"101 Baseball Places" a good way to work through these tough times

This week I purchased what is probably the third-coolest book ever.

The first, of course, is “Mets by the Numbers” by Jon Springer and Matt Silverman.

Second place goes to “Faith and Fear in Flushing” by Greg Prince, though I suspect he will vault into a tie for first place when the book is published this spring and I get a chance to actually read it.

But third is “101 Baseball Places to See Before You Strike Out” by Josh Pahigian, which came out last year. I discovered it at the Gerald Ford Museum, which just wrapped up an awesome baseball exhibit.

Pahigian has written several books about baseball road trips, and this tome seems to be a list of the top 101 places he discovered along his various treks.

They’re not just stadiums, and not just museums, though there are plenty of each. But he also has an eye for the quirky, off-the-beaten path kinds of places that only a true obsessive must see and experience.

In other words, he’s one of us. Actually, he’s a Red Sox fan, so he’s not quite one of us. But he probably hates the Yankees, so he’s fairly close.

Flipping through the book, I realized that I’ve been to bunch of these places. I haven’t added them up, but I bet I’m closing in on half of his list, usually with a pretty good adventure along the way.

So why haven’t I given some examples?

Because I want to use this space to work through the book place by place, sharing some of those adventures and photos along the way.

And there are some glaring omissions. Dude is a Sox fan, after all. And sometimes he appears not the hate the Yankees as much as he should, though that might be pandering to appease the Yankee fans who can read. But I can fill the gaps with those places.

Why take this path?

Because it’s a long way to Opening Day, the Mets roster is pretty much set and I’m really tired about hearing about Yankee books, Scott Boras shenanigans, Citi Field naming disputes, Shea’s destruction, Olympic bongers, Barry’s legal woes and the never-ending snow in these parts.

In short, we need to celebrate all that is good in life.

We’ll start tomorrow with Baseball Place No. 1. Here’s a hint. Tom Seaver gets in for free, Bat-chucker will have to buy a ticket, if there is any justice in this world.

"Bad Guys" and awesome cousins

I had one of those post-vacation weeks where work was crazy and outside commitments were stacking up, preventing me from blogging through what was a pretty sweet week for our Mets.

And I’m heading off to Chicago on Monday for a glorious opportunity to see the beloved Mets in the friendly confines of Wrigley, thanks to my buddy Will and his wonderful sidekick Laurie.

I’ll have a full report after that game. Until then we can have a meeting of the Mets Book Club.

I had no interesting reading “The Bad Guys Won” by Jeff Pearlman, for a couple reasons.

First, I avoid negative books about the Mets, otherwise known as the collective works of Bob Klapisch. I generally don’t care to know that players can be jerks.

Second, I had reservations about Pearlman, who wrote the Sports Illustrated story that made John Rocker infamous.

Don’t get me wrong. Rocker was a complete knucklehead. But I’m not sure the piece was fair. When I interview someone I make sure they know they’re on the record, especially when I’m dealing with someone who is not used to dealing with the media.

Technically, I don’t have to. Because if you are speaking to a reporter, you need to know that what you do and say can appear in the paper. But you don’t want to take advantage of people, either.

And by the way Rocker was carrying on in the interview, I’ve always wondered if he was aware of what was going on, or whether Pearlman was egging him on. It’s just not my style of journalism.

But I was in a Borders Outlet store in Florida looking for some light reading for the trip home, and saw the paperback version for $3.99.

And I remembered that Pearlman had nice things to say about "Mets by the Numbers" on the back cover. Maybe he’s a decent sort after all.

So with just minimal investment and guilt, I picked it up and started reading.

Seems like the worst stuff is in the first chapter, about the food fight on the flight home from Houston after the 1986 playoffs. From there on there isn’t too much that we didn’t already know, like Gooden’s drug issues and Dykstra’s gambling and Strawberry’s unhinged first wife.

