Memories
How you view a particular year or period of time completely depends on your perspective. When you bring up 1986 in the New York Metropolitan area, the first thing that comes to mind is the ’86 Mets. As a diehard Mets fan, 1986 should’ve been the greatest year ever.
I became a Mets fan because my Dad saw to it. He did what all Dad’s do to make our sons love the sports teams we love. Basically, he used everything at his disposal. What gave him the most leverage was my love of strawberry ice cream. He used that information to tell me the Mets had this player named Darryl Strawberry who was going to play for the Mets. When Strawberry first got called up in 1983, he brought me to see him play. I was immediately hooked. Right now, I’m using the same tactics with my son to much success even if I have to find him a new favorite player.
Now, I was young when 1986 happened. When I think back to it, I really have one memory from that entire season:
The reason why I remember that moment was my family was hosting an engagement party for my aunt, who lived with us. Instead of this being the families getting to know each other type of party, it turned into everyone watching Game Six of the World Series. I still remember the way everyone celebrated when that “little roller up the first base line” went through Buckner’s legs. I just remember the sheer joy and elation. That moment as much as anything else may be the reason I’m such a huge Mets fan.
It was a moment I remembered when I was watching the 1999 NLCS with my Dad. We just watched John Olerud hit a game-winning single off the hated John Rocker for what we hoped would be the Mets climb to be the first ever team to to come back from an 0-3 deficit. I thought to take the opportunity to talk to my Dad about that 1986 season. I could’ve said a million different things. I could’ve asked about his memories of the season. I could’ve asked how the Mets coming back from an 0-3 deficit would compare to that Game Six rally. I didn’t. Instead, I said to my Dad, “Watching this just reminds you that 1986 was a great year!”
Without skipping a beat, my Dad replied, “Yeah, except for your grandfather dying.”
I was five at the time. While I only had one memory from the entire 1986 season, I can tell you everything about walking into Nana and Grandpa’s house the day my beloved Grandfather died of throat cancer on a beautiful April day. It was a day in which everyone else was thinking about baseball and a soon to start Mets championship season. It was the beginning of a great year for Mets fans. However, for my family, 1986 was decidedly not a good year. We lost a loved one to cancer.
Now, 30 years later the Mets are primed and ready to win another World Series. Over the course of the 2016 season, there will be deaths to mourn, weddings to celebrate, and births that will forever change our lives for the better.
Throughout all of it, baseball is there. Baseball is there to help us to get through the tough times. It’s there to share with our children when they are born, and they become Mets fans of their own. It’s part of what makes baseball great. It’s always there for you. So yes, 1986 was a terrible year for my family. However, the ’86 Mets were a reminder that even it times of sorrow, there is still room for joy, for celebration.
Lets Go Mets!
This article will be run as part of the Baseball Continuum Blogathon. The Blogathon is raising money for the Roswell Park Alliance Foundation, which is the charitable arm of the Roswell Park Cancer Institute in Buffalo, NY.
For some reason, when I think of 1986, I only think of the ’86 Mets. I have several ideas why, but it still strikes me as odd that is the correlation I make. No, going into this year, all I thought about was how this is the 30th anniversary of the Mets last World Series title.
Turns out it’s also the 30th anniversary of the Challenger disaster. It was such a bizarre day in seemingly a much different time. Back then, when someone asked a kid what they wanted to be the usual responses were an athlete, a cop, a fireman, an actor, whatever their father did, or an astronaut. Being an astronaut was such a huge deal. Every launch was an event. I’m not sure either of those was the case.
The Challenger liftoff was a huge deal. Teachers combined classes together, and they lugged in those televisions on those large aluminum carts with the squeaky wheel. In my Kindergarten class, we all sat on our carpet squares, and we anticipated the liftoff. The teachers tried to get us to countdown, but I’m not sure how successful they were. The liftoff happened, and we all started cheering. Then the explosion happened.
The TV was quickly turned off. The teachers seemed to know what was happening immediately (even if they didn’t quite know at CNN), and they didn’t want Kindergartners to see the horror that ensued. We were quickly ushered into a new activity. We were all handed notes on our way out the door advising our parents what happened.
