Last looks at Topps' rivals in Mets cards

The folks at Topps must have felt too threatened by the first couple Fleer and Donruss sets, but it didn’t take all that long for the rivals to get better. By the time Upper Deck and Score joined the field, Topps was the choice for loyalists, but not necessarily those who demanded quality above all else.

This is not to say that everything issued by the newcomers was first-rate. But there were some glorious moments of Mets on cardboard, as we wrap up our look at favorite non-Topps Mets.

1990 Donruss Dwight Gooden and Sid Fernandez

The 1990 Donruss set has no business being as good as it is. Splattered paint, bright red borders, the drabbest possible backs, “error cards” and massive over-production is not a recipe for a classic issue. But somehow it works. This is one of my favorite sets.



Donruss filled this with great action cards, like this Dwight Gooden, and nice portraits, like El Sid.
1998 Donruss Don Darling.

Not the best Donruss design, but I like this Darling portrait because we get a great view of the script New York the Mets wore on the road uniforms for only the 1987 season. Am I the only one who likes that uniform?

1998 Studio Dwight Gooden, 2003 Al Leiter and 2004 Mike Piazza







I wasn’t too keen on the idea of a black and white set when Studio made its debut, but some of those portraits are beautiful. And Donruss soon found different ways to showcase the portraits, with backgrounds of lockers, cap logos, patches, stadiums and cityscapes.

2004 Donruss Team Heroes Kaz Matsui


Remember how excited we all were when the Mets signed Matsui? Our own Ichiro! Well, that didn’t turn out as we hoped. But I like this card showing Kaz after his introduction press conference posing in Times Square.

1999 Fleer Turk Wendell



Fleer had some great designs. The 1999 set wasn’t one of them. But I love this portrait of Turk and his tooth and claw necklace. Certainly one of the more colorful Mets, Wendell was actually a pretty good reliever, too.

2001 Fleer Ultra Todd Zeile


Ultra was Fleer’s answer to Topps’ Stadium Club, and was usually a decent set. Everything seems to work in this action shot of Zeile, with the pinstripes, the foul line and lots of Pete Flynn’s manicured grass.

Upper Deck Vintage Tom Seaver


UD tried to tap into the Topps devoted fan base by aping some of the company’s best designs for its retro Vintage sets. This set copies the 1965 design, and it gets points for showing Seaver from the 1983 homecoming season, which can’t be saluted enough!

2001 Upper Deck Legends Tom Seaver


Sometimes UD even used one of its own designs for veteran players. I don’t think I’d seen this nice, relaxed Seaver portrait before this issue.

1992 Upper Deck John Franco


I used to argue that that Mets should retire Franco’s number. Now I’m not so sure, but he should most definitely be in the Mets Hall of Fame.

2001 Upper Deck and 2008 Upper Deck David Wright


Now, I do think David Wright will earn his way on to the wall with Casey, Gil, Tom and Jackie – and someday Mike. This posed portrait is a little odd because he’s wearing a jersey with a 2000 World Series patch, a series he didn’t play in. In fact, he was drafted with the pick the Mets earned for losing Mike Hampton, one of the stars of that postseason


I like that Upper Deck used this photo from the All-Star Game, snapped after Wright hit his home run.

Topps all-time top 60 card No. 6, Doc Gooden and the 'Streak of Shame'

Dwight Gooden is blessed to have numerous outstanding Topps cards, but there are two that are particularly special, for different reasons.

First is the 1986 base set card, with a photo from the 1985 season when Gooden compiled what can only be described as one of the best pitching performances ever by a Met, going 24-4 with a 1.53 ERA, 16 complete games and eight shutouts.


This was Gooden when he was all magic and potential, focused and raring back.

But I’m favoring a 1992 Stadium Club card, and Doc isn’t even pitching. He’s rounding third base, about the score the Mets’ eighth run. It’s the bottom of the third, 3:02 p.m. and sweltering hot.

The time and the score are evident from the photo, but I know first-hand about the heat. Will and I were there, watching that game from the Shea press box.

The Mets eventually won that game 9-4, beating the Dodgers and former 1986 Mets heroes Darryl Strawberry and Bob Ojeda.

It would be the last time I’d see the Mets win in person for 17 years, a streak of shame that lasted until an incredible afternoon at Great American Ballpark in Cincinnati in 2008.

For a long time, that Stadium Club was more than a great, non-traditional action shot. With my press pass, it was a reminder of an incredible day at Shea – and the last time I thought I’d see the team win a game.

Baseball Place No. 1: Cooperstown

The glorious shrine that is the Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum is the logical place to start our trip down Josh Pahigian’s 101 baseball places to see before we strike out.

I’ve been blessed to make three pilgrimages to Cooperstown, and, of course, there were adventures along the way.

The Hall of Fame was once a rather low-tech operation, as you can see from this meager Seaver shrine, complete with elements of the display falling off the background.

The first time was a family road trip in 1983, another example of being spoiled by my parents.

Cooperstown was a very different place, then, and so was the museum. It was very small-town, much like the picturesque village.



For some reason, the Hall felt obligated to note Casey's Yankee years along with his more notable time with the Mets.

We could tell that some changes were taking place, and the upper levels looked like a modern museum. But the older areas looked like something you’d see in a high school display case.

Not that we minded. Because the artifacts like Gil Hodges’ jersey are awe-inspiring whether they are placed on a simple shelf with a typed label or in a grand display.



The three or so blocks that made up downtown had some evidence of the Hall of Fame down the street, but it was along the lines of a luncheonette with a baseball name. A souvenir store next to the museum had amazing and ancient items that you know had been on those shelves for years.

I returned in 1988 with my wife to celebrate our first anniversary. She, too, spoiled me. Obviously.

