We interrupt this—as Channel 11 used to say in promos when a team no one expected anything from was playing well—“surprising” New York Mets start to bring you the announcement of the winners for the third annual Greg Spira Award. Well, actually the announcement is here.

Congratulations to Lewis Pollis ($1,000 first place for his piece on paying front office talent), Cee Angi ($200 second place for her profile on the great Vin Scully), and Rob Arthur ($100 third place on the sounds that the bat makes and what it means). Given the state of freelancer remuneration today, all recipients were especially happy to hear the news. You can read the winners on the link, and if this sounds good to you, and you are under 30 years of age, just have a baseball piece published or presented containing original analysis or research. The piece must be published (online or paper) between January 16 of this year and January 15, 2016.

Greg Spira was a solid colleague, a good friend, and a great Mets fan. He hated games in poor weather, but he might have even ventured to an April game to see this Mets start in person. He died from kidney disease in 2011. He would have been 48 today.

Who would have thought we’d be here? The 2015 Mets put together an 11-game win streak! It’s the fifth time the Mets have reached 11 straight victories. And each time has been a surprise. I think even the 1927 Yankees might have been surprised by an 11-game win streak, especially since their longest win streak during their 110-win, 60-HR, 4-game sweep season was 9. But 11 has come at interesting times for the Mets in the past, and almost all of them came early in the years 1969, 1972, 1986, and 1990. Some transformed the season, some merely helped prop them into contention.

The 1969 Mets had never had a winning season, and believe it or not, had only once even been over .500—a lofty 2-1 in the first week of 1966. Early in the ’69 season it looked like 2-1 was the closest the Mets would get to a winning mark, but in mid-May they touched .500, and when queried about the greatness of the moment, Tom Seaver shot back, “What’s .500?” As the beat writers shook their heads at the arrogance of this kid who didn’t know where his team came from, it seemed the baseball gods agreed as the Mets dropped their next five, including their first ever game with the expansion San Diego Padres. Then the baseball gods revealed what they had in store for the 1969 Mets. The Mets won the next 11 in a row, all of them against the West Coast teams that had long filled Shea and stuck the Mets with loss after loss. Of the 11, only the last win—a 9-4 win over the Giants, was by more than three runs. Two of the wins were 1-0 games decided in extra innings. Even after the winning streak ended and the Mets dropped two straight, they won 9 of 12. Though the Cubs had a big lead, the Mets had more magic up their sleeve, ending with a stream of ticker tape down Lower Broadway that October.

Gil Hodges, who had guided that Mets team to its unlikely 1969 world championship, died suddenly in spring training 1972. Yogi Berra was installed as manager, the front office heartlessly calling a press conference the afternoon of the funeral to announce Berra as manager and Rusty Staub as right fielder, a deal Hodges had pushed for. The Mets players were sad and also angry at the callous way the team handled the situation, so of course they went out and had what stood as the best start in the team’s first 24 seasons of existence. The Mets were already 14-7 and in first place when Jerry Grote singled home Cleon Jones in the bottom of the ninth for a 2-1 victory over the Giants on May 12, the same week the Mets acquired Willie Mays. The next thing you knew the Mets had an 11-game win streak and a six-game lead. That’s where the good times ended. On June 1 the Mets were 30-11 and five games in front. From that point on they went 53-62 as everybody got hurt and the team regressed to the mean. Though there would be magic in 1973, the ’72 season turned out to be a dead end.

The 1986 Mets started the year 2-3 and didn’t look good doing it, the exact same point where the 2015 edition came in. Unlike the 2015 team, however, the ’86 Mets wsere expected to contend for a title. A week and a half into the season, the ’86 Mets had more rainouts than wins when they took on the Phillies on Friday, April 18. They won that game and then swept the series. On Monday the Mets rallied for two in the ninth against the Pirates and they swept the series. The Mets went into St. Louis, where their dreams of a division title had been crushed the previous fall, and were down by two runs in the ninth when Howard Johnson crushed a game-tying home run off Todd Worrell. When the Mets won the next inning, it was the first game—regular-season game, mind you—the Cardinals had lost when leading in the ninth since 1984. The Mets swept the four-game series. They won the first two games in Atlanta before the Braves ended the streak at 11. The Mets had a five-game lead after 16 games. They would fulfill the prophesy of Davey Johnson: Dominate.

