March is Mostly Mets Reading Month: 'Swinging '73,' a story of obsession and heartbreak

You knew there would be more Mets books this month. Today, we're headed back to 1973, where it all began.

“Swinging ’73, Baseball’s Wildest Season” by Matthew Silverman

Published in 2013

I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t a Mets fan. But I do remember when the Mets became an obsession. As a 9-year-old in 1973, I was hooked from spring training on.

I’m sure this was a result of a number of things. I had friends in school who were sports fans and when we weren’t talking baseball, we were playing it at Hawthorn Elementary, Brady Park or, most often, in the neighborhood streets. (To this day, I don't know how we didn't do more damage to houses, cars and ourselves. But I also can attribute my ability today to hit a softball up the middle of the field to the narrowness of Fitzmaurice and Van Buren streets.)

I also started reading the newspapers, studying the Daily News and Newsday from back to front each day and cutting out every photo of a Met, taping them in spiral notebooks. Sportswriters also were heroes, and the dream of one day working as a reporter was no doubt hatched at this time.

And, perhaps most importantly, I had a black-and-white television in my bedroom that became the conduit for Bob, Ralph and Lindsey and the adventures of the Mets every night on WOR. For those West Coast trips, I’d keep a small transistor radio on my pillow, drifting off to sleep as the Mets toiled against the Giants, Dodgers and Padres.  

The Mets were a colorful cast of characters then and I knew them all, flipping through my yearbooks, scrapbooks and baseball cards as the games progressed. Hammer, Tug, Buddy, Kooz, Willie, Rusty, Yogi, Duffy, Cleon, Krane, Felix – they were all flawless, larger-than-life figures. I can still probably recite the entire 25-man roster with little trouble. And, of course, at the center of it all was Tom Seaver, the knight whose armor shined the brightest.

Matt Silverman brilliantly takes us through the season, focusing on the Mets with an eye on developments in the Bronx, of which I at the time had only passing interest, and across the country in Oakland, where the A’s were a styling, brawling team that, had they not appeared in my packs of Topps cards, I would not have known existed. The American League was none of my concern.

Matt also walks through the America that existed outside of baseball -- the dramas of Watergate and Nixon and Spiro Agnew -- and how they all came together in the summer and fall of 1973.

The Mets of 1873 still had most of the strongest pillars of the 1969 championship team but were beset by a series of injuries. I vividly remember watching the epic outfield collision of George Theodore and Don Hahn.

Me in 1973: Say what you want about the pants, but that
belt buckle is awesome!

But somehow the team fought itself back into contention in the National League East, winning the division in the final series of the season against the Cubs. 

Of course it did. Every story a 9-year-old reads has a happy ending. Batman always escapes the Joker’s traps. The good guys always win.

I remember we interrupted a Cub Scout meeting to send someone in to check the score of Game 3 of the playoffs, with the entire den everyone spilling our living room to watch the brawl between Pete Rose and Buddy Harrelson and then Tom, Willie, Yogi and Rusty walking out to left field to ask the fans to stop pelting Rose with debris.

The World Series was a tough life lesson. We all learned about the A’s, with their funny jerseys and mustaches and ballpark that made it hard for Willie to see fly balls. And, the stupid umpire who called Buddy out at home when he was clearly safe – and I knew he was safe because Willie Mays said so. We learned about the A's players fighting with the owner and the player the owner tried to pretend was hurt and the ovation the player got at Shea because we support underdogs and have no tolerance for injustice.

And I remember the entire family gathered around the living room television for Game 7, and my grandmother saying late in the game that someone needed to go to Friendly’s to bring back some ice cream because the Mets, after falling behind, were not going to catch up. Grandma grew up in Brooklyn and had been an avid Dodgers fan. She knew a thing or two about World Series heartbreak.

And I remember being utterly shocked and dismayed – my little world shattered – when, somehow, the bad guys won. It’s not supposed to happen that way.

Of course, as a 9-year-old, I had no way of knowing  that this crushing disappointment would actually be the high point for the Mets until the middle of the next decade, with losing seasons and gut-wrenching trades that only continued to shock and dismay and shatter. The bad guys had quite a winning streak there for a while.

