I’ll be a guest on the Rising Apple blog radio, talking – what else? – Mets.
Join us tomorrow night around 6:30 pm ET.
I’ll be on my own podcast as per usual at 7 pm ET. My special guest will be Matt Falkenbury from The Daily Stache and SNY’s Knicks Blog.
I went to Port St. Lucie for spring training for the first time in 2008. It was a different point of view, to say the very least, from a fan who watched her games solely from the sightlines at Shea Stadium (or wherever I happened to catch the Mets on the road), where players seems very inaccessible, and they have a job to do.
At PSL, players seemed more accessible, willing even to commiserate with fans. I got many autographs, photos and even got Moises Alou to acknowledge me when I started chanting his name.
I attended open workouts one morning, and saw the players bonding in their morning drills.
During the offseason leading into 2008, the Mets had a lot of work to do. From 2006 and going within one game of making the World Series to an epic collapse late in the 2007 season, they had some work to do. Omar Minaya orchestrated a trade for Johan Santana, who was arguably one of the best pitchers in baseball. Trading away a bunch of scrubs who haven’t really amounted to much to Minnesota, and negotiating an extension with El Gocho, easily the Mets became a force in 2008.
Yet what led to the Mets dominance in 2006 was the offseason in 2005. Forget signing Carlos Beltran (who has contributed to some of my post-traumatic Mets disorder in more ways than one…and I loved the guy). Some would argue that the Mets signing Pedro Martinez, fresh off his championship with the Boston Red Sox, was the catalyst that allowed the Mets to pursue Beltran, easily the crown jewel of that market of free agents.
When that signing went down, I was like – huh? I do remember emailing Dad and Uncle Gene about the deal. See, we had an inside joke with Pedro Martinez, from the 2003 ALCS, the mythical series where Aaron Boone broke the heart of millions of Bostonites.
During that series, a brawl broke out between the two teams, and Pedro Martinez threw Yankee coach Don Zimmer to the ground as Zimmer charged Martinez. Some people would argue that Pedro was a “thug,” that it was cheap that he threw down an old man.
Dad and Uncle Gene had a different perspective. I believe the terms “Fuck that fat fuck, Don Zimmer!” and “If I was Pedro Martinez, I’d have thrown Don Zimmer on the ground too” or my personal favorite “I’d not only have thrown him down, I’d have kicked Zimmer in the nuts, and done a victory lap around Fenway, on national TV, in front of all of America.”
To say they were excited about the prospect of Martinez being a starter on the Mets would be a massive understatement.
I was like – Meh. I guess, as Omar Minaya put it, Martinez was certainly better than the other options on the team, which was re-signing Al Leiter. Once the deal with Martinez went through, it was evident that Leiter had no use on the Mets either. In fact, while Leiter was one of my faves on the late-90s teams, he had outgrown his usefulness. Watching games with him starting was almost as bad as Steve Trachsel. At least you knew Trachsel would take long, but he’d give you innings. Five Innings Leiter was no longer useful.
Some people point to 2006 for the Mets as that one special year, and I have to admit that as a Mets fan, it was one of the most fun years in recent memory. I think what was most fun was that it wasn’t expected. That said, 2006 has provided more post-traumatic Mets disorder, when I think about it, either relating directly to that year or post-2006.
But 2005, that was a FUN year. The race for the Wild Card, the emergence of David Wright and Jose Reyes as the future of the team. I found myself going to more Mets games in recent memory.
Mostly, what stood was every fifth day, when Pedro Martinez started. The very first night he pitched, the Mets famously had 10,000 walk up sales at the ticket booth. You never knew what to expect with Martinez. Whether he danced in the dugout, or got sprinkled from the sprinkler systems during a game, it was also entertainment in the highest form.
It’s tough. When I think about Pedro Martinez and his time with the Mets, I can’t help but think about how much he fell short of expectations. I don’t give a shit about how old he was, whether Omar Minaya had to offer that fourth year, whether his arm fell off.
The truth of the matter is, we’d be looking at a totally different Mets history in that time had Pedro Martinez been healthy. Maybe they would have won definitively in 2006. Maybe they had more consistent starting pitching in 2007, and didn’t rely on getting lightning in a bottle as they had in 2006 (a strategy that ultimately worked with the likes of Jose Valentin), and they would have not collapsed they way they did.
But 2008 is when I really started to dislike Pedro Martinez.
He did not prove useful in 2006. It was too little too late in 2007 when he finally returned in September that year. Like many, I felt that his injuries were limitations, that it was just the luck of the draw, etc etc.
When I was visiting Port St. Lucie, I saw Pedro Martinez waltz into camp like he had all the time in the world. I saw his futzing around, being his usual Pedro-self, the one that made the headlines and had entertained millions.
I got pissed off, watching this as a fan. The Mets just came off a historic collapse, after going so far in 2006, and he was injured both times. I could even point back to 2005, when the Mets were in the Wild Card hunt, when I started to notice there was nothing in it for Pedro. Late in 2005, the Mets had a series against the Phillies, and Ramon Castro hit a late game home run to take the lead. Pedro started the next day. Yet, the Pedro who was around that season didn’t show up, and got shellacked.
When it was evident that the Mets weren’t making the playoffs, Pedro Martinez shut himself down. Not the Mets. Not the coaching staff. Not his agent. But HIMSELF. He was scheduled to start the last game of the season, and he didn’t even stay with his team. He was back at home, watching the game on television, as we saw Mike Piazza’s last game ever as a Met, and Victor Zambrano make the last home start.
Talk about your post-traumatic Mets disorder.
Most of this disgust came about though, when Pedro made his first start in 2008 against the Florida Marlins. See, Johan Santana made the opening day start on the road…euphoria led to Pedro. Who barely made it out of the game with his shoulder intact.
I saw Pedro for who he was: a clown with a great pitching career previously, but with an entertainment quotient. He didn’t care whether the Mets were successful. He called the shots, the Mets allowed him to, and again he didn’t factor into another Mets season where one game would have made a huge difference.
