If you had asked fans prior to the 1969 baseball season which scenario was more likely—man landing on the moon or the New York Mets wining the world championship—they would probably have been hard-pressed to choose, both being equally improbable. Casey Stengel, original Mets manager and overseer of the ugliest launching of a franchise in the 20th century, often made the correlation between a champion in Flushing and a man on the moon. Who would’ve thought Casey would be right?

When Gil Hodges was named manager in 1968, he made it clear that the team’s legendary ineptitude would no longer be acceptable. He then led them to the best season in their short history: 73-89 and a ninth-place finish (although just one game above the last-place Houston Astros). With a cadre of young stars including Tom Seaver, Jerry Koosman, Jerry Grote, Tommie Agee, Cleon Jones, and Bud Harrelson, backed by a strong bench, Mets fans looked forward to a promising future. They just didn’t expect it to happen so quickly.

The 1969 season didn’t get off to a great start: the Mets lost to the expansion Montreal Expos, 11-10 on Opening Day. (By contrast to the nouveau Expos, it took the Mets 10 tries before they won their first game in their first year as a franchise.) By the end of April, New York was 9-11, good by Mets standards, but not good enough for their skipper. On May 31, they were still below .500, but they had embarked on the 11-game winning streak that turned everything around. The Mets won 19 of 28 games in June, though they were still 7½ games behind Chicago. The Mets won two series against the Cubs in July— including Tom Seaver’s “Imperfect Game” at Shea Stadium, but still stood 6½ games out at the end of the month. Though they slipped all the way to 10 games back, the Mets flourished in the dog days of August and on into September, winning 37 of their final 48 games.

Mets pitchers were dominant, but the offense was less potent. Agee led the team with 26 home runs and 76 RBIs while his boyhood friend Cleon Jones finished third in the league with a .340 batting average, the highest to that time in Mets history…by 37 points.

If their remarkable achievement had come a year earlier, the Mets would have advanced directly to the World Series. But the addition of two teams to each league inaugurated a new round of playoffs: the League Championship Series. For the Mets to advance to the fall classic, they would have beat the veteran-filled Atlanta Braves of Hank Aaron, Phil Niekro, Orlando Cepeda, Rico Carty, and company.

Because the focus fell on the Mets’ unlikely success, fans tend to forget how well the Braves did in 1969. They had not appeared in the postseason since losing to the Yankees in the 1958 World Series, when they called Milwaukee home. The 93-win Braves were third in the league with 141 home runs (led by Aaron’s 44) and fifth in runs per game. Their pitching was also strong, Niekro was second to in the NL to Tom Seaver in wins (23), and Ron Reed, a 6-foot-6 former Detroit Pistons forward, chipped in 18 victories. Pat Jarvis and George Stone won 13 apiece.

Hodges was relatively modest, picking his team to take the playoff to the five-game limit. The oddsmakers didn’t even give the Mets that much credit. The Braves were made 13-10 favorites in Las Vegas, despite going 4-8 against the Mets during the regular season. Only Jones and Art Shamsky batted over .300 for the year on a team that only hit .242, a mark the Braves bettered by 16 points. The Braves bettered the Mets in virtually every offensive category and slugger Hank Aaron led the league in total bases and extra-base hits while finishing one behind Willie McCovey for the NL lead with 44 homers. Pitching was the Mets’ strong suit: first in shutouts (28) and fewest hits allowed (1,217), second in the league in ERA (2.99), and third in saves (35).

The Braves were to host the first two games of the best-of-five National League Championship Series. Many sports pundits expected the bubble to burst on the Miracle Mets.

Game One, October 4

For a Change, the Hitters Cover for Seaver

If the Mets were nervous, it wasn’t evident. In the second inning, Art Shamsky singled off Phil Niekro, who then walked second baseman Ken Boswell. Ed Kranepool, the last of the original Mets from 1962, struck out, but Jerry Grote, the team’s All-Star catcher, singled in Shamsky with the first postseason run in Mets history. With Boswell on third, Niekro’s knuckler eluded rookie catcher Bob Didier for a passed ball as the Mets took a 2-0 lead.

In Atlanta’s half of the inning, Rico Carty, a perennial .300 hitter, doubled to left and moved to third as Boswell misplayed Orlando Cepeda’s grounder. Former Yankee Clete Boyer drove in the Braves’ first run with a sacrifice fly. Atlanta took a 3-2 lead in the bottom of the third on consecutive doubles by Felix Millan, Tony Gonzalez (a mid-season pickup from the San Diego Padres), and Hank Aaron.

But the Mets answered immediately with a single by Kranepool, a Grote walk, and a Bud Harrelson triple to right, putting them back on top, 4-3. Gonzalez led off the bottom of the fifth with a home run to deadlock the contest and Aaron homered two innings later to give Atlanta a 5-4 lead. Their elation was short-lived.

In the top of the eighth, third baseman Wayne Garrett, a “Howdy Doody” look-alike plucked from Atlanta’s farm system by the Mets in the Rule 5 draft, doubled to left field. He came in on a single by Cleon Jones. Shamsky’s third hit on the afternoon moved Jones to second. After he stole third, Boswell hit a sharp grounder to the veteran Cepeda, who foolishly tried to nab the speedy Jones at the plate, but the throw was wild and Jones scored New York’s sixth run. Gil Hodges sent in Al Weis to run for Shamsky, and the slow-footed Kranepool managed to keep out of a double play, setting the stage for an improbable hero.

J.C. Martin, a left-handed hitting catcher, had come over to the Mets from the Chicago White Sox in November 1967 as the player to be named later in the Ken Boyer trade. With Grote firmly in place as the number one backstop—and rookie Duffy Dyer working his way into a backup catching role—Martin started just 44 games in 1969. Hodges sent Martin up to bat for Seaver, who hadn’t enjoyed a Cy Young-type day. Martin delivered a bases-clearing hit—abetted by a Gonzalez error—to ice the game, 9-5. Ron Taylor came on in relief for the final two innings, yielding two hits in the bottom of the ninth before getting Cepeda to pop up to second for the final out.

Game Two, October 5

Leaving Atlanta and Laughing

Tommie Agee, who had gone hitless in the NLCS opener, singled against Ron Reed to begin the festivities on day two. He continued his tour of the bases with a walk to Wayne Garrett, taking second on a steal of third, another Reed walk, and a clutch single by Ed Kranepool with two out.

Bud Harrelson lined out to open the second, but Jerry Koosman—who batted an anemic .048 in 84 at-bats—worked out a walk, to the disgust of Braves fans. That came back to haunt Reed as Agee followed with a home run, the first postseason homer in Mets history. After Garrett grounded back to the pitcher, Cleon Jones doubled and Art Shamsky drove him in with a single to right; he ended up on third base after Tony Gonzalez’s error in center field. That was it for Reed, who was charged with four earned runs in 1⅔ innings. Reliever Paul Doyle didn’t fare much better; the Mets added two more runs off the 30-year-old lefty in the third inning. After Kranepool struck out, Orlando Cepeda booted Jerry Grote’s ground ball for another miscue. Harrelson drove in the catcher with a double to left. Koosman followed with a strikeout and the Braves decided to walk Agee intentionally, but the strategy backfired when Garrett singled to center, plating Harrelson. Out with Doyle, in with veteran Milt Pappas. The Mets added two more in the fourth when Shamsky single was followed by Ken Boswell home run.

The Braves, however, didn’t get this far because they were quitters. They had rallied from fourth place and three games back in early September to win the NL West by that same margin. Rico Carty doubled to right and came in on a Cepeda single against Koosman in the fourth inning for Atlanta’s first run of the game. The next inning, after the Mets made it 9-1, the Braves exploded for four tallies, all after two were out. After a Millan single and a walk to Gonzalez, Hank Aaron blasted a three-run home run; Koosman was starting to lose steam. He walked Carty and gave up a double to Cepeda; both came around on Clete Boyer’s single. Gil Hodges replaced Koosman with Ron Taylor, the only Met with previous postseason experience (as a member of the St. Louis Cardinals in the 1964 World Series).

The Mets weren’t finished either. Facing Cecil Upshaw in the top of the seventh, Agee walked, stole second, and advanced to third on a fly ball by Garrett. Jones came up to the plate now and Agee had the idea of trying to steal home. Unfortunately, no one told the batter, who swung and hit a vicious line drive at the head of the oncoming runner, who miraculously avoided the ball. After a collective sigh of relief, Jones made things much easier a minute later when he hit a home run to put the game on ice, 11-6. Tug McGraw picked up a three-inning save in what would be his only postseason action of 1969. Taylor was credited with the victory.

Game Three, October 6

A Pennant in Three Easy Steps

In his 2004 memoir, The Magnificent Seasons, Art Shamsky recalled the emotions he and his teammates felt when they arrived in Atlanta. “It’s men against boys,” he wrote. Even with the first game in the bag, Shamsky said the Mets were still worried. But once back in New York, amidst the familiar surroundings and loving fans—they relaxed, and when they won, “It was pandemonium.” Again. The year had begun with the Jets winning a Super Bowl and shocking the establishment almost as much as the Mets would during the baseball season—by the following spring, the Knicks would also be world champions for the first time. All those championships culminating in a short period were important to New York City and a nation still reeling from the assassinations of Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr., as well as fiscal difficulties and social unrest of the end of the 1960s.

With no time off in the NLCS in 1969, the series resumed in New York the next day. A Monday afternoon crowd of 54,195 squeezed into Shea Stadium for the third game, which pitted Gary Gentry, the Mets’ unheralded rookie third starter, against Pat Jarvis. Both righties had won 13 games for their respective teams, but Jarvis, at 28, already had four major league campaigns under his belt.

Despite being the second-youngest pitcher on the staff after Nolan Ryan, Gentry—who was making the start on his 23rd birthday—was no greenhorn. He had allowed just 192 hits in 234 innings, which would prove to be his career-best. In fact, he had just one more season in which he pitched more than 200 innings; he was out of the majors by 1975, finishing his career with—of all teams—the Atlanta Braves.

Gentry erased Felix Millan on a fly ball to lead off the game, but Tony Gonzalez singled and Hank Aaron followed with his third homer of the NLCS, giving the Braves a 2-0 lead. Gentry made it through the second inning with just a walk, but he didn’t retire a batter in the third. That inning started with another hit by Gonzalez, but this time Aaron merely doubled, moving the runner to third. When Rico Carty drove a liner that was just foul of the left-field foul pole, Hodges decided he’d seen enough, lifting Gentry with a one-ball, two-strike count on the batter and calling in the fireballing but erratic Nolan Ryan.

The future Hall of Famer had a 6-3 record in 25 games, 15 of which came as a reliever. He struck out 92 batters in 89 innings, allowing just 60 hits while walking 53. In Peter Golenbock’s Amazin’: The Miraculous History of New York’s Most Beloved Baseball Team, Ron Swoboda recalled the team’s surprise at the manager’s move. “When he brought him in I thought, ‘This is interesting.’” Jerry Koosman went further: “The whole bench said, ‘If he’s bringing in Ryan, Gil has given up.’”

But, in fact, Ryan was superb. He blew a third strike past Carty, walked Orlando Cepeda intentionally to load the bases, caught Clete Boyer on a called strikeout, and finally retired Bob Didier on a fly ball. Ryan had kept the Braves off the scoreboard in the third and the Mets responded quickly when Tommie Agee hit his second NLCS homer in the bottom of the inning.

Shamsky started a rally in the fourth with his series-high seventh single. He crossed the plate on Ken Boswell’s second playoff home run to give the Mets a 3-2 lead. Though the Braves regained the lead on a two-run Cepeda home run in the top of the fifth, Hodges left Ryan in to bat and the pitcher led off the bottom of the inning with a single. He scored on Wayne Garrett’s just-fair four-bagger for a 5-4 lead. Jones singled and scored on another hit by Boswell, his third RBI of the game. They added their final run in the sixth on a double by Jerry Grote and a single by Agee.

The Braves never mounted another serious threat. Ryan’s third inning heroics had proved the turning point. Gonzalez ended Atlanta’s suffering by grounding to third for the final out of the playoffs. In seven innings, Ryan allowed just three hits, walked two, and struck out seven to pick up the victory that propelled the Mets into their first World Series.

In the three-game sweep, the Mets outscored the Braves 27-15, batting an improbable .327, led by Shamsky’s .538; Jones, Garrett, Agee, and Boswell all batted .333 or better. Koosman told Golenbock, “The tension of the world was on us. Everybody wanted to be on the bandwagon. [Governor Nelson] Rockefeller and [NewYork Mayor John V.] Lindsay and numerous big names were suddenly appearing in the clubhouse.”

Despite public address pleas, Mets fans stormed the field for the second time in three weeks, threatening to destroy the diamond in their frenzied joy, wanting a fistful or grass or dirt as a souvenir to mark this most amazing season. “The management might just have well have spared the voltage for the speaker system,” wrote Norm Miller in the New York Daily News. Yet the excitement didn’t seem to match that of the NL East pennant-clincher against the St. Louis Cardinals. “The main difference was that the first time we had done something nobody believed we could do,” Shamsky said during the locker room celebration. What thrilled him the most were the contributions from players like Boswell and Garrett, who were now receiving overdue recognition for their work. “We’ve been that way all year,” he said. “If one guy didn’t [come through], another did.”

The 66th World Series

While the Mets were marching for their league’s pennant, the Baltimore Orioles were doing the same. The Orioles, who had upset the Los Angeles Dodgers by sweeping them in the 1966 fall classic, finished sixth in 1967 and in second place in 1968. They roared back in 1969, winning 109 games and finishing 19 ahead of second-place Detroit in Earl Weaver’s first full season as a major league manager.

Baltimore’s squad boasted the AL Cy Young Award co-winner, Mike Cuellar, one of three Orioles who finished in the top 10 in AL MVP voting (Boog Powell and Frank Robinson were second and third, respectively, to Minnesota Twin Harmon Killebrew for MVP). Six players—Powell, Frank and Brooks Robinson, Paul Blair, Davey Johnson, and Dave McNally—appeared in the All-Star Game that summer. As a team, they were second only to the Minnesota Twins in batting average and third to the Red Sox in home runs. Yet they were a disciplined lot, striking out a league-low 806 times and working out 634 walks (second most).

Defensively, the Orioles were without peer, finishing first in fielding percentage and committing the fewest errors (101) of any team in the game. The pitching staff—led by McNally Mike Cuellar, and Jim Palmer—had the only ERA under 3.00 and gave up the fewest home runs (117) and walks (498).

The Orioles faced the American League West champion Twins in the ALCS and, like the Mets, swept the series. The first two games, played in Baltimore, were tight affairs: 4-3 in 12 innings and 1-0 in 11. In the Metropolitan Stadium finale, the brawny Orioles busted loose, with Jim Palmer scattering 10 hits in an 11-2 romp.

So it was no surprise that the Orioles were the favorites in the 66th World Series. Maybe it was a sense of bravado, but some of the Mets and the New York media predicted a sweep for the home team, including Cleon Jones and Casey Stengel, the original Mets skipper, who was penning a guest column. Phil Pepe of the New York Daily News wrote, “The Mets are behind. They’re behind in hitting, fielding, pitching, running, and betting. But they haven’t lost yet. Not yet they haven’t.”

Earl Weaver, Baltimore’s Napoleonic manager, told reporters the Mets had “two pitchers, some slap hitters, and a little speed. They say the Mets have desire. The Orioles have just as much desire and a lot more talent.”

After watching Rod Gaspar, a bench player reveling in the NLCS victory glow, predict a sweep, Frank Robinson challenged, “Bring on Ron Gaspar.” A teammate corrected him, “Not Ron, Rod, stupid.”

“Okay, bring on Ron Stupid,” Robinson responded.

He would come to regret that remark.

Game One, October 11

Not the Way to Start Things Off

The two eventual Cy Young winners faced off in the first game at Memorial Stadium in Baltimore on a brilliant fall Saturday afternoon in front of 50,429 fans, shy of a full house. The World Series was indeed a showcase, not just for players, but celebrity fans as well. Commissioner Bowie Kuhn threw out the first two pitches, one to each starting catcher. Several members of the First Family, including Pat Nixon, daughters Julie and Tricia, and Tricia’s husband, David Eisenhower, were in attendance.

Tom Seaver had become the first pitcher in National League history to defeat 11 different clubs in a season—a mark made possible by expansion and Chicago’s Ferguson Jenkins also beat all 11 clubs in 1969—but Seaver was not his usual polished self in his first game against an American League foe. After the Mets went down in the top of the first, Don Buford, Baltimore’s leadoff hitter, took a Seaver pitch over the right-field fence for a home run. That lone tally held up until the fourth inning when Seaver— as he had done in the NLCS opener Atlanta—had an uncharacteristic inning. He retired Boog Powell and Brooks Robinson, but he had trouble finding that third out. Catcher Elrod Hendricks singled to right, followed by a walk to Davey Johnson. Mark Belanger, one of the Orioles unsung heroes, singled to right, driving in Hendricks and moving Johnson to third.

Pitcher Mike Cuellar, who batted .117 with a double and two triples during the season, blooped a single to left-center to score Johnson. With runners now on first and second, Buford came through again, lining a double down the right field line to score Belanger to the Orioles up, 4-0.

In the meantime, Brooks Robinson, one of four Birds who would win a Gold Glove that season, was making his reputation on the national scene with several sparkling plays at third base behind a cruising Cuellar. Seaver set the Orioles down without a hit in the fifth, but he was due to lead off in the sixth. Hodges batted rookie Duffy Dyer for him and the veteran Don Cardwell came in to pitch the bottom of the inning. Cardwell and Ron Taylor kept the Orioles off the scoreboard the rest of the game, but it proved too late.