When I got home from school, I remembered going outside and playing with my friends. We didn’t really know what happened. We all thought we saw a really cool liftoff. Ironically, we were all pretending to be astronauts that day really knowing the horrors that had ensued. Then my father came home, and I was summoned inside the house. That usually was never a good thing.
My parents then explained to me what happened. When you’re five, it’s a hard concept to fully grasp. Back then, I wasn’t sure what was happening or why the speech. Looking back on it 30 years later, I believe my parents were trying to prepare me for when my grandfather died. At the time, he was dying from throat cancer. I knew he was sick, but back then I thought being sick was not feeling good, drinking some ginger ale, and watching cartoons all day until you felt better.
I remember both having a lot of questions and just wanting to go and play with my friends again. After our talk, my parents turned on the television, and we watched President Reagan address the nation:
The Challenger explosion was the beginning what was an eventful 1986. It was a year, I too lost a family member like families of the Challenger crew. I’m sure it’s of little consolation to them, but their loss helped me process and understand my grandfather’s passing less than three months later.
There are two things that are usually true about my birthday: (1) it always rains on my birthday; and (2) the Mets are not usually playing at home on my birthday. When the Mets are home on my birthday, the rain usually wrecks havoc with the Mets home game.
I was thinking about this when the Mets announced Mike Piazza Weekend. I’m assuming that entire weekend will be sold out. I know it was difficult getting good seats to the Saturday night retirement ceremony. As an aside, I would’ve retired Mike Piazza‘s #31 on July 31st instead of the 30th. Not a big deal, but just a quirk I noticed that will eventually drive either me or everyone else around me to a mental institution. I digress. It’s going to be awesome to see the fans come out the entire weekend. It’s a testament to how much we love Piazza and how good the 2016 Mets will be.
The entire weekend will be a celebration of Mike Piazza and the current Mets team. It’s a far cry from what Tom Seaver received when he had his Tom Seaver Night the year he was inducted into the Hall of Fame.
There are birthdays we have that always stand out in your mind, and August 12, 1992 is one of them. I got one of those newfangled CD players. I got to rock out to such musical visionaries as C&C Music Factory. Oh and by the way, it rained. Boy oh boy did it rain. Water was getting into the house. Seriously, 100 times out of 100 they call this game. However, there was zero chance the Mets were going to call this game because it was Tom Seaver Hall of Fame night. It was the night Seaver was going to receive his Hall of Fame ring in a pregame ceremony.
I know I was the only one in my family who wanted to go, but guess what; it was my birthday so we went. Seriously, my mother must’ve tried to talk me out of it like 41 times. Eventually, we went out. I remember on the way to Shea Stadium, the windshield wipers were at their highest setting, but it didn’t matter.
We made it to Shea Stadium in time for the ceremony. The announced attendance was 20,488. During the ceremony, there must’ve been a couple of thousand, and most of them were in the back rows of the Lodge and Mezzanine. The fans were mostly driven away by the rain. They were also driven away by a terrible Mets team. You might also remember them as The Worst Team Money Could Buy.
On that night, they were Terrific. In his third career start, Eric Hillman pitched eight scoreless innings against the hated Pirates. That night Hillman was every bit the 6’10” giant we thought he could be. That night at least Seaver was honored with a great pitching performance because he certainly wasn’t honored with the type of fan turnout he deserved.
Piazza won’t have that problem. Piazza will get three straight sell-outs and a good Mets team. I’m sure not even the rain could keep people away. I know it won’t stop me.
As we have seen throughout their history, the media has had a profound impact on the Mets. We first saw it with Dick Young’s columns leading to Tom Seaver demanding a trade. There were the days of Mike and the Mad Dog bringing Mike Piazza to the Mets. Dick Young has since passed, Mad Dog Chris Russo is on Sirius XM, and Mike Francesca has announced he’s leaving WFAN in 2017.
It appears the torch has already been passed to Mike Vaccaro. If you’re asking who Mike Vaccaro is right now, newspapers are in bigger trouble than advertised. With that said, Mike Vaccaro is the preeminent sports columnist in New York. A July column of his secured his place amongst the greats.
Back in July 2015, Mets fans were subjected to Eric Campbell and John Mayberry, Jr. hitting the in the middle of the lineup. Mets fans were clamoring for a trade. Sandy Alderson mocked Mets fans referring to New York as “Panic City.” Mike Vaccaro called it what it really was, “Malpractice.”