Some people accused me of expecting too much. But what was the point of signing Pedro Martinez to a four year contract if they didn’t expect him to contribute on some level. And don’t give me that crap that it was ALL worth it for 2005. No. It would have been worth 2005 HAD he come through when they needed him to during the Wild Card hunt.
To me, Pedro Martinez was yet another Hall of Fame caliber player who lost his mojo by coming to Queens. Pedro Martinez was the king of too little, too late.
The truth is, Pedro Martinez never came through when his team needed him most.
Whether it’s an injury cop out, or whether we’re told that we expected too much from Pedro because of his age or his injury history. Had I never seen Pedro Martinez jerking around during his workout sessions in a year that his conditioning got him into trouble early in the season, maybe I’d be none the wiser, and I’d always just wonder what would have happened if Pedro stayed healthy.
It could be argued that Pedro Martinez didn’t take his time with the Mets seriously. And if that happened, we may be looking at an entirely different history.
Disappointment in Pedro Martinez’s time with the Mets is just part of the post-traumatic Mets disorder. His time overlapped some of the most inefficient and post-traumatic Mets disorder inducing period. To me, he could have helped the team. Instead, he just copped out of his responsibilities, and didn’t believe he needed to improve anything.
So fuck Pedro Martinez.
It’s easy to make fun of the Miami Marlins. My husband did yesterday, and I’ve been known to dabble in it a few times myself. After spending a shit ton of money on free agents that Jeffrey Loria later turned into Canadian currency, the Miami Marlins are bottom feeders.
But OHHHHHH! HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT??!?! THEY WON A CHAMPIONSHIP IN 2003!! THEY WON TWO CHAMPIONSHIPS IN LESS THAN 10 YEARS OF EXISTENCE!!! BLAHHHHHH!
The Marlins have never won a division championship either. They never built for the future and quickly dismantled those teams just for shits and giggles.
They won those championships by accident.
So the Mets have won two championships in a 50 year existence. Guess what? So have the Phillies, in over 100 years of existence. They also have over 10,000 losses in their history.
The Atlanta Braves also have existed since 1966 (but existed in many other forms for over 100 years too). As the Atlanta Braves (I’m not looking at their entire existence, get over it), they won ONE championship in 1995. Remember how dominant that team was in the ’90s?
And the Washington Nationals/Montreal Expos? Not a one.
Out of the Phillies (a team that is well over 100 years old), the Mets (51 years young) and the Marlins, whoever wins the next championship will be the winningest National League Eastern Divisional team.
Funny how that puts things into perspective, right?
So when someone comes back at me with history, it’s a very limited history scope, and it’s a very revisionist one as well.
My question then is: are World Championships in baseball the be-all, end-all?
Look at the Houston Astros. They’re a fucking train wreck and a half now. They’ve never won a championship in their 51 year existence either (they’re the same age as the Mets). Yet, they’ve had such greats as Nolan Ryan, Craig Biggio, Jeff Bagwell, hell even Roidger Clemens play for them. Biggio and Bagwell were the “Franchise.” They may not have any hardware, but their history certainly is not irrelevant.
Fans still love the Chicago Cubs. They haven’t won in over 100 years, and they, too, only have two championships to their credit. Billy Williams, Ferguson Jenkins, Ron Santo, Ernie Banks, they all played for the Cubs. Know what else they have in common? Never played in a World Series.
A team like the Mets has Tom Seaver in the Hall of Fame, who won a championship with the team. Mike Piazza, who should be in the Hall, played in a World Series just once.
The Marlins have Jeff Conine. They traded away a future Triple Crown winner and MVP in Miguel Cabrera. They got rid of Josh Beckett who was instrumental in bringing a World Series to Boston in 2007…another team, mind you, that didn’t win in 86 friggin years at one point. (Though they had exorcised that demon prior to Beckett going there).
The Mets happen to share a city with the team that has won the most championships throughout sports, the New York Yankees at 27. The second winningest franchise? The St. Louis Cardinals, with 11. Third and fourth are the Oakland A’s, and the San Francisco Giants. Funny this is that the Giants didn’t win a championship in San Francisco until 2010, after over 50 years of relocating to the Bay Area (till 2009, they were tied at 5 with the Cincinnati Reds).
I don’t think we’d be as hell bent as a fan base on winning, or measuring our pee-pees with other teams in the division, if we saw the larger picture. That larger picture is that your existence isn’t solely based on winning it all.
Oh don’t get me wrong. It’s nice. I’ve been through two, and I really wanted my husband to experience for another one of his teams this year since none of his teams have won anything since 1986.
But I’d take the Mets, post-traumatic Mets disorder and all, and their quirky yet rich history any day over the Marlins luck of the draw in winning championships by accident any day.
Early this week, the Mets announced that they had signed outfielders Corey Patterson and Mike Wilson to a minor league deal. I kind of brushed it off. I knew I had a weird connection to Corey Patterson, but I think it’s because I used to work with a man with the same name.
Maybe my post-traumatic Mets disorder blocked it out, because it turns out I should have had a vivid memory of Patterson…namely of him killing the Mets on Opening Day of 2003.
Lest I forget, Metstradamus certainly took time to remind us all about the trigger.
I also remember that that 3/31/03 game was the only major league game I ever left in the sixth inning. Why? Because the Cubs were winning 105-2, it was -49 degrees, and most importantly, there were three assholes in front of us that made the same dopey Mike Piazza/Sam Champion joke at the top of their lungs for three freaking innings. Leaving Shea Stadium was the only way to avoid a Metstradamus murder charge, because these three idiots deserved to die … and probably still do…So screw you, you asshole frat boys. And by association, screw you Corey Patterson … because you indirectly caused this with your seven RBI’s and your two home runs….
And screw you Tom Glavine. You know why.
~ Metstradamus, Oh I Remember
So there it goes. I had two ideas in the queue for this week’s PTMD post. Yet, it’s only appropriate that I talk about Tom Glavine’s less-than-distinguished time with the New York Mets, which ended in 2007 much like the way it started that -49 degree day back in March of 2003: getting shellacked at Shea Stadium.