We went in October when Cooperstown and its hills were beautiful with fall color. Sadly, we had to go all the way to Utica to find a hotel. And beautiful was not a word we used to describe it.

A ball from Tom no-hitter -- mounted on peg board. Clearly the Hall had not learned how to properly display such glory.

And we were there at the time the Mets were in the playoffs against the Dodgers. You can imagine that if my wife was willing to spend our first anniversary vacation days at the Baseball Hall of Fame, she was not going to be willing to watch the Mets on television.

I was able to slip the hotel TV on for a portion of Game 4, and saw that the Mets, already up 2-1 in the series, were in the lead, 4-2, with Dwight Gooden cruising.

I snuck the set on one more time in the top of the ninth — just in time to see Mike Scioscia become Mike "Bleeping" Scioscia.



All was still good in the world. We were at the Hall, and Mike Scioscia had not yet ruined Dwight Gooden.

We returned to Cooperstown again in fall of 1992 for several reasons.

1) Tom Seaver had been inducted the Hall earlier that year, and I knew there would be special exhibits and merchandise in the gift shop.

2) My son was born in July. Clearly, the duties of responsible parent are to take a newborn to see the Tom Seaver exhibits, even if the child is three months old at the time.







The trip did not start well, as the newborn was having some digestive issues and you will thank me for sparing you the details. Let’s just say we hold it over his head to this day.

But I had learned from the Utica mistake, and found a hotel that was a block from the Hall. Keep in mind, this was before the days of the Internet, and this was not easy. We had no idea what it looked like.

We pulled up in front of the Lake Front Motel, and discovered it to be a mom and pop place, an old building right on the water and shaped like a boat. It looked like something right out of the 1940s.



This was shock to our Hampton Inn-conditioned world, but once we got settled in we decided it was really cool in an odd retro way and liked it.

The next morning we pushed the stroller up the street to the Hall and found that it had changed dramatically from our earlier visits. It was now a very modern museum experience, with theaters and fancy exhibits.

Tom's jersey is clearly from 1983, but we shall not complain.

The village had changed, too, filled with memorabilia shops and other touristy places.

Which is not to say we didn’t have great fun.

The newly minted Seaver plaque naturally made us all weepy, and there was much to enjoy.



I parked the stroller in front of a photo of Rickey Henderson, and he promptly let out a window-rattling burp, signifying both that his digestive issues had passed and that he had already formed strong opinions of ex-Yankees.

Knowing both of those things made for a much smoother ride home.

Our scoreboard:

1) Baseball Hall of Fame. Visited 1983, 1988 and 1992.

Shea Quest '08: One career saluted, one career started and one about to crash.

I’m going to lay Shea Memory Countdown games No. 3 and 2 side by side here for a reason. I’ll actually start with No. 2 and work backward. It will all make sense in the end.

Shea Memory Countdown No. 2: July 23, 1988, Braves 6, Mets 1

It can be said that we came to Shea that day for the exhibition, not the main event.

That year, July 23 and 24 were dedicated to Tom Seaver, No. 41 was going on the wall for on Sunday, but I was just as excited to head to the Saturday game.

The prior year, 1987, was a tease for the Mets in so many ways, but the one that struck most closely in my household was Seaver’s near return to the Mets after most of the rotation got hurt.

It would have been perfect. We were living in Connecticut at the time and my buddy Rich were frequent attendees at Shea, Fenway or the dump in the Bronx to root for the opposition.

I took Seaver’s 1983 return for granted and didn’t get to see him pitch in person after the Opening Day debacle. That wasn’t going to happen again.

But, as we know, the semi-retired Seaver of 1987 decided he just didn’t have it anymore after a series of simulated games and minor-league warm-ups.

So I wasted no time in snagging tickets for July 23 when it was announced that “Tom Terrific” would make his first appearance at a Mets Old-Timer’s Game.

There was something spectacular about Tom, in a Mets uniform, throwing from the mound at Shea, even if he was just lobbing meatballs out there for the other retired veterans to swat at. One of my friends at my former paper in Connecticut took the action shot from that game.

It was the fitting coda that we were denied in 1987, and a preview of the celebration that was to come the next day.

The official game that day was pretty interesting, too. Bob Ojeda was on the mound for the Mets, and a kid pitcher was making his major-league debut for the Braves.

Ojeda gave up two runs right away, and the Mets got one back in the bottom of the first when the rookie hit Lenny Dyksta -- the first batter he had faced in the majors – and Nails came around on a Dave Magadan double.

Sadly for the Mets, that was the last run they’d score that day. In fact, they’d only get three more hits off the kid. The score was closer than the 6-1 final indicates, because Mets reliever Edwin Nunez coughed up three of those runs in the ninth.

The kid pitcher making his debut? That would be John Smoltz.

In addition to torturing the Mets since that day, Smoltz has piled up 213 wins and 154 saves and some stud-muffin performances in the postseason.

Smoltz is a Michigander, and I’ve met his dad a number of times at baseball card shows when he was selling things for a charity. Nice guy.

His son is probably headed to Cooperstown, which is where I thought Dwight Gooden was destined to be enshrined. Which leads me to:

Shea Memory Countdown No. 3: June 19, 1989, Mets 5, Expos 3

This was Gooden’s 100th win. Even after the drug problems surfaced, I was confident that Doc would have 200 more wins, certainly 150 more.

Instead, it was the last win he’d get that year.

The line score was vintage Doc, with five hits and three runs over seven innings. He had nine strikeouts to go with just two walks.

That brought his record for the season to 9-2, and with three weeks until the All-Star Game it was safe to think that a second 20-win season was in the works.

Instead, he hurt his shoulder, and added only two losses to his stats. It’s safe to say that his midseason departure doomed the Mets chances of defending the division title.

