THE 1969 MIRACLE METS: THE IMPROBABLE STORY OF THE WORLD’S GREATEST UNDERDOG TEAM (87 page)

The 1970 Mets fell from grace, but even amid
that all-so-human season fans poured through the Shea Stadium
turnstiles, thrilling to a pennant race. In 1971 and 1972, the Mets
were a solid, winning club, but Pittsburgh was better. In that 1972
campaign, Willie Mays made a memorable return to New York City.
Sports Illustrated
reported what at first looked to be
another miracle, with the ancient Mays hitting game-winning homers,
the club winning tight 1969-style games, amid hope that a
championship would result. It was not to be, but the Mets continued
to be one of baseball’s great draws at home and on the road. People
were attracted to the team after that 1969 campaign. Despite
pedestrian performances, names like Swoboda, Kranepool, Koosman,
Harrelson and Jones still resonated as folk heroes for many who
could never quite believe what they had seen.

In 1973, a new saga was written. By August,
the Mets were seemingly done, hovering near last place. The
mystique was gone, and the crowds were even starting to thin out.
But nobody could close the 1973 East. Pittsburgh was devastated by
the loss of Roberto Clemente in a plane crash on New Year’s,
stumbling all season. Ace pitcher Steve Blass had one of the most
inexplicable, mind-blowing experiences ever observed. He
simply
could not throw the ball over the plate!
It was completely
psychological, like Mackey Sasser’s inability to get the ball back
to the pitcher with the Mets of the early 1990s. Rumors have
circulated as to the reason for Blass’s problem, with teammates
involved in activities that unnerved the pitcher, but it was never
solved and his career ended because of it.

Given a shot, Tom Seaver went on a rampage,
pitching and leading as he had in 1973. The Mets pulled out the
East with an 82-79 record, then improbably beat the gifted
Cincinnati Reds in the play-offs before losing to Oakland in the
World Series. The rest of the decade, however, was desultory with
the exception of Seaver. “The Franchise” carried New York into
September contention in 1975, but the Pirates, as usual throughout
the 1970s, were just too good. Seaver was lost in a brutal trade in
1977. In 1984, Johnson took over and led the crazy Mets to glory.
Like Earl Weaver in Baltimore, however, the Mets’ legacy under
Johnson ultimately suffered from a failure to live up to their full
potential.

Dwight Gooden hit the scene in 1984 like few
before or since. He was astonishingly good, at Seaver’s level at
least, for two years. In 1986, the Mets were 108-54, winning the
East by 21 1/2 games. It was one of the best teams ever assembled:
a pitching staff of Gooden (17-6), Ron Darling (15-6), Bob Ojeda
(18-5), Sid Fernandez (16-6), with bullpen heroes Rick Aguilera,
Roger McDowell and Jesse Orosco. Hall of Famer Gary Carter was
behind the plate. Keith Hernandez was one of the greatest defensive
first baseman in history. Right fielder Darryl Strawberry slammed
27 homers. Center fielder Lenny Dykstra was a throwback to the days
of John McGraw.

According to Jeff Pearlman’s
The Bad Guys
Won!
the 1986 Mets were one of the most colorful,
hard-drinkin’, drug-takin’, skirt-chasin’, gambling, spitting,
swearing, blasphemous group of reprobates in baseball history. They
were polar opposites of the 1969 “miracle” Mets. National League
Championship Series opponent Houston was apparently a team of Bible
study guys who wanted to beat the Mets for the Lord.

Manager Davey Johnson’s crew was supposed to
run right past Houston, but Astros ace Mike Scott, a notorious
“spitball” artist, dominated them in an eye-opening 1-0 first game
Houston win. In one of the hardest-fought post-season battles ever,
New York rallied from 3-0 in the ninth at the Astrodome in game
six. The Mets took a one-run lead in the 14
^th
, but
Houston tied it. Then New York took a 7-4 lead in the
15
^th
. Houston scored two in their half and were
threatening with two on when Orosco finally struck out Kevin Bass
to clinch an incredible 7-6 win.

