talkin’ it. Terry Cashman recorded a Mets version of his original “Talkin’ Baseball (Willie, Mickey & The Duke)” in 1982 and would re-record to keep up with roster additions as events merited. [Cashman would do one for 2000 and another for 2006, the latter of whose historical cataloguing included the line “Ventura hit that one-run grand slam.”]

66. “Clontz is ready to go. Pitching off the stretch. Deals to Piazza…Low and outside — IT GETS AWAY! ONTO THE SCREEN! MORA SCORES! THE METS WIN IT! THE METS WIN IT! MORA IS MOBBED BY HIS TEAMMATES AS HE CROSSES HOME PLATE, THE METS WIN IN GAME NUMBER ONE-HUNDRED AND SIXTY-TWO, AND THE METS WILL PLAY AGAIN IN NINETEEN NINETY-NINE!”

—Gary Cohen

67. Opening notes to the single version of “1999” (instrumental)

FROM “1999” by Prince

BECAUSE The Mets would play again in 1999.

68.“Here’s the pitch…swung, lined hard, CAUGHT! The game is over! The Mets win it! They’re on their way to Arizona! The Mets have won the Wild Card in the National League.”

—Bob Murphy

69. “Wild boys! Wild boys! Wild boys! Wild boys!”

FROM “Wild Boys” by Duran Duran

BECAUSE Shea PA took to playing this in September ’98 and October ’99 as the Mets sought the Wild Card. Once it was captured in Cincinnati, somebody in New York had to play it.

70. “1999! Don’t ya wanna go? 1999!”

FROM “1999” by Prince

BECAUSE Don’t I wanna go? When it came to the moment when the Mets crossed the threshold from playoff hopefuls to playoff participants, I never wanted to leave.

71. “We’ve come a long, long way together, through the hard times and the good.”

FROM “Praise You” by Fatboy Slim

BECAUSE At that moment of Wild Card clinching, I thought of everybody with whom I’d come through the hard times of Mets rooting. And now we had us some good.

72. “And your heart beats like a subway train. Ooh, it makes you wanna die.”

FROM “Maria” by Blondie

BECAUSE Debbie Harry knew exactly what my insides felt like, going to and coming from Shea.

73. “We haven’t had that spirit here since 1969.”

FROM “Hotel California” by the Eagles

BECAUSE We begin our own historical cataloguing.

74. “Was the summer of ’69.”

FROM “Summer of ’69” by Bryan Adams

BECAUSE We don’t pass up the incredibly obvious.

75. “Seventy-three men sailed up from the San Francisco Bay.”

FROM “Ride Captain Ride” by Blues Image

BECAUSE Nor do we pass up the contextually obscure. Not a lot of songs mentioned 1973, but this one came close — and hinted at the vicinity of that year’s World Series!

76. “And after 1986, what else could be new?”

FROM “Modern Woman” by Billy Joel

BECAUSE A song that mentioned 1986, released in 1986, by my favorite singer/songwriter…yet I really couldn’t stand it when it was a hit. I now understand it was just waiting for its medley closeup.

77. “Hey — 98…”

FROM “98.6 by Keith.

BECAUSE I swear, this is the last time I dredge up the year that directly preceded 1999.

78. “Such a sad, sad season (sad, sad season), when a good love dies.”

FROM “I’ve Got To Use My Imagination” by Gladys Knight & The Pips

BECAUSE Except for restating how scarred that particular collapse left me, which is why I so desperately desired an antidote to cure the lingering aftereffects from that sad, sad season.

79. “99, I’ve been waiting so long.”

FROM “99” by Toto

BECAUSE Toto serenaded ’99 in 1980. Prescient fellows. Me, I waited eleven years for the Mets to return to the playoffs. Long enough.

80. “Finally, it’s happened to me, right in front of my face, my feelings can’t describe it.”

FROM “Finally” by CeCe Peniston

BECAUSE The wait was finally over. And once the hubbub died down on October 4, this is the song I opted to slide into the CD player.

81. “Maybe for the only time in my life, something in the air (something in the air) turning me around and guiding me right.”

FROM “Prime Time” by the Alan Parsons Project

BECAUSE I’d say this whole period was pretty unprecedented in my life, even as Metted up as I had been for thirty years to that point.

82. “High above all time and space, and I remember summer days.”

FROM “Summer Days” by the Partridge Family

BECAUSE Backing up a bit, to that summer that preceded that fall…

83. “Since that summer, since that summer.”

FROM “Summer Girls” by LFO

BECAUSE…when I sat high above all time, space and Shea Stadium and witnessed what was, to that point, the greatest thing I’d ever witnessed there.

84. “Now Rivera brings the hands together…runners take a lead at all three bases. One-two to Franco…LINE DRIVE base hit into right field! Henderson scores! Here comes Alfonzo…here comes O’Neill’s throw to the plate…Alfonzo slides…he’s safe, the Mets win it! THE METS WIN IT! MATT FRANCO WITH A LINE DRIVE SINGLE TO RIGHT AND HE’S BEING MOBBED BY HIS TEAMMATES! Matt Franco, a two-run single off Mariano Rivera in the bottom of the ninth inning, and the Mets win it, nine to eight!”

—Gary Cohen

85. “So, what ya think? You like the Yankees or the Mets this year?”

FROM “Right And Wrong” by Joe Jackson

BECAUSE On July 10, 1999, as much as any day, the answer was easy.

86. “Hurray! I’m for the other team!”

FROM “Interjections!” by Essra Mohawk, from SchoolHouse Rock

BECAUSE Only for argument’s sake and the tenor of the times were the Mets the “other” team. They were the only team in my book…on July 10 and on any day.

87. “Polaroid camera, stereo sets, season box, to see the Mets!”

FROM “This Is The Life” by Billy Daniels and Sammy Davis, Jr. from Golden Boy

BECAUSE It was circa 1975 that on a Sunday night i was watching Sammy and Company, the talk show hosted by Sammy Davis, Jr. Even for its genre, it was pretty unctuous (parodied to perfection years later on SCTV as the Sammy Maudlin Show). Yet I carried with me one minute memory from those late Sunday nights with Sammy: He performed a number from a Broadway show in which he starred in the ’60s, Golden Boy, and the song mentioned the Mets in a very positive connotation — a component of the good life, as it were. One afternoon in September 1999, the lyric about a season box to see the Mets clicked on in my mental jukebox. For the hell of it, I headed to a nearby Barnes & Noble and…found it! Golden Boy‘s soundtrack from 1964 was inexplicably readily available 35 years after the fact.

88. “These are a few of my favorite things.”

FROM “My Favorite Things” by Al Jarreau and Kathleen Battle

BECAUSE Just echoing Sammy here. I don’t know about the Polaroid, but imagine a season box to see the Mets…

89. “Mister Mojo Risin’. Mister Mojo Risin’. Mister Mojo Risin’. Mister Mojo Risin’.”

FROM “L.A. Woman” by the Doors.

BECAUSE You didn’t think I was going to let this pitch go by much longer, did you?

90. “Hot fun in the summertime. Hot fun in the summertime. Hot fun in the summertime. Hot fun in the summertime.”

FROM “Hot Fun In The Summertime” by Sly & The Family Stone

BECAUSE This is a great song, and the ’99 Mets were hot fun in their summertime and all, but to tell you the truth, I just needed a breather after invoking Mr. Mojo’s rise.

91. “Talkin’ ’bout sweet seasons on my mind.”

FROM “Sweet Seasons” by Carole King

BECAUSE This, too, is appropriate enough to that sweet season, if a little on the nose. I’m still thinking about “L.A. Woman” and I’m still blown away by how the Mojo Risin’ thing caught on, how Robin Ventura invented it in the clubhouse and the rest of us were brought in. Metsdom’s greatest borrowed hit, Metsdom’s biggest inside joke, so to speak.

92. “Seasons of love. Seasons of love.”

FROM “Seasons Of Love” by Stevie Wonder & the Cast of Rent

BECAUSE I’d been looking to hook the Mets up with this song (particularly this version from the soundtrack) since I first heard it in September of ’96. 1996 was not a big season of love for the Mets, save for Lance Johnson, I suppose. As long as we were on the season theme, it worked for 1999. A lot to love, you know.

93. “Join us, leave your field to flower. Join us, leave your cheese to sour. Join us, come and waste an hour or two…doodle-ee-do.”

FROM “Magic To Do”

BECAUSE From one Broadway favorite back to another. The opening lyrics invite you to stay for the show, but they’re perfect for a ballgame. And they provide us the perfect entrée to check out the lineup, more or less, for your 1999 New York Mets.