I do have to say that I almost stopped reading near the end of Chapter 11, when Pearlman is talking about the “Let’s Go Mets” song and video. He got to the part about non-players who appeared in the video.

“No star was too small. As a result the last 20 seconds is an embarrassing nod to such not-so-hot luminaries such as … two schlubs from Twisted Sister (neither is named Dee Snider.)”

Wow. Just, wow. It’s been a while since I’ve seen the video. So I’m not which members he insulted there. And Jay Jay French, Eddie Ojeda, A. J. Pero and Mark “The Animal” Mendoza might not care.

Pearlman’s from Mahopac. He needs to learn that one does not dismiss Long Island royalty as “schulbs.”

I nearly bounced the book off the forehead of the guy sitting in front of me on the plane. And he deserved it because he had the seat fully reclined, which means he was practically sharing my seat.

Ahem! No one in Twisted Sister is a "schlub."

The last time I was that ticked off reading a Mets book was when Peter Golenbock referred to some pitcher named Thomas George Seaver in his book “Amazin’.” Obviously I know of George Thomas Seaver, the Hall of Famer and face of the franchise. But I’ve never heard of that other guy.

Seriously, if you’re writing a team history, how can you possibly blow the name of the team’s greatest player?

Back to Pearlman. The rest of the book was just OK. It’s pretty much a retelling of the playoffs and the World Series win over the Red Sox. All that has been told in more detail in other places.

So, slights to Twisted Sister aside, I guess it was an OK book to buy on clearance in an outlet. And it passed the time on the flight home.

Then, I arrived home and found a mysterious package in my mailbox. I opened it, and with great joy discovered the program from the Mets’ Opening Day and a note from my cool cousin, Mike.

I must say that my cousins are taking extraordinary care of my Mets needs this season, and I am most grateful.

Mike said he got to the game early, saw the special program – and saw that they were going quickly. He grabbed an extra one for me, and even kept it dry and clean with some drunk sitting behind him was spilling their beer all over the place.

I must say this is the best Mets program I’ve seen in years. It’s almost yearbook-thick. There are a lot of historical photos, and even a poster of David Wright.

And unlike the Jeff Pearlman book, there are no cheap shots at Long Island legends.

"Mets by the Numbers," an awesome read -- with one very cool photo!

Tracy Stallard ranked 10th in the National League in home runs allowed in 1963 – but he was only fifth on his own team, which speaks volumes about the ’63 Mets. And he wore No. 36.

Vance Wilson will one day tell his grandkids that he backed up the two greatest catchers of his era: Mike Piazza and Ivan Rodriguez. And he wore No. 3.

Richie Hebner “arrived reluctantly on the eve of the 1979 season and overnight became the third baseman he no longer was and the clean-up hitter he never was suited to be.” He, too, wore No. 3.

Clearly, I’m reading from “Mets by the Numbers,” by Jon Springer and Matthew Silverman, quite possibly the best book ever written.

And I’m not just saying that because Jon asked me to contribute a photo of my Mercury Mets jersey, though that clearly doesn’t hurt. It’s right there on page 129. Sweet.

I got my copy earlier this month, and I don’t think a day has gone by without thumbing through its pages.

It’s not the kind of book where you plop down in a comfy chair and sit there until the next morning to see how Harry disposed of Lord Valdemort.

No, this is like a reference book I turn to each day, maybe for a couple minutes or maybe for half-hour. I plan to keep it on my desk at work, right there with my other resources.

Like with Jon’s Web site, http://www.mbtn.net/ , he approaches Mets history numerically from Richie Ashburn (1) to Turk Wendell (99), or until Tony Clark, depending on where you think his 00 stands in line.

He takes each number and tells you which players wore it and for how long – and why we should care about each one. And it’s written with equal parts tenderness and frankness.

Sometimes a number is redeemed and forever linked to glory, like No. 41.

And others just seem to be either bad luck or an indicator of trouble to come. Take this passage about No. 43, which comes a mere two digits over.