Silverman’s a talented and entertaining writer -- we could fill the entire month with his Mets books -- and this would be an enjoyable read for any baseball fan. But for me, it was a magical trip to a special time and a special place, with each page stirring up another memory.

Your reading list so far:

March 18: "Roadshow" by Neil Peart

March 17: "Destiny of the Republic" by Candice Millard
March 11: "Street Gang" by Michael Davis
March 10: "Topps Baseball Cards, the Complete Picture Collection"
March 9: "Dodger Dogs to Fenway Franks" by Bob Wood
March 8: "The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt" by Edmund Morris

March 7: "The New York Mets" by Leonard Koppett
March 6: "Mary Lou" by Mary Lou Retton and Bela Karolyi

March 5: "Baseball Uniforms of the 20th Century" by Marc Okkenon
March 4: "Clemente! The Enduring Legacy" by Kal Wagenheim 
March 3: "Mets by the Numbers" by Jon Springer and Matthew Silverman

March 2: "Faith and Fear in Flushing" by Greg W. Prince

We're old -- in a young sort of way

The Mets brought back Moises Alou, 41, and Damion Easley, 38, and that got me thinking.

Both of these guys seem a little old — by baseball player standards, mind you. As a 43-year-old, I can announce that people in their 40s are indeed young.

But it seems like the Mets have a thing for players in this age group, more so than in the past. So I did some checking. And darn it, we are old!

The friends at www.baseball-reference.com have an amazing data base, and I checked the average age of the team for each of our years. Then I looked for the oldest player for each year, and the number of players over 40.

Last year we had our oldest team ever, with an average age of 30.8 -- beating out the 2002 disaster, which was 30.5.

The youngest teams were 1967 — 25.8 years old — and the 1969 champs, at 25.9 years old.

We’ve only had nine years with a 40-year-old. Last year we had six on the roster, a team record! We had six with five on the roster for the demise: Tom Glavine, Jeff Conine and Sandy Alomar Jr. (all 41) and Orlando Hernandez, (allegedly 41) and Alou, 40. Of course, we had Julio Franco, 48, through the All-Star Game.

The year before we had three, with Franco, Glavine and Hernandez. There were two in 1999 — Orel Hersheiser and Rickey Henderson — and 1965, with Yogi Berra and Warren Spahn.

We had one member of the 40 and Over Club in 2000 — Rickey Henderson — 1985 and 1986 — both Rusty Staub — and 1972 and 1973 — both Willie Mays.

And in case you are curious, our youngest oldest player was 33 — in 1974 and the 1986 champs.

Here’s average age per year, and the oldest player on the club:

1962: 29.0, Gene Woodling, 39
1963: 27.4, Gil Hodges, 39
1964: 26.9, Roy McMillin and Frank Lary, 34.
1965: 26.4, Warren Spahn, 44
1966: 26.9, Ken Boyer and Bob Friend, 35
1967: 25.8, Boyer, 36
1968: 26.0, Ed Charles, 35
1969: 25.9, Ed Charles, 36
1970: 26.5, Donn Clendenon and Don Cardwell, 34
1971: 26.7, Donn Clendenon, 35
1972, 27.3, Willie Mays, 41
1973, 27.9, Willie Mays, 42
1974, 27.8, Ray Sedecki, Jack Aker, 33
1975, 28.6, Joe Torre, 34
1976, 28.5, Joe Torre, 35
1977, 27.0, Joe Torre, 36
1978, 27.1, Jerry Koosman, 35
1979, 27.6, Jose Cardenal, 35
1980, 27.4, Dyar Miller, 34
1981, 28.2, Mike Marshall, 38
1982, 28.7, Rusty Staub, 38
1983, 27.6, Rusty Staub, 39
1984, 27.2, Rusty Staub, 40
1985, 28.1, Rusty Staub, 41
1986, 28.0, Ray Knight, Tim Corcoran, 33
1987, 28.0, Bill Almon, 34
1988, 27.8, Keith Hernandez, Gary Carter, Terry Leach, 34
1989, 27.5, Keith Hernandez, Gary Carter, Terry Leach, 35
1990, 27.5, Tommy Herr, 34
1991, 29.1, Rick Cerone, 37
1992, 30.0, Willie Randolph, 37
1993, 29.4, Frank Tanana, 39
1994, 27.8, Kevin Mc Reynolds, 34
1995, 27.4, Brett Butler, 38
1996, 27.2, John Franco, 35
1997, 27.3, Lance Johnson, 33
1998, 28.8, Tony Phillips, 39
1999, 30.0, Orel Hersheiser and Rickey Henderson, 40
2000, 30.4, Rickey Henderson, 41
2001, 30.3, Dennis Cook, 38
2002, 30.5, Steve Reed, 37
2003, 29.3, Tom Glavine, Al Leiter, Jay Bell, 37
2004, 29.8, Tom Glavine, Al Leiter, 38
2005, 28.8, Tom Glavine, 39
2006, 30.1, Julio Franco, 47
2007, 30.8, Julio Franco, 48