94. Instrumental portion from “Searching” by Change Featuring Luther Vandross

BECAUSE It’s Rickey Henderson’s at-bat music.

95. Instrumental portion from “Happy Days” by Pratt & McClain, representing Edgardo Alfonzo

BECAUSE Fonzie! OK, I cheated here. Fonzie’s at-bat music in 1999 was “Ran Kan Kan” by Tito Puente, but I didn’t know the name nor was there a Google or an iTunes around to help me figure it out. But aaaayyyy, when Fonzie was a Met, they were all happy days.

96. Instrumental portion from “Beast Of Burden” by the Rolling stones.

BECAUSE It’s John Olerud’s at-bat music.

97. Instrumental portion from “Voodoo Child (Slight Return)” by the Jimi Hendrix Experience

BECAUSE It’s so Mike Piazza’s at-bat music.

98. Instrumental portion from “Runnin’ Down A Dream” by Tom Petty

BECAUSE It’s Robin Ventura’s at-bat music.

99. Instrumental portion from “Bennie And The Jets” by Elton John

BECAUSE It’s Benny Agbayani’s at-bat music, though the theme from Hawaii Five-O was known to sneak in from time to time.

100. “Quicker than a ray of light, quicker than a ray of light, quicker than a ray of light!”

FROM “Ray Of Light” by Madonna

BECAUSE Mild cheat here. They played this for Rey Ordoñez when he got a big hit (which means they didn’t have much cause to play it), but his prevailing at-bat music was, of course, “Boom Boom Boom” by the Outhere Brothers, immediately recognizable but irksomely unidentifiable, at least to me a decade ago.

101. Instrumental portion from “Sirius” by the Alan Parsons Project

BECAUSE I didn’t know that tense music Shea’s A/V squad cued up when the opposing battery conferenced when the Mets had runners on base in the late innings had a name. Then I got hold of the Alan Parsons CD with “Prime Time” on it and discovered that it was “Sirius,” as in time to get serious and drive this pitcher from the mound.

102. Instrumental portion from “All Along The Watchtower” by the Jimi Hendrix Experience

BECAUSE It’s Matt Franco’s at-bat music. All that conferencing, and you have to face our best pinch-hitter!

103. Instrumental portion from “Born To Run” by Bruce Springsteen

BECAUSE I realize we’re batting out of order here (and have no centerfielder), but this is the music to which New Jersey’s own Al Leiter warmed up. I’m not certain as to whether he batted to it. It’s not like it particularly mattered now, did it?

104. Instrumental portion from “Johnny B. Goode” by Chuck Berry

BECAUSE It’s John Franco’s longtime trot-in music. Franco lost his closer role to injury and Armando Benitez, but I didn’t know what Armando came into in ’99 and I wasn’t about to ask him.

105. Instrumental portion from “Mambo No. 5 (A Little Bit Of…)” by Lou Bega

BECAUSE The role that “Lazy Mary” would eventually take on was, for a very brief period in September 1999 — maybe only for the Sunday I remember it playing, against the Rockies — the province of this contemporary semi-novelty hit. It was the seventh-inning stretch, it was after “Take Me Out To The Ball Game” and it was all Lou Bega. Very bouncy. Darryl Hamilton had hit a grand slam in the fifth. Everything felt bouncy. Not a little bit of worry to be had in Metland…right?

106.“Now it’s time for a breakdown.”

FROM “My Lovin’ (You’re Never Gonna Get It)” by En Vogue

BECAUSE We’re having so much fun watching our Mets. But now there’s a break in the action — and, yes, a breakdown in the 1999 Mets. A rather incurable breakdown.

107. “My beer is Rheingold the dry beer. Think of Rheingold whenever you buy beer.”

FROM The Rheingold jingle of yore

BECAUSE Our story is about to take a dramatic turn. So naturally there’s a commercial. And who better to serve as sponsor than the Mets’ original beer benefactor, and the brand that was making a modestly successful comeback in the marketplace in the late ’90s?

108. “Nothing new, Atlanta. Into the spotlight, one more time, just in time to play.”

FROM “Camellia” by Hall & Oates

BECAUSE Couple things here. First, this is the track whose deployment in all this, quite frankly, impressed me the most. I didn’t know this song from a hole in the head for most of its existence, yet somehow managed to stumble onto it while listening to a greatest hits CD after the playoffs were over. “ATLANTA? ONE MORE TIME TO PLAY?” Wow, I thought, Hall & Oates wrote a song anticipating Game Six. Stepping back from my appreciation of my medley luck, this is the moment more than any other on this tape that makes me choke up every time I hear it. I’m right back to eight o’clock, Tuesday night, October 19. I had such high hopes for that game. Win Game Six. Force Game Seven. It was all going to happen. C’mon Mets, into the spotlight. Play one more time and one more time after that…

109. “But it’s a rainy night in Georgia. Baby, it’s a rainy night in Georgia.”

FROM “Rainy Night In Georgia” by Brook Benton

BECAUSE Sigh.

110. “Ohmigod, they killed Kenny. Ohmigod, they killed Kenny. Ohmigod, they killed Kenny. Ohmigod, they killed Kenny. Dude, Kenny is dead. Son of a bitch!”

FROM “Mentally Dull (Think Tank Remix)” by Vitro Featuring the Cast of South Park

BECAUSE Kenny Rogers threw four balls, so he’s killed four times. Son of a bitch!

111. “I feel it’s raining all over the world.”

FROM “Rainy Night In Georgia”

BECAUSE It was dark, it was late, it was solemn. It was raining all over the world wherever a Mets fan stood without the sense to come in out of it.

112. “Come on babe, let’s kiss this thing. Come on babe, let’s kiss this thing goodbye.”

FROM “Kiss This Thing Goodbye” by Del Amitri

BECAUSE Acceptance, denial, whatever the stages of grief are. It’s worth noting that this song came up on my Walkman on the LIRR ride home after Game Three of the NLCS when we went down 3-0 and I was resigned to kissing this thing goodbye. But then Game Four and Game Five and I was anything but puckered up.

113. “Why can’t you just get it through your head? It’s over, it’s over now.”

FROM “It’s Over” by Boz Scaggs

BECAUSE Anger? Acceptance? I wasn’t buying it. How could it be over?

114. “Someday, yeah, we’ll walk in the rays of a beautiful sun. Someday, when the world is much brighter.”

FROM “O-o-h Child” by the Five Stairsteps

BECAUSE This is where I say the hell with grief and start looking ahead.

115. “Some say better things will come our way.”

FROM “Someday” by Sugar Ray

BECAUSE Looking ahead with the kind of optimism that someone who watched the 1999 Mets go down fighting deserves as his worldview.

116. “Won’t be long ’til summer comes, now that the boys are here again.”

FROM “The Boys Are Back In Town” by Thin Lizzy

BECAUSE It’s the dead of winter, but leave me alone with that nonsense. It’s time to…

117. “Meet the Mets, meet the Mets, step right up and greet the Mets.”

FROM “Meet The Mets” by the Glen Osser Orchestra and Chorus

BECAUSE If the boys are back in town, even psychologically, somebody’s got to go pick them up at the station, right?

118. “Get Metsmerized! Get Metsmerized!”

FROM That George Foster record that’s so godawful that it’s…no, it’s godawful. Even I think it’s godawful, and I have dubious musical taste to say the least.

BECAUSE Nevertheless, it doesn’t take much to stoke us.

119. “Don’t stop believin’! Hold on to that feelin’!”

FROM “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey

120. “If only you believed like I believe, we’d get by. If only you believed in miracles, so would I.”

FROM “Miracles” by Jefferson Starship.

121. “I believe in miracles since you came along.”

FROM “You Sexy Thing” by Hot Chocolate

122. “There can be miracles when you believe.”

FROM “When You Believe” by Mariah Carey & Whitney Houston

The previous four tracks are BECAUSE elimination from the National League Championship Series is no reason to let down.

123. “Gotta have faith (faith!) and get it fast. Faith and hope (hope!) if you let it last. Give us strength (strength!) to reach the stars. Put a song in our heart.”

FROM “Peace In Our Time” by Eddie Money

BECAUSE Giving up when, say, down four runs in the ninth against an ace pitcher never did anybody any good.