I didn’t have much in the way of recall for the 1990 streak until I looked it up. It turned out to be the only one of these streaks prior to 2015 where I saw any of it in person. And even that is open to interpretation. It was in June and I was at the sixth game in the streak, though it looked enough like a loss where my buddies ands I left early to see the end of the Buick Classic golf tournament in Rye. It was a horrendous decision because the Mets won while we were stuck in the Shea parking lot getting out, and the finish of the Buick Classic was about as exciting as a pro making a two-foot putt. I wasn’t living in the area and was visiting, yet I was still plenty angry they’d fired Davey Johnson on top of trading all the guys who had made 1986 a year to remember (and not just because of an April win streak). The 1990 winning streak helped keep the Mets in the divisional race until the final week, when the Pirates finally finished them off. The streak was the high point of the Bud Harrelson regime.

So here we are at 11. In baseball these things change frequently, so I am getting this up on the site. If the streak keeps going, I’ll keep writing. If the Mets crash through the ceiling and into the land of dozen, stay tuned. If not, then look back on this when things might not be going as well. It is a long season.  Even the ’86 Mets had a losing road trip, that is “a” as in one. In the meantime, try comedian Jim Breuer for pertinent Mets updates. Besides the streak, that’s the best thing I’ve seen all season.

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An thanks to Gelf Magazine and Le Poisson Rouge for having me to Varsity Letters. It was pretty fun dashing for the train with the Mets game blasting the radio call over my phone. Still saw a lot of Yankees garb in the big city, including some worn by the family of Ed Lucas, who was the nightcap on our doubleheader—or more accurately, I was opening up for him. Great man, great stories, and a great-sounding book, Seeing Home. I plan on experiencing it in the audio version. And Ed—and his son Chris—have turned me around on my attitude about the late Phil Rizzuto, who was instrumental in helping him forge a career in baseball despite not being able to see. “Holy cow, Messer, you’re making me sound like a hero!” God bless you, Scooter. And Ed Lucas.

A new year and a new age. Welcome to the eighth year of metsilverman.com. You could call us a jinx, if you like, though 2008 was the year I swore off luck (my first April Fool’s post) and it was the last year the Mets had a .500 season, or played at Shea Stadium, or had a September game that mattered—it was all too much. But I am still here, a survivor—and so are you. Even if you weren’t even a Mets fan then, you are a survivor of the lineage—just as you are a celebrant of 1969 and 1973 and 1986 and 2000, even if you never saw a pitch.

Each year I tie in a Mets player uniform number with my age. That’s how the site began during a happily sleepless night as I planned out the first year of the site. And why stop now? Even if I am the big 5-0 now. And what bigger 5-0 could there be than Sid Fernandez, unless it was Benny Agbayani. This year for 50, and having been fortunate enough to spend a couple of days in the Aloha state for the first time, I have fused a two-headed Hawaiian hydra out of this pair: the right-side being all Benny and the lefts-side being Fernandez.

El Sid was a latter day Jon Matlack, though not as consistent or as adept as Matlack as finishing what he started. Sid had his greatest contribution as a Met in Game Seven of a World Series, Matlack his worst—further proof that one game can decide championships and careers (and another reason why the one-game play-in in the postseason runs contrary to baseball, where everything—even the previously precious one-game playoff to get into the postseason—should have a back story).