The Mets had an opportunity to do some damage in the seventh. Donn Clendenon, who came over from the Expos in a June trade, and hit 12 home runs, and drove in 37 as a Met, singled to center and Ron Swoboda walked. After Ed Charles flied out to right, Grote lined a single to left to load the bases. (Clendenon, Swoboda, and Charles had not appeared in a single game of the NLCS because Atlanta had thrown all right-handed pitchers and Hodges adhered to his platoon system.) Al Weis’s sacrifice fly to left scored Clendenon but Gaspar, batting for Cardwell, hit a slow roller to third that Robinson turned into one of his patented bare-handed-pickup, throw-on-the-run plays to end the threat.

The Mets had one more chance in the ninth, but with two out and two on, Shamsky grounded out to Johnson to end the game “I had a chance to be a hero, but it didn’t work out that way,” he told Stanley Cohen in A Magic Summer. Shamsky had also made the final out in the September 20 no-hitter by Bob Moose of the Pittsburgh Pirates, one of the few blotches on an otherwise fantastic season.

After the game, Earl Weaver shared his impressions with the media. “They’re about what we expected,” he said. “Of course, they have to have more than they showed us today. They must have something because they did win 100 games in that big beautiful National League, didn’t they?” Weaver admitted his comments could be construed as sarcastic.

The media played up disparaging remarks made by Weaver, Frank Robinson, and others. Brooks Robinson recalled beating a Los Angeles Dodgers team led by Sandy Koufax and Don Drysdale, “and [Seaver and Koosman] can’t be as good as them.” He also suggested that “New York ballplayers are built up more than they are.”

A scout for the team scoffed, “Team of destiny? I think they’re destined to be beaten by the Orioles.” But Paul Blair, Baltimore’s fleet center fielder (and a former Mets farmhand) had some nice things to say, even as he expressed confidence in his mates. He told reporters he respected Seaver, Koosman, and Gentry, as well as Jones and Agee, “Bad ballclubs don’t win 100 games, sweep three from Atlanta, and get to the Series. But we have a better ballclub.”

Yes, on paper the Orioles were stronger at just about every position and so were made the “logical favorites” over the Mets. As Leonard Koppett of the New York Times opined, “‘Logic’ is another name for past performance. But in the four-of-seven game competition that will be watched so intently by millions of television viewers in this country and abroad, history won’t count.”

Game Two, October 12

Kooz’s Gem

Jerry Koosman had a reputation of coming up big in clutch situations. He was the first Met to win a home opener, a 3-0 blanking of the San Francisco Giants in the second start of his rookie year in 1968. The second game of the World Series meant a lot more and Kooz kept the powerful Orioles hitters in check over the first six innings, nursing a one-run lead, courtesy of Donn Clendenon’s fourth-inning solo home run. He also hadn’t allowed a hit.

In the bottom of the seventh, Paul Blair broke up the no-hit bid with a single to left to start the inning. After outs by Frank Robinson and Boog Powell, Blair stole second and crossed the plate moments later on a single by Brooks Robinson to tie the game.

With two outs in the top of the ninth, Ed Charles, the proclaimed “soul” of the team, singled to left and moved to third on Grote’s second hit of the afternoon. With Koosman waiting on deck, McNally pitched to Al Weis. The second baseman’s single to left drove in Charles for the slim lead. Rather than put up a pinch hitter, Gil Hodges let Koosman bat for himself, and he made the third out.

The lefty recorded two quick outs in the bottom of the inning before walking Frank Robinson and Powell. Hodges signaled to the bullpen and brought in Ron Taylor, who induced Brooks Robinson to ground out to third for the final out and the first World Series victory in Mets history.

After the game, Mets owner Joan Payson told the press she had covered her eyes when Brooksie hit the final ball. As the media is wont to do, they looked for some angle to spice things up a bit. They found it in a “war of words” between Hodges, the Mets no-nonsense manager, and the equally intense Frank Robinson.

After the game, Robby said he had been surprised by the Mets’ low profile on the bench. “I thought it was very strange that they didn’t show any enthusiasm when they loaded the bases in the seventh inning [the game before],” he said. Appraised of the ballplayer’s remarks, Hodges countered, “I’m glad that Frank is watching our bench, but I’m not concerned with what he says.”

So the reporters ran back to Robinson for his comments. “Tell Hodges he should manage his club and I’ll play right field.” But he had one more parting shot at winning pitcher Jerry Koosman. “He didn’t exactly dazzle us with his stuff. We hit the ball well 10 or 12 times, but they went right to somebody If three balls fell in, we could have scored three or four runs.”

Game Three, October 14

Two for the Price of One

After a day off, the scene shifted to New York for the third game. The atmosphere, to say the least, was different as the World Series returned to the Big Apple for the first time since 1964, and the first time a National League team had hosted a Series in New York since the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1956.

Gary Gentry, who hadn’t made it out of the third inning against the Braves in the NLCS, was on the mound for the Mets. Jim Palmer, who threw the AL’s only no-hitter that season, an 8-0 gem against the Oakland A’s on August 13, took the hill in Game Three of the Series for Baltimore. This time the rookie shut down the opposition, allowing just three hits (but five walks) in 6⅔ innings. Just as happened in the NLCS, he was relieved by Nolan Ryan, who got out of a jam that threatened to change the complexion of the game. Ryan struck out three, walked two, and gave up just one hit for the rest of the game to pick up the save. Unlike his brief NLCS outing, Gentry did more than his share with both his arm and his bat.

In the second inning, with runners on first and second and two outs, Gentry, who had batted .081 during the regular season, doubled over a drawn-in Blair in center field to drive in both runners and give the Mets a 3-0 lead. Palmer said after the game that Baltimore’s scouting reports had “underestimated” Gentry’s hitting and pitching abilities.

The real story, however, was not the sparkling contributions of Gentry or Ryan. In fact, most fans might have a hard time remembering who pitched that day. They would not forget Tommie Agee’s contributions. Agee and Al Weis had come to the Mets in a trade with the White Sox in December 1967 for former batting champion Tommy Davis, pitcher “Fat Jack” Fisher, and two other players. Agee was just two years removed from winning the AL Rookie of the Year Award and finishing in the top 10 for MVP, but he hit an anemic .217 with just 17 RBIs in his inaugural season with the Mets. The 1969 season was far better to him… and the Mets.

Just as Don Buford had done against Tom Seaver in the first game in Baltimore, Agee greeted Palmer with a leadoff home run in the home first. Agee’s blast to center field was his only offensive contribution, but he did more with soft leather than hard wood.

Sandy Amoros, Al Gionfriddo, Kirby Puckett, Willie Mays. All of these made eye-popping catchers in their World Series. Agee did it twice … and in the same game. The first came in the fourth inning. With one out, Frank Robinson and Boog Powell singled. Brooks Robinson struck out to bring up Elrod Hendricks. Agee shaded the left-handed hitter to pull, but Hendricks lined a shot to the gap in left-center. Agee took off and snow-coned the gapper for the third out at the 396-foot mark. He put his hand up against the wall with the ball to stop himself. The man who hit the ball missed one of the great catches in World Series history. “I didn’t see him catch it,” Hendricks told reporters. “I look up and I see the white of the ball in his glove and I figured he still might drop it. Then he holds his glove up and I just said, ‘Damn.’”

After Jerry Grote doubled to drive in the fourth run for the Mets in the home sixth, Agee came to the rescue once more in the top of the seventh. The Orioles mounted a two-out threat as Gentry walked Belanger, Dave May (pinch-hitting for Palmer), and Buford to load the bases. Hodges brought in Ryan, who was known to walk a batter or two himself.

Blair smacked a Ryan fastball to right-center. Agee sprinted, dove, and came up with the sinking liner on his belly on the warning track. Blair said later that the catch saved four runs, confident that he would have had an inside-the-park homer to tie the game had the ball gotten past Agee. Hodges, who had played in seven Word Series as a member of the Dodgers, assessed Agee’s work that afternoon. “I’d have to say the second [catch] was number one of any World Series I’ve seen.” Agee downplayed his performance, calling the first one the tougher of the two. “It was away from my glove and it almost went through my webbing.”

The Mets got their final run in the eighth inning when Ed Kranepool homered off Dave Leonhard. By then the Orioles were a little stunned, having been hit head-on by a Miracle.

Game Four, October 15

Victory Most ‘Fair

Tom Seaver had shaken off the leg injury that hampered him against Atlanta and in the World Series opener. He revealed he had strained a left calf muscle while shagging fly balls during batting practice in Atlanta and that kept him from following his normal workout routine, leaving him more fatigued. But this time Tom Terrific was on top of his game.

In the bottom of the second, with Mike Cuellar once again his opponent, Donn Clendenon hit his second solo shot of the World Series. The Orioles had a good chance to score in the third inning, when Mark Belanger and Cuellar opened the frame with singles. Belanger moved to third on Don Buford’s forceout to second. Paul Blair bunted back to Seaver, who threw him out for the second out while holding Belanger at third. Frank Robinson fouled out to Clendenon to end the inning.

The score remained 1-0 until the top of the ninth. After Blair filed out to right, Frank Robinson singled to left and scampered to third on Boog Powell’s single to right. Brooks Robinson hit a rocket to right that turned into another Amazin’ play by a Mets outfielder. This time it was Ron Swoboda to the rescue. “Rocky” was not known for his smooth defense, but he made a running, flat-out dive to his right on the sinking drive. Frank Robinson tagged up and scored on the play to tie the game, but if Swoboda had missed the ball, it would have given the Orioles the lead and potentially changed the Series. Instead, momentum stayed with the Mets.

New York had an opportunity to finish things off in regulation. With Eddie Watt on the mound for the Orioles, Jones singled with one out. After Clendenon struck out, Swoboda singled to move Jones to third. Gil Hodges called on Art Shamsky, one of the heroes of the NLCS, to pinch-hit for Charles, but Watt got him on a grounder to second to move the contest into extra innings.

In the top of the 10th with Seaver still on the hill, Johnson reached first on Wayne Garrett’s bobble. Belanger fouled out to Grote to bring up Clay Dalrymple to bat for Watt. His single moved Johnson to second and a fly ball out by Buford put him on third base. Seaver ended his afternoon’s work by striking out Blair.

In the bottom of the frame, Grote greeted new pitcher Dick Hall with a fly to left that Buford misjudged and turned into a double. After Rod— not Ron—Gaspar came on to run for Grote, the Orioles walked Al Weis—normally a weak batter but he had two hits in the game and had won Game 2 with a late-inning single—to set up the possible double play. With lefty-swinging J.C. Martin out to bat for Seaver, the Orioles went with southpaw Pete Richert. The moves were made by coach Billy Hunter, managing in place of Weaver, who had been ejected by home plate umpire Shag Crawford for arguing balls and strikes. Weaver became the first manager to be so ignominiously treated since Cubs manager Charlie Grimm was booted in the 1935 Series.

What would be Martin’s only appearance in a World Series was the latest installment in the Mets’ Miracle Motif. Martin laid down a bunt on the first-base side of the mound. Richert and Hendricks converged and the pitcher came up with the ball. Richert turned and fired to first, but the throw hit Martin in the left wrist and caromed away. Gaspar, meanwhile, came all the way around to score, perhaps answering Frank Robinson’s earlier jibes.

Photographs later revealed that Martin had been just inside the runner’s lane and could have been called out for interference. Richert had witnessed it first hand and continued arguing as the Mets celebrated. The call stood and more than 57,000 at Shea Stadium roared. What else could possibly happen at Shea to top this?

Game Five, October 16

Man Steps on the Moon… Leaving a Shoe Polish Mark

The fifth game featured Jerry Koosman and Dave McNally in a rematch of Game 2. There was a lack of offensive action until the third inning, and it came from an unlikely source. After Mark Belanger, the number eight batter, led off with a single, Koosman committed a cardinal sin: he served up a home run to the opposing pitcher. McNally had batted just .085 in 1969, but one of his eight hits was a home run—and he’d hit three in 1968. Two outs later after McNally’s blast, Frank Robinson launched a home run of his own, his only extra base hit of the Series, to make the score 3-0. In one inning the Orioles had scored more runs than they had in three games. Could this be the turnaround of the Series?

The answer came in the bottom of the sixth inning. Cleon Jones led off by dancing away from a pitch in the dirt. It rolled over to the Mets dugout and moments later manager Gil Hodges picked it up and calmly walked out to home plate umpire Lou DiMuro. (See Jerry Koosman biography for his account of what happened during the few seconds after the ball caromed into the dugout.)

Hodges pointed out a dark smudge on the ball from Jones’s shoe polish, apparent proof that he had been hit by the pitch. DiMuro waved Jones to first base. Donn Clendenon followed the lucky break with this third home run—a shot over the left-field wall—to bring the Mets to within one.

In the top of that very inning, Frank Robinson thought he had been nicked in the thigh by a Koosman pitch and trotted down to first before he was called back by DiMuro. He argued long and hard, but the umpire denied the claim. To no one’s surprise, Earl Weaver popped out for a chat, but since he was still smarting from the previous day’s ejection, he kept the conversation accordingly civil. He was more animated after Jones was sent to first in the bottom of the inning, but it just wasn’t his day.

The Shoe Polish Incident reminded old-timers of another situation involving a Jones—in this case “Nippy” of the Milwaukee Braves. In Game Four of the 1957 World Series, with the Braves trailing the New York Yankees 5-4 in the bottom of the 10th inning, shoe polish again served as proof that a batter had been hit by a pitch after the home plate umpire had initially ruled differently. Jones was replaced by a pinch runner who scored on a double by Johnny Logan and Eddie Mathews hit a game-winning two-run homer. The Braves would go on to beat the Yankees in seven games.

The 1969 Mets were not done with unlikely plot twists. During the regular season, Al Weis had batted a measly .215 with only two home runs, both of which came in consecutive games at Wrigley Field against the Cubs. But on this day, Weis came through big time, to the wonderment of all, with a blast into the left-field seats to tie the game. He had never before homered at Shea Stadium. And he never would again.

His home run not only tied the game, but it also kept Koosman in the game. Eddie Watt, meanwhile, replaced McNally, who had been lifted in the top of the eighth for a pinch hitter. Jones welcomed him with a double off the fence in left-center field. Hodges had been faithful with his platoons to the point that Ed Charles, Ron Swoboda, and Clendenon did not play at all in the NLCS. Now, in a tied World Series, with a chance to take the lead and perhaps end it, he stayed with the right-handed bats against the right-handed pitcher. Though Clendenon grounded out to third, Swoboda followed with a double down the left-field line to give the Mets the lead. After Charles filed out, Grote hit a grounder to first. Powell had difficulty corralling the ball and Watt dropped the throw as he covered first base—each received an error on the play—as Swoboda never stopped running and crossed home plate to make it a 5-3 game.

Koosman faced the heart of the Baltimore lineup for the top of the ninth. Frank Robinson led off with a walk, but Powell forced him at second and left for a pinch runner. Brooks Robinson filed out to Swoboda in right which left it up to future Mets manager Davey Johnson. He gave Mets fans a thrill of a lifetime as his fly ball descended gently into the waiting glove of Cleon Jones. He almost bent to a knee to catch it and when he got up, the Mets were world champions.

The celebration at Shea and through the city was instantaneous and unbridled. The Mets, listed as 100-1 odds to win the World Series back in the spring, did just that in the fall. Clendenon, who batted .357 with three home runs, a double, and four runs batted in, was named the Series MVP. The Babe Ruth Award, voted after the Series by sportswriters, went to the Mets’ Bambino of the World Series: Al Weis.

The postseason winners share for the Mets were just over $18,300 for each player. In contrast to today’s marathons, none of the five games lasted longer than a snappy two hours and thirty-three minutes—including the 10-inning classic Game 4.

The Amazin’ Mets had cast off the mantle of lovable losers. “This is the summit,” said Ed Charles, who retired after the World Series. “We’re number one in the world and just can’t get any bigger than this.”

“Some people still might not believe in us,” said Jones. “But then, some people still believe the world is flat.”

RON KAPLAN is the sports and features editor for the New Jersey Jewish News. He also hosts a blog on baseball literature and other media at RKsBaseballBookShelf.wordpress.com and another on Jews and sports at njjewishnews.com/kaplanskorner.

As early as I can remember growing up in St. Louis, Missouri, my thirst for baseball became the very first thing that I can honestly say actually possessed me. Baseball basically took over my life and I am sure, back then as most youngsters would attest, our dreams were about one day putting on that uniform and playing in the big leagues. I was lucky enough to have a father who also loved baseball, so there were many days when he would take me to Sportsman’s Park, which would later become Busch Stadium, and I would relish the fact that in those moments life was as good as it could be. Later, when I was older and went to the games with friends, the love for those cherished moments never vanished. Heck, I even followed the St. Louis Browns before they moved to Baltimore for the 1954 season.

While those times watching the baseball games in St. Louis remain vivid in my memory, they barely outshadow all the times I glued myself in front of the television or listened to the radio and followed the baseball happenings on that particular day. One of the things that fascinated me was the descriptions and the stories about all of the old ballparks/stadiums that I was lucky enough to follow. Sportsman’s Park, Wrigley Field, the Polo Grounds, Ebbets Field, Connie Mack Stadium, Forbes Field, and Crosley Field were all ballparks that I knew about and, quite honestly, adored. While these were all in the National League, the American League had its own treasures, like Yankee Stadium, Comiskey Park, Fenway Park, Briggs Stadium, Municipal Stadium, and others. All of these treasures are part of the glorious history of the national pastime and are etched in the memories of fans and true life stories of those who actually made their way onto these fields.