124. “The pitch to Olerud…line drive…BASE HIT INTO LEFT FIELD! In comes Lopez! Here comes Cedeño! Here’s comes Gant’s throw from left field…the slide…SAFE, THE METS WIN IT! THE METS WIN IT! Cedeño slides home under the tag of Mike Lieberthal, a two-run GAME-WINNING single for John Olerud, the Mets score FIVE RUNS off Curt Schilling in the bottom of the ninth inning, and the Mets win it in a REMARKABLE finish!”

—Gary Cohen

125. “‘Cause I gotta have faith. I gotta have faith. ‘Cause I gotta have faith, a-faith, a-faith. I gotta have faith, a-faith, a-faith.”

FROM “Faith” by George Michael

BECAUSE I developed faith across days like the Schilling game.

126. “All I need is a miracle. All I need is you. All I need is a miracle. All I need is you.”

FROM “All I Need Is A Miracle” by Mike & The Mechanics

BECAUSE It helps to have your faith validated every now and then.

127. “I’m talkin’ baseball — baseball and the Mets.”

FROM “Talkin’ Baseball (Baseball And The Mets)”

BECAUSE Believe, Faith and Miracle constitute the foundation of our shared lexicon.

128. “What a beautiful noise, comin’ up from the park.”

FROM “Beautiful Noise” by Neil Diamond

129. “It’s the New York City rhythm runnin’ through my life. (City rhythm!)”

FROM “New York City Rhythm” by Barry Manilow

130. “It’s a sign of the times, and a year ago, I never could have seen it.”

FROM “A Sign Of The Times” by Petula Clark

131. “I’ll make a brand new start of it in old New York.”

FROM “Theme From New York, New York” by Liza Minnelli

The previous four tracks are BECAUSE each was featured in the Mets’ 25th anniversary video, An Amazin’ Era, and each remained relevant in the Mets 38th season. I particularly like the allusion Pet Clark makes to never having seen 1999 coming in 1998. And in case you’re wondering, the Mets were the first team to regularly play “New York, New York” in their stadium, in 1980 — Liza’s version, which, happily, is the best version.

132. “But in Queens I wear the crown. And the boys never let me down. Someday we’re gonna tear up this town.”

FROM “Under The Clock” by Janey Street

BECAUSE Damn if some songs weren’t born for this kind of thing…

133. “The two-one pitch…HIGH FLY ball hit deep to left field…way, way back, it’s going…yah, there it goes! Mike Piazza, a three-run homer! Oh my goodness! Where did that land? It hit the picnic tent, beyond the left field bullpen, about halfway up on the picnic tent roof!”

—Bob Murphy and Gary Cohen

134. “Believe in the magic of a young girl’s soul. Believe in the magic of a-rock ‘n’ roll. Believe in the magic that can set you free…ohh!”

FROM “Do You Believe In Magic?” by the Lovin’ Spoonful

BECAUSE I also believed in Mike. He was tearing up this town.

135. Instrumental portion from “Rock ‘N’ Roll (Part 2)” by Gary Glitter, albeit punctuated by the occasional “Hey!”

BECAUSE Mike, not having let us down, is rounding the bases.

136. “You made me believe in magic. Your love’s put a magic into my life.”

FROM “You Made Me Believe In Magic” by the Bay City Rollers

BECAUSE Mike, the Mets, all of them. They all made me Believe in Magic in 1999.

137. “We can be heroes just for one day.”

FROM “Heroes” by David Bowie

BECAUSE The Mets played it after a Saturday afternoon win in June against the Red Sox. I guess it didn’t catch on. But still, for one day…for 97 regular-season days and five more in the postseason, they could be a lot.

138. “Singin’ we will, we will rock you. We will, we will rock you.”

FROM “We Will Rock You” by Queen

BECAUSE We perfected this in 1986. We popularized it. It’s ours. We will always rock you, whoever you are.

139. “And the Mets have won a ballgame!”

FROM Lindsey Nelson, in another wonderful nugget from the 1964 Let’s Go Mets album.

BECAUSE Whether you’ve won 108 ballgames, 53 ballgames or a slew of unbelievable ballgames, there’s always something to get excited about.

140. “Got to keep on risin’! Mister Mojo Risin’! Mister Mojo Risin’! Mojo Risin’! Gotta Mojo Risin’!”

FROM “L.A. Woman”

BECAUSE Why on earth would you want to stop risin’?

141. “Suddenly serene. The air is fresh and clean. Another rainy day in New York City.”

FROM “Another Rainy Day In New York City” by Chicago

BECAUSE Rain? New York? This can only mean one thing…ENCORE!

142. “A DRIVE IN THE AIR TO DEEP RIGHT FIELD! THAT BALL HEADED TOWARD THE WALL… THAT BALL IS… OUTTA HERE! OUTTA HERE! A GAME-WINNING GRAND SLAM HOME RUN OFF THE BAT OF ROBIN VENTURA!”

—Gary Cohen

143. “And I’d play all day if I could.”

FROM “All Day by Lisa Loeb, from The Rugrats Movie soundtrack

BECAUSE Fifteen innings. And they could have gone on another fifteen if it meant getting drive in the air to deep right field.

144. “The sun is shinin’, c’mon get happy, the Lord is waitin’ to take your hand. Shout hallelujah, c’mon get happy, we’re goin’ to the promised land.”

FROM “Get Happy” by Jane Horrocks on the Little Voice soundtrack

BECAUSE Watched this movie in early September. It was all right, but this song made me get the soundtrack. And Robin Ventura made me think of this song. And this song makes me think of Robin Ventura in the bottom of the fifteenth.

145. “Another rainy day in New York City.”

FROM “Another Rainy Day In New York City”

BECAUSE I’d reckon there was only one rainy day in New York City like October 17, 1999.

146. “You and me gonna touch the sky.”

FROM “Mambo No. 5 (A Little Bit Of…)”

147. “If I could reach higher, just for one moment touch the sky, from that one moment in my life.”

FROM “Reach” by Gloria Estefan

The previous two tracks are BECAUSE that’s what it felt like when Ventura hit that ball of McGlinchy. I felt I and we touched the sky. Maybe that’s why we couldn’t go any further than the eleventh inning in Atlanta. Maybe we couldn’t get any higher. Then again, the Mets played “Reach” on the final day of 1997 while saluting their incredible non-championship season and I didn’t know when I’d feel quite that high again. The answer was in just a little over two years.

148. “I gotta keep on risin’! Ridin’! Ridin! Gone ridin’, ridin’! Gone ridin’, ridin’! Gotta ridin’, ridin’!”

FROM “L.A. Woman”

BECAUSE The Mojo rose pretty high, didn’t it?

149. “All the fans are true to the orange and blue, so hurry up and come on down. ‘Cause we got ourselves a ballclub, the Mets, of New York town.”

FROM “Meet The Mets”

BECAUSE Every word is fact.

150. “We’re gonna make it, this time we’re gonna take it home.”

FROM “Let’s Go Mets!”

BECAUSE We’re true to the orange and blue, thus we and our ballclub deserve the happiest ending I know of. Contrary to what happened at Turner Field, this time we’re gonna make it.

151. “Mookie Wilson still hoping to win it for New York. Three and two the count. And the pitch by Stanley. And a ground ball…trickling…it is a FAIR BALL! GETS BY BUCKNER! ROUNDING THIRD KNIGHT! THE METS WILL WIN THE BALLGAME! THE METS WIN! THEY WIN! Unbelievable, the Red Sox in stunned disbelief!”

—Bob Murphy and Gary Thorne

152. “We’ve got magic to do just for you. We’ve got miracle plays to play. We’ve got parts to perform, hearts to warm. Kings and things to take by storm as we go along…”

FROM “Magic To Do”

BECAUSE Some stunned disbelief is better than others’ stunned disbelief.

153. “Let’s go Mets go! Let’s go Mets go! Let’s go Mets go! Let’s go Mets go! Let’s go Mets go! Mets! Mets! Mets!”

FROM “Let’s Go Mets!”

BECAUSE Here’s to New York’s dream team. Here’s to getting as close as possible to every season’s dream, whatever that may be.

154. “East Side, West Side, everybody’s comin’ down…to meet the M-E-T-S Mets of New York town…of New York town!”

FROM “Meet The Mets”

BECAUSE Because I thought this would be the perfect way to end this.

155. “LET’S GO METS!”

FROM “Let’s Go Mets!

BECAUSE Then I thought this would be even better.

156. “It’s soooo amazing!”

FROM “Dreidel, Dreidel, Dreidel” from the South Park holiday collection, Mr. Hankey’s Christmas Classics, Eric Cartman on vocals

BECAUSE Just because.

What follows is the condensed version.