I realize Omar likes to have a mix of younger players and experienced veteans, but I’m wondering if he might need to spend a little more time looking at guys on the south side of 30, much less 40.

Not that people in their 40s are old. Which is what I keep telling myself.

Christmas in July: ARod is cursed

ARod’s toast.

As if the booing, the flopping in the playoffs, the shirtless activity in Central Park weren’t enough. Now the Yankee’s third-baseman is facing the curse.

I was almost giddy when I learned this week that Hallmark has selected ARod to be this year’s baseball player ornament.

First, it was $15 that I didn’t have to spend, because there’s now way I’m going to put a Yankee on my Christmas tree.

But the other reality is that the vast majority of the players tapped by Hallmark for ornaments in its “Day at the Ballpark” series have suffered mightily.

I have about 25 baseball ornaments. Long-time readers know what that’s code for. Truth is my baseball ornaments were taking over the family Christmas tree. One year my wife decided to get them out of sight by buying me a small artificial tree for the baseball room in the basement.

And at first it was pretty cool that Hallmark made reasonably realistic-looking ornaments of players that are about the size of the old Starting Lineup figures.

Then I started seeing a disturbing trend. Here are the players and the events that followed, most of them bad. I think there's a curse. Decide for yourself.

1996: Nolan Ryan

The series started out with Ryan, a safe, reasonable choice. But there was an obvious faux pas. The ornament depicted The Express as a Ranger, where he is best remembered for giving Robin Ventura noogies, instead of with the Mets, where he won his only championship.

1997: Hank Aaron

Also safe. Who wouldn’t want Hammering Hank ushering in the holidays? I hang this one front and center on my tree.

1998: Cal Ripken Jr.

And here’s where the curse kicks in. The Iron Man, of course, set the consecutive games record several years before this ornament was released. The next season? Ripken goes from playing in 161 games in 1998 to just 86 in 1999.

1999: Ken Griffey Jr.

It was hard not to love Junior in his Mariners days. Sadly, two months after Christmas, Junior browbeat the M’s into shipping him to the Cincinnati Reds.


2000: Ken Griffey Jr.

After the whole trade debacle, Hallmark asked for a mulligan and issued another Griffey ornament. It was actually the same pose, but with a new paint job. A bad one, in fact. It showed a solid red jersey with only a sleeve patch to indicate it was in fact a Reds uniform. And, of course, Junior has never been the same.

2000 Mark McGwire

This was he first two-ornament year. Hey, why mess with one player’s career when you can trash two? McGwire was hurt for much of 2000, but still hit .305 with 32 jacks and was rewarded with an ornament. The next season a broken-down Mac gimped with a .187 stick and 29 homers and four years later showed up before Congress all weepy and looking like a deflated balloon from the Macy’s parade.

2001 Mickey Mantle

After the double jinx of 2000, Hallmark played it safe by picking a player whose career couldn’t possibly be hurt. Heck, they picked a player who’s life couldn’t be ravaged by the curse – one who was dead for six years. Not that it appears on my tree.