Of course, looking at the box score and seeing “Samuel CF,” I realize Doc doesn’t carry that burden alone.

Gooden had one more great season for the Mets, going 19-7 in 1990 before slipping to 13-7 in 1991, 10-13 in 1992, 12-15 in 1993 and 3-4 in 1994, when he was busted for drugs again and suspended for the rest of that season and all of the next.

Save for one glorious night of no-hit ball with the Skanks, Doc’s magic was gone. He was in the Bronx in 1996 and 1997, then Cleveland in 1998 and 1999 before the disaster of 2000 when he was dumped by the Astros after one game and canned by the Devil Rays – the Devil Rays! – after eight.

He wrapped up the season in the Yankees bullpen, but luckily didn’t appear in the Subway Series. I’m not sure which would have hurt more, to see him pitch well against us, or if we wailed on him.

Gooden finished with 194 career wins and 112 losses, an outstanding .634 winning percentage despite all his issues.

In fact, he’s still among the Mets’ all-time leaders in most pitching categories, including wins, where his 157 trails only Seaver.

Yet when I make my way to the Mets Hall of Fame on Saturday, I won’t find a bust for Gooden. Because as good as we thought he was on that day in 1989, there should have been so much more.

Shea Quest '08: The last victory

Shea Memory Countdown No. 6: July 21, 1991. Mets 9, Dodgers 4

I pitched the story to my Flint Journal editors with a straight face.

This was 1991, and the Tigers were debating what to do with their ancient stadium.

Let me, a photographer, and a sports copy editor go on a ballpark tour to Fenway Park, Yankee Stadium, Memorial Stadium, Baltimore and Shea.

Why those parks? They represented all the things the Tigers could do to Tiger Stadium.

The Red Sox had an ancient park and made upgrades to preserve it. The Yankees made dramatic renovations to their stadium. Baltimore was in the process of building a new – but old-fashioned – ballpark.

And Shea?

Well, yeah. Of course the Tigers would want to copy Shea. It’s Shea Stadium!

I’m nothing if not transparent. The photographer and sports copy editor were my two best friends, John and Will.

But it was a neat idea for a story. And it didn't cost the paper a dime. The sports editor signed off as long as we provided our own transportation and lodging.

And that was OK, because his approval allowed us to seek press credentials from the teams – the magical passes that granted us access to the field and the press box, providing for a closer view than we’ve ever had of those ballparks.

We had mixed responses from the teams. The Red Sox gave a photo credential to John, and the rest of us were welcome to buy tickets and interview fans in the stands.

The Orioles were at the other end of the spectrum, offering full access to the field and press box and a hard hat tour of the under-construction Camden Yards. That day provided a series of adventures best told another time.

Both the Mets and Yankees also offered appropriate field and press box access.

We made Shea a two-day stop, getting tickets for the first game. July 20, 1991 was a sweltering afternoon, and very little good came of it for the Mets.

The team chased Orel Hershiser with four in the fourth, but the Dodgers unloaded on Wally Whitehurst and Doug Simons. New Dodger Darryl Strawberry went 2 for 5, and the game ended 11-7 with LA on top.

The apple and scoreboard from the third-baseman's point of view.

We returned early the next day, picking up our credentials, trying not to let the excitement overwhelm professionalism. I just wanted to absorb everything.

When you have field access you can walk just about anywhere in foul territory and dugouts during batting practice. John was the official photographer, but I was snapping shots without being obvious.

We stepped out to find Tommy Lasorda walking laps around the field shirtless. We averted our eyes. But he did say, “Hiya, fellas.”

HoJo picks out his lumber for BP.

Then staff started unloading equipment, putting bats and helmets into the racks before players started coming out of the tunnel for batting practice.

The first group included Tom Herr, Rick Cerone, Hubie Brooks and Kevin Elster with Mike Cubbage looking on. Howard Johnson was the biggest player to eventually come out and swing while we were on the field.

The television crews came out and set up for interviews. Don Drysdale was working for Fox and interviewed Lasorda, now fully dressed.


We made our way up to the press box. We were assigned to the auxiliary box, located between home plate and first base. It was pretty small, with only two or three rows of seats.

Will and I snagged seats in the front row and were happily going through the pile of stats and game notes that are available for the media. The other seats had filled at this point.

This was our view from the auxiliary press box, for a while.

After a while, a security guard came over, saw us and said, “Hey!” We turned around.

“You! Out!” he said, pointing, then extending his thumb.

“We have credentials,” I replied, showing him the red cardboard hanging around my neck on a string.

“Find another seat,” he said, as two other media members made their way into our newly vacated spots.

“But there aren’t any other seats,” I said.

“Not my problem,” he said. “You can stand anywhere you want.”

So we did. And, “You! Out!” has become one of our catch phrases. That was a lot of New York attitude, which in a way was refreshing after a year in Michigan.

It was kind of hard to watch the game, standing and moving around. Dwight Gooden was pitching against former Met Bob Ojeda, who was running out of magic.

HoJo hits the cage.

Buddy Harrelson got tossed arguing balls and strikes when the Dodgers went up by three in the second, but the Mets torched Ojeda in the third when five players – including Gooden – hit doubles.

This photo on the 1992 Stadium Club card is from the big game!

Each team tacked on another run, ending with a 9-4 win for the good guys – but you can’t say that in the press box.

Little did I know it would be 17 years before I’d return to Shea – and it’s still the last time I saw the team win in person.

And the story, I might add, came out pretty good.

Here are some other shots I thought were kind of neat. If it moved, I took its photo. If it didn't move, I also took its photo.

Like the 1985 Mets, a step closer

I’m not an especially fast runner.

It’s a bad sign when the people at the race registration table hand me a number to pin to the front of my shirt and a reflective red triangle to pin to the back.