(Instrumental)

It was a very good year. Many years since I was here. The summer here is over in a million different ways. Give me one more summer.

C’mon, c’mon, c’mon. We’re gonna get it started. Are you ready? Baby I’m ready to go. Keep the ball rollin’, keep the ball rollin’.

Heaven let your light shine down. These are better days. It’s going to take some time this time. Hope of deliverance from the darkness that surrounds us. Coming out of the dark.

I want something else to get me through this semi-charmed kind of life, baby.

It’s been one week since you looked at me. Everything falls apart. Someday, you will ache like I ache.

Through all the gloom, through all the gloom, I can see the rays of ravishing light. And glory!

Turn this thing around. I will not go quietly. Take this losing hand and make it win. It’s not over ’til it’s over. Maybe I’m amazed. Here they come again. Catch us if you can. Said that we can do it, you know I wanna do it again. No retreat, baby, no surrender.

You make me believe. And I just can’t help believing. Now I’m a believer. I believe… Still I look to find a reason to believe.

If you believe within your soul, just hold on tight and don’t let go. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. I’m alive. Yeah, yeah.

Winter’s gonna turn to spring. There’re just so many summers, babe, and just so many springs. No, they can’t take that away from me.

Show a little faith, there’s magic in the night. I see fireworks! I see the pageant and pomp and parade! A miracle in the rain. I guess the Lord must be in New York City. Can’t you feel the town exploding? So baby, you better believe I’m back — back in the New York groove.

Heaven — it was heaven. I have never known a bliss. Witnessed anything like this.

Ventura is waiting. McGlinchy staring in has his sign. The two-one pitch. AND A DRIVE IN THE AIR TO DEEP RIGHT FIELD! THAT BALL HEADED TOWARD THE WALL… THAT BALL IS… OUTTA HERE! OUTTA HERE! A GAME-WINNING GRAND SLAM HOME RUN OFF THE BAT OF ROBIN VENTURA! VENTURA WITH A GRAND SLAM! THEY’RE MOBBING HIM BEFORE HE CAN GET TO SECOND BASE! THE METS HAVE WON THE BALLGAME!

The New York Mets are on the air!

We got the teamwork to make the dream work. Let’s go…let’s go Mets!

Wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles. It’s a miracle (miracle), a true blue spectacle, a miracle come true.

You have to believe we are magic, nothing can stand in our way. It’s a kind of magic, magic, magic, magic. Oh, ho, ho, it’s magic, you know, never believe it’s not so. It’s magic.

We’ve got magic to do just for you. We’ve got miracles plays to play.

Mantei’s one-oh, and a high fly ball deep to center field, back goes Finley, goin’ back, warning track, AT THE WALL…JUMPING…

We’ve got parts to perform, hearts to warm. Kings and things to take by storm…

AND…IT’S OUTTA HERE! IT’S OUTTA HERE! PRATT HIT IT OVER THE FENCE! FINLEY JUMPED AND HE MISSED IT! THE METS WIN THE BALLGAME! THE METS WIN THE BALLGAME! ON A HOME RUN OVER THE CENTER FIELD FENCE, BY TODD PRATT! THE METS HAVE WON THE SERIES, THREE GAMES TO ONE!

As we go along our way.

True believers livin’ on the borderline. Do you believe in life after love? I can feel something inside me say I really don’t think you’re strong enough, no. I must confess, I still believe (still believe). Don’t stop believin’, don’t stop believin’, don’t stop believin’. Good god, I’m a believer. I believe in miracles.

When the night is falling, you cannot find the light (light). You feel your dreams are dying, hold tight. Talkin’ baseball — baseball and the Mets.

Clontz is ready to go. Pitching off the stretch. Deals to Piazza…Low and outside — IT GETS AWAY! ONTO THE SCREEN! MORA SCORES! THE METS WIN IT! THE METS WIN IT! MORA IS MOBBED BY HIS TEAMMATES AS HE CROSSES HOME PLATE, THE METS WIN IN GAME NUMBER ONE-HUNDRED AND SIXTY-TWO, AND THE METS WILL PLAY AGAIN IN NINETEEN NINETY-NINE!

(Instrumental)

Here’s the pitch…swung, lined hard, CAUGHT! The game is over! The Mets win it! They’re on their way to Arizona! The Mets have won the Wild Card in the National League.

Wild boys! Wild boys! Wild boys! Wild boys!

1999! Don’t ya wanna go? 1999!

We’ve come a long, long way together, through the hard times and the good. And your heart beats like a subway train. Ooh, it makes you wanna die.

We haven’t had that spirit here since 1969. Was the summer of ’69. Seventy-three men sailed up from the San Francisco bay. And after 1986, what else could be new?

Hey — 98… Such a sad, sad season (sad, sad season), when a good love dies. 99, I’ve been waiting so long.

Finally, it’s happened to me, right in front of my face, my feelings can’t describe it. Maybe for the only time in my life, something in the air (something in the air) turning me around and guiding me right.

High above all time and space, and I remember summer days. Since that summer, since that summer.

Now Rivera brings the hands together…runners take a lead at all three bases. One-two to Franco…LINE DRIVE base hit into right field! Henderson scores! Here comes Alfonzo…here comes O’Neill’s throw to the plate…Alfonzo slides…he’s safe, the Mets win it! THE METS WIN IT! MATT FRANCO WITH A LINE DRIVE SINGLE TO RIGHT AND HE’S BEING MOBBED BY HIS TEAMMATES! Matt Franco, a two-run single off Mariano Rivera in the bottom of the ninth inning, and the Mets win it, nine to eight!

So, what ya think? You like the Yankees or the Mets this year? Hurray! I’m for the other team!

Polaroid camera, stereo sets, season box, to see the Mets! These are a few of my favorite things.

Mister Mojo Risin’. Mister Mojo Risin’. Mister Mojo Risin’. Mister Mojo Risin’.

Hot fun in the summertime. Hot fun in the summertime. Hot fun in the summertime. Hot fun in the summertime. Talkin’ ’bout sweet seasons on my mind. Seasons of love. Seasons of love.

Join us, leave your field to flower. Join us, leave your cheese to sour. Join us, come and waste an hour or two…doodle-ee-do.

(Instrumental)

Quicker than a ray of light, quicker than a ray of light, quicker than a ray of light!

(Instrumental)

Now it’s time for a breakdown. My beer is Rheingold the dry beer. Think of Rheingold whenever you buy beer.

Nothing new, Atlanta. Into the spotlight, one more time, just in time to play. But it’s a rainy night in Georgia. Baby, it’s a rainy night in Georgia. Ohmigod, they killed Kenny. Ohmigod, they killed Kenny. Ohmigod, they killed Kenny. Ohmigod, they killed Kenny. Dude, Kenny is dead. Son of a bitch!

I feel it’s raining all over the world.

Come on babe, let’s kiss this thing. Come on babe, let’s kiss this thing goodbye. Why can’t you just get it through your head? It’s over, it’s over now.

Someday, yeah, we’ll walk in the rays of a beautiful sun. Someday, when the world is much brighter. Some say better things will come our way. Won’t be long ’til summer comes, now that the boys are here again.

Meet the Mets, meet the Mets, step right up and greet the Mets. Get Metsmerized! Get Metsmerized!

Don’t stop believin’! Hold on to that feelin’!

If only you believed like I believe, we’d get by. If only you believed in miracles, so would I. I believe in miracles since you came along. There can be miracles when you believe.

Gotta have faith (faith!) and get it fast. Faith and hope (hope!) if you let it last. Give us strength (strength!) to reach the stars. Put a song in our heart.

The pitch to Olerud…line drive…BASE HIT INTO LEFT FIELD! In comes Lopez! Here comes Cedeño! Here’s comes Gant’s throw from left field…the slide…SAFE, THE METS WIN IT! THE METS WIN IT! Cedeño slides home under the tag of Mike Lieberthal, a two-run GAME-WINNING single for John Olerud, the Mets score FIVE RUNS off Curt Schilling in the bottom of the ninth inning, and the Mets win it in a REMARKABLE finish!

‘Cause I gotta have faith. I gotta have faith. ‘Cause I gotta have faith, a-faith, a-faith. I gotta have faith, a-faith, a-faith.

All I need is a miracle. All I need is you. All I need is a miracle. All I need is you. I’m talkin’ baseball — baseball and the Mets.

What a beautiful noise comin’ up from the park. It’s the New York City rhythm runnin’ through my life. (City rhythm!). It’s a sign of the times, and a year ago, I never could have seen it. I’ll make a brand new start of it in old New York.