But when we talk about Sid Fernandez you should know three things: he was from Hawaii (why he was the first Mets player to wear 50, for the 50th state), he is fourth all-time in major league history with just 6.85 hits allowed per nine innings (behind only Nolan Ryan, Clayton Kershaw, and Sandy Koufax), and when the Mets were on the ropes in Game Seven of the 1986 World Series, El Sid stepped out of the bullpen and shut down the Red Sox. If he’d bombed that game, well, just think what the last 29 years would have felt like without that championship. He was quiet yet colorful, heavy on the hill but light on his feet, stolen from Los Angeles and underrated in New York, a great pitcher though plagued with not getting enough wins, the measuring stick of his day. He was the NBC Miller Lite Player of Game Seven of the World Series, the only Game Seven the Mets have ever won.

Benny Agbayani also came through at crucial moments for the Mets. Steve Phillips might have kept him perpetually in the minors, possibly because Benny was a Bobby Valentine creation, and not a traditional prospect he could trade for a broken-down reliever. Benny hit his way to the majors, needing to outperform the entire outfield to get to stay in New York. He came up in 1998 and didn’t impress anyone with his .133 average in 16 at bats. He got another chance during the 1999 season and hit 10 home runs in his first 73 at bats to become a Mets folk legend. He may have faced more minor league purgatory the following spring, but his grand slam in Japan earned the Mets a split of the first major league games played there, and he also earned himself a spot of the Mets roster. He was the most interesting member of a nondescript outfield and his home run in the 13th inning to win Game Three of the Division Series and—combined with the next afternoon’s Bobby Jones NLDS clincher against the Giants—logged in as number five of my favorite Shea Stadium moments seen in person. (A first-year feature on the blog in the last year at Shea.) The glass slipper only fit for so long, but Benny was a hero when it counted. If he hadn’t hit a tiebreaking double in the eighth inning of Game Three of the 2000 World Series, maybe the Yankees would have the three-peat sweep instead of the simply humiliating loss in five games. Benny may have been too free on the Howard Stern show in predicting the Mets to win in five, but in his two best years he combined for 29 homers and 102 RBI in 626 plate appearances. And Benny thrived when the games mean the most.

Now if you have been playing close attention, since that first year there has been a recurring theme in posts throughout a given year, whether it’s my favorite games at Shea (2008) or a critique and accounting for every doubleheader in Mets history (2014). I’ve tried just about everything, so this year the theme will be: no theme. I have a book I am trying to finish—on the 1986 Mets—and I need to put my investigative talents into that. But there will be posts, just nothing as thematic as in the past. Maybe next year there’ll be something different.

In the meantime, enjoy the games, everything is starting anew. There is talk about the Mets finally turning it around. Well, I will believe that when it happens. I left my Ya Gotta Believe at the door in Swinging ’73.

But this will be the last time I name a year after Mets and their uniform numbers. At least until my Turk Wendel Year comes around at 99. It’s not a conceited after-50 thing in age but rather a complete lack of useful numbers to count the age past 50. Dave Murray, Mets Guy in Michigan, God bless him for including not one but two of my books in his Mostly Mets Reading Month in March. He is just old enough to be a year ahead and celebrating a Mel Rojas Year at 51. I’ve had enough crashing and burning myself to involve Mr. Rojas, but I’ll still be around. At least I hope so.

As for hope and the Mets, well, hope is dispensed with an eye dropper when it comes to the Mets around here. A lifetime of pessimism made it so I expected the worst in Game Six in the 1986 World Series, and I was utterly shocked when the best happened instead. And then Sid saved the day in Game Seven. I wonder if lightning will ever strike twice for me and my kind, but that’s why we watch and we wait for another Sid Fernandez or Benny Agbayani to come up big when we’re least expecting it.

Back when skipping school to watch a baseball game was still considered truancy, three buddies and I called in sick and went to see Tom Seaver’s first game back as a Met, against the Phillies in 1983. I didn’t like lying to my high school or to my parents, but I was not taking the risk that someone might tell me I could not go. Ironically, I skipped the next several openers due to school obligations (and I still likely would have blown those off had I gone to college within four hours of Shea). But I have missed only three openers since 1989: one as a personal protest to the strike, and the others because the family was on vacations that were more memorable than many of the openers I’ve seen.