The World Series against Boston was even
more improbable. The Red Sox won the first two at Shea, but New
York battled back at Fenway Park. Trailing three games to two in
the Apple, the Mets faced Roger Clemens. The Mets rallied from 2-0
down, tying it at two, then from 3-2 to tie at three. In the top of
the ninth, Boston scored twice. Trailing 5-3 against Clemens’s
teammate from the University of Texas, Calvin Schiraldi, the first
two New York hitters went down. Twice a strike away from
elimination, they bunched three singles and chased Schiraldi. A
wild pitch by Bob Stanley followed and the score was tied. A
routine grounder by Mookie Wilson went under Boston first baseman
Bill Buckner’s legs, and Boston’s “curse” was firmly in place.
Replays indicate Stanley might not have made it to first on time
even if Buckner had made the grab.

According to legend, Kevin Mitchell of the
Mets was
in the clubhouse
taking his uniform off with a
beer in his hand
when the first two hitters made outs in the
ninth. He was called into the game and threw his pants on,
apparently doing his considerable part
sans
jock or
protective cup! The next day, Boston naturally led 3-0, and just as
naturally blew it. Eight runs in the sixth, seventh and eighth
innings gave New York their title, 8-5.

In 1987, the Mets partied so heavily that
they hardly knew there was a baseball season until the All-Star
break. Then they made a furious, 1969-style run at Whitey Herzog’s
St. Louis Cardinals, catching them, seemingly on their way to more
glory. Not this time. St. Louis held them off. In 1988, the Mets
were back in dynasty form, bringing 100 victories and considerable
panache
to a ballyhooed New York-Los Angeles Championship
Series opening at Dodger Stadium.

Orel Hershiser started for L.A. All he had
going for him was a 59-inning scoreless streak, the new big league
record formerly set by Don Drysdale in 1968. Hershiser’s pitches
resembled the staff that Moses turns into a snake when he pleads
with the Egyptian Pharaoh to “let my people go.” They would slither
to the plate, darting and weaving at high speeds, sinking and
finding the blackest part of the corners. It went on like that for
eight innings in Los Angeles. The Mets gave up on trying, really.
Down 2-0, they filed this one away, concentrating on capturing a
play-off that would have to be won by beating the Dodgers’ other
pitchers. When New York miraculously rallied in the ninth, sending
Orel to the showers and beating his successors, the Dodgers’ chance
at winning this series was, to quote Rube Walker, about as good “as
a one-legged man in a butt-kicking contest.”

The rest of that series boggles all sense of
logic. The Mets won
in Hershiser’s second start
, too.
Somehow, some way, the journeyman Dodgers were still around, and in
game seven it was Hershiser at Dodger Stadium. This time, he was so
dominant that the Mets were reduced to admiring from their dugout,
like the Japanese reaction to Doug MacArthur after World War II.
Orel was not a human that day, winning 6-0. He did not pitch from
the mound. He was landscaped into those picturesque hills out
beyond center field at Chavez Ravine, his pitches delivered not by
sinew and tendon but by the forces of nature. Oakland got a dose of
him in the Fall Classic, too, when he reduced the bats of “Bash
Brothers” Jose Canseco and Mark McGwire into wet newspapers.

The Mets of the 1990s were average, but in
1998 Mike Piazza came over from Florida via Los Angeles. The
handsome, personable Pennsylvania native was made for Manhattan,
and the ladies loved him. When it was time for him to settle down,
he married a former
Playboy
Playmate. In 2000, Pizza led the
Mets to an improbable National League pennant when they upset the
vaunted Atlanta Braves in a re-match of the 1969 Championship
Series. That brought them into a head-to-head first-ever “subway
Series” with the Yankees.

“It’ll be out of control,” said comedian Jay
Mohr, riffing on famous movies when he hosted
The Jim Rome
Show
. “It’ll be like goin’ downriver in
Apocalypse
.
It’ll be like Berenger in
Platoon
; ‘Y’all wanna know about
death.’ ” Mohr gave an over-the-top imitation of Christopher
Walken, always within context of the upcoming Mets-Yankees World
Series.

In the end, Mohr’s hype did not hold. The
Yankees won handily. The only real excitement came when Piazza
stepped in against Roger Clemens, who had beaned him with a
frightening heater in an earlier battle. This time, Clemens sawed
Piazza’s bat with another frightening heater. When the broken wood
came flying back at Clemens, Roger picked it up, and in the heat of
battle, threw it at Piazza jogging to first. It was not true that
Pizza mumbled, “The
horrah
. . . the
horrah.”

In 2007, Tom Glavine won his
300
^th
career game, in a Mets uniform, leading New York
to the East Division title.