But in Queens I wear the crown. And the boys never let me down. Someday we’re gonna tear up this town.

The two-one pitch…HIGH FLY ball hit deep to left field…way, way back, it’s going…yah, there it goes! Mike Piazza, a three-run homer! Oh my goodness! Where did that land? It hit the picnic tent, beyond the left field bullpen, about halfway up the picnic tent roof!

Believe in the magic of a young girl’s soul. Believe in the magic of a-rock ‘n’ roll. Believe in the magic that can set you free…ohh!

(Instrumental)

You made me believe in magic. Your love’s put a magic into my life. We can be heroes just for one day. Singin’ we will, we will rock you. We will, we will rock you.

And the Mets have won a ballgame!

Got to keep on risin’! Mister Mojo Risin’! Mister Mojo Risin’! Mojo Risin’! Gotta Mojo Risin’!

Suddenly serene. The air is fresh and clean. Another rainy day in New York City.

A DRIVE IN THE AIR TO DEEP RIGHT FIELD! THAT BALL HEADED TOWARD THE WALL… THAT BALL IS… OUTTA HERE! OUTTA HERE! A GAME-WINNING GRAND SLAM HOME RUN OFF THE BAT OF ROBIN VENTURA!

And I’d play all day if I could. The sun is shinin’, c’mon get happy, the Lord is waitin’ to take your hand. Shout hallelujah, c’mon get happy, we’re goin’ to the promised land. Another rainy day in New York City.

You and me gonna touch the sky. If I could reach higher, just for one moment touch the sky, from that one moment in my life. I gotta keep on risin’! Ridin’! Ridin! Gone ridin’, ridin’! Gone ridin’, ridin’! Gotta ridin’, ridin’!

All the fans are true to the orange and blue, so hurry up and come on down. ‘Cause we got ourselves a ballclub, the Mets, of New York town.

We’re gonna make it, this time we’re gonna take it home.

Mookie Wilson still hoping to win it for New York. Three and two the count. And the pitch by Stanley. And a ground ball…trickling…it is a FAIR BALL! GETS BY BUCKNER! ROUNDING THIRD KNIGHT! THE METS WILL WIN THE BALLGAME! THE METS WIN! THEY WIN! Unbelievable, the Red Sox in stunned disbelief!

We’ve got magic to do just for you. We’ve got miracle plays to play. We’ve got parts to perform, hearts to warm. Kings and things to take by storm as we go along…

Let’s go Mets go! Let’s go Mets go! Let’s go Mets go! Let’s go Mets go! Let’s go Mets go! Mets! Mets! Mets!

East Side, West Side, everybody’s comin’ down…to meet the M-E-T-S Mets of New York town…of New York town!

LET’S GO METS!

It’s soooo amazing!

Mets Yearbook: 1984

by Greg Prince on 19 November 2009 5:02 pm

The second installment of the highly acclaimed SNY series Mets Yearbook debuts tonight, Thursday, at 7:30 with a return to 1984. Be sure to catch Keith Hernandez, Jesse Orosco, Darryl Strawberry and all the Rising Stars.

Image courtesy of kcmets.com

Sorry Is the Second-Hardest Part

by Jason Fry on 19 November 2009 3:00 pm

As the fires of the season from Hell cool to a smoldering pain, I’ve caught myself thinking about what the most agonizing part was. And I think I’ve figured it out.

It was the anticipation of disaster.

As the season wore wearily on, we were a beaten people by the middle innings. Then by the bottom of the first. Then by the Star-Spangled Banner. Then by late afternoon. It wasn’t a question of whether something disastrous would happen, but what form, exactly, the disastrous something would take. Bases-loaded walk? Flurry of GIDPs? Appalling error? Walkoff grand slam? Game-ending unassisted triple play?

By the end you might be surprised by how we lost, but not by the fact that we had. Maybe this was just a function of being a horrible team (and maybe wins like this always fit the formula) but the win that was arguably the best of the year — this 10-9 victory over the Phillies — was doubly astonishing because the Mets somehow hadn’t hit a Phillie with the bases loaded or had someone erased on an ill-advised steal of third or done some other stupid thing that would eat at you come 3 a.m. (I’d call Santos taking Papelbon deep the other great win of the season, but that happened before we had to accept the year was a total loss.)

So that part was the worst. The second-worst thing? It was the sorry part.

By late summer when I’d run into other baseball fans on the street or at parties, the conversation would take its inevitable turn and I’d grit my teeth, waiting.

Hey, sorry about the Mets. Tough year, hate to see that. How are you holding up?

The sentiment was genuine, the impulse was laudable. It’s what decent fans say, knowing full well that their team has a plague year in its future. Heck, I’ve offered back pats to friends whose teams are channeling November around the All-Star Break.

But man oh man, had I forgotten how much it sucks.

It sucks more than grudging respect: I didn’t think it would happen, but that’s a pretty good team. You guys have a chance.

It sucks a lot more than finger-wagging warnings against complacency: I dunno, you’ll probably win the division, but are those the starters you want in a short series?

It sucks a lot more than reflexive woofery: You guys are having a good year, but we’re going to totally smoke you in the playoffs.

It sucks way more than the attempted jinx disguised as surrender: It’s your year! We have no chance!

And yeah, it sucks more than outright, unvarnished hostility: Sorry man … but I HATE THE METS!

2007 and 2008 were different — there was pity, but not the endless drip-drip-drip of condolences. The ’07 and ’08 attaboys felt lousy too, but they didn’t eat at you day after day. You didn’t wind up bracing for them.

Before the 2007 season, I wrote a Mets season preview for Deadspin that was equal parts loving look back at 2006 and paranoia about the fact that Omar Minaya hadn’t done much to improve that team. (I daresay that part looks prescient now.) To which one Deadspin commenter had this to say: “I hope at least one of these season previews will be somewhere along the lines of ‘My team is fucking great and we will rape our way to the World Series.’ Enough of this wishy-washy bullshit!”

I ignored that because, well, we’re the Mets. With the brief exception of the Bad Guys Won era, that’s not our style. (And even back then our CBA — Converted Braggadocio Average — was a lousy .200.) Ours is a legacy of miracles and humiliation, which doesn’t lend itself to strutting.

But after half a season of pity, I find myself coming back to that long-ago comment. I don’t want enemy baseball fans to feel sorry for us. I want to hear some grudging respect, some attempted jinxes, some outright hatred. Some Paul Lo Duca discussion of ending the other guy’s season. Some Wally Backman talk of opponents being buried and having no worries unless there are another 20 fucking car wrecks. (Good timing!) We’re nowhere near rampaging our way to much of anything, but next time we look like we might be, I’m not going to worry about baseball gods I might offend. Because honestly, what the hell have they done for us recently?

One of my favorite sages famously remarked that baseball has to be played with fear and arrogance. We’re missing half of the set, and I’m tired of it.

Enough of this wishy-washy bullshit, indeed.

He Got His Man

by Greg Prince on 18 November 2009 8:00 pm

Too bad the story is apocryphal. Too bad lefty Giant reliever Don Liddle — after retiring lefty Vic Wertz in Game One of the 1954 World Series with two on and none out — didn’t actually declare to his teammates upon being pulled in favor of righty Marv Grissom, “I got my man.” It’s too bad because Liddle got his man on account of Wertz having the bad luck to blast Liddle’s pitch to deep center field in the Polo Grounds…where the incomparable Willie Mays raced to catch it.

It’s too bad because “I got my man,” given the context, is one of the great lines in baseball history.

Yes, Don Liddle, brought on in relief of Sal Maglie specifically to face Wertz, got his man — albeit with a little help from his friend Willie. No, Don Liddle didn’t stroll into the dugout and casually take credit for his perfect third of an inning. “Not in front of Leo the Lip” he didn’t, Liddle’s son Craig told George Vecsey on the occasion of the fiftieth anniversary of The Catch in 2004. “My dad heard people tell this story on television. You would never say something like that while the game was still on.”

But Don could be wry after the game, once Dusty Rhodes‘ tenth-inning pinch-homer sent the New Yorkers to victory. In the clubhouse, Liddle could shake manager Durocher’s hand and take deadpan credit for putting down Wertz.

“My dad told Leo, ‘I got my guy,'” Craig Liddle recalled to Vecsey. “But this was after the game, not during it.”

Nevertheless, the legend usually outstrips the truth. Thus, “I got my man” still gets around. Getting one’s man, however one does it, is worthy of remembering and retelling. It’s worthy of our respect, whether it’s a matter of taking care of a dangerous hitter in the eighth inning of a World Series game or somewhat less intense circumstances.