You kind of get to the point where you go on Opening Day just because you usually go. I always have fun with the people I’m with, but last year’s debacle with the Mets blowing the lead to Washington and losing their closer for the year made me wonder aloud why he was out there in the first place since his elbow had been a problem in Florida. And I had to wonder what the hell I was doing there if the team had been a problem in Florida, and for most of the decade prior.

Monday, April 13, six years to the day—or night—that Citi Field opened, the Mets had their biggest crowd at the stadium for a game that counts. The only bigger crowd was for the All-Star Game in 2013, and my family in standing room pushed the number to 45,186. I was proud to be part of the 2015 opener’s 43,947. Maybe one day I can be part of the crowd that sets the mark in a game of significance late in the season. Or in whatever games are played after the also-rans are done. We’ll see. For now I was glad to be sitting in the far reaches of the left-field upper deck for an entire game. Previously I’d bought tickets there but left after a few innings, easily able to snag better seats. Not for this game.

The place was jammed. And even though the people who had the two seats next to us never showed up, pairs of people flitted down and sat there for innings at a time—like the Citi seagulls no doubt wondering, “What’s with the people, these teams can’t hit?” Mets bird of prey Jacob deGrom and three relievers blanked the Phillies, 2-0, and the Mets even introduced what I can only assume is a new old song for wins: “New York Groove.” The Mets have not exactly been taking care of business in recent years. I prefer BTO to K-I-S-S, but it’s been time for a change for a long time. In more ways than one.

Everyone is trying to get behind the team. (Well, maybe not everyone is doing it the same way.) I like the ballclub, but I think they need to trade for at least one middle infielder who is a major league fielder and can also hit. Their bench could use something, too. And given that Jenrry Mejia let us all down as one of four major league pitchers recently caught cheating,  maybe a setup reliever might help if Vic Black doesn’t come back the same and Carlos Torres’s arm doesn’t fall off from overuse. These kinds of players cost money and they’ll likely cost prospects—two things the current Mets management has been reluctant to part with. Maybe this is the year the Mets make a late-season move, if they stay in the race that long.

I’m just glad I was there to open the place up. And I’m glad my buddy Dave, a policeman, was there as well—not just for the game, but for the moving tribute to the NYPD. When people complain about security lines, they should think first about why those exist and how safe we feel going about our lives compared to people elsewhere. Inconvenience is a small price for vigilance. I don’t like speeding tickets or security lines, either, but you can’t have everything the way you want it. You’d think Mets fans at least would understand that by now.

It’s a good thing I caught you. The Mets waited all offseason to make a trade, then they made one Monday. And it was for a lefty reliever they so desperately need. Then they traded for another one. And the Mets are not done stockpiling the southpaws. Using my connections with the team, I got the lead on the next lefty the Mets will acquire.

Let me tell you about lefties. I used to wish I was left-handed and actually taught myself to bat lefty by throwing a ball up and hitting it in my yard. Every. Single. Day. Alas, I couldn’t hit a fastball any better from that side, but I could hit a Wiffle ball a long way and never got fooled on the breaking ball. Except when I did. My son is a lefty. True story. But I digress.

According to my source, today’s new Mets lefty is named Willis. No, not Willis from Diff’rent Strokes. This is Walter B. Willis. I think the middle name stands for Bruno. This guy can bring it. Here is a short clip of him in action.

And this same source tells me to expect another lefty on Thursday. Throws left, bats right. His name is Gordon Matthew Thomas. Kind of a long name, but I think he has a nickname. He’s a veteran, been around so long I saw him play at Shea Stadium once. Of course there’s film of it.  Before he made it as a southpaw, he used to serve in the Police.

And the best tip of all I got was that on Friday there’s a waiver deal with Detroit for this guy named Marshall Bruce Mathers III. I know you should avoid getting relief pitchers from the Tigers, but this guy is the real deal. Though he does talk too much and he has this thing about M&Ms….