As I got older and in my teens and my baseball skills were developing, I realized that my dreams of playing baseball were, in reality, already happening. Not on a professional level but competitively in very good amateur leagues against quality players my age, and that encouraged me to play at my best in order to compete and also forced me to continue to work hard to improve. All this time I was still following the Cardinals and going to big-league games, never losing sight of the importance of history in regard to baseball. And, at the age of 17, while I was playing American Legion baseball, scouts were starting to come around.   

While my beloved Cardinals were interested in signing me to a professional contract along with nine or 10 other teams, I decided to sign with the Cincinnati Reds. I can’t tell you specifically why I chose the Reds. It wasn’t about money. I think it just came down to the way they treated me. They worked me out at Busch Stadium a couple of days when they were in St. Louis to play the Cardinals. What a great experience! Here I was, 17 years old and taking batting practice with Frank Robinson, Vada Pinson, and Jerry Lynch to name a few. What a thrill! And to have Reds manager Fred Hutchinson speak with me and hitting coach Wally Moses talk hitting with me … wow, what else could a 17-year-old ask for? I had played one game at Busch Stadium as a high schooler but those couple of days in a Reds uniform on the same field with the big leaguers was the hook that got me. Plus, I liked the vest uniforms the Reds wore back then. Even with my skinny arms!

Up to this point in my life I had strictly been a Cardinals fan. With that being said I loved the game and its history and, of course, its ballparks. Gabe Paul, then the GM of the Reds, signed me that winter (1959) and I went to spring training in Tampa, Florida, in March 1960. It was a world of unknowns to me but I met many interesting characters from all walks of life. None of us in the Reds organization knew how long it would take or how bumpy the road might be or if we would ever make it, but we were all trying to get to the one place that we were all striving for and cherishing. And that was Crosley Field.   

My first professional year with the Reds organization in 1960 was in Geneva, New York, in the New York-Penn League. It was that year on that team that I played with Pete Rose and Tony Perez. All three of us would eventually make it to the big leagues, although at that point I’m not sure any of us were considered prospects. Tony didn’t speak much English but we all were able to communicate our desire eventually to get to Crosley Field. All three of us would eventually make it. Pete, of course in 1963. Tony and I a little bit later. 

I didn’t know much about Crosley Field’s history when I first started playing there for the Reds in the mid-’60s. I had learned as a kid that Crosley Field was the first ballpark in the major leagues to have lights and that the first game played there under the lights was in 1935. I would come to learn more and more as time went by through basic inquisitiveness. One of the first things that stood out in my mind when I actually went on the field was the terrace in the outfield. I was told it was originally put in so fans could stand on it and be able to be elevated to watch the games. But then, I think, it basically became a warning track for the outfielders. It was around 15 degrees high in left field but not as high as it worked its way over to center and right field. As it turned out, I ended up seeing many outfielders get eaten up as they went back for fly balls. I always felt that if you had one foot on the terrace and one off with your first move going up or down you had a shot to be okay.

Some of my other memories of Crosley Field include seeing the two different signs in the back of the right-field bleachers. One was the Sun Deck for day games and, of course, the Moon Deck for night games. And I’ll never forget the significance of the public-address announcer, Paul Sommerkamp, who was seated on the field near the visiting dugout on the first-base side of the field. I remember he always said your position, your number, your full name, and then just your last name. How special was that?

The quaintness of Crosley Field is so vivid in my mind. Walking to and from the home and visiting clubhouses almost through the crowd in the stands to get on and off the field was special in so many ways. And how can I forget the smell of fresh peanuts being made by the vendors and the smell of recently cut grass on the field and an organist who played his special brand of songs and music. All great memories I have to this day.  

Finally, how will I ever forget two of the most significant days in my life and my baseball career that happened at Crosley Field? On August 12, 1966, on a typically hot summer Friday night in Cincinnati, I came into a game against the Pittsburgh Pirates in the eighth inning and proceeded to hit three home runs in a row, two of which were in extra innings. (To this day, I think I am the only player in major-league history to hit three home runs in a game who wasn’t in the starting lineup of that game.) Unfortunately, we lost that game. The next day we were rained out but on Sunday, August 14, 1966 (for some inexplicable reason I didn’t start the game), I was sent up as a pinch-hitter and hit a two-run home run to put us up in the game. It was my fourth home run in a row. Interestingly enough, we lost that game also. Nevertheless, I would be forever remembered for those games and become part of the folklore of Crosley Field. The bat that I used in those two games is on display in Baseball’s Hall of Fame in an area for special feats. To this day I still have people comment about the “four in a row” whether they remember it personally or somehow heard about it. Truly, how can I ever forget Crosley Field?   

I have been blessed with so many great memories from baseball. The people I met along the way, players I played with and against, the personal achievements and, of course, being part of a world championship team with the New York Mets in 1969.  Even with all that, I would put being part of Crosley Field’s history right at the top of the list.

In 1975, for example, there were 49 extra inning homers hit. On two occasions the teams with the extra inning blasts lost; on two other occasions, both teams had extra inning roundtrippers.

Home runs have been hit in all extra innings up to and including the 22nd. On June 24, 1962, Jack Reed, a third-string outfielder with the Yankees, hit his only major league homer off Phil Regan of the Tigers in the 22nd inning, giving Jim Bouton a 9-7 win. On July 17, 1914, Babe Adams of the Pirates set a record by not giving up a walk in a 21-inning game; however, he did give up a 2-run homer to Larry Doyle of the Giants and lost 3-1.

You’d think a roundtripper in the 20th would be a game winner. Tommy Harper hit one for Seattle on July 27, 1969, but Joe Lahoud of the Red Sox hit one with a man on in the bottom of the 20th and they won.

Of the several other late, late home runs, two should be mentioned because they were hit by players usually identified as pitchers. On August 17, 1882, Providence beat Detroit 1-0 in 18 innings when Charles Radbourn, playing rightfield that day, hit one out of the park. Monte Ward pitched the distance and won. On May 24, 1918, Smoky Joe Wood, also playing the outfield, hit one in the 19th to give the Indians a 3-2 win over George Mogridge of the Yankees.

When it came to hitting grand slam home runs in extra innings, no player hit one later than the 16th. The only one to do that was Clyde Voilmer of the Red Sox in 1951. His was one of 73 grand slam homers hit in overtime since 1900. Four players did it twice: Cy Williams, Roger Mans, Tommy Davis, and Cookie Rojas. Here is the full list since 1900:

*Assisted by David Ross

Players Hitting Extra-Inning Grand Slams 

While some players scored a flock of overtime runs with grand slam homers, other players divided up the honors. On May 2, 1964, the Minnesota Twins bombed the Kansas City A’s into submission with 4 consecutive homers in the 11th inning. They were hit by Tony Oliva, Bob Allison, Jimmie Hall, and Harmon Killebrew. The pitching victim of the first three was Dan Pfister. On June 8, 1965, the Braves got into the act in the 10th inning with 4 homers against the Cubs. In that inning, Joe Torre, Eddie Mathews, Henry Aaron, and Gene Oliver delivered the goods.

There have been three occasions when players hit 2 extra inning homers in the same game. In 1943, Vern Stephens connected for the Browns in the 11th and 13th innings; in 1963 when Willie Kirkland was with the Indians, he hit homers in the 11th and 19th innings; and in 1966, Art Shamsky, inserted as a sub for the Reds in mid-game, hit one in the 10th and another in the 11th, to give him 3 for the game.

When it came to hitting fourbaggers in extra innings, the real star was Willie Mays. He connected in overtime in 22 games. His first was a 3-run shot in 1951 when Willie was a 20-year-old rookie and his victim was 42-year-old Dutch Leonard. In June 1967 Willie walloped a grand slam in the 10th at the Astrodome. His most memorable was a swat in the 16th off Warren Spahn in July 1963, which gave Juan Marichal a 1-0 squeaker over the Braves’ great southpaw.

Here is a rundown on all 22 of Mays’ overtime homers.  

Mays has a wide margin over other home run leaders when games go beyond the regulation 9. In comparison, Babe Ruth hit 16 in overtime, and Frank Robinson 15. Robby connected either in the 10th or 11th, while Mays was the only player to hit in each overtime frame up to the 16th. Here is a breakdown of the leaders.

Batters Hitting Most Homers in Extra Innings

*Leader

Pitchers have also joined in the act of hitting extra inning home runs. It has been done 37 times since 1900, occurring all the way up to the 14th inning. Two pitchers did it twice: In 1911 Jack Coombs connected once in the 11th inning and once in the 14th. Dizzy Dean put his bat where his mouth was and hit 10th inning homers in both 1934 and 1935.

When it comes to extra inning homers, however, pitchers are usually viewed from the other end of the delivery system. What pitcher served up the most extra inning homers? Was it Robin Roberts, who gave up a record total of 502 homers in his career? Or Warren Spahn? Or Early Wynn? It was none of these. Roberts gave up only 7 overtime homers; Spahn 6, and Wynn 5. In the first place, Roberts and Wynn were starting hurlers who did not pitch much in overtime. Spahn did pitch more in extra innings, but seemed to get stronger as he went along.

Who then pitches in extra innings? Relief hurlers, of course! The pitcher most frequently victimized by extra inning homers was El Roy Face. He is way out ahead of other pitchers with 21 overtime booboos. Here is the rundown on Face.

Although Willie Mays hit the most extra inning homers, 22, and El Roy Face gave up the most, 21, and they played against each other for 15 years, Willie never connected in overtime off the forkball ace of the Pirates.

Ranking some distance behind Face in giving up boundary belts in extra frames were Hoyt Wilhelm, Lindy McDaniel, Johnny Sam, and Dick Radatz. Radatz is the surprise, giving up 12 extra inning roundtrippers in his short career. Sam split his career as a starter and reliever. The only full-time starter on the list is Gaylord Perry, and he pitches more extra innings than any of the current starters.

Here is a breakdown of those pitchers who have given up the most home runs in extra innings.

Now, 40 years after the fact, the “Miracle” has finally become the property of history. Two generations have quickly slipped by. You need to be in your 50s to have a clear recollection of the Legend of the 1969 Mets and what they meant, banked against the futility of the years that preceded them. Today, most Met fans have heard about the Miracle Mets from their fathers or uncles or from the vast literature that documented that unlikely season, but they were not there when it happened; they have not experienced it first hand; they do not know what it felt like to live through that season day by day, to see the impossible evolve first into the improbable and then, astonishingly, into the inevitable. A distance of 40 years confers any story to the pages of history. Enshrined in the past, it can no longer be treated with the immediacy of current events.

It is now a shade more than 20 years since I began my trek through the 1960s, gathering material for a retrospective on the ’69 Mets that became A Magic Summer. The project was not an inspiration of my own. If the truth be told, I had been a Yankees fan since the 1940s. I was a native son of the Bronx, growing up a long walk from Yankee Stadium, and I had spent a good part of my youth jeering at the few hapless Dodgers and Giants fans that I ran into. But when our inter-borough rivals left town and the Mets took their place, I was well beyond the age of such adolescent bickering. New York City had educated me at its own cost, right through college, and there was no one, with the possible exception of my father, who embraced the city with greater devotion.

So I had no trouble rooting for the Mets while still investing my principal allegiance with the Yankees. During the 1969 season, with the Yankees flying well below the radar, I followed the fortunes of the Mets closely and with enthusiasm. On that fabled afternoon in mid-October I could be seen dancing a hora on Madison Avenue and 40th Street after watching them win the World Series on TV at the bar of a nearby Italian restaurant.

The project of bringing the ’69 Mets back to life came looking for me. I had previously written two well received sports books, and an editor from what was then Harcourt Brace Jovanovich publishers sought me out through my agent. That was early in 1986. Spring training was just getting under way and the Mets, having won 98 games in 1985 and finishing just three games back of the division-winning Cardinals, were deemed a live bet to win the National League pennant. My charge was to reconstruct the championship season, incorporating the views and recollections of members of that team.

Recreating the season would not be a problem. The beat writers for the daily newspapers, particularly the New York Times, still described each day’s game in full detail back then, instead of filling the space with quotes and ruminations from the clubhouse, as is the fashion today. The challenge was to locate the players and get them to sit for interviews that offered them no profit of any kind. There was no Internet, at least none that had come to my attention, in the ’80s, and Google was the last name of a comic character whose first name was Barney.

Playing the percentages, I chose to start with players who were closest to home. A friend of mine was acquainted with Art Shamsky who had an apartment in the East 50s, not far from where I had an office at the time. Shamsky was more than gracious and looking not far removed from playing shape. It was mid-morning and he put up a fresh pot of coffee and leisurely shared his memories of the season with me. He also pointed the way to where I might find some of his former teammates.

If my visit with Shamsky offered the brightest promise of things to come, I soon came upon the first of several bumps in the road. Tommie Agee resided in the New York area and worked in a variety of youth programs for the New York City Police Department. I had both his home and business telephone numbers and called several times but he adamantly refused to speak with me except for financial consideration. Some time later, I interviewed Cleon Jones, up from Alabama and visiting his buddy Agee in New York, but while Cleon spoke freely, Agee kept his silence. In July of 1986, having managed to meet with almost every member of the ’69 team, I was in the Mets clubhouse for Old Timers Day, and I took one more shot at Agee. A number of the players near his locker—Wayne Garrett and Ken Boswell among them—greeted me warmly and offered testimony in my behalf, but Agee was determined to let the past stand on its own. He continued to work with youth in the New York area, engaging in many charitable events, until 2001 when he died of a heart attack at the age of 53.

The only other player missing from the book is Donn Clendenon. Clendenon had been practicing law in the Pittsburgh area, but every attempt to reach him went for naught. The Mets public relations office, which helped me to make other contacts, could not locate him either. Years later, I learned that he had been in a rehab center for drug addiction at the time. He eventually kicked the habit and resumed his law practice in South Dakota, where he also worked as a drug counselor. He died of leukemia in 2005 at the age of 70.

I located many of the other players through the good offices of The Sporting News, the weekly newspaper based in St. Louis, which was known back then as baseball’s bible. The paper routinely provided anyone who asked with the home addresses, but not the phone numbers, of baseball players past and present. My publisher wrote to each of the players advising them of my mission. Most of them had listed telephone numbers, and I followed each letter with a phone call. To my delight and surprise, almost to a man, they seemed pleased to speak with me and eager to help with a person-to-person interview.

The only exception was Ron Swoboda. Swoboda was living in Phoenix and serving as sports director of a local television station. He told me, very politely, that he did not wish to give me an interview. He never offered a reason for turning me down but continued to do so, despite my persistence, as if it was just something he preferred not to do. I tried once more when I came to Phoenix in the brutal heat of an Arizona summer to meet with Gary Gentry, who was working as a real estate developer. Gentry and I had a friendly chat in a downtown Phoenix bar and following the interview he offered to plead my case with Swoboda. When I called later that day, Swoboda agreed to meet with me. “I checked you out with Gentry,” he told me. “He said you were harmless.” Despite my harmlessness, Swoboda was exceptionally tentative for at least half an hour before loosening up and becoming a touch friendly.

A number of players, even some who clearly welcomed the opportunity to relive their time of glory, seemed to be feeling me out at first meeting, measuring each response against the possibility that I might be starting out slowly on the way to probing areas that best remained untouched. It was the irrepressible Tug McGraw who chose to enlighten me. I met with him in his office in Media, Pennsylvania, a small town not far from Philadelphia. One-to-one, Tug was every bit the engaging, stimulating personality he was in public. He had a television sports show in Philadelphia, but his heart was clearly in an eponymous foundation called Tug McGraw Resources whose objective it was to come to the aid of young people who needed help. Tug defined a “special person” as anyone who needed help or anyone who gave it. He also explained why some players might be hesitant to talk about their playing days.

He told me that writers and reporters sometimes come looking for a story based on rumors they may have heard that one player or another had strayed from the straight-and-narrow while he was on the road—possible drug or alcohol abuse, late-night shenanigans of various types, or perhaps a gambling habit. It would not necessarily be the player you’re asking for the interview who is suspect, but perhaps a friend of his that you’re looking to get information on. Players tend to be cautious and protective of one another. “As for me,” Tug said playfully, “I tried Coke once but I couldn’t get the bottle in my nose.”

McGraw died of a malignant brain tumor in 2004 at the age of 53; his foundation still exists and continues its charitable work in his name.

The other interviews with the retired players were much like conversations you might have after meeting strangers with whom you find common ground and memories that you both share and treasure. There was Ed Kranepool with whom I spoke at his plant in Jamaica, Queens, where he manufactured marketing displays for stores and exhibit booths; Ed Charles in his apartment in the Washington Heights section of Manhattan; Bud Harrelson, the third-base coach of the Mets, in the team’s clubhouse before an afternoon game. On the road I chatted with Jerry Koosman, who met me at the Minneapolis airport after I had flown in from late-night meetings with Al Weis and J.C. Martin in the suburbs of Chicago; Jerry Grote in his real estate office in San Antonio and Ken Boswell at a hotel bar in Austin, Texas; Wayne Garrett, at a luncheon diner in the Sarasota airport; and Dr. Ron Taylor at Exhibition Stadium in Toronto, where he served as team physician for the Toronto Blue Jays. In town for the Mets Old Timers Day, Jim McAndrew and Don Cardwell met with me in the lobby of the Hyatt Hotel on 42nd Street in Manhattan and Cal Koonce in the Mets clubhouse. Koonce died in 1993 of lymphoma; Cardwell passed in 2007 as a result of Pick’s disease, a rare neurodegenerative disease.