It's also not encouraging when they say, “Remember race etiquette. Yield to things that are faster, like roadkill.”

Nevertheless, I boldly signed up to participate in the 31st River Bank Run, a huge festival of races here in Grand Rapids.

I’ve participated in small, charity races over the years. But the River Bank Run attracted a record 15,940 people, including a handful of athletes headed to Beijing this summer. Of course, the famous folks are competing in the 25K event, and I entered in the 5K, which is just over 3 miles.

I have two racing goals this year: To participate in three events, and to break 30 minutes.

My previous times have been between 38 and 35 minutes, so it’s a pretty bold goal. But I’ve been running six miles a night, five nights a week on the treadmill, and it takes about 65 minutes. So you think 3 miles and change would be a sprint.

But each night it seems like the first three miles are the hardest, and once I hit that mark, I feel like I could go forever. My pattern in past races has been to go all out for the first two thirds then slip into a race-walk pattern for a while, then pick it up at the end. My goal heading into this race was to keep running the whole time.

I also heard that it helps to eat a pasta dinner the night before. So I did – a little too much, as evidenced by the 4 a.m. hurling incident.

But I got up a couple hours later and headed to downtown Grand Rapids with thousands of others. The people in the 25K race started first, then the people in the 10K, and the wheelchair racers.

I was standing with about 5,000 others ready for the 5K, looked over and saw Michigan’s secretary of state. She is from the area, and we’ve spoken over the years. We had a nice conversation. A lot of times VIPs call attention themselves at an event like this. But Secretary Land was just huddled with the regular folks. The governor travels with a police escort, but the secretary of state can stand in a crowd of 5,000 people in her running shorts, and no one gives her a hard time. I thought that was pretty cool.

Finally, I could hear the race start … and we just stood there. There were so many people packed so tightly that there was nowhere to move. It eased up for a little bit, then stopped again. “This is not going to help my time,” I thought. Note to self: Next race, stand closer to the starting line.

After starting to move, I switched on the iPod and focused on my strategy. I’d look for someone running ahead of me, and think “I’m not going to let that person beat me.” And when I’d pass them I’d look for someone else. And it seemed like I was passing as many people as were passing me, so I was feeling pretty good.

The iPod is essential. I made a playlist of fast-paced God rock songs. But there are a couple things to keep in mind when racing with tunes. First, it’s OK to sing along as long as it’s not loud – humming level seems about right.

Then, air-guitar is right out. But you can sneak in a little air-drumming if it looks like you’re just pumping your arms as you run.

Having never run this race before I was not sure where the course would twist and turn. And there were no mile markers that I could see, so I was never really sure how far along I was. There was one big hill that had my calves barking, and it seemed like the point where I would usually drop into race-walk mode. But I kept pushing it, hoping to make it a little longer.

And it was pretty exciting. My other big race, the Komen Race for the Cure, starts and ends in a mall parking lot, and the scenery doesn't improve too much. The course runs through downtown Grand Rapids, starting down the block from my newspaper, and passing all the landmarks -- and a president.

Then I turned a corner on Monroe Center, and there, down the street, was the big banner reading “Finish.”

Yes! I hadn’t dropped into a walk, and still had energy, so I tried to sprint all-out for the last three blocks. But there were so many people, and all of them slowing down, that I had to zig-zag my way along. I felt like Barry Sanders weaving through the slow-pokes.

Crossing the line, I saw a time of 34 minutes, 19 seconds. That's about a minute better than my best time, but not even close to my goal. All the congestion at the start no doubt robbed me of precious time, but I didn’t know how much.

But I remembered someone talking about “chip time.” Runners attach a small piece of black plastic with a computer chip that activates a timer when you cross the finish line. Turns out they also keep track of time from when you cross the starting line through when you cross at the end – so you don’t get penalized for being stuck back in the throng. That would be posted later in the day on the race Web site.

The end of the race is pretty cool because there was someone from Panera Bread handing me a bagel, which pretty much happens every day. But this time they didn’t charge me. Plus there was free granola bars and bananas. I also tried free Red Bull. Yuck.

I was pretty giddy had having run all the way through, and was happy that the posted time was a minute better than my best.

Checking out the Web site later, I found that the chip time was 31 minutes, 21 seconds – about four minutes faster than my best-ever time. And with a 10:07 minute pace, way ahead of my previous best pace, 11:21 from the Thanksgiving Run this past November.

So it’s kind of like that 1985 season for the Mets – falling short of the goal but making substantial progress.

And I might soon be able to shed the reflective red triangle.

With Yankee lovin' Mets haters, you know what to expect

Usually, Sports Illustrated baseball writer Tom Verducci gets me pig-biting mad for his blind love for all things Yankee that clouds his judgment.

He slips it into his copy in odd little ways. In a story praising Angels prospect Howie Kendrick, Verducci slipped in that Kendrick “could be battling Robinson Cano of the Yankees for All-Star Game starting assignments and batting titles for years to come.” That’s despite the inconvenient fact that Cano has as many batting titles and All-Star Game starts as I do.

And in case you were wondering, I have none.

Then we have his partner in crime, Bob Klapisch. It’s not that Klapisch is necessarily and Yankee lover. It’s that he’s a Mets hater.

Klapisch, it seems, can’t write a grocery list without taking a cheap shot at the Metsies, much less a column or a book.

Bob’s written a bunch of tomes, all of them either ripping the Mets – like “The Worst Team Money Can Buy” – or detailing the on and off-field troubles of former Mets stars Dwight Gooden and Darryl Strawberry.

And for a change of pace, he also writes history books about famous Mets killers, the Atlanta Braves. Then there’s “’98 Champs: The Greatest Season, a Chronicle of the Yankees’ Amazing Journey to the World Championship.”