2001 Sammy Sosa

Sammy hit 64 homers in 2001, and then showed up on Christmas trees. He had one more decent season before going from King of the Windy City to corking bats, ticking off teammates and getting run out of town. Next thing you know, Sammy, who seemed to speak English well enough in his assorted television ads, needed a translator to say practically nothing when hauled before Congress.

2002 George Brett

Brett, a clean-cut and respected guy, was already in the Hall of Fame when Hallmark decided to test the curse and make him an ornament. Truth be told, a guy like Brett was needed to off-set the horrible karma from the other guy selected for that year.

2002 Derek F. Jeter

Derek “Bleeping” Jeter. Why would somebody want this over-rated slacker on their Christmas tree? Hello? The holidays are supposed to be a happy time. How am I supposed to be wishing people peace on Earth and goodwill toward man with Mister Freaking Yankee dangling from an evergreen branch? Bad move. I refused to buy this one. I don’t put Yankees on my tree. On the plus side, Jeter has been cursed and the Yankees have not won a World Series since Hallmark cast him in plastic.

2003 Ted Williams

After the whole Jeter fiasco, Hallmark must have decided that it needed to salvage the whole line of ornaments. And why not the Splendid Splinter? He was one of the best players of all time, though a little crusty in his later years. And he had died the year before, so there was nothing embarrassing that could happen. Except, of course, when it was revealed that his goofy son talked Dad into lopping off his head and freezing his body after death, and having the rest of the family going to court to reclaim the body.

2003 Jason Giambi

Oh, if that wasn’t enough, the second guy selected was soon to be linked to a steroid scandal. Did Hallmark learn from Jeter? Apparently not. Look, when you dance with the Yankees, bad things are going to happen.

2004 Willie Mays

Ahhh. Here we go. The Say Hey Kid. No ‘roids, no goofy family members. It’s all good. Except, of course, that the former Met is for some reason depicted as playing for some other team.

2004 Barry Bonds

Well, Barry’s life pretty much went to hell after Hallmark dropped this baby. He barely played the season after the ornament was released, and we all know what’s happened since. Hmmm. With Bonds, Sosa, Giambi and McGwire, you could have a little theme tree working.

2005 Albert Pujols

I thought Hallmark was starting to learn from its past mistakes, and picked a squeaky clean player from a great baseball city. And Albert looked like he was going to survive until going down earlier this season for three weeks. He’s bouncing back nicely, a valiant effort to break the curse.

2006 Alex Rodriguez

Needless to say, I won’t be buying this one. But I wasn’t sad to see him selected knowing the carnage that is to follow. It was kind of like, well, a Christmas present in July.

Now if we can only stop Hallmark from discovering David Wright, we'll be in good shape.

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.

Hall of Fame Atrocities

I’m hearing a lot of bellyaching about Rafael Palmiero and whether he should go into the Hall of Fame.

Of course he should, unless you want to exclude every other slugger from the juiced era. Raffy may be the first to actually get caught -- not counting leaked grand jury testimony -- but I think no one at this point will be shocked to find out that every great slugger of this era except Mike Piazza was having, ahem, accidental doses of flaxseed oil.

And besides, there are far, far worse things defiling baseball’s sacred shrine in Cooperstown.

I'm talking, of course, about the complete lack of respect to players belonging to a certain New York team -- and some completely unworthy adulation heaped upon another New York team. Some of these omissions are fixable, and we’d better get to it before it’s too late and our hallowed Hall starts to resemble that tacky truck stop in Canton that football calls its hall. The integrity of the baseball Hall itself is at stake, so let's get busy.


Phil Rizzuto: Why does this plaque exist? Enshrining Scooter alone almost forces the place to change its name to the “Hall of Fame Plus an Unworthy Guy Added When the Veteran’s Committee Relented to the Yankee PR Machine.” If Scooter was so good, why did it take 38 years after he retired to put him in? He won an MVP. Well, Dale Murphy has two, and he’s on the outside. The presence of this plaque among true heroes like Jackie Robinson, Tom Seaver and Ted Williams should allow anyone paying admission to demand a refund. I realize that the Yankees would like us to enshrine all their players, even weasels like Derek Jeter, and they darn near get away with it. But we've got to draw the line somewhere, and that line should have been drawn in front of Scooter.