He kept the heat on up until the trade deadline. He questioned if the front office was a fraud. He called the lineup an indictment of Sandy Alderson. He called the Mets willfully ignorant. He said the Mets were not committed to making the team better. He kept the heat on the Mets. He wasn’t saying anything different than every Mets fan was at the time. It’s one thing for Mets fans to hoot and holler on Twitter. It’s another thing for a respected columnist to say it.
The Mets began a relative flurry of trades before the non-waiver trade deadline acquiring Tyler Clippard, Kelly Johnson, Juan Uribe, and Yoenis Cespedes. Whether you thought the trades were good, bad, or ugly, this series of trades changed the narrative about the Mets. I’m sure a number of factors went into those decisions, but I’ll never discount the public pressure. I’ll always appreciate that Mike Vaccaro for being the lead voice. Anytime you have a cause, no matter how relatively insignificant, it’s always beneficial to have a well respected voice leading the way.
By the way, when you were upset with the offseason, so was Mike Vaccaro. He called out the Wilpons for being cheap. Again, he said exactly what you and I were thinking. Again, the public pressure was ratcheted up. Then it happened. The Mets re-signed Yoenis Cespedes. They expanded payroll to make it commensurate with revenues and the market in which they play. In the end, that’s all that Mets fans were asking of ownership.
We can all parse through who gets credit for all of this, and I’m sure there’s enough credit to spread around to everyone. However, I don’t think anything resonated quite like the Malpractice column. At least to me, it was a seminal moment.
A large part of Dick Young’s legacy was his columns which caused Seaver to demand a trade. With it came some awful baseball and an empty Shea Stadium. Part of Mike Francesca’s legacy was the Mike Piazza trade, and by extension, Piazza entering the Hall of Fame as a Met. Right now, part of Mike Vaccaro’s legacy is Yoenis Cespedes being a Met. The rest of that story is yet to be written. When it is written by Mike Vaccaro, it will be a must read.
In any event, Yoenis Cespedes is still a Met, and for that, I say, “Thank you Mike Vaccaro.”
With snowmaggeddon, or whatever you want to call the same annual big snowstorm we get, it does warm my heart that we are still talking baseball. We’re still talking baseball over two months since the World Series ended.
Usually, I equate snow and baseball with the old Mayor’s Cup games. No, not the original. I wasn’t alive for the majority of those. There was some odd reboot in the early 90’s. Back then there was no Interleague play, so this was it for bragging rights.
In any event, my father brought my brother and me to the game. We also went with my uncle who is a huge Yankee fan. In any event, I might’ve been the coldest I ever was at that game . . . that meaningless awesome game. I remember we my Dad buying those pale blue batting gloves from the concessions for my brother and I. I remember my Dad having to take my brother into the concourse and give him hot chocolate. I don’t remember the score of that game, but I do reminder sitting in my seat through all nine innings. I sat there through the bitter cold and the flurries.
At the end of the day, baseball is awesome no matter the weather. It’s nice to be talking baseball on a cold day with snow on the ground. It’s nice to be excited about Mets baseball. It’s nice to be thinking about baseball when it seems like warm summer nights at Citi Field are seemingly so far away.
In all the years I played baseball, I wore the number 15. Initially, it was a number assigned to me in Little League. When you’re a bigger kid, you get the higher double digit numbers. Anyway, I had what was then the best season I ever had. It all clicked that year.
In any event, the number took on some added significance as it was my dad’s line number in the Army. Yes, I wore 15 because it became my lucky number. However, it’s significance was never lost on me. It was my father who taught me how to throw a ball. It was his idea I should be a catcher. He was also a great hitting coach.
I was reminded of all of this when I saw Neil Walker is going to wear the number 20 in honor of his father. He made this announcement at the Mets Holiday Party. It was at a Holiday Party he had no obligation to attend. Instead of bemoaning how the Pirates treated him, he has come to New York excited and ready to help the Mets win the World Series.
He’s doing this wearing his father’s number. The man who taught him to throw and hit. This is at the core of what is the heart and soul of baseball. Fathers and sons. It’s terrific Walker looked at coming to the Mets as an opportunity to wear his father’s number as opposed to him leaving his hometown.