So now that I’m aware of such things, it’s fun to read their copy to find either the over-the-top Yankee praise or the unnecessary Mets bashing.

It’s like playing a Kiss CD and waiting for them the rhyme “knees” and “please.” You know it’s going to happen. And like Kiss, Klap and the ‘Ducc never disappoint.

Klapisch got loose this week with an article that’s part of an ESPN.com series of hot people and things to look for in 2007. His task was to identify the hot division, and he chose the National League West.

Now I don’t accept his basic premise, and his main reason seems to be that a bunch of over-the-hill pitchers – some of whom are ex-Yankees – have settled there. Whatever.

But you know the Mets slams are going to be there. It’s just a matter of how far Klap will stretch to get it in. And Klap can stretch further than John Olerud snagging an errant throw from short.

Amazingly, we had to wait all the way until the fourth paragraph.

“It's enough to make you think the lure of the East is finally on the decline; (Barry) Zito turned his back on what should've been an layup courtship for the Mets…

While it's true the Giants essentially were bidding against themselves -- one AL general manager called it "madness in a market that'd already gone mad" -- Zito opted for San Francisco's familiarity over, say, New York's energy.

The implication is that the Mets blew it, as they may have done by pulling out of the ARod bidding early and trying to get Vlad Guerrero in the cheap several years ago.

But it should be noted that the Giants blew everyone out of the water with a seven-year, $126 million contract that made him the richest pitcher in history. Some have said the Giants were fools to offer that deal, and Zito would have been a bigger fool to turn it down.

Then, somehow, Klapisch shows restraint by waiting seven whole paragraphs before his next cheap swipe and comes up with this gem:

“The Phillies' acquisition of Freddy Garcia means that no one, meaning the Mets, is likely to run away with the division by June, as was the case in 2006.”

Freddy Garcia? He of the 4.53 ERA last year and the 4.01 ERA for a career? There are many reasons why the Mets might not run away with the division – again – but a middling Phillies pitcher coming over from the American League is not one of them, and certainly not the only one.

So the key is to not get all worked up when you read these guys. Like an Adam Sandler movie, you know what you’re getting into before you start. Sit back and wait for the one laugh.

Who else won't be at the reunion?

This Saturday is the big celebration at Shea of the glorious 1986 champions. A big reunion was planned, and potentially it was a very cool march down memory lane. But as players start dropping like flies, I’m starting to wonder who exactly is going to show up to this thing.

As my wife said, Mookie could have that plate of cocktail wieners at the reception all to himself.

Here’s the list of players and other folks who have either announced they’re not showing up at Shea, or the excuses I expect them to use by the end of the week.

Darryl Strawberry: Straw already said he’s not coming. He invented some excuse about being bitter about the Mets not paying some of his deferred salary to pay off tax issues. We know the truth. Darryl’s gone Yankee. And once you’ve gone Yankee, you don’t come back. He even appeared an at Old-Timer’s Day over there. There’s still some prodigal son-like hope for him. But he’s been brainwashed, caring more about the 26 championships the Yankees talk about seemingly between every break in the action than the one he won with us in 1986.

Dwight Gooden: Well, we know that Doc is a guest at the hotel with the striped shadows down there in Florida. At least his orange jumpsuit is kind of like the bating practice jersey we used to wear.

Howard Johnson: HoJo just served a 10-game suspension as the Tides hitting coach for leaving the team without permission. Do you really think he’s going to risk leaving the team again?

Randy Niemann: Niemann is the pitching coach for the Tides. After seeing what happened to HoJo -- and having much less fan appeal -- Niemann isn’t leaving the stadium to sleep, much less head to New York.

Lee Mazzilli: Lee can’t come because he’s Joe Torre’s bench coach. Apparently Joe can’t find anyone else to do those essential tasks delegated to bench coaches, like taping the lineup card to the dugout wall. Seriously, what do these guys do? It can’t be that hard. After all, Don Zimmer held the job for years.

Rick Anderson: He was on the roster for part of the year, but not for the post-season. Now he’s the pitching coach for the Minnesota Twins. I suspect he’s already in hot water for allowing stud rookie Francisco Liriano’s arm to practically fall off this past week. He won’t risk straying far from the Metrodome, lest he come back and find his 1986 World Series ring and other possessions in a cardboard box on the front step.

Gary Carter: Carter is managing the St. Lucie Mets as we speak. He’s not shy about saying he should be managing the Mets because he guided a short-season rookie league team in the Gulf Coast League to the championship. I don't think Willie wants Kid anywhere near Shea, at least not without a food-tester to make sure Carter doesn’t, ahem, create at opening at the major-league level.

Doug Sisk: We didn’t invite Doug Sisk. We’re trying to purge Doug Sisk from all team records.

John Gibbons: Gibbons is managing the Toronto Blue Jays, where his assigned task is keeping the Yankees out of the playoffs. And not doing a very good job, I might add.

Roger McDowell: The class clown of the 1986 champs is another employee on special assignment. The Braves think he is their pitching coach. We know he’s on our payroll, driving Atlanta’s pitching staff right into the ground.

Kevin Mitchell: The last thing we heard about Mitchell and the Mets is that he was freaking out teammates and threatening to behead cats. Can you imagine what would happen if he showed up at the reunion? Cat Fanciers, Garfield fanatics, little girls with Hello Kitty! T-shirts, Kit Kat candy eaters -- they’d all be protesting and boycotting.

Davey Johnson: Davey, our former manager, now works as a consultant for the Nationals, where he is undermining Frank Robinson so he can return to managing.

Randy Myers: You just know that with all the unrest in the world, Myers is working in some jungle as a mercenary. Even if we tracked him down, getting him through airport security at LaGuardia would be a challenge.

Jesse Orosco: Orosco, the major-league leader in games pitched, is still playing somewhere. I’m convinced.