The 2009 Mets ran out of intensity pretty early in their dismal campaign, but one Met lived up to the pressure with which he was presented over and over — and over and over — again. It is for being out there as much as he was and getting his man repeatedly that we proudly announce the Faith and Fear Most Valuable Met of 2009 is Pedro Feliciano.

Yes, Pedro Feliciano. Yes, the lefty specialist. Yes, one of the most anonymous figures of any significance in Mets history even if he has been in our midst longer than some of our most indelible figures ever were.

Yes, it was that kind of year.

But this award is based on something more than wryness. It is in appreciation for a player who, when all around him were crumbling, stood tall…or as tall as the 5’ 10″ Feliciano could. He stood tall and he stayed in there. Few Mets could make that claim in 2009. Most every Met, it seems, disappeared for discernible stretches of time last year. Injuries eliminated many of them. Others vanished in plain sight, victims of their recurring shortcomings. Few Mets could have measured up to Woody Allen’s barometer for success in life, that most of it is just a matter of showing up.

Not Pedro, however. Pedro kept showing up. Pedro kept getting the call and, more often than not, Pedro kept getting the key out. Maybe it was only one out, but Pedro got his man.

One man in particular, who literally towers over Pedro Feliciano, was made to look small in his presence. That alone was awfully impressive in an otherwise depressing campaign.

Ryan Howard has six inches and 70 pounds on Pedro Feliciano if you believe official listings. Goodness knows you couldn’t trade Pedro Feliciano for Ryan Howard. But would you trade Pedro Feliciano knowing Ryan Howard is looming somewhere on your schedule over and over — and over and over — again? When the Mets dismantled most of their disaster-laden bullpen after 2008, they left one mainstay in place. No more Heilman. No more Schoeneweis. No more Smith or Sanchez or Ayala. But yes, more Pedro Feliciano. Always more Pedro Feliciano.

Why? Beyond why not? On the surface, a surface strewn with shattered late-inning hopes from ’08, you might not have noticed if Pedro Feliciano had been among the missing entering ’09. You wouldn’t miss anybody from that bullpen. Pedro didn’t stand out in a crowd. If anything, he was the kid in gym class who survived those thuggish dodgeball games by loitering in the back behind the more aggressive kids. Still, he had a couple of things going for him:

1) a functioning left arm;

2) an uncanny knack for using it to retire Ryan Howard of the division rival Phillies.

Have you heard of Ryan Howard? Big fellow. Hits lots of home runs, drives in lots of runners. Plays every day. A constant threat. But not to Pedro Feliciano, a gentleman who know a bit about constancy himself. In 2008, Howard came up to the bat against the Mets seven times only to see his personal Kryptonite staring him down from sixty feet, six inches away. It was Kryptonite in a blowout: Ryan Howard went 0-for-7 against Pedro Feliciano.

So, sure, that could be useful. Out went Heilman, Schoeneweis and the rest of the relief debris of 2008. But we’ll keep Feliciano. We’ll keep him and we’ll send him out there in record-breaking fashion per usual. We used him 86 times in ’08? We’ll use him 88 times in ’09. We’ll see more of the southpaw specialist than we’ll see of Carlos Beltran. We’ll see more of Feliciano than we will of Carlos Delgado and Jose Reyes combined. We’ll see only seven position players on the Mets more than we’ll see Feliciano. And unlike most of them, we’ll generally like what we see out of Pedro.

Especially when it comes to Ryan Howard.

Ryan Howard took his cuts against Pedro Feliciano a dozen times in 2009. Ryan Howard departed those encounters almost uniformly extremely disappointed. Twelve plate appearances, two bases-empty walks, no hits. None. There were four groundouts (one that resulted in a double play) and six strikeouts, all swinging. The last of them, on September 12 with the bases loaded in the eighth inning at Citizens Bank Park, proved crucial in securing perhaps the most satisfying Mets win of the year, the 10-9 comeback over the Phillies — a.k.a. Damn Thing III.

Across two seasons, Pedro Feliciano has pitched to Ryan Howard 19 times. Ryan Howard is 0-for-17 against him, producing 18 outs. Ryan Howard is a lefty threat. Pedro Feliciano is a lefty nullifier. The nullifier has won every time.

This is not to be underestimated as a positive factor in any season, particularly one as bereft of them as 2009. Feliciano’s role in a given game was to come on and get the big lefty hitter on the other team. There was no bigger lefty hitter on the Mets’ docket last year than Ryan Howard. Feliciano always got his man.

Perfect? On the 2009 Mets? Within the parameters of Feliciano v. Howard, you betcha. Otherwise, nothing and nobody was perfect, not even our MVM. Pedro mowed down Howard, but others got to him now and then. He had been marvelously successful against that other lefty scourge of the N.L. East, Chase Utley, in ’08 (1-for-6), but was far less so in ’09 (4-for-8). He balked in the winning run in Citi Field’s first game. Only once was he stretched out beyond six batters. Twenty-three appearances were one batter and one batter only.

But that was his job and he did it well as a rule. How many Mets could say they did even that much last year?

2009 was the kind of season when you didn’t want to watch much more than one at-bat in a typical Mets game, yet don’t dismiss the value of an assignment the likes of which Pedro Feliciano tackles. Years have turned on the guy who came in to get the big lefty and were, instead, gotten by the big lefty. Mets fans with any kind of long-term memory would do well to recall the concept of the lefty specialist as it’s played out over the past quarter of a century or so. Carlos Diaz acquitted himself nicely for a season (1983) and was then packaged with Bob Bailor to acquire Sid Fernandez. Dennis Cook was solid for an elongated spell (1998-2000) when not blowing his top. And Mark Guthrie was regularly effective during his limited tenure (2002). Otherwise, it was a parade of paws whose talent had essentially gone south or rarely materialized:

Tom Gorman; Joe Sambito; Randy Niemann; Gene Walter; Bob McClure; Jeff Musselman; Dan Schatzeder; Doug Simons; Rich Sauveur; Paul Gibson; Lee Guetterman; Jeff Kaiser; Eric Gunderson; Don Florence; Bob MacDonald; Ricardo Jordan; Yorkis Perez; Tom Martin; Jaime Cerda; Graeme Lloyd; Mike Stanton; Dae-Sung Koo; Royce Ring.

The lefty specialist was the bane of the Mets fan’s existence from the mid-’80s to the mid-’00s. Then came Pedro Feliciano, first for a while from ’02 to ’04 and then for good in ’06, and suddenly we weren’t cringing with every lefty Verizon Call to the Bullpen.

Sixty-four appearances in 2006. Seventy-eight appearances in 2007. Eighty-six appearances in 2008. Eighty-eight appearances in 2009. In each of the last two seasons Feliciano set a club record while leading the league in this department. Overuse seemed to be getting to him by September 2008. Come September 2009, he was thriving on it. Pedro gave up exactly one hit over his final twelve appearances, walking only four. For the season, he registered a WHIP of 1.163, the lowest of his career.

And consider his mindset. He, like us, had to watch the Mets from the beginning of the game to whenever he entered. Pedro didn’t enter any game before the sixth inning; eighty-four times he came in in the seventh or later. The game had already taken on its shape by the time he was deployed, and being that it was 2009, it couldn’t have been a very good shape. It was enough to make fans bury their heads in their Blue Smoke by the middle innings most nights. But Pedro went out there and got ’em. He got his lefties. He got a lot of his righties. He got his men.

Pedro Feliciano has done it quietly, for what that’s worth. Except for one run-in in 2006 with Willie Randolph, Pedro hasn’t annoyed or embarrassed anybody in the organization, at least publicly. He’s the lefty who does the right thing. The Mets needed somebody to trot outside Citi Field before a late September game to pose for pictures with a sponsor, and in came Pedro. The Gary, Keith & Ron crowd huddled in the Bullpen Plaza needed a reason to stay cheerful during an extended rain delay the final Saturday of the season, and there stayed Pedro. No other Met made himself available to the fans, but Pedro sidled up to the chain link fence and signed anything and everything the fans tossed him for fifteen or twenty minutes. There were no coaches, no PR caretakers, nobody but Pedro getting the job done.