Two players—Tom Seaver and Nolan Ryan—were still active in 1986, and getting to them at the start of the 1986 season presented some logistical problems. I needed to go through the public relations departments of their respective teams and arranging the appointments wasn’t easy. Ryan was pitching for the Houston Astros in 1986, and they were coming to New York early in the season. I was to meet with Ryan in the Houston clubhouse at 5 p.m. on the day of the game. We were both there but Ryan seemed to have other priorities. He told me he would not be able to speak with me until after batting practice, which began at 6 p.m. and lasted for about 40 minutes. It was a cold night, with rain on the way, and I waited in the dugout while Ryan shagged balls in the outfield. When he returned to the dugout, other writers were waiting for him.

A few nights earlier, Roger Clemens had struck out 20 batters in a game, breaking by one the record held by Ryan and three others, and newspaper reporters were understandably eager to get his reaction. So Ryan held what amounted to a press conference, each of us taking turns asking a question. I felt out of place pursuing his recollection of 1969 while the focus for everyone else was on the present day. As it turned out, it was not much of an interview, Ryan responding to questions in a clipped, perfunctory manner. He seemed to care little about having won a World Series at age 22 in only his second full season with the Mets. My overall reaction to Ryan reaffirmed how I felt about him as pitcher—more sizzle than substance. For all his strikeouts and no-hitters, Nolan Ryan was never really a winner.

Tom Seaver could not have provided a sharper contrast. He was pitching for the Chicago White Sox in 1986, in what would be the last of his 20 big league seasons, and it was not the best of times for Seaver. His mother had recently passed away and he was impatiently awaiting a trade to Boston that would bring him closer to his home in Greenwich, Connecticut. Throughout my brief stay in Chicago I was expecting a message saying that Tom couldn’t make it. But he did. He showed up in the White Sox clubhouse at precisely the appointed time. It was about four hours before a game with the Minnesota Twins and he suggested that we conduct the interview in the Sox dugout. From the outset, it was clear that Seaver was preoccupied. This was not where he wanted to be right now but he had made a commitment and he would keep it. I told him that I understood that conditions were not ideal for him, and I asked him how much time he would offer. “Whatever you need,” he said. He answered every question thoughtfully and with typical Seaver precision. The interview lasted about 45 minutes. When I had what I needed, I thanked him and told him I appreciated his following through despite his woes. He wished me luck with the book and gave me his home phone number in the event I needed anything else.

I recently saw Seaver doing a television interview with Tim McCarver. He was discussing his work as a vintner in Calistoga, California. He told McCarver that his day begins at 6 a.m. and he described how he pays strict attention to every detail. He said it was lot like pitching. It required total commitment and you could not cut corners; you had to give it all the time that was necessary. I thought back to our interview. For Seaver it was just another job that you had to perform and you had to do it right. Not for nothing was Tom Seaver known to the Mets as The Franchise.

STANLEY COHEN is author of eight books and an award-winning journalist. A Magic Summer was re-released by Skyhorse Publishing in 2009.

That compilation is only part of the legacy of the Crosley Field terrace, the infamous slope that extended from the left-field wall toward the infield. The terrace also extended into center and right fields, but the left-field portion was the most notorious section. Although a few other early parks had slopes (including Duffy’s Cliff in Fenway Park), none attained the iconic status of the left-field terrace at Crosley Field.

The left-field terrace extended some 30 feet from the wall, and was six feet high at the wall. This slope was a feature of the ballpark landscape in all the years the Reds played at Crosley Field (which was named Redland Field in its first 22 seasons). The center-field and right-field slopes were added in 1935, although they were not as deep or high. The slope in center field and right field extended some 10 to 12 feet from the wall, and rose about two feet.  Due to its large profile, the left-field terrace was clearly visible from the stands. It often came into play and was much more difficult for outfielders to negotiate than the sections in center and right. And thus it remains the best-remembered feature of the old ballpark.

Redland Field opened in 1912 on the western edge of Cincinnati, in the floodplain of Mill Creek, an Ohio River tributary, on a plot bordered by York Street on the north, Western Avenue on the east, and Findlay Street on the south. The landscape was naturally depressed, as much as six feet below the grade of the surrounding area.

Redland Field was not the first ballpark on this site. The Reds had played there since 1884 when the club first leased the land, an abandoned brickyard, for five years at $2,500 annually.1 The club built four ballparks on this site before abandoning it in 1970 for Riverfront Stadium in downtown Cincinnati.

The earliest known photograph of the slope is from the ballpark called League Park, which opened in 1894. The photograph from August 6, 1898, shows a narrow, steep embankment up against the left-field wall. In 1902, the Reds opened a new park nicknamed “Palace of the Fans,” which, photographs show, retained this slope. The club could have eliminated the slope for new Redland Field in 1912. In fact, an architect’s rendering of the new Redland Field (on the cover of the dedication program from May 1912) shows a level playing field. But not only did club officials leave the embankment in place, they enlarged it well beyond its dimensions in the previous parks.2

It is not known why the club included the expanded terrace, but it was common practice in this era for fans to sit on the field when ballparks were oversold. Embankments helped create the effect of a natural amphitheater. The very first game the Reds played in Redland Field, Opening Day 1912, several dozen fans set on the terrace. And the vast dimensions of Redland Field also meant that few balls would ever be hit so far as to reach the terrace, except after a long roll. Left field was 360 feet from home plate and in the Deadball Era, the “hit ’em where they ain’t” era of “scientific hitting,” players did not swing for the fences. In fact, it was not until 1921 that Reds outfielder Pat Duncan hit the first home run over the left-field wall.

Two memorable events added to the terrace story in 1935. In late May, the Boston Braves, with Babe Ruth in left field, played at Crosley Field. Over the years, the story of Ruth’s surrender to the Crosley terrace has become inflated, with tales of the Babe limping off the field after suffering the humiliation of falling. While none of that seems to have happened, the bulky, 40-year-old Ruth did suffer an injury that helped precipitate his retirement. On May 28, in the final game of a three-game series, he injured his knee chasing a ball. Jack Ryder, the veteran Reds writer for the Cincinnati Enquirer, did not confirm the injury, but reported that the terrace “annoyed” Ruth and he was “slow in fielding base hits.”3 On June 2, back in Boston, Ruth announced his retirement, after a run-in with Braves owner Emil Fuchs over the injury. He said he had hurt his knee in Cincinnati chasing after a ball. “My left knee is all swelled up,” said Ruth, who wanted time off. Fuchs declined and Ruth, who had feuded with Fuchs most of the season, quit on the spot. He never played again.4

Two months after Ruth’s appearance, the Reds hosted the St. Louis Cardinals in a night game on July 31, just the sixth night game in major-league history. The lure of the defending World Series champions and a warm summer evening created overwhelming demand for tickets. The Reds oversold the ballpark, perhaps 5,000 to 10,000 over capacity with 35,000 to 40,000 in the ballpark. Much of the overflow crowd sat on the terrace in left field or up against the fence in center field and right. The crowd constantly inched forward for a better view, sometimes edging far onto the field. In the third inning, unruly fans scampered about the field, bringing a threat from the umpires of a forfeit. After the debacle, the club extended the left-field terrace into center and right fields. The Reds hoped expanding the amphitheater contour of the field would provide clearer boundaries for overflow seating, and facilitate crowd control in the future.5

The shallowness of the center- and right-field slope meant outfielders seldom had to change their fielding strategies. But the deeper and higher left-field terrace provided such a challenge that conventional positioning was ignored. Cleanup hitter or pitcher, some left fielders played them all the same. Reds Jerry Lynch and Art Shamsky both used the same strategy, standing at the base of the terrace. “I played the terrace with my body turned a bit to the left, with my left leg at the base of the hill going up,” recalled Shamsky.6 “It made practical sense to have one foot on it so my first move was either up or down.” The Dodgers’ Tommy Davis always played a few feet up the slope. “The ground comes up quickly when you’re running sideways up a hill, and a few times I ended up on my face,” he said. “So I learned to play deep and come in on balls so I wouldn’t have a problem with the rise.”7

Such tactics did not always work. Frank Robinson recalled struggling with the terrace as a young player, but finding solace in watching Willie Mays fight the terrain.  “In one game against us, Willie ended up with his feet in the air and his back on the ground,” remembered Frank. “And I remember thinking, ‘OK, now I feel good, because it happened to the best.’”8

In the 1940s and 1950s, the club often used the terrace for seating on Opening Day. If ticket sales exceeded 30,000, the club placed wooden folding chairs on the terrace beginning in left field and extending into center and right as the need arose. In left field, the Reds could fit 10 to 12 rows of seats, but only three to four rows in center and right. The club stretched a rope across the front of the seats and any ball that flew or rolled into the temporary seats was a ground-rule double. Given the shallow dimensions of left field (328 feet down the line), these extra seats produced many ground-rule doubles. Jim Greengrass took full advantage on Opening Day in 1954 by hitting four balls into the temporary seats. His four doubles in one game tied the major-league record. (And led to a memorable quip after the game, when general manager Gabe Paul asked his young slugger how he was feeling after his Opening Day exploits. “Ready to negotiate,” came the quick reply.)9

The Reds ended the practice of seating fans on the field in 1959. The business manger in the 1950s, John Murdough, recalled that the cheap hits threatened to make a mockery of the game, and that the lack of facilities created problems. “There were no rest rooms, concessions couldn’t get out there,” Murdough said. “Seats were crowded so close together. Hell, if it rained you were finished. You got wet.”10

The terrace, along with the ballpark, was demolished in the early 1970s after the Reds moved to Riverfront Stadium. For years, the entrance from York Street on the north to the parking lots and businesses that now occupied the Crosley site sloped down several feet, the surviving remnant of the left-field terrace. That slope is now gone, as is Tal Smith’s tribute to the Crosley terrace in the Houston Astros ballpark. Smith, who began his front-office career in Cincinnati, always appreciated Crosley’s quirky features, and he included an incline in the new Houston ballpark, which opened in 2000. But the slope, which became known as “Tal’s Hill,” was removed after the 2016 season to shorten the distance to center field, add more seats, and eliminate a safety risk for the outfielders.

Never fear, the terrace won’t die. A full-scale re-creation of the Crosley terrace lives on in the Cincinnati suburb of Blue Ash. Some 15 miles from the original site, the Blue Ash Sports Center, which opened in 1988, features a baseball field with several Crosley elements, including the terrace.

Sources

In addition to the Sources listed in the Notes, the author also consulted BaseballReference.com and Retrosheet.org.

(Thanks to Mike Weaver, Crosley Field model builder and historian, and Chris Eckes of the Reds Hall of Fame for their contributions.)

Notes

1 Greg Rhodes and John Erardi, Crosley Field: The Illustrated History of a Classic Ballpark (Cincinnati: Road West Publishing, 1995), 14.

2 Photographs in the uncatalogued archives of the Cincinnati Reds Hall of Fame.

3 Jack Ryder, “Lowly Braves Victims as Reds Chalk Up Sixth in Row,” Cincinnati Enquirer, May 29, 1935: 11.

4 “‘I Quit!’ Says Babe Ruth; ‘Fired!’ Replies Braves’ Owner,” Cincinnati Enquirer, June 3, 1935: 14.

5 Greg Rhodes and John Snyder, Redleg Journal: Year by Year and Day by Day With the Cincinnati Reds Since 1866 (Cincinnati: Road West Publishing, 2000), 267-68.

6 Lindsay Berra, “Crosley Field Terrace Had Unique Charm,” July 11, 2015, MLB.com (m.mlb.com/news/article/136100146/crosley-field-terrace-had-unique-charm/).

7 Ibid.

8 Ibid.

9 John Erardi and Greg Rhodes, Opening Day (Cincinnati: Road West Publishing, 2004), 243.

10 Opening Day, 26.

Mets Music

When the New York Mets debuted in 1962, so did a song. More than a sonic icon, “Meet the Mets” is a member of the pantheon of Mets hallmarks occupied by Shea Stadium, Mr. Met, and the mantra “Ya Gotta Believe!” As any devotee of the blue and orange will tell you, “Meet the Mets” attracts Mets fans with a title reflecting the power of alliteration, lyrics infusing the feeling of community, and a horn section blaring the fanfare of excitement. “Meet the Mets” endures in popular culture, demonstrated notably in an episode of Everybody Loves Raymond, an impromptu performance by Bob Costas on Sports Illustrated’s webcast “Jump the Q,” and a revised version in the 1980s.

When the nascent New York Mets set out to fill the National League void created by the migration of the Brooklyn Dodgers and the New York Giants to California after the 1957 season, they faced a Herculean task: to excite, inspire, and motivate baseball fans mourning the loss of two baseball mainstays while creating a unique identity. Rather than ignore the rich National League legacy of New York’s departed teams, the Mets honored it by using Dodger Blue and Giant Orange for their team colors.

When the team announced that it was looking for a theme song, it received 20 submissions. One, called “Meet the Mets,” was the work of the songwriting team of Ruth Roberts and Bill Katz, whose portfolio included “It’s A Beautiful Day for a Ball Game,” “I Love Mickey,” and “Mr. Touchdown, U.S.A.” They actually submitted two versions of the song. According to New York Times sportswriter Leonard Koppett, the entries fell under the scrutiny of Mets president George Weiss, promotion director Julie Adler, and executives of the J. Walter Thompson Advertising Agency. “They submitted one version of ‘Meet the Mets’ to Adler in November in 1961,” wrote Koppett. “Subsequently, they submitted another version to the ad agency. The agency was impressed and called Adler, who was still mulling over some of the other candidates, but was leaning toward the original Roberts-Katz piece.

“Then the agency and Adler compared notes, so to speak, and out of the two versions grew the now familiar work.”1

Glenn Osser created an original arrangement and his orchestra recorded “Meet the Mets” on March 1, 1963. Three years later, “Meet the Mets” entered the musical mainstream when children’s television icon Soupy Sales hosted Hullabaloo, a television show catering to the teenage demographic by showcasing rock and roll groups à la American Bandstand.2

Sales’s sons, Tony and Hunt, performed on the April 4, 1966, broadcast of Hullabaloo with their rock and roll band, Tony and the Tigers. The two sons then joined their father in singing “Meet the Mets” to mark the opening of the 1966 baseball season. It was a curious choice. The song is brassy, like a march. It does not fit into the rock and roll genre, but the Sales family made it work. The Hullabaloo Dancers complemented the Sales men, joining them halfway through the performance.

Additional lyrics reflect the lovable though hapless play of the Mets teams in the early to mid-1960s, describing the Mets as irresponsible, unreliable, and undependable.

Ray Romano used the song as a literary device in the March 1, 1999, episode “Big Shots” of his show Everybody Loves Raymond. Romano’s character, Newsday sports writer Ray Barone, takes his brother Robert to the Baseball Hall of Fame for an event honoring players from the Mets’ 1969 World Series championship team. A devoted Mets fan, Robert names his dog after Art Shamsky. On the car ride to Cooperstown, he points out that Shamsky homered in his first time at bat.

When an announcer introduces the Mets against the backdrop of an instrumental version of “Meet the Mets,” Ray refuses to wait on line to meet Tommie Agee, Jerry Grote, Bud Harrelson, Cleon Jones, Ed Kranepool, Tug McGraw, Ron Swoboda, and Shamsky. He tries to use his journalist’s credentials to avoid the wait. Frustrated by Ray’s arrogance, the Hall of Fame security guards kick out the Barone brothers.

Robert takes the disappointment in stride, but Ray feels shame, anger, and embarrassment because his Newsday affiliation amounted to nil. Ray orders “No talking” on the car trip back to Long Island. Robert acquiesces, humming “Meet the Mets” instead.

Eventually, silence pervades the car. When a local cop stops Ray for speeding, Robert violates the ban on talking by explaining his credentials as a member of the NYPD. It is ineffective—the cop ignores Robert’s status as a fellow law enforcement officer, prompting Robert to experience the same feelings that Ray had endured at the Hall of Fame.

“Meet the Mets” heals the rift. Ray begins singing the Mets’ anthem. Robert joins him, first reluctantly and then joyfully. The scene signifies an unbreakable link among Mets fans, one that has the power to dissolve family tension by instantly recalling a common bond dating back to childhood.

In the mid-1980s, a jazzier version of the Mets’ theme song expanded with new lyrics highlighting the diversity of the geography of Mets fans, mentioning Long Island, New Jersey, Queens, and Brooklyn. Obviously, the song excludes the Bronx—the home of the Yankees has no place in a song about the Mets. A 1990s rap interpretation offered another adaptation.

Koppett decried the lack of traditional arrangement in the song. “There is little in the score of interest to a mid-20th-century audience,” he wrote. “The harmony is traditional; no influences of atonality or polytonality can be found. In fact, it’s sort of un-tonal.

“The melody avoids being square, but is uninspired. The incorporation of folk material (‘East Side, West Side’) in bars 25–28 of the published score is appropriate enough, but not original.

“Nevertheless, if Miss Roberts and Katz have not produced a total success artistically, they should not be blamed nor shown disrespect. The subject is simply too vast. It could be treated with justice only by the mature Mozart, the Mozart of Don Giovanni and the Marriage of Figaro.”3

Mets Movies

One of the Mets’ greatest achievements took place on June 27, 1967—a triple play. Unfortunately, it was fictional. “The triple play, filmed just before the start of the regularly scheduled Mets-Pirates game, was staged for a scene in Paramount Pictures’ The Odd Couple, the film adaptation of Mr. [Neil] Simon’s Broadway comedy about a couple of grass widowers,”4 explained Vincent Canby in the June 28, 1967, edition of the New York Times.