“Former Yankee Shane Spencer made the Mets in 2004 and proceeded to make an Art Howe-led club make more taken advantage of than usual. Whether it was urinating outside a pizza joint then beating someone up about it, walking through a bar barefoot and being amazed about a foot getting cut on broken glass, or getting a DWI on a subsequent rehabilitation assignment, Spencer made you forget that he was about the best 43 with a bat the Mets have ever had.”

Plus, Jon takes little side trips down all kinds of streets, telling us, for example, that Jason Isringhausen had the longest name in team history. Like with Pop-Up Videos from Friday, I don’t why I needed to know that information, but I’m better off because I do.

What’s neat is that Springer and Silverman show a fan’s appreciation and for players who were stars, but an affection for the guys who might have just been passing through but made Shea a better place while they were there.

I’m going to keep it in arm’s reach for those moments when I think, “George ‘The Stork’ Theodore was a fun player back in 1973. Wonder what number he wore.” And would be both 18 and 9.

Every Signature Tells a Story: Clem Labine and Flint Journal Softball

Clem Labine pitched for two champions -- and the lowly 1962 Mets.

I was showing off my glorious flannel Mitchell & Ness reproduction of Tom Seaver’s 1969 jersey at a card show where members of the 1962 team were signing autographs.

Clem Labine looked up after signing my Mets history book and smiled.

“Hey, you’re wearing my jersey,” he said.

I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t know if the old guy had kind of lost it, but I didn’t want to be rude.

“I think this is Tom Seaver’s jersey, Mr. Labine,” I carefully responded.

“Nope. I was No. 41 first. Look it up.”

It finally sunk in. For some reason it never occurred to me that other Mets had worn No. 41. I assumed it was the exclusive property of “The Franchise” – and me.

I’ve been wearing No. 41 as a tribute to Tom for as long as I’ve been wearing anything with a number.

One of the responsibilities of being the coach of the Flint Journal’s coed softball team all those years was ordering our jerseys. Being a certifiable uniform junkie, I put great effort into designing our gameware each year. I’d spend the winter planning. We didn't always play well, but we looked awesome!

Our colors were black, red and white because we were a newspaper team. You know the joke from the era before USA Today: “What’s black and white and red (read) all over?

And of course, I got first choice on the numbers. It was a given that No. 41 was locked up.

Looking through the history books, it might have been better if the Mets had locked 41 in the closet until Seaver arrived.

Labine had a nice career, finishing with a 77-56 record in 13 years winning World Championships with the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1955 and Pittsburgh Pirates in 1960 -- beating vile Yankees both times!

But his magic was gone by the time the expansion Mets were grabbing former Dodgers and Giants. Labine appeared in 3 games, pitching 4 innings and posting an ugly 11.25 ERA before being released.

No. 41 didn’t fare much better the next year, when Grover Powell wore it in 20 games, wrapping up with a 1-1 record and 2.72 ERA.

Jim Bethke wore the number in 1965, with a 2-0 record and 4.28 ERA. But he gave way to Gordon Richardson later that year, who went 2-4 in 50 games over the remainder that season and 1966.

Of course, Seaver debuted in 1967, and today it hangs on the wall at Shea Stadium with Casey, Gil and Jackie.

At the press conference when Seaver announced his retirement in 1987, a reporter asked him how he game upon the number that would be as identifiable to him as No. 3 is with the Babe, No. 44 with the Hammer and No. 9 with the Splinter.

“It’s a very romantic story,” Seaver said with a smile. “I arrived at my locker on my first day and it was hanging there.”

That equipment manager in 1967 had no idea about the important role he’d play in Journal coed softball uniforms somewhere down the line.

In Other Words...

Thanks to the folks at Mets by the Numbers, an amazingly detailed site about every number worn by every Mets player and more. It's one of those site that you start reading, then suddenly realize an hour has gone by.