It may surprise you to learn Pedro Feliciano is the last surviving Met to have played under Bobby Valentine. He survived Art Howe, too. He was away for a year in Japan, but returned to help Randolph win a division title. He gave his arm over to Jerry Manuel and Manuel has not been shy about taking it out at every opportunity. Of Mets who have never pitched for another major league club, none has pitched in more games than Pedro Feliciano. He leads Jeff Innis by 79 Met-only appearances. Naturally, that mark of distinction could go away if he goes away, but where’s he going, exactly? Feliciano’s been here almost continuously since 2002. He hasn’t sat around, either. Only John Franco, Tom Seaver, Jerry Koosman and Jesse Orosco have pitched in more games as a Met than Pedro Feliciano. If he pitches in ten games in 2010, he’ll trail only Franco and Seaver; if he pitches in at least 35 games next year, he’ll edge ahead of Tom Terrific.

Pedro Feliciano, Met icon? By the numbers he’s getting there. For a franchise that doesn’t maintain its most identifiable players indefinitely, Feliciano has carved a niche. He came up when Pedro Astacio was here and he has outlasted Pedro Martinez. His seven seasons in a Mets uniform are more than those posted by Gary Carter, Tommie Agee, Ron Swoboda, Lenny Dykstra, Robin Ventura…you get the idea. “Perpetual Pedro” the announcers started calling him in 2009. “Everyday Pedro” came up, too, which was just as fitting. Not only did he pitch seemingly every day, but every day in every way, unlike just about every other Met, he kept getting better and better.

FAITH AND FEAR’S PREVIOUS MOST VALUABLE METS

2005: Pedro Martinez

2006: Carlos Beltran

2007: David Wright

2008: Johan Santana

Still to come: The Nikon Camera Player of the Year for 2009.

The Return of Wally Backman

by Jason Fry on 18 November 2009 5:15 am

Part of being a modern baseball fan is learning to be rational. Instead of instinctively praising grit and hustle and a dirty uniform, you look at the numbers behind the cloud of dust. Instead of automatically saluting or bemoaning a move on the field or in the dugout or in the front office, you try to understand it as part of an overall strategy and as a business decision.

I’ve tried this, with varying degrees of success.

But then you come to news that makes you want to throw all that out the window. News, for instance, that Wally Backman’s back in the Mets organization as the new manager of the Brooklyn Cyclones.

At the beginning of this decade, Backman was a much-heralded minor-league skipper for the Chicago White Sox — in fact, he was rumored as a replacement for Jerry Manuel when Manuel was fired in late 2003. (Cue the chatter!) That didn’t happen – instead, Backman moved to the Diamondbacks’ organization, worked his way up again, and was named the big club’s manager in November 2004. He held the job for four days of TV time, never collecting a dime from Arizona because no contract had been signed. Then, as quickly as he’d arrived, he was out.

The issue was his past, which Arizona claimed not have looked into. It turned out that Backman had a DUI in 2000, then pleaded guilty to a harassment charge stemming from a fight at his house with his wife and a friend of hers – a fight in which police reports said alcohol played a prominent role, and in which Backman was left was a broken forearm. That was three years beforehand, but the Diamondbacks still changed their minds. And since that day, there’d been no place for Wally Backman as a manager in professional ball. He took a job managing with the South Georgia Peanuts, a gig that was more reality TV than baseball reality, then another independent-league gig with the Joliet JackHammers, a team that sounds like a rival band from the Blues Brothers.

This sounds horribly unfair – particularly to those of us who remember Backman as pint-sized trouble in 1986, a little pest sprawling in the dirt somewhere after a drag bunt turned tumbling single or a trip home around, above or through some hapless enemy catcher.

But look deeper, and the certainty recedes. This 2005 Karl Taro Greenfeld profile of Backman delves into what happened the night the police were called, and it’s unsettling. Hearing Backman’s version of the story, you want to believe him. You want to believe that he didn’t realize he was on probation for his DUI, that his admission of alcoholism was nothing more than a legal strategy, that the gash on his wife’s friend face inflicted with a baseball bat was actually a pinprick that barely drew blood. You want to believe his wife that the incident has been overblown, and that her friend is telling the truth when she says it was her fault.

You want to believe it all, because it’s Wally Backman. But you can’t help thinking that if it weren’t an ’86 Met, you’d look at all the dots the Backmans say don’t connect and conclude that of course they do, as they do in so many other grindingly depressing stories.

It feels disloyal to think this. But loyalty isn’t always our friend. It can blind us to the simplest explanation.

I’ve never met Wally Backman. (OK, he did step on my foot in 1985 or 1986, in full uniform and cleats, as he and I were hurriedly departing Al Lang Field by adjacent exits. I was surprised to note he was about my size. Anyway, it doesn’t count.) Having never met him, I’m reluctant to put him on a virtual couch and analyze his psyche.

But it does seem safe to say that many a hell-for-leather athlete has had trouble adapting to a post-athletic life in which there’s nothing much to win and insufficient outlets for a ferocious drive to compete. We envy ballplayers their youth and superhuman abilities and gargantuan salaries, but we sometimes forget there is a part of that bargain that we’d rather avoid.

The arc of our lives is constructed around finding what we’re good at and what our mission in life is, with those of us who are lucky finding an answer before we’re too old to enjoy fulfilling that purpose. Ballplayers are different. They are selected for their purpose absurdly early and often cocooned off from normal lives and normal expectations after that. The lucky ones become rich and famous and never lack for attention – until their superhuman skills fade, the bright lights are shut off, and the crowd surges elsewhere. They are old ballplayers but still young men – young men suddenly left to lead lives without competition, attention or structure. The lucky ones will somehow find a second mission in life. But many won’t be so lucky. They’ll just get lost, living for what’s left of the money they once made and the attention they once commanded. The sadness of Wally Backman’s story so far, if we are to believe his account of unfortunate events, is that he escaped that trap and then was flung back into it.

But there is something else we should consider. The Mets – so often comically gun-shy about the mere possibility of bad PR – ran a thorough background check on Backman and pronounced him fit to manage. There have been, as far as anybody knows, no worrisome incidents since 2001 – a long eight years past by now. That has to count for something too, right? We can’t in good conscience ignore the murky doings of what happened in 2000 and 2001, but we also can’t in fairness ignore the quiet since then.

The Mets’ introduction of Backman as the Cyclones’ skipper was a bit schizoid: Omar Minaya and Jeff Wilpon were nowhere in evidence, with Dave Howard making the ritual pronouncements, which in this case included a clause in Backman’s contract allowing for his dismissal for any off-field troubles. (That wasn’t the saddest thing for me, though – rather, it was Backman explaining that he finally called Jeff Wilpon because “I didn’t really know who else to call.”)

But that wasn’t unexpected. What matters – for now – is that Wally Backman has his chance again. He can work his way back up the ladder, developing players in his image, and dream again of modeling a big-league jersey that says BACKMAN 6, and will be his to keep this time.

I’m excited to see him out at Keyspan Park and cheer for him, and hope one day to speculate about his strategic tendencies and how he’d fit at Citi Field. It’s a redemptive story, and a nice one. But along with that, fairly or not, comes a shadow – and the fervent hope that this story doesn’t become more complicated again.

What the Breakfast Chicken Hatched

by Greg Prince on 15 November 2009 11:10 pm

Athletes have been known be implored to attend Bar Mitzvahs. Sometimes it’s because a particular athlete is Jewish; there’s a great bit in a movie called Keeping Up With The Steins about an extraordinarily competitive L.A. family trying to get then-Dodger Shawn Green to show up at their son’s affair. Sometimes it’s because the fan issuing the invite thinks an athlete is Jewish — as was the commonly misconceived case when David Cone came to the Mets with a name that sounded pretty darn close to David Cohen. Usually it’s just a matter of a kid liking a particular athlete so much, regardless of background, that he would want him on hand for one of the biggest days in his young life.

Usually nothing comes of these entreaties. Maybe in the old days when a few bucks were involved and players weren’t making much dough. In The Complete Game, Ron Darling mentioned accepting any and all invitations during his first offseason as a Met because he really needed the standard appearance fee. But it’s hard to imagine Johan Santana (which is a Venezuelan translation of Stein, I’m pretty sure) making the scene in this day and age.

I don’t know how many authors of baseball books get invited to Bar Mitzvahs just because they’re authors of baseball books. And I don’t know how many Bar Mitzvahs are held in big league ballparks. Yet I definitely know of one thirteen-year-old kind enough to send me a note like the one Ryder Chasin sent me in October, one that

a) told me his passion for the Mets and my book about my passion for the Mets combined to make me “the iconic person” in his life

and

b) invited me to his Bar Mitzvah celebration which happened to be taking place in the middle of November at Citi Field.

I replied yes, I’d love to attend…though I added that maybe you should schedule an appointment with your guidance counselor to discuss your concept of role models.