I think I’m going to like Neil Walker.
Frankly, I’m stunned Michael Cuddyer retired. There were 12.5 million reasons not to retire. However, I suppose he knew it was his time to retire. I guess we shouldn’t be surprised a team first guy like him didn’t just go out there to go through the motions.
You see while there are many different ways you to describe Cuddyer’s tenure with the Mets, on a. day like today, the one that resonates with me is Class Act. He was a one from his first moment with the Mets until his very last.
It’s easy to envision it now, but Cuddyer came to the Mets to “win the NL East and hopefully do some damage in the postseason as well.” At times during the season, this seemed impossible. As Mets were dropping like flies, he fought through a knee injury to be one of the few credible major league hitters in what was at times a AAA lineup. During this time, he would have an impact helping the Mets stay afloat including a game winning hit a game winning hit when the Mets season seemed its bleakest:
He played until he could play no more. This led to his eventual replacement, Michael Conforto, getting called up. Cuddyer was replaced. He responded like the class act he was. He became a mentor to Conforto. He was helping the player who was forcing him to the bench. It probably was a factor in Conforto’s meteoric rise. Cuddyer was content to help in the clubhouse and on the field as much as he could.
Unfortunately, Cuddyer had a rough postseason. His last ever game was Game One of the World Series when he struck out in all three of his at bats. He deserved to go out better. During the postseason it was easy to forget Cuddyer was a lifetime .277/.344/.461 hitter with 197 homers and 794 RBI. In his career, he averaged 21 homers and 84 RBIs a year. He was a two time All Star with a Homerun Derby appearance, a batting title, and a Silver Slugger.
He will forever be linked with the Twins. However, it was with the Mets he won a pennant and played in the World Series. While his play with the Mets wasn’t up to his usual standard, he was still the high quality character he always was. In many ways, I thought a healthy and rested Cuddyer could’ve helped the Mets next year.
Maybe there still is a way for him to do that. With Bob Geren going to Los Angeles, there’s a spot on the coaching staff. Considering his positive impact on the Mets young players, he just might be a good fit. Besides, he came here to wear the same uniform as his friend David Wright and win a World Series. In that sense, there is a bit of unfinished business.
Whether Cuddyer returns or not, the Mets players and organization were better for having him on the team. I wish him luck in whatever his next move will be. I appreciate all that he did with the Mets even if much of it was things we could not see.
Congratulations on a terrific career Michael Cuddyer!
In my mind the juxtaposition of Neil Walker and Bernard Gilkey is as preposterous as it is hilarious. It’s even more so when you consider Gilkey’s Men in Black cameo:
Despite this, I kept thinking how similar their coming to the Mets was.
Gilkey was St. Louis through and through. He was the local kid playing for the local team. It really is everyone’s dream come true. Gilkey was solid was the Cardinals, but they were looking to improve their team. The Mets had some young prospects in the outfield that they wanted to give more time for development. Naturally, the Mets and Cardinals made a trade.
Leaving your home is hard. It’s even harder to be living your dream only to be waken from it and be shipped to a sub-.500 team. It turns out it was the best thing that happened to Gilkey. He became the rare player who had a better year after leaving the Cardinals.
Gilkey had a career year. It was an all time year for a Mets outfielder. Gilkey hit .317/.393/.562 with 30 home runs and 117 RBI. His 44 doubles is a Mets single season record. He never repeated the performance, but it was a wild ride for a fan base starving for something positive with the Mets. Gilkey helped provide hope that hadn’t been around for years.
Walker arrives to the Mets under different circumstances. Where Gilkey led the big Mets revival, Walker is arriving a year later, but the Mets are still counting on Walker to help them get to the next level. Like Gilkey, Walker is leaving his hometown.
Now, Walker is Pittsburg. He was born and raised there. Having been born in 1985, he probably only knew the bad times. He experienced the 20 consecutive seasons as a fan and as a player. However, it was more than that. He was a key cog in the Pirates team that turned it around and made the Pirates winners. It meant a lot to someone who was a Pittsburgher through and through:
Be a Pittsburgher and love this area with all my heart! God bless you all and have a great holiday season! Thank you thank you thank you….