The sad passing of Jeff McKnight at the far too early age of 52 has had me, as well as several others, thinking Mets by the Numbers these past couple of days. The Jeff McKnightmare (the only Met to have worn five different numbers) was probably the piece I read on the site that made me reach out to Jon Springer to talk to him about turning his magnificent work into a book. Mets Essential was published first and then 100 Things Mets Fans Should Know and Do Before They Die came out about the same time, but it was Mets by the Numbers that really got it started. Thank you, Jon Springer, and thank you, Jeff McKnight. And while we are thanking one and all, here’s to Mets Guy in Michigan Dave Murray for his nod to the book in his Mostly Mets Reading Month.

I had a fun little chat recently with Ralph Tyko, aka Zig, about the Mets, 1973, the weather, and so much more. Listen in.

If you count the piece that introduced Double3header Dip, this is the 20th installment of The History of Mets Doubleheaders (Whether You Wanted It or Not). This last part I admit to putting off because it requires me to tally up all the numbers and hope I didn’t miss a game (or two : ). It also forces me to reflect on the inglorious—and rather dull—recent present. I had a long, depressing conclusion about the team’s current state in terms of ownership, leadership, and on-field talent, but I tossed that out. Too negative a piece going into a new season, but I won’t spare the rod.

To me the period since the opening of Citi Field puts me in the same mindset as the post-Seaver era I grew up in (1977-83), and the post heyday period (1991-96). In both those cases the fallow periods gave way to well-constructed, entertaining teams I am still incredibly proud to call my own. As for the period we are in now, all I can say is that I’m proud of every kid who’s become a Mets fan in this time, because I know it hasn’t been easy. For every upturn there have been three setbacks, two embarrassments, and something else I can’t believe Jeff Wilpon said in public.

As for the future… How ‘bout them doubleheaders?

2009: Two day-night doubleheaders in the first year of Citi Field: one split and a loss, though these don’t technically count as doubleheaders—I believe “split” doubleheaders are actually classified as a pain in the Brian Asselstine. The first such event at Citi Field began with a combined shutout by Johan Santana in the opener against Colorado, giving the Mets their fifth straight win. They went 20-41 the rest of the way, including being swept all day and all of the night in Philly. Pedro Martinez—remember him?—combined for a 1-0 shutout in the nightcap.

2010: Citi saw its second day-night doubleheader—the opener featured Lady Gaga doing a dance with her middle fingers and underwear in Jerry Seinfeld’s box. (Maybe she had just learned there was a second admission several hours later for another meaningless Mets-Padres game.) The nightcap was worth the price of admission as Jon Niese threw a one-hitter. Generally, though, the Mets do not need to clear the stadium for a twinbill. There are plenty of seats for all. The Mets lost a twinbill at year’s end against Milwaukee, but a midweek April makeup I saw against the Dodgers proved historic. Jason Bay hit his first Mets home run, in his 20th game—one of 26 he hit in three years as a Met—but the Mets took both ends from LA, the first time the Mets have ever swept the Dodgers in a twinbill. It sounds unbelievable, especially given the scheduled doubleheaders back in the day and how big a draw the Dodgers were in New York, but keep this in mind: The Mets haven’t always been good. In 20 doubleheaders with LA, the Mets are now 1-7-12. All right, Hamilton!

2011: The Collins-Alderson era began with getting swept twice in the first weeks of the season—and then came Fred Wilpon’s deflating New Yorker comments. The Mets lost three of four twinbills. They also swept a day-night doubleheader—scheduled, apparently, for the benefit of Phillies fans invading Citi at year’s end.

2012: Just one twinbill this year, getting swept after a rainout against the Giants on their only trip to New York. (Hey schedule genius, how about not having a California team’s lone trip to New York coming in April?) Lincecum and Bumgarner looked like world beaters—and this was during their even-year, off-year Giants plan where they win a World Series and take the next year off. It seems to work as they’ve won more World Series in five years than the Mets have in 50.