Ed Hearn: On a serious note, Hearn was diagnosed with focal segmental glomerulosclerosis in 1991, and he has suffered from poor health ever since. He was treated for cancer twice, underwent three kidney transplants, and requires mechanical assistance to breathe. His condition forces him to take more than fifty types of medication on a daily basis. Let’s pray for this guy to recover!

Lenny Dykstra: “Nails” wasn’t the sharpest guy in the world, and there are those rumors that he kind of got involved with steroids while playing for the Phillies. He’s probably going to confuse John Mitchell, the pitcher, with George Mitchell, who is leading the steroids investigation for MLB, and stay far away, lest he have to answer some questions.

Wally Backman: Poor Wally. That thing with the Diamondbacks was kind of sad. I wouldn’t be shocked if he’s a recluse, but I hope he shows up.

Sid Fernandez: “El Sid” moved back to his native Hawaii and was hired as an cutive assistant to Mayor of Hawaii Jeremy Harris. Allegedly his job assignment was to find sponsors and users for sporting facilities on Oahu. Truth is that with Jack Lord dead, the government needed someone to take over Five-0, but with a lower profile. That does, however, explain why “Book ‘em Mookie!” became an island catch phrase. With Wo Fat on the loose again, I don’t think Sid’s going to be able to shake free.

Bob Ojeda: Last I heard, Bob stormed away from being the pitching coach of the Binghamton Mets after Rick Peterson got the major-league job. Allegedly he was muttering something about being able to fix Victor Zambrano is just five minutes!. Now he’s teamed up with Rich Gedman to be pitching coach for the Can-Am League’s Worchester Tornadoes.

Ray Knight: Knight’s post-Mets career is best remembered for serving as a caddy for his wife, pro golfer Nancy Lopez. It’s well-known around the Mets that Tom Glavine likes to hit the links. Knight probably fears that he’ll be forced to carry Tommy’s clubs, a job formerly held by Jose Offerman. That’s the only reason I can think of why Offerman was on last year’s team.

Tim Teufel: Backman’s platoon partner was managing the St. Luice Mets until Gary Carter decided he needed a promotion. Now Teufel’s “taking a year off.” Think he’s bitter?

Rafael Santana: Raffy is ticked off because every time some loudmouth columnist says a team needs a great shortstop to win, someone always says “Well, the Mets won with Rafael Santana.” I’d still take him over Derek F. Jeter.

Danny Heep: Since 1998, Heep has been head coach for the University of the Incarnate Word in San Antonio. They claim to be a Catholic school, but that kind of sounds like a cult to me.

Bud Harrelson: Bud is co-owner and third base coach for the Long Island Ducks. I’m not saying it’s a small operation, but he also drags the infield, works in the parking lot -- which is a lot like being third base coach -- and sells soft-serve ice cream in little plastic Ducks helmets. He’d come to the reunion, but the Duck would be in chaos.

Rick Aguilera: Rick ended his playing days and went on tour with is daughter Christina, where he supervises the roadie that runs on stage to replace her body piercings when one shakes loose during a particularly hot move.


Keith Hernandez: Mex, of course, is a star of the Mets television broadcasts. But we know what happened in San Diego. Rumors are that Keith scanned the guest list, saw Terry Leach on there and said “Terry’s a girl’s name and they don’t belong in the dugout.” and decided he’s not coming.

Ron Darling: Darling shares the booth with Keith Hernandez. But since Keith’s not going to come down the field, that leaves Ron free to come down and share in the festivities with Mookie Wilson.

So my wife is incorrect. Mookie won’t have the cocktail franks to himself after all.

In other words:

I suspect Bob Sikes has a much better handle at who won't be at the reunion. His always excellent blog is www.gettingpaidtowatch.com

Mets in the All-Star game? Typically a mid-summer bummer

The 1986 NL team was stacked with Mets, but it didn't turn out well.

I love the All-Star game. I dare say it’s my favorite game of the year to watch.

It’s awesome to see all those great players in one place, and my favorite part is when the players are introduced. It’s especially fun to see our Mets representatives get their due.

But the sad truth is that Mets players tend not to do especially well in this national spotlight.
Of we’ve had some spots of success.

Jon Matlack was the winning pitcher and co-MVP of the 1975 game. Lee Mazzilli had a big home run in the 1979 game. Tug McGraw won the 1972 game, and Sid Fernandez claimed a save in 1987. Dwight Gooden striking out the side as a rookie will be an all-time memory.

But it goes downhill in a hurry.

The 1986 game in Houston was supposed to be a celebration, and our four starters took the field in fancy white spikes. But Doc took the loss, Keith Hernandez was 0-4 and Gary Carter was 0-3.

Only Darryl Strawberry, with 1 hit in 2 at-bats, and Sid Fernandez, with a 3-strikeout inning, allowed us to leave the Astrodome with out heads held sort of high. Almost, becase the MVP was a pre-bat-chucking Bat Chucker, haunting us even then!

The 2003 game at New Comiskey Park was a complete disaster, and our player didn’t even make it into the game. Armando Benitez, who probably would have been voted least-popular Met that year by fans, was somehow tapped to be our sole representative, making it pretty rough to cheer.

How much did we dislike Armando at that point? It was his last appearance as a Met – shipped to the Yankees, of all teams, for a trio of stiffs named Jason Anderson, Anderson Garcia and Ryan “Anderson” Bicondoa.

Mike Piazza appeared in six games as a Met, hitting a horrible .154 over those games. Sadly, that uncharacteristic weak stick is among the leaders of our multiple-game players.

Carter won an All-Star game MVP while on the Expos, but hit .143 in his three appearances as a Met. Still, that’s better than Keith Hernandez’ .125 in three games.