Simon added the Shea Stadium scene and others to give the film version of The Odd Couple an authentic New York City flavor. It highlights the differences between the mismatched roommates, sportswriter Oscar and news writer Felix. During the top of the ninth inning of a Mets-Pirates game, the Pirates trail the Mets by one run with the bases loaded and Bill Mazeroski at bat. Felix calls Oscar in the press box instructions to avoid eating frankfurters as he will be making franks and beans for dinner. During the phone call, Oscar misses Mazeroski hitting into a 5–4–3 triple play.

Canby added, “Before the filming, there was some tension among the Hollywood people, because after setting up their cameras, they had only 35 minutes in which to complete the shot before the start of the game.”5 (The actual Mets-Pirates game that took place on June 27, 1967, resulted in a 5–2 Mets victory.)

When The Odd Couple became a television series, Oscar sometimes wore a Mets cap.

The ’69 Mets formed a plot point in the 2000 movie Frequency, which focuses on an NYPD detective in the present talking to his firefighter dad in 1969. John Sullivan convinces his father, Frank, that their communication is real by explaining certain events of the 1969 World Series.

In a review of the movie for the Los Angeles Times, Michael X. Ferraro explained the inevitability of the Mets’ appearance in movies. “Of course it’s the Mets,” wrote Ferraro. “Who else could it be? It’s no secret that baseball has a certain je ne say hey that Hollywood strives to appropriate whenever possible. But more specifically, when it comes to movie and TV references to the major leagues, the ’69 Mets are the team to use when you’re trying to invoke a sense of wonderment.”

Ferrarro added, “Blessed by the baseball gods, and certainly bolstered by a cadre of New York-born writers and executives, many of whom came of age during the miraculous summer of ’69, the Mets seem destined to live on in the annals of popular entertainment.”6

Characters in the movies The Flamingo Kid and City Slickers wear Mets caps. Similarly, Keeping the Faith and Trainwreck offer homages to the Mets. In the 2005 movie Fever Pitch, Jimmy Fallon plays a Boston Red Sox fanatic who furthers his depression after a romantic breakup by watching the iconic play of Mookie Wilson’s ground ball going through Bill Buckner’s legs in Game Six of the 1986 World Series. As the title “character” in the 1977 movie Oh, God!, George Burns declares, “The last miracle I did was the 1969 Mets. Before that, I think you have to go back to the Red Sea.”7

Mets Television

Several episodes of Seinfeld incorporated the Mets into story lines, a result of Jerry Seinfeld being a Mets fan; Seinfeld’s appears in the pilot episode, when the comedic icon declares, “If you know what happened in the Mets game, don’t say anything. I taped it.”8 Keith Hernandez, a key member of the Mets’ 1986 World Series championship team, plays himself in a two-part episode of Seinfeld.9 When Kramer informs Jerry that the Mets play 75 games available only on cable television during the season, Jerry agrees to get illegal cable installed.10 George Costanza pursues an executive position with the Mets, despite having a good front office job with the Yankees.11

Seinfeld co-creator Larry David also created the HBO series Curb Your Enthusiasm, a platform for portraying the misadventures of a fictional Larry David. In the episode “Mister Softee,” Bill Buckner guest stars as himself, being a good sport regarding the legendary error in Game Six of the 1986 World Series. Accompanying Larry to a shiva call—a mourning process for Jews—Buckner gets promptly thrown out because one of the mourners is a Red Sox fan who holds a grudge against Buckner.

Buckner becomes a hero when he uses his baseball skills to save a baby. During an apartment building fire, a mother drops her baby from an open window toward the tarpaulin set up by firemen. As the baby bounces from the tarp over the crowd of horrified onlookers, Buckner judges the baby’s trajectory as he would a fly ball and races to protect the baby from hitting the pavement.

A Mets pennant adorns a wall of Lane Pryce’s office on Mad Men. When Pryce hangs himself, Don Draper appropriates the pennant. Who’s the Boss? uses a baseball signed by the 1962 Mets as the focus of a story about the true value of things. Tony Micelli, played by Tony Danza, sells the ball to finance a ski trip for his daughter, Samantha, played by Alyssa Milano. Samantha refuses to let a family heirloom be sold, so she buys the ball back, thanks to some wealthy friends.12

Miller Lite’s popular “Great Taste, Less Filling” television commercials in the 1970s benefit from Mets player “Marvelous” Marv Throneberry, who the Mets acquired on May 9, 1962, and whose mediocrity influences the commercial’s humor: “If I do for Lite what I did for baseball, I’m afraid their sales will go down.” A career .237 hitter beloved by Mets fans, Throneberry played in 116 games for the ’62 Mets, achieved a .244 batting average and notched 87 hits; his career ended the following season, when he played 14 games for the Mets.

Ability, or lack thereof, endeared Throneberry to the denizens of the Polo Grounds in the Mets’ first two seasons, before Shea Stadium’s debut in 1964: “Marv Throneberry, legend has it, was once crestfallen to discover that his birthday cake had been devoured by his Mets teammates before he got a piece—to which Casey Stengel cracked that ‘we wuz gonna give you a piece, Marv, but we wuz afraid you would drop it.’”13

As with Throneberry, it is endearment rather than excellence on the field that has made the Mets endure as a pop culture touchstone.

DAVID KRELL is the author of “Our Bums: The Brooklyn Dodgers in History, Memory and Popular Culture” (McFarland, 2015). David has spoken at SABR’s 19th Century Conference, Negro Leagues Conference, and Annual Convention. He has also spoken at the Cooperstown Symposium on Baseball and American Culture and Queens Baseball Convention.

Notes

1Leonard Koppett, “For Mets’ Fans: Music to Root By,” The New York Times, May 14, 1963. ↵

2. American Bandstand and Shindig attracted the same audience. Shindig and Hullabaloo each lasted about a year-and-a-half in the mid-1960s, indicative of popular music during the heart of the five-year gap between the Beatles’ American debut on The Ed Sullivan Show in 1964 triggering a British invasion of music (e.g., Chad & Jeremy, The Rolling Stones) and the Woodstock concert that emblemized counterculture in 1969. Hullabaloo aired from New York City, alternating between studios in Brooklyn and Manhattan. ↵

3. Ibid. ↵

4. Vincent Canby, “Mazeroski Hits Into Triple Play in ‘Odd Couple Filming at Shea,” The New York Times, June 28, 1967. ↵

5. Ibid. ↵

6. Michael X. Ferraro, “The New York Mets, in the Movies with Startling ‘Frequency,’” Los Angeles Times, May 6, 2000, http://articles.latimes.com/2000/may/06/entertainment/ca-27034. ↵

7. Oh, God!, Warner Brothers, 1977. ↵

8. Pilot, The Seinfeld Chronicles, NBC, July 5, 1989. ↵

9. “The Boyfriend,” Seinfeld, NBC, February 12, 1992. ↵

10.“The Baby Shower,” Seinfeld, NBC, May 16, 1991. ↵

11.“The Millennium,” Seinfeld, NBC, May 1, 1997. ↵

12.“Keeping Up With the Marcis,” Who’s the Boss?, ABC, April 9, 1985. ↵

13.Jason Fry, “Happy Birthday, Jake!,” Faith and Fear in Flushing, June 20, 2015, http://www.faithandfearinflushing.com/2015/06/20/happy-birthday-jake. ↵

July 21, 1970
Clay Kirby and Jack Baldschun
8 innings vs. New York Mets, San Diego Stadium

Kirby entered the contest with a 5.03 earned-run average, third-worst in the National League.2 He’d pitched twice against the Mets that season (April 21 at Shea Stadium and May 2 in San Diego), throwing a total of 13 innings, allowing six runs on 10 hits.

Kirby allowed his only run in the first inning. Tommy Agee led off with a walk and stole second. One out later, Ken Singleton also walked. Agee and Singleton pulled off a double steal with Art Shamsky at bat, and Agee scored on Shamsky’s groundout to second baseman Ron Slocum. Kirby retired the Mets in order from the second through fourth innings, retiring 12 straight hitters before Joe Foy walked with one out in the fifth. He also walked Adrian Garrett with two outs in the seventh. Kirby allowed a leadoff walk in the eighth to Joe Foy, who stole second but was out at home on a Jim McAndrew fielder’s choice to Nate Colbert.

This game would be remembered for Padres manager Preston Gomez’s decision to pinch-hit for Kirby with two out in the eighth and the Mets still leading 1–0. Kirby was in the on-deck circle while Bob Barton was at bat against McAndrew. Gomez called Kirby back to the dugout and replaced him with Cito Gaston, who was usually a starter but had sat out with a strained leg muscle.3 “The Mets bench just gasped in disbelief,” Tom Seaver said. “I personally would have let him hit. If the pennant race was involved, no. But in this situation, yes.”4 His decision was met with boos and the reaction got worse when Gaston, pinch-hitting for the first time all year, struck out swinging.

Gomez replaced Kirby with Baldschun to start the ninth. Bud Harrelson lined Baldschun’s fourth pitch to left for the Mets’ first hit.5 The game was briefly interrupted when a fan went into the Padres dugout and was removed by police. Singleton sacrificed Harrelson to second. Shamsky was intentionally walked and was pinch-run for by Mike Jorgensen. Cleon Jones’s single to right loaded the bases. Baldschun struck out Garrett but Foy’s two-out single to left scored Harrelson and Jorgensen to make it 3–0.

Gomez’s decision to remove Kirby was met with mixed postgame reactions from both organizations and around baseball. Padres President Buzzie Bavasi wanted Kirby to stay in the game. He said: “I want to win more than anybody and I don’t second-guess him. But it’s once in a lifetime for the kid.”6 Gomez stood by his decision. “It would have been the easy way for me to let the kid go up and hit,” Gomez said. “I don’t play for the fans. I play to win. In fact, if Ed Spiezio had led off the eighth with a hit, I would have bunted him over to second and then pinch-hit for the pitcher. I did the same thing in Spokane by taking Phil Ortega out after seven innings and we eventually won the game.”7 In The Sporting News, Paul Cour wrote that “at first, Kirby was visibly disturbed at being denied the chance to make the record book, but, by the time he met the press, he was calm and gracious.”8

“I was a little surprised,” Kirby said, “but he’s the manager and he has to make a decision. I’m only 22 and I’ll have plenty of time to pitch a no-hitter.”9 Kirby added: “Everyone wants to pitch a no-hitter and I was so close.”10 Mets broadcaster Ralph Kiner—once a general manager of the Pacific Coast League Padres—and New York Yankees manager Ralph Houk also agreed with Gomez. Jerome Holtzman wrote in The Sporting News that Gomez “revealed that he received a letter from Al Lopez, the former White Sox pilot. Lopez congratulated Gomez on his decision to lift Clay Kirby, even though Kirby had a no-hitter going. Al wrote: ‘What you did shows courage and besides, it was the best thing to do.’”11 According to Cour, “Within seconds of Gomez’s decision, the Padres and newspaper switchboards were swamped with calls. Most of the callers were yelling for Gomez’s scalp.”

“I would never second-guess myself,” Gomez said. “And I can always go home after a game and sleep, figuring I did what I thought was right.”12

July 18, 1972
Steve Arlin
8⅔ innings vs. Philadelphia Phillies, San Diego Stadium

Arlin was facing the team that drafted him 13th overall in the June 1966 secondary phase of the Amateur Free Agent Draft. However, the Phillies left him unprotected and the Padres drafted him 57th in the 1968 National League Expansion Draft. Entering this game, he’d started against the Phillies four times, posting a 2.15 ERA in 29⅓ innings and holding his former organization to a .187 batting average.

He got run support in the first inning from a two-out RBI double to left by Colbert off of Bill Champion. That scored Jerry Morales, who had walked. The Padres struck again in the fifth with Colbert’s two-run home run and in the seventh when they scored twice more in a rally highlighted by Morales’s triple and Gaston’s double.

In the first eight innings. Arlin allowed walks to Tom Hutton (two out in the first), Willie Montanez (none out in the fifth), and Larry Bowa (two out in the sixth).13 Doyle nearly broke up the no-hit bid in the sixth with two out, but, as the Philadelphia Inquirer’s Bruce Keidan described it, “Padre second baseman Derrel Thomas absconded with it. Thomas raced to his right, dived and somehow came up with the sharply hit grounder. Then still lying on his back, he threw the ball to Colbert in time to nip Doyle at first base for the third out of the sixth inning.” In the ninth, Deron Johnson, pinch-hitting for reliever Wayne Twitchell, lined out to third baseman Dave Roberts. After Bowa made the second out, “Doyle chopped a 1-2 pitch into the grass and raced to first as the ball bounced into left field. Arlin then lost his shutout by balking Doyle to second and giving up his second and last hit, a single to right by Tommy Hutton.”14 Arlin finished the game, retiring Greg Luzinski on a fly out to Johnny Jeter.15

Padres’ first-year San Diego manager Don Zimmer took responsibility for Doyle breaking up Arlin’s no-hit bid in the ninth. “I messed it up,” he said. “Doyle’s primarily a pull hitter, and I didn’t want him just topping a ball and beating out a swinging bunt. Roberts was playing shallow on Doyle. He wanted to move back after Arlin got two strike[s] on him. I made Roberts stay in close. If I had let him move back, he would have fielded the ball.” Roberts’s reaction: “I’m sick, I’m just sick.”16 Phil Collier wrote in The Sporting News that “when Arlin returned to the clubhouse after telling of his two-hitter on a postgame radio show, Zimmer approached him and handed him a razor blade. ‘Here,’ the manager said, pointing to his throat. ‘Just make it quick.’”17

September 5, 1997 
Andy Ashby
8+ innings vs. Atlanta Braves, Qualcomm Stadium

Ashby had faced the Braves on April 26 at Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium, allowing five hits and one run in eight innings in a no-decision. This day he allowed runners to reach base in the first (Jeff Blauser on Ken Caminiti’s error with one out), second (Ryan Klesko lead-off walk), and sixth (walks to Tom Glavine with one out and Blauser with two). Ashby received defensive help in the fourth from first baseman Archi Cianfrocco on a Chipper Jones groundball and helped himself on a Fred McGriff groundball to end the inning. He also got some defensive support from shortstop Craig Shipley in the fifth when “he speared a one-hop, top-spin smash struck by Javy Lopez and from his knees, threw him out for the final out in the fifth,” wrote Tom Krasovic in the San Diego Union-Tribune. “That’s when I started thinking” no-hitter, said manager Bruce Bochy.18

Ashby received his offensive support on a two-out Caminiti single off Glavine that scored Steve Finley in the first. Caminiti hit his 22nd home run of the season to right with one out in the third. Carlos Hernandez hit his third home run of the season with one out in the fourth. The Padres broke the game open in the seventh, scoring three and knocking Glavine out of the game.

Kenny Lofton led off the ninth for the Braves. “I’d already been a victim of a no-hitter,” the Atlanta center-fielder said. “I didn’t really want to do that again.” Noting that Ashby was “painting the corners,” Lofton said, “It was one of those nights where it all falls into place,” adding, “I thought this was going to be the second time I was no-hit—Jim Abbott and Andy Ashby.” Ashby’s first pitch was a called strike and Lofton fouled off the next two. He then took three straight breaking balls outside for a full count. “All I was trying to do was make contact,” Lofton said. Ashby’s next pitch was a changeup and Lofton hit it toward Gwynn in right. “When I hit it, I knew it was going to be tailing away from Tony Gwynn,” said Lofton. “But they had made great catches of balls hit like that all night.” Lofton said he thought the ball might be caught at first, but then he realized Gwynn had no chance.

“I had to fight him,” Lofton said. “No one wants to be among the last outs of a no-hitter. I had been fighting him all game. He was painting the corners and throwing those good sliders for strikes.” Blauser flied out to Finley and Chipper Jones struck out swinging. McGriff’s 21st home run of the season to right-center broke the shutout. “I don’t know what I hit,” said McGriff. “I was just trying to concentrate. That was the best I’ve felt hitting in a long time.”19 Klesko grounded out to Shipley to end the game. Wally Joyner, who made the game-ending putout, gave Ashby the game ball.

The Braves extolled Ashby’s performance after the game. Braves hitters and manager Bobby Cox talked about his command, first-pitch strikes, breaking pitches, and pace on the mound.20 They also mentioned the Padres’ fielding.

September 22, 2006
Chris Young
8⅔ innings vs. Pittsburgh Pirates, Petco Park

Young was making his next-to-last start of the season in his first year with the Padres.21 He’d pitched well in his previous start against the Pirates on June 4 in Pittsburgh, holding them hitless for 5⅓ innings before allowing a Jose Hernandez single to left. He also allowed a one-out Jason Bay triple to center in the seventh. Altogether, Young allowed two hits and a walk in eight innings and got credit for the 1–0 victory.

On September 22, Young picked up where he left off against the Pirates. He retired the first 17 hitters before allowing a two-out walk to pinch-hitter Rajai Davis in the sixth. Davis was caught stealing second when he slid past the bag.22 According to the San Diego Union-Tribune’s Jay Posner, “The best play was made in the first inning. Jack Wilson hit a long fly ball to left field that he thought was a sure double, but Ben Johnson caught it just as he slammed into the fence. Johnson later made a routine catch on Freddy Sanchez’s fly ball to the warning track. Also, second baseman Josh Barfield caught a line drive by Xavier Nady in the second and right fielder Brian Giles snagged two line drives, one by Wilson in the seventh and the other by Ryan Doumit in the ninth.”23

The Padres scored their first run off of Tom Gorzelanny in the first inning on a one-out Mike Cameron sacrifice fly to center that scored Barfield. Adrian Gonzalez’s 24th home run of the season scored Cameron with two out in the third inning. Todd Walker added on to the lead with his ninth home run of the season with one out in the sixth off of relief pitcher Brian Rogers.24 The Padres finished off their scoring with another two-out rally in the seventh. Mike Piazza tripled to center off of Rogers. Gonzalez greeted Juan Perez with a single to left that scored Piazza. Johnson followed with the Padres’ second triple of the inning (to center), which scored Gonzalez.