Yes, T#m Gl@v!ne (as Greg from Faith and Fear calls him) came around full circle with the Mets. Just shows how unfortunate the once great Atlanta Brave turned into such shit for the Mets. From Opening Day 2003, to Questec, to turning it around, to 2006, to #300, to September 30, 2007, there is nothing but post-traumatic Mets disorder with Glavine.
Yet, at the same time, he pretty much represented our hopes and fears, being Mets fans.
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I, too, was at that game on March 31, 2003. I had a coworker who was also a Mets fan. When the signing went down, he dropped the newspaper on my desk, thinking I’d be thrilled. I shrugged at the news. He asked why I wasn’t happy, this was a guy who always kicked our ass, blah blah. Meanwhile, I was pissed off that Edgardo Alfonzo was no longer a Met after that offseason, clearly one of my all-time faves. Glavine, I could take or leave.
I must have felt something was amiss. When has consorting with an enemy EVER worked out for the Mets? (See: Coleman, Vince)
There were times of course that Glavine came close to growing on us. Like the time he pitched that one-hitter. That was truly special. Otherwise, it was pretty much an un-noteworthy first two years with the Mets. Remember when he tried to blame Questec on his problems? See, smart pitchers who gave a shit would have learned to adjust. All we heard from Glavine was boo hoo, I want to go back to Atlanta. Maybe he didn’t explicitly say that, but we ALL know he thought it.
Come 2005, the Mets had changed managers, management and ultimately got a new ace on the staff, Pedro Martinez. Well, I use the word “ace” loosely. (Don’t worry, Petey will have his moment of PTMD). Anyway, it took Martinez to point out that it looked as though Glavine was tipping his pitches. Derp, derp, that would have been almost too easy to identify, right?
But 2005 was not just a renaissance for the Mets, with the emergence of Jose Reyes and David Wright, and the addition of Carlos Beltran, it was also a rebirth for Glavine. After this discovery, we had a flashes of brilliance once again of the old Glavine, part of the big three in Atlanta.
I predicted he would win 20 games in 2006. I was close…sort of. He did win 15. At the beginning of the season, I thought the Mets would be lucky to win a Wild Card. They proved me wrong, by winning the division and getting within a game of going to the World Series.
Retroactively, I was disappointed. For a team that was clearly in win-now mode, this was their chance. Yet, when Carlos Beltran took strike three looking, that actually hasn’t served as a source of post-traumatic Mets disorder for me.
What happened in 2007, yeah, that’s done quite a bit.
Tom Glavine, believe it or not, was a bright spot as he won his 300th game with the Mets, during the same Chicago trip that I saw them (though I didn’t see that particular game). At the time, I remember seeing it as a reward, for our own Tom (Seaver) who won his 300th game with the Chicago White Sox, when he clearly should have done that with the Mets.
Since 2005, Glavine had spent a lot of time building some goodwill with Mets fans. It seemed as though he should have been there, should the Mets go into the postseason, he would have been a big part of it.
And you know, as much as the last game of 2007 hurt, as much as I wanted to hate Tom Glavine for blowing it…the team had plenty of opportunities to win one, just ONE MORE FUCKING GAME in that month, let alone that season. And they didn’t.
Tom Glavine was, fairly or not, the whipping boy for that game. He didn’t give them a fighting chance, the reality was, it shouldn’t have even COME to that game.
It was fucking douchebags like Carlos Delgado saying things like they become too “bored” because they were so talented.
It was Baseball Intellectually Challenged “BIC” Willie (thanks to Blondies Jake for that one) talking about champagne and sweetness and comparing every victory to the Yankees.
It was Tom Glavine saying something about disappointment and devastation and shrugging off September 30, 2007, as just a routine loss.
Yeah, it was fucking Tom Glavine. His signing represented a change for the better, then grew with the Mets as they changed philosophies, then represented the denouement of the good time Mets.
As Greg Prince once upon a time said, “Fucking Brave can go fuck himself straight back to Fucklanta.”
Tom Glavine spent his time with the Braves beating on the Mets, not much different from his time on the Mets, allowing the Braves to not only beat on them, but allowing the likes of the Marlins to beat them in such horrific fashion. Who gives a shit that one game here or there in 2007 would have made a difference, that September 30, 2007, wouldn’t have even fucking mattered.
As soon as the season ended, he went right back to the arms of Atlanta. Though their fans hated him more than they loved Julio Franco. But his wife loved them, so that’s all that mattered. (Just ask Cliff Lee about wives liking a place).
Tom Glavine ended his career the way he started it: as an Atlanta Brave. His detour with the Mets started and ended the same way: in humiliating fashion that started out with such hope. And launching a thousand tears of post-traumatic Mets disorder, that he’ll never be devastated or disappointed about.
“Escobar, Ochoa, Milledge, (Fernando) Martinez. They were all deemed ‘untouchable’ at one point or another, then they were untradeable.” – Random fan at Mets season ticket holder event Q&A with Sandy Alderson and crew.
I know that Alex Escobar, Alex Ochoa, Lastings Milledge and Fernando Martinez were not part of Sandy Alderson’s time with the New York Mets. Yet, a common thread emerged with each of those players. They were either let go with little to no fanfare (F-Mart), or traded for crap or players on the downturn of their career (basically, everyone else in that list). At one point or another, they were considered so untouchable that they were held onto for way too long, then desperate for any kind of warm body to take his place.
I really paid no mind to Ochoa or Escobar. Ochoa, especially, was involved in some crap-for-crap trades involving the Mets and other teams, but was hardly considered an impactful player.
Two of the biggest disappointments in recent memory would have to be Milledge and F-Mart.
I have nothing by warm fuzzies with F-Mart. I remember seeing him at Spring Training in 2008, and singing ABBA’s “Fernando” as he took his at-bat. When he made his debut in 2009, I hadn’t been planning on attending the game, then at the last minute decided I needed to be there. He didn’t really do anything of note that night, or any time with the Mets really.