Jerry Grote was hitless in his two games, and Edgardo Alfonzo was hitless in two at-bats in 2000.

Slugger Todd Hundley? Not in 1996, when it was 0-1 in his one game. He was named to another team, but was hurt.

Dave Kingman and Willie Mays have very little in common, other than that they were both hitless as Mets in All-Star Games.

Even our hero, Tom Seaver, fell short of his studly standards in the last two of his six appearances as a Met. He gave up three runs in the 1975 game, though he was redeemed by teammate Matlack.

But before you bail on the Mid-Summer Classic, here are some positive things. David Cone, Bobby Jones, John Franco, Tom Glavine and Frank Viola pitched shutout innings t innings.

Lance Johnson was a surprise starter in 1996 and ended up playing almost the entire game, getting three hits in four at-bats, including a double.

Cleon Jones made the most of his one game, getting 2 hits in 4 at-bats in 1969.

Bud Harrelson, our light-hitting shortstop, pounded a robust .400 over the 1970 and 1971 games.

I was optimistic that out six players named to this year’s team would help the Mets redeem the short-comings of the past. Then Pedro’s hip went sore, Jose Reyes got spiked and Glavine pitched on Sunday.

Maybe David Wright’s impressive performance in the Home Run Derby is a sign of good things to come. And I’m pretty sure he won’t go Benitez and end up on the Yankees by the end of the week.

Casting out Mets demons on 6/6/06

As I’m sure you have all heard, today’s numerical date is 6/6/06. Or, when you want to manufacture a media event, you can say 6/6/6 or 666, the mark of the beast.

There’s a town here in Michigan named Hell that’s getting all excited about the event, which is misguided because I’d been to Detroit. And if there’s a town deserving of the name Hell...well, I won’t go there.

But I say we should make good use of this day. Instead of fearing the demons, let’s cast them out and allow them to haunt us no more. Open the closet door and let the skeletons free. Away with them all!

Naturally, there are rules about being a demon. You can’t just not play well. Mel Rojas was a bad pitcher, but not a demon. Goodness knows the Mets have endured a lot of players who just sucked. Nor is a person a demon because they were traded for someone who turned out to be much better. It’s not Jim Fergosi’s fault he was traded for Nolan Ryan.

We’re talking about the kind of players to piss away their skills, or who do things to hurt the team, our fellow fans or the city. Here are Mets demons. Cast them out today, and they shall haunt us no more. Let them go.

1) Timo Perez: Admit it, you still wake up in the middle of the night and yell "Run, Timo! Run, dammit!" It’s true that had Timoniel turned on the jets on the Zeile fence-bouncer, we probably would have taken Game One of the 2000 World Series, and who knows what would have happened after that. We certainly would have been spared bitter Tim McCarver’s weepy "This could be Paul O’Neill’s last game at Yankee Stadium" lines that we heard throughout Game Two. Timo still sucks, batting a robust .200 on the Cards’ roster.

2) Bobby Bonilla: Playing cards in the clubhouse with Rickey Henderson as the 1999 NLCS came crashing down was only the last shameful act of his Mets tenure. Being stupid enough to bite on Bob Klapisch’s bait was bad. Note to Bobby Bo: When known Yankee hacks are known to be writing books about the Mets, you can expect it to be critical. Don’t give them material.

3) Vince Coleman: The problem with those early 1990s teams wasn’t that they didn’t have money, it’s that they spent it on the wrong players. Like Vince Coleman. The speedy outfielder made his reputation by slapping hits on the Busch Stadium turf and stealing second and third. His greatest heist was the contract from the Mets, who should have known Vice wasn’t the brightest guy after he got run over by the mechanical tarp before the 1987 World Series. Once with the Mets, the delusional Vince blamed the Shea groundskeepers, saying their soft basepaths were keeping him out of the Hall of Fame. Then he hurt Doc Gooden’s shoulder with a golf club. And finally, he somehow thought it was a good idea to toss fireworks at little kids.

4) Kenny "Bleeping" Rogers: Game Six, 1999 NCLS. Bases loaded. Andruw Jones standing at the plate. Not swinging. Didn’t have to.

5) Richie Hebner: Hebner watched a lot of Mets baseball games in 1979. Sadly, he watched them from third base, where he drew scorn for his pronounced indifference, waving at balls hit his way.

6) Doc and Straw: The saddest part is that what was was so amazing that we’ll always wonder what could have been.

7) Gregg Jefferies: The most prized prospect in the 1980s, Jefferies got us all excited with his 1988 call-up. But Gregg was apparently wound a little too tight, throwing tantrums after making outs and errors. And since fielding was an issue, he threw a lot of tantrums. Not all of it was his fault, there was no way he could live up to the hype. But that doesn’t mean you have to be a jerk, either.

8) M. Donald Grant: Here’s the big one. Do you praise M. Donald for the 1969 championship and 1973 pennant, or do you bemoan the man who banished Tom Seaver and let the team fall into shambles? Grant was an old-school baseball man. He gets points for being the one opposing vote on the New York Giants Board of Directors when the team moved to San Francisco. But the game clearly passed him by. He mishandled a spring training incident with Cleon Jones and banished the Jets to Jersey. Oh wait, the guy traded Tom Seaver because he didn’t want to pay him and traumatized my formative years. It will be 29 years next week, and I’m still bitter. That makes him a demon.

Away with you demons! And let you never haunt us again! And we’ll shall fear this day no more.

"El Duque" joins Mets all-nickname team

Orlando "El Duque" Hernandez has been with the Mets for a week, and he’s already assumed a valuable spot.

Of course, I’m talking about the Mets’ All-Nickname team.

Nicknames are an important part of baseball, the Mets have had some of the best, especially in those early years.
But first the ground rules: No one makes the team with a lame Chris Berman name. By and large, I think they’re dopey and not something an average fan would throw out there.