— Neil Walker (@NeilWalker18) December 10, 2015
There’s also something intersting about Walker, the Pittsburgh native and Pirates farmhand. He’s here for the same reason Roberto Clemente isn’t. Walker’s father was a former player, who had a close friendship with Clemente. Walker’s father was part of Clemente’s charitable efforts. Walker actually helped Clemente load that fateful plane that would crash claiming the life of Clemente and others. It was Clemente that advised Walker Sr. not to get in that plane.
In Saving Private Ryan fashion, Walker earned it. He gave Pittsburgh the local hero that turned them into winners. It’s part of the reason Pirates fans are crushed. I sympathize with them. Seeing how Walker is already working to endear himself to Mets fans, I can see why he was so popular:
Neil Walker will attend Mets holiday party for schoolchildren on Tuesday at Citi Field. Matz is Santa. Terry Collins is elf.
— Adam Rubin (@AdamRubinMedia) December 10, 2015
As a Mets fan, I wasn’t a fan of the trade, in part, because it means no more Daniel Murphy. However, I’m rooting for Walker. I want him to succeed in every way. Ironically, I never thought the Mets could get him. I thought pursuing him was a good idea. I just wanted Murphy more. Im hoping he’s better than Murphy. I’m hoping that like Gilkey, Walker can show his hometown team they were wrong for trading him.
Gilkey helped the Mets take the next step. It’s time for Walker to do the same.
I’ve always been a Francophile. Even though I’m Irish through and through, there is a very small, but important, piece of me that is French.
My great-grandfather was actually born in Paris. He would come to America and marry a woman who emigrated to America from Ireland. Their daughter, my Nana, would marry my grandfather. My grandfather was stationed in France during World War II. His uncle, nicknamed Fog, a member of the Fighting Irish 69th, was killed in action in World War I, and he was buried in France. He shares the same name as my grandfather, my father, my son, and I.
It’s the reason I took French in High School and won the French Award. It’s the reason I always wanted to travel to France. I wanted to visit Paris and Normandy and Giverny and Côte d’Azur. It’s why I’m so despondent today.
Terrorist attacks are designed to shake you to your core no matter where you are. I know I’m not the only person today that paused for a moment and remembered 9/11. I remembered that phone call from my Mom. I remember waiting to hear if my relatives in the NYPD, Con Ed, and who worked in lower Manhattan were alright. I got lucky because they were.
This is what people in France and around the world are feeling right now. They’re in my thoughts and prayers. They make me think of the people who lost their loved ones on 9/11 or other terrorist attacks. They make me think of Fog, who went to France never to return home again.
There are many men and women who will not be coming home agar due to the acts of terrorists. It’s important to remember they’ve won nothing. Tomorrow the people of France will awake free men and women. People like Fog fought and died to make sure of that.
However, tonight, well tonight is about grief, confusion, and anger. Those raw, powerful emotions I remember feeling fourteen years ago. Tomorrow begins the healing. I’m sure France will have their version of the Piazza homerun; an event that lets everyone escape and know it’s all going to be alright. Before all of that, we all mourn with France tonight.
Viva la France.
It was announced that Pepsi will no longer be sponsoring the Pepsi Porch at Citi Field. While it’s unclear who called the deal off, it’s a tough blow to Pepsi.
Just as the Mets were getting good again, the team is primed to have more nationally televised games. It’s possible the Mets will have more postseason games. With the lefty hitters like Lucas Duda and Michael Conforto, we were bound to see the Pepsi Porch a few times over the next couple of years. Instead Pepsi is left with this:
It’s just as well. I’m old enough to remember the days when Pepsi wasn’t offered at Shea. It was RC Cola. As a result, I’ve never associated Pepsi with the Mets. It was always RC Cola, even if I complained to my Dad each time that the soda he got me at the game wasn’t Pepsi.
Unfortunately, RC Cola has seemingly gone away with other classics like Tab, Jolt, and Snapple Root Beer. Whenever, I see an RC Cola, I make sure to get it even if it’s just to remember those summer nights of my childhood with my Dad, brother, and occasionally my cousin Brian or Uncle Eugene. The last time I saw RC Cola was in Iceland. During December in Iceland, you really need those memories.
In any event, I look forward to whatever comes along next. Whatever it will be, I’m sure my son will look back fondly at it one day as a reminder of all the times we spent at the park together.