But to give up on him at age 24 was something of which I was not a fan. Young players, especially prospects, get hurt a lot. They’re still conditioning. Shit, look at Reese Havens, who was once more highly touted by prospect experts than Ike Davis (now a Mets fan favorite, and a legitimate “untouchable”…well at least in MY opinion, and you know, my blog, my rules). And to let him go to next to nothing. Okay, LITERALLY nothing.
I think one of the biggest travesties and mismanagement of a Mets’ prospect’s career has to be Lastings Milledge. This guy was so highly valued by other organizations, he was the centerpiece in many armchair GM trades, including Manny Ramirez or Barry Zito. The difference being, the Manny deal was close to going down several times over. The Zito deal, I feel, was speculation by bored beat writers (Billy Beane said he’d never even talked to Omar Minaya).
Usually, there were extenuating circumstances as to why these trades didn’t go down. Third party validation (including Peter Angelos of the Baltimore Orioles nixing his part of the deal, therefore, making the rest invalid) or the debate over the “half-year rental,” which is essentially what Zito would have been at the time.
Milledge was a flashy player, a throwback almost to the 1980s, with his armbands, bling and dreads, he exuded a certain attitude that was missing from the 2006 Mets (and Mets team, I feel, is now seen as incredibly overrated), an aura that could have given them an “edge.” Which is funny…then-GM Omar Minaya said on later teams that the Mets were missing an “edge.” Or was it Steve Phillips on ESPN Sunday Night Baseball? I dunno. I seem to combine the two together (talk about your PTMD with those two GMs).
I digress. I liked Milledge. I was so excited when he was activated after Xavier Nady was sent to the hospital for appendicitis. He hit a double in his debut, a game the Mets ended up losing, but that I was in attendance at, just to see ‘Stings play. By this time, the advent of social media in the form of blogs had contributed to his hype. I was excited to see him play.
A few days later, he hits a game tying home run against the San Francisco Giants’ Armando Benitez. To add to this feat, he decided to take his position in right field by giving WWE-inspired high-fives with the fans down the field level.
I thought it was cool. The butt-hurt Mets didn’t seem to think so.
I loved the 2006 team. It was one of the most fun years, unexpectedly, I’ve had as a Mets fan. A player like Milledge was a welcome distraction from the David “say and do everything” Wright and the goody two-shoes on the team. On a team in desperate need of a bad ass or a player with some swag, Milledge’s attitude fit the bill.
Was he rushed though? Of course he was. He wouldn’t be a valid Mets prospect if he wasn’t rushed. Ruined, in a sense, by the lack of depth on the Mets major league team that year, and the expectation level that he was supposed to provide.
The Curious Case of Lastings Milledge, in my opinion anyway, was one of a Catch-22 variety. With all the hype surrounding him, he was only doomed to fail. Yet, when he didn’t play up to expectation, the team and the fan base were quick to throw him under the bus, about how they could have gotten Manny or Zito for him during his hype. And who knows…maybe it would have been worth it.
Whether we liked it or not, the Mets were a win-now team then. And if that was the case, they should have cut their losses with Milledge and traded him. Yet, we know he would have been a star someplace else, because another team might have taken the time to develop him properly. Might have taken the time to let him be who he was. Yet, like many Mets GMs, the prospect hype was overvalued to the point that when they had to cut ties with him, it was for scraps off the heap.
In one way, it was a good trade for me. Brian Schneider was received in the deal, which launched a thousand hashtags (#ButterPecan, #TwoScoops). I was never crazy about Ryan Church, but felt bad for him once the Mets exasperated a head injury by flying him cross-country. I think it was over at Faith and Fear in Flushing, when someone said “Feed a cold, starve a fever, fly a concussion cross country.” (I’d like to give credit to whomever wrote that, believe it was in a column). It was the same old story, ruin a prospect, and ruin the gains received in any deal involving said prospect.
Lastings Milledge futzed around in the Major Leagues after being traded in the , and last we heard was playing in Japan, for the Tokyo Yakult Swallows. He is now 27 years old. Sometimes, 2006 seems like a lifetime away, yet, he was just barely 21 years old. Think back to when we were 21. Did we make some questionable choices? If you didn’t, I’d call you out as a liar.
Lastings Milledge’s time with the Mets doesn’t necessarily conjure up any painful memories. Rather, it makes me a little sad. It brings my hopes and fears, as a Mets fan, to the forefront. It makes everyone skeptical of prospects, no matter how highly touted they are. I mean, shit, if you look at it, Billy Beane (not the GM of the Oakland A’s, a team that was reported in the mix for Milledge when the Mets were looking for a good pitcher to shore up their rotation, like Barry Zito in his walk year) was once that highly regarded prospect who didn’t amount to much as a player. It’s the stories like Lastings Milledge that makes every fan wonder if Travis d’Arnaud would be the next big thing, or if he’ll be the next Steve Chilcott. You’ll just never know.
What I do know is that this front office is making it a point to develop their prospects properly, and not rush them. This seems to be a common thread with the Mets in their history, where the prospects are not fully trusted, and thought to be a means to an end of winning now. A vicious cycle, if you ask me.
So yes, I have some post-traumatic Mets disorder associated with Lastings Milledge and Fernando Martinez. F-Mart to a lesser extent, though I had some warm fuzzies associated with a good memory of CitiField in its inaugural year.
But Lastings Milledge will always represent to me the dynasty that never was, the overvaluing of a player but only ruining by rushing him. A Catch-22 indeed.
Did you know that all-time great Dodger manager Tom Lasorda is, like, BFFs with Mike Piazza’s dad, and serves as godfather to one of Piazza’s brothers? True story.
When Piazza broke the catching home run record in 2004, Lasorda came to Shea Stadium to say a few words for his BFF’s son, on a night the Mets honored him.
When Lasorda wobbled his way (he didn’t walk) to the podium, I clapped. I mean, he’s not a former Met or even a manager for the team, but show some respect for the guy.
Not to Uncle Gene. He bellows a big BOOOOO and yells in cupped hands, “WE REMEMBER EIGHTY-EIGHT!!”