The big event was yesterday. The sensation of Citi Field in November is a story unto itself that I’ll save for later on, but I can tell you the party, held in the heretofore off-limits Acela Club, made for a warm and tasteful afternoon on a raw autumn Saturday. Ryder was every bit as gracious in person as he was via mail and, based on a few brief conversations with them, I could see how much of it he gets from his parents Rob and Holly. Just wonderful people all around. Stephanie and I were tickled to be included and treated as nicely as we were by folks we’d never met before.

Ryder was the star of the day — his image was all over DiamondVision — and I happily cede all big-headedness to the special appearance made by Mr. Met (who works a room like nobody’s business), but I have to admit it was kind of fun being the de facto celebrity guest. Time and again I was asked by strangers, “So, you wrote that book Ryder likes?” It beat the usual Citi Field greeting of “Sir, you can’t stand there, you have to move.”

We kept being thanked for coming. And I kept saying thanks for inviting us. It wasn’t because of the setting, though I was quite happy to be in the Mets’ building. It wasn’t because of the sumptuous buffet, though I surely partook. It wasn’t even for the passing sense of semi-celebrity, as gratifying as that may have been to my ego.

I wasn’t expecting a Ryder Chasin to materialize a year ago this weekend when I was furiously trying to finish writing Faith and Fear in Flushing. I wasn’t at any awesome buffet in the middle of last November. You know what I was doing? Early on a Saturday morning, consumed entirely by how to transition from one chapter into the next…and how to get it to the finish line…and how to do all that by Monday morning, I wandered into our local Pathmark in search of something that would pass for breakfast. First thing I encountered was a fully cooked, discounted from the night before barbecue chicken. I grabbed it, paid for it, brought it home, tore into it, ate most of it on the spot and — both energized and logy — marched upstairs to type for the better part of the next two days.

One breakfast chicken later, a manuscript. One year later, a day like yesterday, a day when a person who read what I wrote indicated what I wrote and what was published meant something substantial to him or to her.

I like days like that.

On the road from the breakfast chicken to the sumptuous buffet, I’ve had quite a few days like that, actually. Mets fans have been telling me since March that Faith and Fear is the book that tells their story as much as it tells mine. That’s generally how the reaction is parceled out: I love your book — now let me tell you what happened to me that was just like what happened to you. That was the idea behind the book, really. I wanted to present the Mets fan’s view of the world because I knew there was one. In the book, it was ostensibly mine. But I knew somehow it was just as much ours.

I love that we’re in this thing together. That’s been the guiding principle of this blog and it’s what helped — even more than early morning poultry — fuel the book. I love that it’s not crazy to want your Bar Mitzvah at Citi Field or to make as much of your Bar Mitzvah celebration about your Mets fandom as the Talmud will allow. Substitute any event for “Bar Mitzvah” and you get the idea. It goes beyond any single game or a lousy season like the one we just had. It’s what we do. We’re Mets fans; we root for the Mets; we, as Ryder put it in his letter to me, “eat, sleep, breathe, drink and daydream about the Mets”. I love that doing so so often brings us together in whatever forum we find ourselves. Sometimes it’s online. Sometimes it’s at the park. But eventually we’re there for each other.

This weekend the papers have been full of old Mets friends who are trying to make their respective ways back to our hearts and minds. Edgardo Alfonzo is in the Post wanting to come back, or at least retire as one of us. In Newsday, Wally Backman is part of the way back, about to land in Brooklyn. And in the News, Doc Gooden is, per usual, just trying to stay on the road back.

It’s always good to have old Mets friends of that ilk back on the radar. It’s just as good, though, to make new Mets friends, the kind of people with whom you eat, sleep, breathe, drink and daydream Fonzie and Wally and Doc and those who continue to succeed them. That’s what I’ve been doing here for nearly five years. That’s what I was doing in the Acela Club on Saturday.

That’s why I kept saying thanks for inviting us.

I didn’t mean for this to lead up to a plug, but what the hell? Faith and Fear in Flushing: An Intense Personal History of the New York Mets remains available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble or a bookstore near you.

Jason and I are Sunday night guests of The Happy Recap Radio Show, whose rebroadcast you can catch at your convenience here. We join in at the 18:40 mark, but treat yourself to the whole program.

The Men Who Stare At Mets

by Greg Prince on 15 November 2009 11:09 pm

Me and Ryder Chasin on the occasion of his departure from childhood. Ryder had his Bar Mitzvah celebration at Citi Field Saturday and was kind enough to invite my wife and me. Here’s to becoming a man and, maybe, a man who has a contender to watch in 2010.

The 83-79 Way

by Greg Prince on 13 November 2009 1:42 pm

Rarely has anything I’ve anticipated surpassed my expectations the way SNY’s Mets Yearbook did Thursday night. The 1971 highlight film immediately became the second-best thing ever aired on the channel, behind only the 2006 division clincher.

The film was titled The Winning Way, which in itself is beautiful given that the 83-79 Mets were as mediocre as all get-out in 1971. But the first installment in this series of vintage propaganda pieces is a victory in SNY programming. It’s like they took a can opener to my subconscious and emptied the contents into the TV. By the time it was over I was looking forward more to 1972 than I am to 2010 (and that’s despite being enticed by the Mets’ acquisition of that wonderful American League infielder Jim Fregosi).

We see Ralph Kiner coaching Ken Singleton in the Florida Instructional League. We see a candid and relaxed Bud Harrelson star in what looks like a hostage tape. We see toddlers bobbling on Family Day and Gil Hodges doubling on Old Timers Day. We see fans proving Lindsey Nelson’s assertion that Shea is Where It’s At. We see Ed Kranepool mobile. We see a ton, so for goodness sake don’t miss this thing when it reairs, or when the next edition (1984) debuts this coming Thursday night at 7:30.

One thing missing from the panoply of ’71 highlights, however, was a spate of Met home runs. The Mets came up short of a spate that year. They did most years, actually. Only if you listen closely do you glean how power-deprived the Mets were as they pursued their Winning Way. The team lead was a three-pronged affair among Kranepool, Cleon Jones and Tommie Agee, with 14 apiece. Singleton, in far fewer plate appearances than his more established teammates, had 13. The only other Met in double-digits was Donn Clendenon with 11, but he’s not mentioned (Clendenon was released shortly after the season ended and highlight films generally turned those guys into nonentities as fast as those crazy Mets fans could create banners). The Mets of the early ’70s seemed comfortable emphasizing pitching, defense and a vague sense of “excitement” on the basepaths. At one point in the narration, Bob Murphy tells us Don Hahn is not known for hitting home runs and manages to make it sound like a compliment.

As I watched the 1971 Mets get known for not hitting home runs, the undercurrent of underproduction made sense to me — and not just because I got used to Mets not going deep in 2009. The Mets never hit home runs when I was a kid. And by never, I mean I never expected them. Thus, each of the 98 home runs they belted 38 years ago each seemed quite exotic. I grew up thinking only the Pirates and Reds were permitted to collect four bags with one swing.

Somewhere along the way, the Mets got in on home runs. They have, in their 48 seasons, socked more than 6,000 of those once-rare specimens over the wall in regular-season competition. Ever since Anderson Hernandez made it a nice round number in September, Mets Walkoffs has been celebrating the cream of the crop, or the leading 1%, counting down the Top 60 regular-season home runs in Mets history. It’s more like Top 60 Home Run Episodes, since Mark of MW takes some liberties and makes some groupings. But it’s his list and he’s pretty thorough, so we’ll allow it. He just posted his Top 10, which you can check out here.

His No. 10 and No. 9 choices, incidentally, are probably my No. 1 and No. 2 regular-season favorites ever, though sometimes they’re my No. 2 and No. 1 depending on my mood and perspective, with his No. 11 and No. 25 also holding great personal resonance for me. Then again, I’ve yet to meet a Met home run I didn’t like.

Piazza: Catcher, Slugger, Icon, Star by Greg Prince is available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble and other online booksellers.

Amazin' Again Book

Amazin' Again: How the 2015 New York Mets Brought the Magic Back to Queens by Greg Prince is available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble and other online booksellers.

The Happiest Recap Vol. I

Volume I of The Happiest Recap: 50+ Years of the New York Mets As Told in 500+ Amazin' Wins by Greg Prince is available in print and for Kindle on Amazon.

Faith and Fear Book

Faith and Fear in Flushing: An Intense Personal History by Greg Prince (foreword by Jason Fry), is available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble and other online booksellers.

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