Young entered the ninth inning with 82 pitches thrown and scheduled to face the Pirates’ bottom third of the order: Doumit, Bautista, and a pinch-hitter for Jonah Bayliss. Doumit lined out to Giles for the first out. Bautista walked on six pitches. Former Padre Joe Randa pinch-hit for Bayliss and took three straight balls, then took a fastball down the middle for a called strike.25 North County Times writer Brian Hiro wrote that Randa “worked the count to 3-1 before ripping an 89-mph fastball, Young’s 94th pitch.”26

“As a pinch-hitter you just try to have a good at-bat and try to hit the ball hard,” said Randa, who did just that, slamming Young’s fastball an estimated 421 feet onto the walkway above the fence in center field.27 Young struck out Chris Duffy looking and walked Wilson. Bochy removed him after 107 pitches and 8⅔ innings pitched.28 The Union-Tribune’s Bill Center wrote, “As Bochy took the ball, he said ‘great game.’ Young responded by saying ‘thank you.’ As he walked toward the Padres dugout, he tipped his cap to the reported 40,077-strong crowd who gave him a thunderous ovation. ‘My ears are still ringing,’ Young said 20 minutes later. ‘When I tipped my cap, I had chills.’”29 Cla Meredith struck out Sanchez swinging to end the game.

July 9, 2011
Aaron Harang, Josh Spence, Chad Qualls, Mike Adams, and Luke Gregerson
8⅔ innings vs. Los Angeles Dodgers, Dodger Stadium30

Harang had won his previous start against the Dodgers, allowing two runs and three hits in six innings in a 7–2 victory at Petco Park. He was making his first start since June 9, having suffered a stress fracture to the third metatarsal bone in his right foot.31 Harang allowed consecutive two-out walks to Andre Ethier and Matt Kemp before James Loney popped out to Jason Bartlett to end the first inning. He allowed another walk to Tony Gywnn Jr. with one out in the third. Gwynn was caught stealing by Rob Johnson with Rafael Furcal at bat. Harang did not allow another baserunner to reach for the remainder of his six innings. He walked three. He was removed after 95 pitches by manager Bud Black and was replaced by left-handed reliever Spence. “We were joking in the dugout,” Harang said of Black. “He said, ‘I’ve never had to do this’ so I said ‘Well, don’t do it.’ He grinned, and I knew why he did it.”32 Harang noted that Black was looking out for his health. “I think if it was a different situation and I got through seven, it’s probably going to be different,” he said33 Spence struck out left-handed hitter Ethier to start the seventh and was replaced by the right-hander Qualls. Kemp reached on a Bartlett error and Loney was intentionally walked. Qualls retired Juan Uribe on a popout to Chase Headley and got Dioner Navarro to ground out to him to end the seventh.

Adams was the Padres’ fourth pitcher. He walked Jamey Carroll to lead off the eighth and Trent Oeltjen reached on Headley’s error on a sacrifice bunt attempt. Adams got out of the inning on a Gwynn bunt popout to Johnson, a Furcal fly out to Chris Denorfia, and an Ethier groundout to Orlando Hudson.

Harang’s mound opponent, Rubby De La Rosa, limited the Padres to one hit and four walks in six innings. Dodger relievers Matt Guerrier, Mike MacDougal, and Blake Hawksworth did not allow any Padre baserunners for the remainder of the game.

Gregerson started the ninth, the fifth Padres pitcher in a scoreless tie. He was scheduled to face the middle of the Dodgers order: Kemp, Loney, and Uribe. Gregerson struck out Kemp swinging and got Loney to ground out to Rizzo unassisted to start the inning. He got ahead of Uribe in the count, 1–2, on sliders. The Union-Tribune’s Center wrote that “Gregerson admitted hanging a slider to Uribe, who rocketed a liner over left fielder Denorfia’s head. ‘I was a full stride from it,’ said Denorfia.”34 After Uribe’s double, Gregerson fell behind Navarro on three straight sliders before throwing a four-seam fastball for a called strike. Center wrote that Gregerson’s next pitch to Navarro “was right where he wanted it, a slider low and away. But the Dodgers catcher poked it to right, the ball dropping in front of [Will] Venable’s desperate charge, for a walk-off single.” Gregerson responded about a possible combined no-hitter: “Who cares? It doesn’t matter at that point,” he said. “I don’t think anyone in the bullpen knew there was a no-hitter going.”35 He added: “It’s only fun if the starter goes nine innings and throws a no-hitter and your guys score some runs.”36

STEVEN M. GLASSMAN’s article on the Padres’ near no-hitters is his fifth SABR convention article. He previously wrote “Philadelphia’s Other Hall of Famers” (SABR 43), “The Game That Was Not—Philadelphia Phillies at Chicago Cubs” (August 8, 1988, SABR 45), “Walking it Off “ (Marlins Postseason Walk-Offs, SABR 46), and “A Hall of Fame Cup of Coffee in New York” (SABR 47).

Sources

Box scores courtesy of Baseball Reference, Retrosheet and MLB.com.

Notes

1 The New York Mets went 8,019 regular-season games before their first no-hotter, by Johan Santana on June 1, 2012. The Philadelphia Phillies went from May 3, 1906, to June 20, 1964, between no-hitters (8,936 regular-season games). The Cleveland Indians hold the American League mark between no-hitters (6,003). Their last no-hitter was Len Barker’s perfect game versus the Toronto Blue Jays on May 15, 1981. The Detroit Tigers went from July 5, 1912, to May 14, 1952, between no-hitters (5,561). It is not known which team holds the AL record for games without a no-hitter from the start of its franchise. https://www.nonohitters.com/.

2 Montreal Expo Bill Stoneman (5.33) and San Francisco Giant Juan Marichal (5.30) had a worse ERA than Kirby entering that day. https://www.retrosheet.org/boxesetc/1970/DL07201970.htm.

3 Joe Durso, “Mets Beat Padres 3-0, Despite Being Held Hitless by Kirby for 8 Innings,” New York Times, July 22, 1970.

4 Durso, “8 inning No-Hitter Irks Fans on Coast,” New York Times, July 23, 1970.

5 Durso, “Mets Beat Padres 3-0.”

6 Durso.

7 Durso, “8 inning No-Hitter Irks Fans on Coast.”

8 Paul Coor, “Clay Cool in Heat of No-Hit Fuss,” The Sporting News, August 8, 1970.

9 Durso, “Mets Beat Padres 3-0.”

10 Coor, “Clay Cool in Heat of No-Hit Fuss.”

11 Jerome Holtzman, “Jerome Holtzman,” The Sporting News, September 5, 1970.

12 Paul Cour, “Second-Guessers Pouring It on Poor Preston,” The Sporting News, August 8, 1970.

13 Arlin entered the game leading the NL with 77 walks He was tied with California Angels pitcher Nolan Ryan for the major-league lead. https://www.retrosheet.org/boxesetc/1972/DL07171972.htm.

14 Bruce Keidan, “Doyle Ruins Arlin’s No-Hitter in 9th,” The Philadelphia Inquirer, July 19, 1972: 25.

15 Between June 18 and July 18, 1972, Arlin allowed two or fewer hits five times in eight starts. He allowed two hits in a complete-game win at Pittsburgh June 18; one in a complete-game win vs. San Francisco June 24; one in a 10-inning no-decision at New York July 6; two in a complete-game loss vs. New York July 14; and two in a complete-game win vs. Philadelphia July 18.

16 Sam Goldpaper, “Personalities: Pilot’s Beau Geste,” New York Times, July 20, 1972.

17 Phil Collier, “Low-Hit Gems Are Arlin’s Specialty,” The Sporting News, August 5, 1972.

18 Tom Krasovic, “A near n000-000-000 (no) hitter for Ashby,” San Diego Union-Tribune, September 6, 1997.

19 Bill Center, “The Fateful Ninth: Braves Lofton didn’t want to be no-hit victim again,” San Diego Union-Tribune, September 6, 1997.

20 “Working an excellent curveball that he kept low and on the corner all game, Ashby threw first-pitch strikes to 23 of the 32 batters he faced.” Thomas Stinson, “Ashby pitches near no-hitter,” Atlanta Journal and Atlanta Constitution, September 7, 1997.

21 Young also entered the game with the third-lowest batting average allowed in the NL and fourth in MLB (.217). His .297 on-base percentage allowed was fourth in the NL and seventh in MLB, according to Fagraphs.

22 Bill Center, “It’s a One-Hit Wonder,” San Diego Union-Tribune, September 23, 2006.

23 Jay Posner, “In a pinch, Randa jolts Young from dream game,” San Diego Union-Tribune, September 23, 2006.

24 This was Walker’s 107th and last career home run.

25 Dejan Kovacevic, “One-Hit Wonder,” Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, September 23, 2006.

26 Brian Hiro. “Young flirts, keeps team in first,” North County Times (Escondido, CA), September 23, 2006.

27 Posner, “In a pinch.” It was also Randa’s first and only career pinch-hit home run.

28 This was Young’s longest outing of the 2006 season. He previously threw eight innings in consecutive starts against Colorado (May 30) and Pittsburgh (June 4).

29 Center, “It’s a One-Hit Wonder.”

30 There were nine combined no-hitters before the 2011 season. The most recent one at the time was on June 11, 2003, by Houston Astros pitchers Roy Oswalt, Peter Munro, Kirk Saarloos, Brad Lidge, Octavio Dotel, and Billy Wagner against the New York Yankees in Yankee Stadium.

31 Bill Center, “Near No-Hitter Goes Nowhere,” San Diego Union-Tribune, July 10, 2011.

32 Jill Painter. “L.A. Goes From Zero to Won,” Daily News of Los Angeles, July 10, 2011.

33 Jim Alexander, “No-hit until ninth, LA pulls it out,” Press-Enterprise (Riverside, CA), July 10, 2011.

34 Center, “Near No-Hitter Goes Nowhere.”

35 Painter, L.A. Goes From Zero to Won.”

36 Center, “Near No-Hitter Goes Nowhere.”

In early 1970, when I was a freshman at St.John’s University, I went to Shea Stadium to purchase tickets for Opening Day. As I walked toward the ticket office, I noticed a lot of refuse strewn around the parking lot, including one large piece of green plywood sheeting lying face down on the ground. It was pretty dirty and stained and appeared to have been lying there for quite some time. Since the color had a familiar look, I decided to lift it up and look at the underside. As I suspected, it was a section of Shea Stadium’s outfield wall. I knew this for certain because this wall fragment had a white numeral “3” on it, indicating that it had once been part of either the 396 or 371 distance markers from either left-center or right-center field.

Upon closer examination, I noticed graffiti written in both ballpoint pen and magic marker on the white background of the numeral “3.” One inscription said “Joan & Bill and the Mets are #1.” Another marking read, “Joe, Byron and Rich,” and below it said, “10/16/69.” That was the very date the Mets won their first world championship! I broke the large sheet into a small enough piece to fit into my friend’s car, all the while keeping the numeral “3” intact. I brought it home and stored it in my parents’ garage in Queens.

A few years ago, I decided that I would finally give that piece its rightful treatment by having it mounted and framed. When I found it in the garage, I noticed it had inexplicably been cut into four pieces. No one was around to explain. Fortunately, the pieces fit together neatly, leaving the numeral “3” intact. I’d always been almost certain that it was a piece of the Shea wall and time had not dimmed my belief. While doing some research, I found proof beyond a shadow of a doubt.

I stumbled across a photograph taken an hour or so after the last out of the 1969 World Series. The photo portrayed Tom Seaver and Gary Gentry, walking around the pitching mound, surrounded by huge divots of grassy turf liberally lying all over the field. When I looked beyond the main subjects, in the background, I could clearly see that where the right-field wall stood 371 feet from home plate, but only the numerals “71” were visible. As I looked closer … the section of the wall bearing the numeral “3” was clearly missing. After all this time, I finally knew exactly from where and when that piece of wall came from. It actually was, and still is, a tangible link back to that magical moment in Mets history.

From that point, came the next step, getting the participants to sign my little—or maybe not so little—piece of the Miracle Mets. It has been a labor of love acquiring autographs on the Wall from as many of the surviving ’69 Mets as I could get. Soon after rediscovering the Wall in March 2006, I realized the first chance I would get to have it autographed would be the following December, when a Mets Mania autograph show was to take place in New Jersey.

The experience of meeting each of those ’69 Mets was filled with all kinds of emotion: Al Weis had some funny stories to relate about still living in the Chicago area, where the word “Mets” remains a four-letter because the Miracle ruined what had been a dream season for the Cubs. Jerry Koosman, one of the greatest Mets pitchers, used the Wall to make fun of his well-known lack of hitting prowess. Jim McAndrew seemed to just to have a huge smile on his face throughout his entire appearance time, and I’ll never forget the warm country gentleman presence of Don Cardwell. Ed Kranepool, Swoboda, The Glider—Ed Charles, Wayne Garrett, Cleon Jones, Bud Harrelson and all the rest were equally friendly, spirited, humorous, and approachable and seemed just as genuinely appreciative of our continued interest in them, as we are for the thrills that they gave us. What an Amazin’ event it was for me.

By the time that New Jersey show ended, I had secured all of the autographs that now appear on the Wall, except for Tom Seaver, Yogi Berra, and Nolan Ryan, Hall of Famers, all!

Yogi was scheduled to appear at a Yankees-themed show in February 2007. Despite what I knew would be an “adversarial” Yankees atmosphere at that event, I decided I could not pass up the opportunity to personally meet Yogi, a coach on the ’69 team and the manager of the “Ya Gotta Believe” Mets that took the pennant in ’73. So with a single-minded purpose, I purchased my tickets to the show, had Yogi sign the Wall, and took the requisite photos. I left that event immediately after getting his signature, dutifully ignoring the sullying effect which that Yankees-themed atmosphere evoked. It was my intent to leave with an image of Yogi as a 1969 Mets coach … not as a Yankee. Fortunately, I made it work.

Two weeks earlier, it had been Seaver time. Tom had a scheduled appearance in Baltimore. My wife and I took the 200-mile trek down I-95 on Friday night. Saturday morning, we went to the convention center, bought our tickets and soon after, saw Tom enter the building a bit earlier than his scheduled appearance time. As I waited my turn, things seemed under control. But then rumors began to circulate that Seaver had finished early and was actually on his way out of the building. That’s when the panic set in. I grabbed the Wall and rushed down to the area where I had seen him arrive, hoping that I could at least get him to stop and quickly sign the Wall on his way out. All that expenditure of emotion and energy turned out to be unnecessary, as the rumors of a premature exit were not quite accurate. Tom had merely left the first room he was in to move down the corridor to another signing room. We breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

When we finally got up to Tom, not only did he sign the top segment of the Wall which I had reserved for him, but he marveled at the entire two-by-three foot section, showing the entire numeral “3.” He repeatedly referred to it as “a great piece of history” and offered to help me get in touch with people in the Mets organization if I were so inclined. I thanked him and exchanged contact information. We said our goodbyes and left the building with the autograph that, with all due respect to any and all of the others on that Wall, most fittingly belonged: Tom Seaver, the Franchise.

Ironically, on that very morning, it had been reported that Nolan Ryan had been hospitalized for some “tests.” Fortunately, as was reported a few days later, all turned out to be okay. Nolan Ryan spent most of his long and remarkable career in uniforms that did not say “Mets,” but he will forever be remembered by Mets fans of that era as the fireballing hurler who won the clinching game of the 1969 NLCS and whose lone career World Series appearance resulted in a save in Game Three of the ’69 Series against Baltimore, that magical afternoon where Tommie Agee made his two miraculous catches. True, Ryan’s infamous 1971 trade to the Angels still lives in the annals of Mets history, but also, it was his brief arrival on the scene in the summer of 1966—a year before Seaver’s debut—that was the harbinger of things to come, pitching-wise, in the summers that followed. And it was power pitching from extraordinary young arms that would finally cause the worm to turn in 1969.

Nolan Ryan does not do many public autograph shows. I contacted his foundation, and while they said he would sign my “artifact” if I mailed it to them, I wasn’t of a mind to entrust this, in the words of Tom Seaver, “great piece of history” to the mail or any other delivery service. His foundation appreciated my willingness to fly to Houston personally whenever he would be in, but they said they rarely received much advanced notice of his office visits. I had noticed a private signing he was scheduled to do with a Houston-based memorabilia dealer in early July. So I contacted that outfit and said I’d be willing to fly down if I could get the Wall signed without letting it far from my possession. They suggested I wait, indicating that he might do a public signing in the upcoming fall. I thanked them for the information and resolved to contact them in a few months.