I probably cringed. But 1988 was the first known chain of events that led to my chronic post-traumatic Mets disorder.
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The year was 1988. I was in my fifth year of being a Mets fan. I first started to pay attention to baseball in 1983, when my dad couldn’t stop talking about some guy named Keith. In 1984, I had attended my first three games. In 1985, I felt like I went to Shea every Sunday game.
By 1986, I had punched my Mets loyalist card, by attending game seven of the 1986 World Series.
In 1987, the Mets had become a form of escapism. I had talked about that year in a previous series, when I realized that the end was nigh for my parents as a couple.
If 1987 was the test for me learning that the Mets wouldn’t win the World Series (or even win the division) every year, 1988 renewed my faith in being a Mets fan. They were not just good, they were dominant. Again. So dominant that Darryl Strawberry and Kevin McReynolds canceled votes from each other in the MVP voting that year. A budding young pitcher by the name of David Cone won 20 games.
Their opponent in the NLCS that year was the Los Angeles Dodgers. A Dodger team, I’d like to add, they beat 10 out of 11 times that year.
This was the first playoff series that I remember watching mostly with my dad. I do have some warm fuzzies associated with it, mostly, namely when my hero Bart Giamatti tossed Jay Howell out of Game Three for his tar-ball.
There was no doubt in my mind that the Mets would win the series and go onto the World Series again.
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I often wonder what it would have been like had the Mets won that series and went to the World Series. I wonder if they would have dropped to the Oakland A’s, like they did in 1973, or would they be a two-time champion in the 1980s?
Alas, that would have meant a series win in the NLCS. Just one more win in the series would have made the difference.
And to that I say, FUCK MIKE SCIOSCIA.
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I begged my dad to take me to Game Four. I truly believed they would win the National League Championship in Game Five. But I wanted to be there for a playoff game. We went, with just one ticket. Not sure what we would have done had I not been able to get in. But I did. It was, of course, the ’80s.
Who knew that a home run would be not just a game changer, but a series changer?
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Davey Johnson’s Mets management legacy, is that he was a very emotional manager. He was emotionally attached to his “guys.” Guys like Doc and Darryl, Keith and Ronnie. Mostly, these same guys would call Davey a “player’s manager.” Yet, sometimes the manager needs to be the grown-up, the adult in the room, and make the big boy decisions. That wasn’t done in this instance.
True, Doc looked good. He had only given up two runs at that point. Pitch counts weren’t nearly as critical as they are in today’s game. Yet he had thrown well over 100 pitches by the time he faced Mike Scioscia, with one runner on.
I guess it’s sort of like the captain of the Titanic. Years of experience would trump all. Whatever fate was for the Mets, Johnson as manager was certain to face in due time.
In a way, I wonder if 1986 World Series Game Six was somehow a blessing and a curse. A blessing in that the Mets won and they lived to play another day, and ended up winning the series. A curse in that, I guess they truly believed that somehow, they’d always emerge victorious.
But Doc was Davey’s “guy.” Doc, up to that point, hadn’t a win in any postseason game as a Met. Probably against reasonable judgment, there Doc stayed.
I was diligently taking score during the game, as I was wont to do in those days. I was so excited…two outs away from being up 3-1 in the series!! This was gonna be awe….
Shit.
Mike Scioscia hits a game tying home run. TWO FUCKING OUTS AWAY FROM WINNING GAME FOUR. Unfuckingbelievable.
And yes, I believe at age 12, I was saying those exact words.
When you are a Mets fan, you have nothing else but to believe. I think we all believed, at that point, the Mets would not win that game.
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I sometimes like to imagine a world where Scioscia didn’t hit his home run. Maybe Doc had pulled through and officially won his first postseason game, or maybe Davey put in a reliever for the 9th inning who went 1-2-3. Mike Scioscia was never a huge home run hitter. This was easily the most clutch in his career.
That home run doesn’t get hit, they go up in the series 3-1. They win Game Five on the momentum at home.
Kevin McReynolds has his Kirk Gibson Moment during the World Series, endearing himself to Mets fans forever. But then, we would never know a Kirk Gibson Moment. Because had the Mets won that series against the Dodgers, we’d never see him limping around the bases.
Shit. The Mike Scioscia home run changed baseball COMPLETELY.
Perhaps he would have struck out in embarrassing fashion. Never to be seen again after this series. Scioscia would then never get the tutelage of Lasorda and wouldn’t have become a well-respected manager for the “I’m Calling Them California” Angels.
Perhaps Kirk Gibson wouldn’t be the manager of the Arizona Diamondbacks.
You just don’t know. Baseball is a game of chances and odds. What are the odds that Scioscia doesn’t hit that home run? The odds were against him for sure.
And this has led to several years of post-traumatic Mets disorder for not just this Mets fan, but several. Metstradamus still shudders when he hears Scioscia’s name.
I think to that night. I was a pre-teen taking score at a game that I was sure the Mets would win. It was the first time I learned that my team could break my heart. Sure, I lived through 1987. The team wasn’t the same. The 1988 team though looked like a rebirth. Like they would rise from the ashes and be the dominant team that Frank Cashen had set out to make.
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As a baseball fan second, I will always respect and admire both Tom Lasorda and Mike Scioscia for what they’ve done and accomplished as major league managers. But as Uncle Gene said at that game in 2004, we’ll always remember what happened in 1988.
A little part of me died that night, as a fan. I’m sure most Mets fans in attendance thought that, still think it. The Mets after that night were never the same. They never quite rebounded.
I learned what it truly meant to be a Mets fan.
I went away to school in the mid 1990s. Since there was a baseball strike in 1994, I lost interest for a little bit, even when it returned. But also since I was a poor college student, I didn’t have funds to go up to Queens at a moment’s notice like I would as a carefree child (oh, and that whole thing of being paid for by my parents).
It wasn’t till around 1996 that I started to go to games again, and be interested in baseball and most importantly the Mets. I saw Fuckin’ Franco give up late inning saves. I saw Bobby Valentine bring the Mets back to a semblance of respectability, just by showing up and bringing a new aura. I saw the league’s best hitting catcher come via a trade in 1998.