At least this Scooter fiasco is easily repairable, given a crow bar and a few distracted security guards. Some of these other atrocities will be more difficult to fix. I submit the following:


Reggie Jackson: Why is this man wearing a Yankees cap? Baseball’s all-time strikeout king – as a batter, mind you – played 10 years for the Athletics and won three World Series and an MVP. He played five years for the Yankees, a tenure largely remembered for getting Billy Martin fired a couple times and one evening where some rubber-armed Dodger hurlers playing away from their pitcher-friendly yard allow him to doink a hit or three into the cheap seats in a World Series game. And that’s supposed to get him in Lou Gehrig’s company? And we all know what Reggie does when you ask him to sign your Hall of Fame ball. You can read about it here.


Willie Mays: Why is Willie wearing a San Francisco cap on his plaque? Mays started in New York, and he closed his brilliant career in New York, playing a couple seasons – well, 14 of them – on the West Coast. The Hall could have made both Giants and Mets fans happy by using a New York Giants cap, which, of course, bears a striking resemblance to the Mets cap. But no, Metsies are given the short end of the Hall stick. I’m not a big conspiracy guy, but this happens a lot, as you will soon read.


Yogi Berra: I’m fairly confident Yogi is rightfully wearing a Mets cap on his plaque. You just can’t see it -- another slight! And I can’t blame him for dissing the Yanks after the way the team treated him. Yogi played his entire career in pinstripes, became their manager, took them to the World Series in his first year as skipper and they went and fired the guy. So the Mets brought him over, coaxed him out of retirement for four very important games in 1965 and put him at the helm when fatherly Gil Hodges unexpectedly dies. Of course, Yogi took the Mets to the series, too. Now, look at his plaque: “Managed Yankees to pennant in 1964.” Hello! What are we forgetting? Who’s writing this stuff, Bob Klapisch and his Yankee apologist buddies? I know, I know, Yogi was elected to the Hall in 1972, before the 1973 “You Gotta Believe” team. But that’s what happens when you start adding managerial stuff to plaques when a guy is still managing.

Nolan Ryan: Another clear example of the Mets not getting the love. Ryan pitched five years for the Mets, the same number as he did for the Rangers. His tenure with the Mets is best remembered for a win in the first-ever NLCS and a fine performance in the World Series, earning the only ring of his 27-year career. Meanwhile, his time with the Rangers is remembered for bitch-slapping Robin Ventura. And we have to keep in mind that the Mets made the ultimate act of charity by giving Ryan to a poor, struggling Angels team in search of an identity. For all that, we don’t even get a mention in the text of his plaque. I could forgive the non-reference if he was at least donning that classy interlocking NY on his plaque cap.

Gary Carter: The Expos' abstract logo is hard enough to figure out when it's in color. But in bas relief on a plaque? Forget about it! I can picture a young fan in the not-so-distant future admiring the plaques of baseball's heroes and saying, "Daddy, why does this guy have a moose footprint on his cap? Isn't this the guy who started the Miracle of Game Six with a base hit?" The father will say, "Well, son, it is true that Gary Carter is known as a Met and even wanted to go into the Hall as a Met. But the people running baseball were feeling guilty for screwing up what was a great team in Montreal through a series of inept owners, including the commissioner. Yes, he owned even another team at the time. Sometimes that's called a conflict of interest. But we can read about that on his plaque. I think he's wearing a Yankee cap. Anyway, the guilt-ridden people running baseball wanted proof that the Expos existed, so they strong-armed the Hall into putting the Montreal logo on the cap."

There you go. I have issues with the plaques of Richie Asburn, Warren Sphan, Casey Stengel and Eddie Murray, but you see the devious tend at work here.

Luckily there's still time for us to start pressuring the Hall for the proper cap to be proudly displayed on the plaques of Rickey Henderson, Tom Glavine, Mike Piazza and Pedro Martinez.

In other words...

Speaking of Pedro, he's only the latest Mets pitcher to have a no-hitter foiled. The guys at Faith and Fear in Flushing have a great article about the rogue's gallery of dream-killers here.