****

Gil Hodges became a tragic figure, because
he died young and before his legacy could be cemented. After a
heart attack in 1972, Hodges seemed to recover. But he was a
chain-smoker. In 1972, the 48-year old Hodges was fatally felled by
a coronary during the baseball strike that Spring Training. It was
a dark, disturbing day in Mets history. The players, the fans, the
entire Mets’ family, were shocked. Hodges was a father figure to
Tom Seaver and many of his young teammates.

He left a heartbroken widow to be the
caretaker of his memories. By dying when he did, Hodges was unable
to create a long, sustainable enough body of work for Hall of Fame
induction. A lot of people assume he is in the Hall. As one of
Brooklyn’s famed
Boys of Summer
, his name and
persona
have stood the test of time, much more so than players from
less-renowned teams like Ted Kluszewski of Cincinnati, just to name
one contemporary. But his lifetime records, which are about on par
with Ron Santo’s, did not make him a Cooperstown-level player.

As manager of the 1969 Mets, he was well on
his way towards establishing an all-around baseball career that
would have allowed him to be enshrined. Leo Durocher got in based
on longevity. Joe Torre is a similar example of a
good-but-not-Cooperstown-level player whose managerial career
likely will make him a member some day. Had Hodges managed the 1973
Mets into the World Series; maybe been around long enough to win
one more World title, it may well have been enough.

Many lobbied on his behalf for years, but he
played in an era of such astounding legends that he was always up
for the vote at the same time as more impressive superstars.
Eventually, his case went to the Veteran’s Committee, but when
after a few years they took a pass as well, hope for Gil’s
induction faded.

He remains a legend of the New York sports
scene. Perhaps not a true New York Sports Icon, but close. More
important, he is viewed as a sainted figure. Millions prayed for
his mortal soul when he passed, and if a man’s actions are in any
way indicative of his place in eternity, the hope for Hodges is a
confident one. In 1988, Hodges was one of the men identified by
Frank Whaley as ghost/players in
Field of Dreams
, starring
Kevin Costner.

Jerry Koosman may have been a Hall of Famer
like Tom Seaver had arm injuries not hindered his career. On his
best days, he was Seaver’s equal. The difference was consistency.
He finished with disappointing 12-7, 6-11 and 11-12 marks between
1970 and 1972. The 1973 Mets were a brutal offensive team; so bad
that despite a 2.84 earned run average, Koosman’s record was only
14-15. While Koosman’s heroics in the 1969 World Series are the
source of his fame, his greatest clutch pitching came in October of
1973. In game three of the Championship Series at Shea Stadium, his
9-2 complete game win over Cincinnati put New York ahead of the Big
Red Machine, two games to one. One of the best games of his career
came in the World Series against the juggernaut A’s of Reggie
Jackson & Company. Hit hard in Oakland, Koosman faced 20-game
winner Vida Blue in game five at Shea Stadium. Seaver’s game three
start had been lost despite a dominant performance from the Mets’
ace. The club needed Koosman to give them a win and the Series lead
going back west. He responded with a brilliant 2-0 victory with
relief help from Tug McGraw.

Koosman’s single year out of Tom Seaver’s
shadow was 1976. Seaver was his usual brilliant self, but the Mets’
offense behind him was best described by the title of a 1987 Robert
Downey Jr. movie:
Less Than Zero
. . . as in runs per game
for him. His best hope was a no decision in a game lost by the New
York bullpen. At least that is how it seemed. Koosman was
fantastic, winning 21 against 10 defeats with a 2.70 ERA. After
losing
20 in 1977, followed up by an abysmal 3-15 campaign
in 1978, Koosman made one of the great comebacks in history.

The last of the 1969 Mets was let go at
season’s end. He signed with his home state team, Minnesota, hoping
to lick his wounds and finish out his career. Instead he was among
the best pitchers in baseball for another five seasons. Koosman was
20-13 and 16-13 in his two full seasons with the Twins (1979-80),
later helped the Chicago White Sox win the West Division title in
1983, and had a solid year at Philadelphia in 1984. He hung it up
after the 1985 campaign having played 19 big league seasons with
222 wins (a substantially greater number than either Mike Cuellar
or Dave McNally) with a strong 3.36 ERA.

Koosman is not in the Hall of Fame and
almost surely never will be, but a perusal of Cooperstown pitchers
reveal a substantial number whose records are not as impressive.
Oddly, he did not really seem to benefit from the New York
spotlight. His role as “second fiddle” to Seaver seemed to
overshadow him in a way that Bob Gibson’s shadow ultimately did not
eclipse Steve Carlton.