Perhaps 1999 was the most fun I’d had as a Mets fan. Most of it was so unexpected that I didn’t care how they got there. They just got there.
Post-traumatic Mets disorder officially set in for me in 1988. I’m sure Metstradamus would agree, with the name Mike Scioscia. Tom Lasorda (whom I always loved, in a self-flagellating way), Kirk Gibson, Orel Hershiser…oh em gee. Just the names make my skin crawl.
Funny though that Hershiser was a critical component in 1999 for the New York Mets.
He was not, though, in 2000.
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Mets fans had some high expectations in 2000. They put up a good fight in 1999, and anything less than a trip to the World Series would be uncivilized.
Not to say there weren’t several holes on that team. Take for example, the outfield. See, it’s the leaning on the past that makes Mets fans like myself rationalize the abysmal looking outfield going into 2013. Usually the whole “Agbayani, Payton and Perez” argument is backed up whenever we look at a future outfield of well, whatever shit the Mets decide to stick to the wall.
Another perceived black hole was the shortstop role that year. See, Rey Ordoñez was a great defensive shortstop. His glaring weakness was his failure to hit out of the infield most of the time.
Again, this is an argument that Mets fans generally lean on when we want to justify keeping a guy we like. “Oh, but his DEFENSE!” Which is BS. That was the argument used to keeping a guy like Jeff Francoeur around, who could barely hit his weight, free swinging hitting into a double play, and couldn’t take a walk if his life depended on it. Actually, wasn’t it he who hit into the triple play against the Phillies in 2009? (I’m too lazy to look it up – this is not a rant against Francoeur, whom I’m sure is quite nice once you get to know him).
True to form though, once Ordoñez stopped making defensive gems in the infield, his uselessness transcended to the fanbase. In fact, he called the Mets fans “Too stupid,” once they started to boo him. THEN the offense is what matters.
But Ordoñez, in a way, is indirectly responsible for one of my biggest sources of post-traumatic Mets disorder. After all, it was his season-ending injury that made the Mets make a panic move for then-Baltimore Oriole Mike Bordick.
The PTMD stands out in more than one way. What has made me think about this source of PTMD came up in my household, recently, because my husband who is head nut over at Studious Metsimus, has been writing a series on certain Mets players that got away. Last week’s topic was on Melvin Mora, who became not only a fan favorite but almost a cult-like hero during the late parts of the 1999 season. Again, a team that fought tooth and nail, one of the most entertaining Mets teams I’ve had the pleasure of watching.
We had an argument while he was writing it though (an intellectual disagreement, not of the type of slamming doors, we never have fights like that). When I started to complain that Bordick sucked, he’s the reason why I hate the “half-year rental” moves, he must have hated playing in New York so much because the second his contract was up, he high-tailed it back to Charm City, where he is now immortalized in the Orioles Hall of Fame (and so is Brady Anderson, which speaks volumes to the rich history of Baltimore…and the not-so-rich recent history).
Hubby says, “Yes, but where would Melvin Mora have been put? David Wright was the third baseman, he would have had to move anyway.”
To say I blew a gasket would be an understatement.
“DAVID WRIGHT WAS A COMPENSATORY PICK FOR MIKE HAMPTON!!! REMEMBER HIM???? THE NLCS MVP IN 2000!!????!!! PERHAPS IF BORDICK OR ANYONE ELSE HIT OVER A BUCK-TWENTY FIVE IN THE WORLD SERIES, HAMPTON WOULD HAVE FOUND REDEEMING QUALITIES IN NEW YORK SCHOOLS TOO!!!!”
Someone needs to take her meds.
There’s an element of truth in trying not to justify regrets. If you regret something, then maybe your life would be completely different. Sometimes I miss living in Hoboken. Had I not moved, however, I may not have met my husband. I say the benefits of that move certainly outweighed the risks.
But by trading Mora, the Mets might have indeed changed their history. Perhaps he would have taken to playing shortstop during the 2000 season. Perhaps he would have been more of a threat at the plate than Bordick, who really DID hit .125 in the World Series. IT WAS ALL HIS FAULT!
Okay, maybe it was the questionable pitching. Maybe it was Timo Perez not running full-out in game one. Yet, there was no margin of error in that series. The difference between someone hitting .125 to, I dunno, hitting over .200 could have meant the difference in winning more games.
You just don’t know.
But most of all, in 2000, there was no David Wright in the Mets organization. When Mike Hampton decided to go where the schools were in Colorado and signed with the Rockies prior to the 2001 season, the “sandwich pick” that year was a guy named David Allen Wright, who recently signed his long-term contract with the Mets.
Yet think about if the Mets won the World Series in 2000. Perhaps Hampton would have stayed to win again. (And maybe he would have cracked a smile during the celebrations then).
Perhaps there would have been no David Wright in that offseason. Let’s say Mora wasn’t traded away. Let’s say Mora became a fan favorite and was a leader in the Mets organization, as opposed to one in the history books with Baltimore (which, by the way, he is).
Mets history would be completely different.
But I ask you this. Sometimes, when we talk about 2006, and the post-years of 2007 and 2008, we wonder what would have happened had the Mets gone to the World Series, had won, or even weren’t eliminated in such humiliating fashion in 2007 and 2008.
Would 2009 – 2012 (and going into 2013) be a different feeling? Would we be more accepting of it?
Perhaps if the Mets won in 2000, and beaten the Yankees, this would all be moot.
Yet, I can’t help but think how Mike Bordick is singularly responsible for fucking up Mets history.
Am I being irrational? Don’t answer that. But the blowing up earlier that I had with my husband was not exaggerated. I even did a Rafael Palmeiro point in the face while arguing.
Rey Ordoñez gets injured. Steve Phillips trades Melvin Mora, along with several others, to Baltimore for Mike Bordick. Mora was hitting .260 when he left Queens; Bordick was hitting .297. Certainly seemed like a decent move on paper. Yet, Bordick was a free agent after 2000. Perhaps Phillips should have learned something with thinking with his dick back then, as it got him into trouble in subsequent years in his personal life.