In early September, I noticed Ryan’s name on an autograph-signing website. I clicked on it only to find a scheduled public signing scheduled for Sunday, September 30, 2007, at 1 p.m. I assumed it was going to be in Texas, but when I clicked further, I saw it was scheduled to occur on Long Island, in Deer Park, not a 20-minute drive from my home! I couldn’t believe it! I immediately bought tickets for the event and waited with keen anticipation. It was a long, long couple of weeks building up to that Sunday. Sadly, every Mets fan should remember September 30, 2007. For those who need a hint: last game of the regular season, the Mets needing a win to force a one-game playoff, Tom Glavine on the mound, seven-run first inning …you know how that came out. Well, I spent those minutes during that first inning on line, listening to the game, waiting to meet Nolan Ryan. By the time I got up to him, those seven runs had crossed the plate. Meeting him was as good an antidote to that first inning as I could ever imagine. He was wonderful. And, getting back to my car, I said there was still time for a comeback, right? No Miracle that day.

In any event, I was thrilled meeting Nolan Ryan and he was fascinated not only by the Wall, but by the album of photos I had brought of his former teammates signing it, nostalgically smiling as he perused each photo. Nolan Ryan was a Met. He always will be a Met to me.

The author of seven no-hitters (none as a Met, of course) he has completed the Wall, my Wall. And he joined a pretty select company missing only Tommie Agee, Donn Clendenon, Tug McGraw, Rube Walker, Cal Koonce, and Gil Hodges, among the deceased.

On August 23, 2009, the day after the Citi Field celebration of the 1969 Mets, I got the last three signatures I needed on the wall: Eddie Yost, Bobby Pfeil, and Gary Gentry. The roll call for the Wall, my piece of the ’69 Mets reads as follows:

• Ed Kranepool
• Al Weis
• Ed Charles
• Jerry Grote
• J.C. Martin
• Rod Gaspar
• Ron Swoboda
• Jack DiLauro
• Joe Pignatano
• Jim McAndrew
• Jerry Koosman
• Tom Seaver
• Bobby Pfeil
• Gary Gentry
• Ken Boswell
• Bud Harrelson
• Wayne Garrett
• Duffy Dyer
• Cleon Jones
• Art Shamsky
• Amos Otis
• Yogi Berra
• Ron Taylor
• Don Cardwell
• Nolan Ryan
• Ralph Kiner
• Eddie Yost

LOU LONGOBARDI is an accountant from Long Island. Besides owning a piece of the original Shea Stadium wall, he is a Beatles aficionado and once sang for Johnny Carson on The Tonight Show.

E

April 27, 1969: Mets 3, Cubs 0

The first time that the Mets and Cubs convened in 1969 came at the end of April and didn’t exactly serve as a foreshadowing for what was to come that season. The Mets opened the weekend four-game series with a pedestrian 6-8 mark, while the Cubs held first place with a surprising 11-5 start.

The Cubs won the first two games of the series as Ferguson Jenkins edged Tom Seaver, 3-1, and Bill Hands followed by going the distance in a 9-3 pasting of Don Cardwell. Chicago made it three straight wins by taking the opener of a Sunday doubleheader, 8-6, thanks to a four-run ninth. The way that things broke, it looked like this was going to be a special year in Chicago. There was no reason to believe that anything special was going to happen for the floundering Mets. Until the nightcap.

Tug McGraw, in relief of Jim McAndrew, danced around jams to keep the score tied into the last of the ninth when the Mets worked a little magic. Hall of Famer Billy Williams muffed Rod Gaspar’s line drive to open the inning, giving the Mets a leadoff base-runner in scoring position. After an intentional walk to Ken Boswell, Rich Nye got Ed Charles to pop up for the first out.

This brought up Cleon Jones, whose whiff concluded the first game of the day, but whose torrid start made him a feared hitter at this juncture of the season. He finished off this contest as well, only in a much more positive manner, with a three-run walk-off home run that raised his batting average to .443.

The win gave the Mets a little bit of satisfaction, though the Cubs still left Flushing smiling, with a 14-6 mark. It didn’t strike anyone at the time that Chicago had just beaten the rival who would become most important to them within a few short months.

May 28, 1969: Mets 1, Padres 0 (11)

On April 29, Jerry Koosman suffered a shoulder injury while pitching against the Montreal Expos, noting to reporters afterward that something snapped like a piece of elastic.1

The resulting tenderness sidelined Koosman for nearly a full month, but the good news was that he returned as good, if not better, than ever. In his first start back, on May 24, against the Houston Astros, he allowed two runs and three hits over seven innings, in what turned into an eventual 5-1 defeat.

In that era, there was no hesitation, once a pitcher was healed, to throw him fully into the fire. Koosman’s next start came on three days’ rest, on May 28, against the Padres. The Mets had lost five straight and while there were promising signs of progress, there were also indications that this was going to be a troublesome season.

If there was any concern over whether Koosman could handle the physical and mental pressure, it was erased with this game, perhaps his finest as a Met to that point. Gil Hodges permitted him to work 10 innings, as he yielded only four hits and struck out a club-record and career-high 15.

The Mets squandered their share of opportunities by hitting into three double plays. It took until the 11th inning (and Koosman’s subsequent departure for Tug McGraw) for the Mets to plate their first and only run.

Cleon Jones led off, reaching when he beat out a grounder up the middle, judged to be an error on Padres shortstop Tommy Dean. After Ed Kranepool whiffed, Ron Swoboda advanced Jones to third with a single, putting the Mets within 90 feet of triumph. The Padres walked Jerry Grote to load the bases in the hopes that Bud Harrelson would hit into a double play. No such luck. Harrelson singled down the left-field line, scoring Jones with the winning run. It was the first of nine 1-0 wins for the Mets in 1969—and the first of three that came in walk-off fashion.

The win might have been the story of the day, but the real key to come out of this was Koosman’s effort on short rest. Now fully healed, Koosman got on a roll that helped propel the Mets to great things the rest of the season. In his first 60 innings back from the DL, Koosman allowed only four earned runs as the Mets went on an 18-7 spurt that turned their season around.

June 1, 1969: Mets 5, Giants 4

Some batters are masters of the walk-off home run. Ron Swoboda was the master of the walk-off walk. Of the first 15 walk-off walks in Mets history, Swoboda was the only player to have more than one. He had four.

The third of them came on June 1, completing a three-game sweep of the Giants, part of an 11-game win streak in which the Mets went from five games under .500 to six-over at 29-23.

The Giants held early leads of 2-0 and 3-2, but on both occasions, the Mets rallied quickly, and the Giants had to rally from a 4-3 deficit to even the score in the sixth against Don Cardwell, who pitched 6⅓ game innings in relief of Jim McAndrew, who left with a finger blister.

Ron Taylor dodged trouble in the top of the ninth, surviving a Willie McCovey double to escape with the score still even. In the bottom of the frame, the Mets were able to win without hitting the ball out of the infield. Giants reliever Joe Gibbon walked Bud Harrelson, Cleon Jones (intentionally), and Amos Otis, sandwiched around two outs. That brought up Swoboda, who was 2 for 4 with an RBI already and Gibbon couldn’t find the plate against him either. Swoboda’s walk brought home the winning run.

Alas, being the master of the walk-off walk doesn’t quite bring the glory of the other kinds of walk-off scenarios. When we interviewed Swoboda in 2005, he admitted having nary a recollection of any of his “walk”-offs.

“That’s odd, isn’t it?” said Swoboda, who couldn’t come up with a reason for his success in that department. “I was a bit of a free swinger. Sometimes you walk because you’re swinging the bat well, and sometimes you’ll walk because you’ll miss a pitch that you should have hit. Those [walk-offs] aren’t the ones you remember.”2

June 4, 1969: Mets 1, Dodgers 0 (15)

The Mets and Dodgers played an extra-inning classic, featuring a great pitchers’ duel between Bill Singer and Mets rookie Jack DiLauro. The two teams matched zeroes as Singer flirted with a perfect game for six innings and DiLauro escaped a couple of early jams. The contest went into extra-innings and both teams went to their bullpens.

In the top of the 15th, the Dodgers threatened, putting runners at the corners with one out. Willie Davis was the hitter and he hit a grounder off pitcher Ron Taylor that caromed towards second base. Al Weis charged the ball, made a barehand play and threw home just in time for catcher Jerry Grote to get incoming baserunner Billy Grabarkewitz at home plate. On the Mets highlight album that season, Miracle Mets, that moment is re-created by Bob Murphy, who states “Oh, what a play by Al Weis! I’ve never seen a better one by an infielder.” (As an aside, the real play took about three seconds to unfold. The recreated version takes about 30 seconds, allowing Murph to provide every detail.)

The Mets stole the game in the bottom of the 15th, when with one out, Tommie Agee scored all the way from first when Davis misplayed Wayne Garrett’s single to center. That gave the Mets a sweep of the Dodgers and matched a team record with their seventh straight win.

July 8, 1969: Mets 4, Cubs 3

The Mets win over the Cubs on July 8 may be a little underappreciated in comparison to Tom Seaver’s near-perfect game of the following day, but the impact it had was extremely significant.

Trailing 3-1 in the ninth inning against future Hall of Tamer Ferguson Jenkins, the Mets rallied, with the aid of a couple misplays by Cubs center fielder Don Young, who incurred significant wrath from Cubs manager Leo Durocher (plus third baseman Ron Santo).

Cleon Jones followed the miscues by getting the game-tying double, then scored the winning run on a single by Ed Kranepool. This was the biggest win in franchise history, at least for a few hours, as it moved the Mets to within 4½ games of the first-place Cubs. It was the first Mets win to be reported on the front page of the New York Times since 1962.

“We’ve got the momentum now,” Jones told the media afterwards. “We beat their big man. Now we’ve got our big man. Were in command. Now we can relax.”3

Durocher was anything but relaxed. “That kid in center field. Two little fly balls. He just stands there watching one, and he gives up on the other… .If a man cant catch a fly ball, you don’t deserve to win. Look at [Jenkins]. He threw his heart out. You won’t see a better-pitched game. And that kid in center field gives it away on him. It’s a disgrace.“4

Is it any surprise that Seaver followed that game up the way that he did, given the moods of the two teams? And is it a surprise that a rookie named Jim Qualls was in Center field that night?

August 3, 1969: Mets 6, Braves 5 (11)

The 1969 Mets had not yet reached their turning point on August 3, 1969, when they faced the Braves in the finale of a three-game series. It was evident that the team was closing in on something special though, having taken two straight one-run affairs from the NL West leaders to stand at 57-44 and in second place in the NL East. The Mets had succeeded in making their opponents nervous, because they were a squad capable of doing anything. This contest was another example.

The Mets were shorthanded, with a couple of pitchers out on military duty, so when the Braves tallied four sixth-inning runs against Gary Gentry, extending their lead to 5-0, the outcome for the day looked rather bleak. The Mets hadn’t managed a hit in the previous three innings against veteran hurler Milt Pappas, and with the Braves needing the game to maintain sole possession of the top spot in their division, it seemed like this one was all but in the books.

Or maybe not. Tommie Agee doubled to lead off the sixth inning and scored on a one-out single by Wayne Garrett. Atlanta felt it had gotten enough from Pappas, who was pitching on three days’ rest, and replaced him at that juncture with Cecil Upshaw. That move didn’t work.

The Mets loaded the bases on singles by pinch hitter Art Shamsky and Rod Gaspar, then caught a break when Jerry Grote reached after Braves second baseman Felix Millan dropped a throw while trying to get a force play. That brought home a run, making it 5-2. Cleon Jones, who was out with an injury (and was only a few days removed from being pulled in mid-game against the Astros for lack of hustle), pinch-hit and drove in two more runs with a single. That made it a 5-4 game.

The Braves went to the pen again, choosing rookie Paul Doyle. Bud Harrelson greeted Doyle by plating the tying run with a sacrifice fly. Doyle got out of the inning without further damage, but the score was now even, 5-5.

Jack DiLauro and Ron Taylor did great work out of the Mets bullpen, combining to shut out the Braves over the next five innings.

This was a game that was looking for a hero and the choice of the moment happened to be the first batter in the 11th inning: Jerry Grote. The catcher had homered off Phil Niekro earlier in the series, his first homer in Flushing that season and only his third round-tripper of the year. Raymond ran the count to 2-0 and made the mistake of grooving his next pitch, right over the heart of the plate. Grote’s opposite-field drive cleared the right-field fence for a walk-off home run.

“If it had been anywhere else [but over the middle of the plate], I’d have taken it,” Grote told reporters afterward, acknowledging that he was just trying to get on base.5

You would have presumed that this was a pretty big win. However, it was not the one that tipped the season in the Mets favor. It would seem logical that this victory set off a big win streak, but it didn’t. The Mets lost their next two contests, and within a week, they were in third place, facing a nearly insurmountable deficit of 10 games after getting swept by the Astros. The chances of the Mets and Braves meeting in the postseason that autumn seemed rather bleak. It would take a miracle.

August 19, 1969: Mets 1, Giants 0 (14)

If you were going to rank the best pitchers’ duels in Mets history, this game might go at the top of the list. Rookie Gary Gentry went toe-to-toe with future Hall of Famer Juan Marichal for the first 10 innings, matching zeroes and avoiding damage of any significance. Marichal was 19-2 against the Mets to that point in his career and not surprisingly, he was sensational in this game. Gentry also threw one of his best games. It was a game that lived up to the cliche: “Neither team deserved to loose.”

The Mets had one threat in regulation, but their best chance to score came in the 12th when Marichal’s throw to nail Tug McGraw on a bunt attempt rolled away from ex-Met Ron Hunt after a collision between the former teammates at first base. Cleon Jones tried to score, but he was thrown out at the plate when Hunt recovered.

Jones redeemed himself in the top of the 13th when the Mets went to a four-man outfield against Willie McCovey. The subsequent smash to left-center was caught by a perfectly positioned Jones, who made a leaping catch at the fence to take away a home run.

The night’s only extra-base hit concluded this contest, a home run by Tommie Agee, good for his 500th career major league hit. There were some nights in which the Mets were willing to play forever to win and this was one of them. Whatever it took.

August 23, 1969: Mets 3, Dodgers 2

Sometimes the 1969 Mets got a little lucky. Their win over the Dodgers on this date was one of those times. Tied in the bottom of the ninth, the Mets pulled out the unusual victory when Jerry Grote’s two-out pop fly fell between three Dodgers players, plopping on the grass for a game-ending double.

The Mets had bungled a 2-0 lead in the eighth inning. The Dodgers tied the game on Willie Davis’s RBI triple, and a subsequent throwing error by Cleon Jones, who put himself in danger of being the game’s goat when then hit into a rally-killing double play in the home eighth.

The Mets picked up for their teammate in the bottom of the ninth, getting a win on a day when the opposing starter was Mets killer Jim Bunning, who didn’t have perfect-game kind of stuff but held the Mets to only two runs in his seven innings.

“That ball has to be caught if we’re to win the pennant,” Dodgers shortstop Maury Wills said of the game-ending blunder.6 And it has to drop for the Mets to win it.

September 10, 1969: Mets 3, Expos 2 (12)

The Mets entered September 10, 1969 on the precipice of great things, just a half game behind after beating the first-place Cubs twice at Shea Stadium. Chicago then traveled to Philadelphia while the Mets caught a scheduling break: a doubleheader against the expansion Expos. The Expos had spoiled Opening Day at Shea by winning in their first game. That seemed like an awfully long time ago. The Expos had lost 97 times since then and would leave New York with an even 100 following the short three-game set.

The first game started in twilight and the Mets, winners of four straight, put Jim McAndrew on the mound against rookie Mike Wegener. Neither a first nor second inning run by the Expos dampened spirits, as the Mets responded with unearned runs in the first and fifth to knot the game at 2-2.

The game evolved into a pitchers’ duel. Wegener, who never reached double digits in strikeouts before or again in his two-year career, whiffed 15 and walked seven. McAndrew walked five, but yielded only four hits. Both starters went deep into the contest, deeper than most managers nowadays would allow. Mets manager Gil Hodges stuck with McAndrew, even letting him bat with the score still tied, a man on base and two outs in the ninth. He lasted 11 innings and Expos manager Gene Mauch left Wegener alone for 11 as well.

Hodges finally relented and sent up a pinch hitter for McAndrew with two on and two out in the 11th. Jim Gosger struck out to end the scoring chance.

In the 12th inning, with Ron Taylor pitching, the Expos failed in an effort to take the lead, though they came close. With two outs, Angel Hermoso singled, as did ex-Met Kevin Collins, who was batting for Wegener. Hermoso tried to take third on that hit, and was successful as Tommie Agee’s throw got away. However, the fundamentally sound Taylor backed up the plate, and when Hermoso tried to score, Taylor pegged the ball to catcher Jerry Grote for the third out.

Bill Stoneman, who had thrown a no-hitter earlier that year and would no-hit the Mets in 1972, was Mauch’s choice to take the ball in the 12th, an odd choice considering Stoneman had pitched a shutout just three days previous (he would toss another two days later). Mauch had a full slate of relievers to choose from yet went with his top starter.

Stoneman got the first two Mets out in the 12th, but then magic struck. A single to center by Cleon Jones was followed by a walk by Rod Gaspar. Ken Boswell had the game-winning single to center despite a desperate dive by Expos second baseman Gary Sutherland (captured in a marvelous photo the next day in the New York Times).

The Cubs game against the Phillies was still going, and was close through the middle innings, but the win gave the Mets a piece of first place for the first time in their eight seasons of existence. Philadelphia extended its cooperation, snapping a 2-2 tie with a run in the seventh and three insurance tallies in the eighth, sending the Cubs to a 6-2 defeat, their seventh straight loss. The news came through on the Shea Stadium scoreboard after the third inning of the nightcap, just before 10:15 p.m., with a peek at the standings and the words, “Look who’s number one.” Nolan Ryan pitched a complete-game win in the nightcap and the Mets were on their way.