A proper nickname has to roll off the tongue and be universally recognized and even stand on it’s own. When you say "The Franchise," everybody knows who you are talking about.

Another rule: Shortened last names don’t count. Sorry "Straw" and "Maz." There's one near exception, and we'll get to that in a minute.

First Base: “Marvelous Marv" Throneberry
If there was ever a man destined to be a Met, it was Marvin Eugene Throneberry. His play left something to be desried. OK, a lot to be desired. But Marv was a colorful guy, and all we had in those early years was color. The other option was Dave "Kong" Kingman, but I just don't like him very much.

Second base: Elijah Jerry “Pumpsie” Green
Green is famous for integrating the Red Sox, but he closed out his career by appearing in 17 games for the 1963 Mets, hitting .278 with one homer. He came in a trade with Tracy Stallard for Felix Mantilla, a trifecta of unusual names. The Sox later restored blandness by adding a guy named Al Moran as the player to be named later.

Third base: Howard “HoJo” Johnson
As you have no doubt guessed, this is the near exception to the no shortened last name rule. In this case, we get the shortened first and last names. This guy was so good they named a restaurant after him. Seriously, what were his parents thinking? And once the Mets had a guy in their minor league system named Ronald McDonald. Imagine if HoJo and Mickey D were ever on the same team?

Shortstop: Derrel McKinley “Bud” Harrelson
Truth is, shortstop is the weak spot in the lineup. I love Buddy, don't get me wrong. It's not just the strongest nickname out there.

Outfield:
Daniel Joseph “Rusty” Staub, "Le Grande Orange"
Mr. Staub was such a good player that he needed two nicknames, one in French. I’m guessing the names stem from his red hair, but we should never assume too much. Rusty of course had two runs with the Mets, the second of which inspired a third name, “Guy who doesn’t run or play in the field.”

Roger “You Suck” Cedeno
I confess I am perplexed by this one. But it seemed like every time mild-mannered Roger was introduced, I’d hear “You Suck Cedeno!” which seems like an unusual nickname. Perhaps it comes from Cedeno’s magical power to turn opponent's routine flyball outs into triples.

Lenny "Nails" Dykstra and William Hayward "Mookie" Wilson
They were platooned on the Mets, so they share that fate here as well. Dykstra liked to think he was tough as nails. I met at a card show once and asked him to sign the glorious Mets book. As he was signing I asked him if he could write "Nails" there as well. He misspelled it, looked up and sheepishly said "Oops" and tried to fix it. So that goes to show you that while Dykstra might have been tough as nails, he was not sharp as a tack. Mookie, who had no trouble spelling his name, has transcended sports with a name that has since been bestowed to countless pets.

Back-up outfielder: George Basil “Stork” Theodore
Stork was a monster in the minors but his time at Shea is probably best remembered by his horrific collision with Don Hahn in 1973 that broke his hip. Stork ended up hitting just .219 with two homers in his career, but was fondly remembered a colorful character. And as the cartoon on the back of his 1974 Topps card says, “George likes marshmallow mikeshakes.”

Catcher: Clarence “Choo Choo” Coleman
“Choo Choo” was a bit of a mystery. He called everyone “Bub.” There’s a famous story about Coleman appearing on Kiner’s Korner, and Ralph, frustrated by the short non-answers he was getting, tried to lighten Coleman up by asking “Choo Choo, what is your wife’s name, and what’s she like?” His response: “Her name is Mrs. Coleman, and she likes me, Bub.” The real mystery is how Coleman got on the show in the first place, since it was reserved for the stars of that day’s game. Coleman appeared in 106 games in 1963 despite hitting a whopping .178. And it’s not like he was any good in the field, he had 15 errors. But his name was good enough to beat Don Robert "Duffy" Dyer.

Starting rotation
George Thomas Seaver "The Franchise"
Any Mets rotation begins with Seaver, of course! He was probably called "Tom Terriffic" more often.

Wilmer David "Vinegar Bend" Mizell
I assume he is called that because he was born in Vinegar Bend, Alabama. Mizell had some nice years with the Pirates, but like the rest of the 1962 team, there was very little left in the tank and he was released after 17 games and a nasty 7.34 ERA. He later went on to join an even more suspect group of misfits -- the U.S. Congress!

Dwight "Dr. K," "Doc" Gooden
Gooden's nickname became so oft-mentioned that Topps actually replaced Dwight with Doc on baseball cards. Gooden for a time wanted another nickname, "Uptown." No kidding. There was a story in the program and everything. Thankfully, that ended in a hurry. But in hindsight it shows that Doc was more messed up than we ever suspected at the time.

Frank "Sweet Music" Viola
I suppose that when your last name matches a stringed instrument, this is about as good of a nickname as you are going to get. But Frank was a Long Islander, so that makes him A-OK with us. Some might say that Kenny "The Gambler" deserves a spot in the rotation, but I'm still not forgiving him for the infamous walk to Andruw Jones.

Bullpen: Frank Edwin "Tug" McGraw
My cat is named after Tug McGraw. It's true. My wife decided that she would get final say over names given to children, and I'd get final say over names bestowed on pets. She might have made this rule after I wanted to name our first-born "Mookie." My goldfish is named "Costco."

Manager: Lawrence Peter "Yogi" Berra
Yogi's suffering at the hands of the Yankees is well-documented, and he didn't get the respect he deserved as manager of the Mets, either. But he gets on this team, well ahead the colorless group of manager names we've trotted out there, from Wes to Joe to Davey to Art.

There you go! Let me know if I've missed anybody.

In other words...

Fellow out-of-state Mets fan Dan Ziegler has moved his site to a new place. You can find him at www.lonestarmets.com