Mora was 28 and made his debut the year prior; Bordick was 35, had 12 years under his belt. Theoretically, Mora had his career in front of him; Bordick was in the twilight and at best, a few okay years, good but not great.
But it was true. Mora did have his career in front of him; Bordick went wee-wee-wee all the way back to Baltimore as soon as the season wrapped up. Yes, the Orioles weren’t exactly world beaters (2012 was the first year they made the playoffs since 1997) during Mora’s time and after Bordick returned. Yet, don’t you see, the Mets’ history could be completely different. Of course, it could be similar or the same, without a 2000 World Series win. But let’s think of the alternate universe for a second.
Ordoñez gets hurt. Mora transitions to shortstop, not without growing pains, but he overperforms, and the Mets go on to the postseason. Perhaps Mora makes such an impression at shortstop that the Mets actually do the right thing and trade Ordoñez or better yet, when he returns, Mora makes the move back to third base.
Maybe Mike Hampton stays; maybe he goes. I know that his career wasn’t exactly noteworthy post-Mets. In fact, I may be cringing at the thought of him being tied to a long-term contract from which he kept trying to make some kind of triumphant return. What we wouldn’t have known wouldn’t have hurt us, re: David Wright. Maybe in 2004, the Mets would have had a higher draft pick (one slot higher, actually) and got Justin Verlander instead of Phil Humber. Yes, Phil Humber got us Johan Santana, who got the Mets their first no-hitter. According to Coop vision, however, Verlander has had two.
A stretch? Oh, certainly, I freely admit that. It’s fun though, to play 20/20 hindsight GM.
In the grand scheme of things though, my hatred for the time Mike Bordick spent on the Mets, albeit short, transcends rationality, history, and regret.
It’s post-traumatic Mets disorder to the nth degree. No sense makes sense. But the sense of it all is that I blame, directly and indirectly, the Mets not winning the 2000 World Series and their floundering in subsequent years on the Mike Bordick trade. Perhaps he’s a nice guy. Perhaps we can argue that it was Steve Phillips’ fault.
I prefer to blame the guy who was traded and an empty uniform on the field.
I’m sure many of you find it hard to believe that in my household — in which resides two Mets bloggers and fans — there is a lot of baseball talk. Not just Mets talk, but all of baseball. From the Hall of Fame Snubs of 2013 to Breaking the Color Barrier to Babe Ruth, baseball talk around here is like, “So what would you like for dinner?” It’s just natural.
But all baseball talk makes Coop and Ed a very dull girl and boy. So we spice it up a bit.
Like each year since 2011, Ed has done a weekly post on a theme that brings us from the dawn of the New Year to Opening Day (which is like the New Year for baseball fans…the only date on the calendar that signifies the beginning of “something”). I tried my hand at doing a column on how I was Married to the Mets last year. That was fun, but I like to write about stuff that makes people laugh or smile. Because if we know anything as Mets fans, if an event is painful, we sometimes just have to laugh it off.
If you follow me on Twitter, or anywhere else really, you’ll know that I have a catch phrase called “Post-Traumatic Mets Disorder.” This is just as it sounds. Many Mets fans have great memories, but then there are the memories that have a lot of heartache attached to it. We can only but laugh at them.
But it’s not necessarily attached to the Mets nor a player. It can be an outside force. It can even be a player we LIKED or loved. There’s typically a circumstance around why we suffer post-traumatic Mets disorder, but one thing is for sure: it has to do with an event or tied somehow into Mets history.
Starting this Friday, I’m going to go over some of the names or moments that make Mets fans cringe, cry, barf or smack their heads — sometimes, all four. Maybe more emotions if I can think about it.
The point is, I’ll be writing about some of my most famous interactions with post-traumatic Mets disorder, or PTMD, and the inspirations behind it. And hopefully we can cringe, cry, barf and smack our heads collectively at the memories.
I have what we deem as a “Christmas birthday.” While everyone on planet Earth (okay, maybe just **here**) is prepping for the holidays and transition into the New Year, a day celebrating me is thrown in the mix there.
Being a sports fan, it’s never been out of the realm of possibility to get a sports-related gift to celebrate. This year, the big “get” was the Mets 50th Anniversary DVD collection, which was kind of a family gift (my husband has had his eye on this sucker for a WHILE now).
I was super excited to see that in the collection, one of my favorite Mets videos, An Amazin’ Era (a chronicle of the first 25 seasons of the Mets), was available on the DVD set. Super excited probably doesn’t get it – super-duper is more like it. Of course, the DVD was extended to include the 1986 championship and the NL East run in 1988…something that was a “To Be Continued…” part of the original VHS. And yes, I still have that thing somewhere.
I often take for granted that the Mets won a championship in my lifetime. Sometimes though I imagine what life might be like if I didn’t have that year. If watching the 1969 highlights is all we’d have for going all the way…but so many close calls, like the 1973, 1988 and even the late 90s.
Then the night my husband and I watched the video, he fell asleep, and I was there in insomnia land. Not only did I get to relive the Mets championship years, I got to see a retrospective on the New York Rangers 1993-94 Stanley Cup run.
I guess I’m a little more than fortunate when it comes to my teams. Some fan bases have never seen a championship in their lifetime. I’ve seen one for each of my teams.
I said last year that the team closest to a championship would have been the Rangers. It’s only cruel and unusual punishment that they have not been able to drop the puck this year.
The Mets seem to be making some moves to ensure that in the future, championships will be dancing in our heads.
I suppose it is only fitting that when I look at the last time the Mets had “relevance,” it was 2006…life would be so much different if they were able to make it the World Series, let alone win it. Yet, 2006 was a long time ago.
The same could be said for my third team, the Jets. Two years in a row, they did not make it to the playoffs despite high expectations. The two years PRIOR to that though, they made it as far as they could go without going the furthest, if that makes sense.