The rest of the world noticed. “Mets March to Head of Class” read the Washington Post headline the next day. “Hysteria Rocks Shea” said the Los Angeles Times. The New York Times told a fine story, of how Hodges had received a stuffed rabbit from a fan who “deemed a rabbit’s foot not enough.” The Mets had won six straight since Hodges put the rabbit on his desk.7

September 23, 1969: Mets 3, Cardinals 2

The Mets have never cinched a division championship in walk-off fashion, though their first such celebration came a day after such an event. The game of September 24, 1969 is well remembered for its conclusion, with Joe Torre hitting into a 6-4-3 double play, assuring the Mets of their first NL East crown (and the first such crown in league history). The contest of the previous day isn’t as easily recalled.

The Mets entered September 23 with a magic number of three, and when Bill Stoneman and the Expos topped the Cubs that afternoon, that was sliced to just two. In order to reduce it to one and guarantee at worst, a tie for the title, the Mets would have to topple nemesis Bob Gibson.

Jim McAndrew was up to the challenge and kept the Cardinals off the board for three innings. Wayne Garrett put the Mets ahead with a two-out single in the last of the third. It was not McAndrew’s fault that he surrendered the lead in the fifth, as a two-out error by Ken Boswell allowed the tying run to score, and then Torre’s RBI single put the Cardinals up, 2-1.

McAndrew held the Cardinals, but he left after seven frames with a one-run deficit. Gibson had ramped up his performance, retiring the Mets in order in the fifth and sixth, then escaping trouble in the seventh. Gibson had a chance to add to his lead in the eighth, but the hard-hitting hurler flew out with the bases loaded against reliever Tug McGraw. This was no ordinary fly out—it required a terrific diving catch by Ron Swoboda, something that Mets fans would see again.

In the home eighth, the Mets evened things up. Tommie Agee started with a single, went to second on Garrett’s bunt, and scored on Art Shamsky’s game-tying hit. Gil Hodges decided that the Mets fortunes were best served with McGraw pitching. The lefty weaved out of a jam in the top of the 10th, getting Phil Gagliano to ground out with two on. Gibson stayed in, even though he must have been fatigued by the 11th. With one out in that inning, Ron Swoboda and Jerry Grote got aboard on singles with light-hitting Bud Harrelson coming up.

Now normally, this would figure to be a mismatch, but for whatever reason, throughout their careers, Harrelson had Gibson’s number. They would face each other many times and Harrelson was extremely successful with 20 hits in 60 at-bats (as well as 14 walks and just three strikeouts).

In this instance, Gibson got ahead two strikes before Harrelson dropped a single into left-center field, plating Swoboda with the winning run and setting the stage for the Metmorable events of the following day.

METS WALK-OFFS AND OTHER MINUTIAE began in 2005 as a blog devoted to chronicling Mets history, with an emphasis on their walk-off wins. It can be found at http://metswalkoffs.blogspot.com.

SOURCES

The New York Times

www.retrosheet.org

www.baseball-reference.com

Blatt, Howard, Amazin Met Memories. Albion Press, Tampa Fla. 2002.

Bock Duncan & Jordan, John, The Complete Year-By-Year N.Y. Mets Fan’s Almanac. (New York: Crown Publishers, NY. 1992.)

Cohen, Stanley, A Magic Sammer: The ’69 Mets. (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1988.)

Koppett, Leonard, The New York Mets, The Whole Story. (New York: The Macmillan Company, 1970.)

Zimmerman, Paul D. and Dick Schaap. The Year The Mets Lost Last Place. (New York: World Publishing, 1969.)

NOTES

1. Durso, Joseph; “Kranepool Hits 2 Homers as Mets Top Expos.” New York Times, April 30, 1969, p. 50.

2. Interview with Ron Swoboda, June 2005

3. Vecsey, George; “55,096 Watch Mets Shock Cubs With 3-Run Rally in Ninth for 4-3 Triumph.” New York Times, July 9, 1969: 47.

4. Zimmerman, Paul D. and Dick Schaap. The Year The Mets Lost Last Place. (New York: World Publishing, 1929): 30-31.

5. Durso, Joseph “Mets Beat Braves, 6-5, on Grote’s HR in 11th,” New York Times. August 4, 1969: 42.

6. Durso, Joseph “Mets Defeat Dodgers, 3-2. Pop Fly Hit Wins,” New York Times, August 24, 1969: S1.

7. Author uncredited. “For The Players, No Heady Stuff,” New York Times. September 11, 1969. p. 56

The Sporting News

The Mets, managed by Gil Hodges, entered the early-season game with a record of 2–2, while Grady Hatton’s Houston team was 4–1. Sophomore Don Wilson of the Astros was tasked with facing Tom Seaver, who was coming off a strong and often dominant rookie season for New York. Given the quality pitching matchup, the 14,219 fans in attendance may have anticipated a low-scoring affair.

The first inning was uneventful: Wilson, with Hal King as his catcher, set down Al Weis, Ken Boswell, and Tommie Agee in order.2 Seaver then did the same, retiring Ron Davis, Norm Miller, and Jim Wynn. The second inning, however, was pivotal. Had things gone differently, the two teams might have avoided becoming the first teams to play at least 21 innings without scoring a run.3 Though the top half of the inning was scoreless, it included the first hit, a two-out single from Mets first baseman Ed Kranepool before Wilson could retire the side.

In the bottom half of the second inning, Seaver ran into the only real trouble that he would experience in the ten innings that he pitched. After Rusty Staub had flied out to right field, King doubled to left. A wild pitch moved King to third. A New York Times account described the play that followed: “Bob Aspromonte hit a sharp grounder to second. Boswell fielded it cleanly, took his time, and threw accurately to the plate. King, however, slammed into [Jerry] Grote, and although the Mets’ catcher fell, he made the tag and held the ball.”4 Julio Gotay then popped out to end the inning.

The missed opportunity for Houston would be the last time the team would get a runner to third base until the 22nd inning. The Mets also would get a runner to third three times without scoring (in the 12th, 17th, and 19th innings).

In the top of the third inning, the Mets got a runner into scoring position in an unconventional way. With two outs, Weis—playing at shortstop in place of Bud Harrelson, who was out with a sore arm—walked, and Boswell was then able to reach base on a wild pitch with two strikes.5 With runners on first and second, Agee was unable to deliver, flying out to right field to end the inning. After going 0-for-10 in this game, Agee’s batting average would fall from .313 to .192.6

Beginning with the bottom of the third inning, the two pitchers settled into a rhythm of retiring the side with relative ease or, as Vito Stellino described it, “matched scores for what seemed like forever.”7 Seaver retired the Houston batters in order in every inning from the third through the ninth. Wilson was less efficient, allowing a single to Art Shamsky in the fourth (and allowing him to reach second base on Wilson’s own errant pickoff throw) before retiring the side.

Oddly, in a game remembered for its lack of offense, Wilson gave up a single to Seaver in the fifth before retiring the side. Kranepool hit a leadoff single in the seventh and was sacrificed to second base before failing to advance further, even as Wilson walked Seaver in the meantime.

In spite of these blips, the Mets were never again close to scoring against Wilson, except perhaps in the ninth inning, when Kranepool reached second base with two outs, though that rally too was snuffed out by Houston. Once Lee Thomas pinch-hit for him in the bottom of the ninth inning, Wilson was out of the game, having faced 36 batters, given up five hits, and made two wild pitches. He obviously did not give up a run.

Seaver continued into the 10th inning, retiring Miller and Wynn before giving up a two-out single to Staub. Hodges left Seaver in the game with a runner on first and two outs, and the manager’s confidence was rewarded, as Seaver got King to hit a grounder which forced Staub at second to end the inning. As Joseph Durso noted in The New York Times, “Seaver…pitched ten innings this time, allowed no runs and only two hits—and still was 14 innings short of a decision.”8

In the meantime, John Buzhardt was quietly efficient in relief of Wilson, retiring the side in order in both the 10th and 11th innings, departing only when Doug Rader pinch-hit for him in the bottom of the 11th. (Rader, alas, flied to right.) Ron Taylor came in to pitch the 11th, replacing Seaver, and allowed only a single in his one inning of work.

The Mets made things interesting in the 12th against Danny Coombs, who had replaced Rader. The left-handed reliever began the inning by striking out Ed Charles, but Jerry Grote and Al Weis each singled around a Phil Linz popup, putting runners on first and second with two out. Ken Boswell then singled to load the bases, but Agee grounded out to second, thwarting the rally. Wrote Durso after the game: “One of the haunting memories of the night for the Mets was the hitting of their ‘big men,’ Agee and Swoboda, who hit third and fourth. Between them they went 0 for 20, with nine strikeouts.”9

Cal Koonce came in to pitch the bottom of the 12th inning for the Mets, but he had the shortest stint of the game (1⁄3 of an inning), giving up a single to Davis and retiring Miller on a sacrifice. Bill Short came in to put out that fire, yielding an intentional walk and then retiring both Staub and King. Coombs, having settled down after his bumpy entrance in the 12th, retired New York in order in the top of the 13th.

The bottom of the 13th inning offered more ups and downs. When Short gave up a single to Gotay and then walked Hector Torres, Hatton called on Dick Selma, who retired the only two batters he faced. Jim Ray took care of the Mets in order in the top of the 14th, while Al Jackson retired Miller, Wynn, and Staub on three groundouts to end the inning. Then both Ray and Jackson each retired the side again in order in the 15th.

After Ray retired the Mets in order (again) in the top of the 16th, Jackson received the benefit of good defense in the bottom of the inning. Torres reached base on a leadoff bunt single, and Ray attempted to sacrifice Torres to second. As Durso described it: “The Mets came up with the play of the night in the 16th. Hector Torres was on first base with Ray at bat in a bunting situation. So Hodges pulled the old Brooklyn shift. He called in Ron Swoboda from right field, gave him a first-baseman’s mitt and stationed him on first. Ed Kranepool moved way in toward the plate to field the bunt. The outfield was left to Tommie Agee and Cleon Jones. After that, Ray struck out.”10

Though Hatton may be faulted for not pinch-hitting for Ray with a runner on first in the 16th, Ray was likely the unsung hero of the game for Houston, pitching seven shutout innings and striking out 11 while allowing only two hits. The Mets touched him only for a double in the 17th inning, and, with a runner on third, Ray managed to get Harrelson to strike out on a squeeze attempt and then Weis to ground out.

After those struggles, Ray went on to strike out the side in the top of the 18th inning. The Astros, however, were unable to gain any traction against New York’s Danny Frisella, who retired the Astros in order in the 17th inning and gave up only a two-out single to New York in the 18th.

Another critical juncture occurred in the top of the 19th inning. Against Ray, who had been sailing along, Cleon Jones began the inning with a single and advanced to second on Kranepool’s sacrifice. Ray then walked Charles intentionally. According to the account in the Chicago Tribune, “Grote struck out. But Jones and Charles were running on the pitch and stole second and third. Since he was now running out of players, Hodges let pitcher Danny Frisella bat for himself and he struck out.”11 The Astros were out of the inning, and Ray stayed on to pitch one last scoreless inning before lefty Wade Blasingame replaced him to start the 21st.

Frisella stayed in the game for the Mets and pitched effectively. In the 19th, he got out of a jam with runners on first and second with two out; in the 20th, he got out of the inning when Gotay was caught stealing as Torres stuck out; and in the 21st, Miller was caught stealing to end the inning. Frisella remained in the game until Don Cardwell pinch-hit for him in the top of the 22nd inning, after which Les Rohr came in to pitch for the Mets.

With the exception of some struggles in the 22nd inning, Blasingame pitched well—and well enough to earn the victory. He faced the minimum in the 21st, 23rd, and 24th innings, running into trouble only in the 22nd, when he retired Weis with Grote on second base and two out. For the Mets, Rohr had an uneven time, walking two (one intentionally) in the 22nd before striking out Gotay with Staub, the potential winning run, on third base with two out.

The game was decided in the bottom of the 24th inning. Norm Miller singled to start the inning (and, surprisingly, got the only hit of the inning). Rohr then balked by “breaking his hands” accidentally, which moved Miller to second.12 Jim Wynn was walked intentionally, putting runners on first and second. A groundout by Staub moved the two runners into scoring position. With one out, Rohr walked John Bateman intentionally to load the bases. Bob Aspromonte’s grounder then went through Weis’s legs at shortstop, allowing the winning run to score and ending the marathon game.

According to Durso: “It might have been a double play grounder ending the threat and putting everybody into the 25th inning. But the ball skidded off the chemical carpet known as the Astroturf and went right through Weis’ legs into left field while Miller scored the only run of the night.”13 The Tribune account said, “When Norm Miller scored from third, he gleefully jumped on home plate and was mobbed by his teammates and Manager Grady Hatton.”14

The Washington Post noted the next day that “Weis had played brilliantly for 23 innings, but he sank to his knees from sheer exhaustion as the ball went through his legs. ‘I just plain blew it,’ said Weis.”15

Weis, as Stellino noted, was playing out of position when he made his critical error, as he was typically a second baseman who was forced to play shortstop due to Harrelson’s injury.16 Still, there was no denying that Weis’s error was the game’s consequential play.

“Baseball’s longest night was filled with moments of humor, drama, dullness, and frustration—but, most of all, it was a nightmare for Al Weis,” commented Stellino.17

Accounts vary regarding the number of fans there when the game ended at 1:37AM, six hours and six minutes after it began; estimates range from 1,000 to 3,000 fans remained.18 According to the Tribune, “The few fans who remained were noisy to the end despite a Texas state law which forbids the sale of liquors after midnight. Houston officials announced they were cooking breakfast for the press in the 23rd inning and said if the game lasted any longer, they would start preparing lunch.”19

At its conclusion, the Astros-Mets game was the longest game with a winner. (The 26-inning game between the Brooklyn Robins and Boston Braves played on May 1, 1920, ended in a 1–1 tie.) Since then, the St. Louis Cardinals beat the New York Mets in a 25-inning game on September 11, 1974, and the Chicago White Sox beat the Milwaukee Brewers in 25 innings on May 8, 1984. The Detroit Tigers and Philadelphia Athletics also played to a 1–1 tie in 24 innings on July 21, 1945.20

Arthur Daley of The New York Times outlined the poor regard in which the Mets were held following this loss, saying: “Maybe they’re trying to tell us something. The message has to be that they can’t hit worth a damn.”21

At the same time, Daley emphasized the striking way that the game ended on an error, commenting: “Historians used to say that ‘everything happens to the Dodgers.’ It certainly appeared that way, too. Let there be one wayward happening or unlikely incident and it was a cinch that the Brooklyns were involved in it. Now it has to seem that the Mets have inherited that dubious distinction….The Mets fancy up everything in a reverse alchemy that turns gold to dross.”22 On the other hand, the Astros were in first place following the game.

Stellino noted that the Mets caught a plane right after the game for New York—it had originally been scheduled to arrive in New York at four AM, but the game ended only 83 minutes before that.”23 Both teams, fortunately, had a day off on April 16.24 Stunningly, both catchers—Grote for the Mets and King for the Astros—caught every inning for their respective teams.

As Gil Hodges said following the game: “These long games can really be murder.”25

JOHN McMURRAY is Chair of the SABR Deadball Era Committee. He contributed to “Deadball Stars of the American League” and is a past chair of SABR’s Larry Ritter Award subcommittee. He has contributed many interview-based player profiles to “Baseball Digest” and also writes a monthly column for “Sports Collectors Digest.”

Acknowledgments

With thanks to the Baseball Hall of Fame for providing clippings of vintage articles cited in this piece.

Notes

1. Vito Stellino, “24 Innings, Six Hours, One Run,” The Sporting News, April 27, 1968.

2. Play-by-play of this game may be found via Baseball-Reference.com at www.baseball-reference.com/boxes/HOU/HOU196804150.shtml.

3. “Astros Beat Mets, 1–0, in 24 Innings!: Longest Scoreless Game Ends on Error by Weis,” Chicago Tribune, April 16, 1968.

4. “Mets Lose in 24th, Longest Night Game,” The New York Times, April 16, 1968.

5. Stellino, “24 Innings, Six Hours, One Run.”

6. “After 24-Inning Encounter, Astros, Mets Glad for Rest,” Washington Post, April 17, 1968.

7. Stellino, “24 Innings, Six Hours, One Run.”

8. Joseph Durso, “Mets Will Oppose Giants in Home Opener at Shea Stadium Today,” The New York Times, April 17, 1968.

9. Ibid.

10. Ibid.

11. “Astros Beat Mets, 1–0, in 24 Innings!: Longest Scoreless Game Ends on Error by Weis,” Chicago Tribune.

12. Durso, “Mets Will Oppose Giants in Home Opener at Shea Stadium Today.”

13. Ibid.

14. “Astros Beat Mets 1–0 in 24 Innings!” Chicago Tribune.

15. “After 24-Inning Encounter, Astros, Mets Glad for Rest,” Washington Post.

16. Stellino, “24 Innings, Six Hours, One Run.”

17. Ibid.

18. See Stellino and also “After 24-Inning Encounter, Astros, Mets Glad for Rest,” Washington Post.

19. “Astros Beat Mets 1–0 in 24 Innings!” Chicago Tribune.

20. “The 10 Longest MLB Games of All Time,” Yahoo Sports. Available at http://sports.yahoo.com/news/10-longest-mlb-games-time-204400545–mlb.html

21. Arthur Daley, “The Marathoners,” The New York Times, April 17, 1968.

22. Ibid.

23. Stellino, “24 Innings, Six Hours, One Run,” The Sporting News.

24. Ibid.

25. “After 24-Inning Encounter, Astros, Mets Glad for Rest,” Washington Post.