I’m trying to take the football victories where I can. I can be happy for my friends and family who root for different teams. My husband is a big Seahawks fan. We even went to see them play the Jets in Seattle in November. He was in Hawks Heaven…I’m typically found in Jets hell.
Today, though, I heard that while Mike Tannenbaum was let go, Rex Ryan is staying on I really don’t know how to feel about it. I know the buck stops there, but ultimately, how many times can changing the coaching staff really help?
My thought was…I was brought back so many good memories of having my teams winning in my lifetime. This is a gift I not only cherish but also do not take for granted.
Yet, I don’t have the warm fuzzies with the Jets, except maybe the time from 2009 and 2010. Some other years there, but I guess deep down I knew it just wasn’t their year. I had such high expectations only to be dashed at the last moment. I would then have higher hopes for the future, only to get pooped on later.
My point is wondering why I stick around. Sometimes, especially after seasons like this, make me wonder why I just don’t go root for another team. I wonder if things will ever change. I doubt they will. Yet, I don’t want to be that fan who gave up when it was so close.
I could only imagine what it was like for people like my dad, who stuck around with the Rangers though they didn’t win till he was a long-time fan and was even lecturing me on the prospect of the Rangers not making it past game six in the 1994 Eastern Conference final versus the Devils. It became evident, watching the highlights, that the blueshirts were “going for it all” that year. They wouldn’t have had a better chance after that season.
The Mets started to fall apart after 1986. I sometimes wonder why I stick around with such inept management and even more inept finances. Then I think there’s no way they can be that bad forever, right?
But I have the championships from those teams.
Then there’s the Jets. There are certainly bigger Gang Green fans than I am, but we explain it all away when love a team, we make excuses but the reality is…we all want the same thing.
To survive the war together.
So when people ask me why I am a sports fan, it’s the prospect of winning it all…that’s one thing. It’s the surviving of it together. It’s the experience of it together.
I named my first Mets blog “My Summer Family,” after a line in the movie Fever Pitch, which is what Jimmy Fallon’s character says about his Red Sox family. He later said that he wanted to be involved with something bigger than himself. It’s why I’ve stuck around with the Mets, the Rangers and the Jets. To experience that feeling again. I’ve been fortunate to experience it with two of my teams.
I guess I have to believe there is some payoff at the end. That during the wars, and the battles, we stick around for the love of the team.
The love of the team though trumps most of the wars and battles forged though. It’s part of our life, it’s part of our culture.
It’s part of who we are.
“Tonight we are young
So let’s set the world on fire
We can burn brighter than the sun”
– FUN
To everything, there is a season…
And this season is called “the offseason of Mets 2012-13.”
I bid farewell to R.A. Dickey, but I say hello to the next generation of New York Mets.
And it’s certainly a different feeling than I’ve ever had as a Mets fan in my lifetime.
Over the years, we’ve been conditioned as a fan base to like deals because we were able to justify big ticket/big name players.
Shit, I even liked the Jason Bay deal at one time (Back off – I really liked the guy before he came to Flushing).
Mike Piazza – traded for a bunch of scrubs.
Gary Carter – traded for a bunch of scrubs.
Johan Santana – traded for a bunch of scrubs (even though one of those scrubs pitched a perfect game before Santana threw his no-no, they were still a bunch of scrubs).
Frank Viola – traded for a bunch of…
You see a pattern. Most of the time, the Mets ended up on the receiving end of getting the big name, and ended up with a depleted farm system. Not to mention, they got maybe a few good years out of them. The prospects had their careers ahead of them.
Up till this point though, none of the prospects really broke out, except for maybe the Frank Viola deal, where Rick Aguilera held the Minnesota Twins’ record for saves until Joe Nathan left, and Kevin Tapani won 143 games in his career AFTER the leaving the Mets, best years were with the Mets. They both won World Series championships with those teams too.
Possibly the worst thing about being a Mets fan is knowing that a deal would have a cap of a certain amount of years.
What’s odd is that R.A. Dickey holds the distinction of being one of the most popular Mets of all time, while we’re sad to see him go, we know that to everything turn,turn, turn, and there is a season. And a time to every purpose..
When I was a kid, the Mets were celebrating their 25th anniversary, which was in 1986 as ironic as that sounds. In conjunction with that season, there was a video called “An Amazin’ Era,” chronicling their history up to 1985. They made their own fate in 1986 and beyond.
Now that I am a adult, and celebrating my something-th birthday today, the Mets have turned 26 additional seasons.
I’m getting older. The Mets, well, they are getting younger.
While I’m sad about R.A. Dickey being gone, I can take comfort in knowing that the Mets are going to be better in the future.
And they are getting YOUNGER.
I was on the Sully Baseball daily podcast, and we talked about how this deal is almost antithetical to what the Mets have done operationally in the past.
And now we’re young.
Age is nothing but a number, yet age has mattered for the Mets, and most of all the numbers (meaning: numbers not made, or numbers of contracts that didn’t pan out, or years for that matter). This can be a deal that can not only be beneficial for the Mets, but will make them age gracefully.
Something I’m not used to seeing as a fan.
I was 10 years old when I saw the Mets win their last championship. Wait, scratch that. Don’t pay attention to how old I was. Anyway, the next few years weren’t pretty for a fan. They got older, more broken, and a few years after, there were barely any members of that gloried bunch.
We went from having a fun year in 1999 to seeing youthful guys like Robin Ventura and Mike Piazza break down. Hell, even perpetually youthful Edgardo “Fonzie” Alfonzo broke down too early.
I’m convinced the reason why the Mets fell apart was because of Carlos Beltran’s balky legs and Jose Reyes’ balky hamstrings.
Yet, the guy who was considered by all intents and purposes an “elder” on the Mets, aged backwards. He got better as he aged, won a coveted Cy Young and won 20 games to boot, all the while reinventing himself.
It seems as though the Mets took a cue from him to age backwards, but literally.
So tonight, we may be young. Like the Mets though, in 2013 and beyond, I’d like to promise to myself that I’ll set the world on fire. We should all have that sort of promise to ourselves.
A Gal For All Seasons 