2013: There were two straight doubleheaders and two split doubleheaders. The first one was the result of more scheduling foolishness, the Mets traveled to Denver in the middle of April and it snowed pretty much every day. They would have had a day-night doubleheader, but the Rockies thought better of it for the players and the 20 people who actually showed up to see the Mets get swept. The Mets split another split doubleheader—against Washington—and split a straight doubleheader against the Marlins, but the best day of this year was a day-night doubleheader in Atlanta with the team already 15 games under .500 in June. In the first game Matt Harvey, off to an epic start to the season, had a no-hitter through six innings and the Mets held on for a thrilling 4-3 win. The nightcap marked Zack Wheeler’s major league debut. He was awesome and fortunate that Anthony Recker went deep in his last inning so he could get the win. The best day of the year and arguably the best day-night doubleheader in Mets history.

2014: I got annoyed about this at the time, and I’ll bring it up again. The Mets have Banner Day and a doubleheader the same day—due to weather—and the Mets still can’t figure out how to get the banners on the field between games? In the name of Jane Jarvis, that’s pretty infuriating. Here’s what between games of a Banner Day doubleheader should look like. I was at the linked to game with my uncle and cousins, and though the Mets got swept that Sunday afternoon in ’84 by the Cubs, it was a damned special day. Thirty years later, I miss my uncle, I miss those banners that never stopped coming, and I miss that team that was so hungry to put an end to an era of losing.

Can I get an amen?

Nightcap: The Final Score

All right, here is our final score for doubleheaders. Since the Mets began in 1962, I count (drumroll please, make that double drumroll, if you will)…

461!

That is only two off the number the Mets use as their official number of doubleheaders. The main discrepancy is how they categorize the three doubleheaders in which the second game ended in a tie, all played in the 1960s, which I don’t count in terms of the win-loss-split record but count toward the doubleheader total. I’d be glad to share my findings with them—or anyone else—to clear anything up. Though to be honest, like most participants in a doubleheader (and I once caught both games of a fast-pitch softball doubleheader loss in 97-degree heat and without a cup), right now I’m mostly happy it is over. And yet it’s not truly over because there’s still more information spewing out.

The Mets record in doubleheaders? 94-156-208. (Remember that’s minus three for the tie games.)

The team the Mets are most likely to play a doubleheader against? The Cubs. The two teams have not been in the same division for 22 seasons, but they are still double trouble. The Mets and Cubs have played 62 twinbills with the Mets going 10-15-37. Yeah, 37 doubleheader splits is tops against anyone. The most amazing thing is that they’ve accumulated all this without playing a doubleheader against each other in 15 years (or it will be 15 years on April 22). I have seen the Mets and Cubs play twice in a day thrice in my life, including my first doubleheader in the flesh in 1979. They split, of course.

The team the Mets have beaten the most in doubleheaders is Pittsburgh, another long-lost friend sent to live with relatives in the home-wrecking Central Division. The Mets have an all-time doubleheader mark of 14-10-24 against the Pirates, the only one of the nine teams in existence when the Mets were born in 1962 that they have a winning mark against in twinbills. The team they have lost to the most in doubleheaders? The Phillies (11-24-25). Doesn’t that just figure?

Since interleague play began, the Mets have played only two twinbills against AL teams: the Mariners and the Rangers.

“Wait, wait, wait a minute,” you say. “I know for a fact that the Mets and Yankees have played four doubleheaders, three of them in both Flushing and the Bronx the same day, and the other was played at Yankee Stadium.” Very good memory—or considering that the Mets won one of those eight games, bad memories. That leads us back into the dark closet that is day-night doubleheaders.

Day-night doubleheaders have put a bee in this bonnet since I was first exposed to them in the 1990s. (There were also day-nighters played by the Mets in 1967 and 1972, the reason for which seems unknown even to Greg Prince; he tipped me off on the first Shea day-nighter in 1972.) What annoys me the most is how much of everyone’s time they waste, in addition to being a rip off—especially when there would have been enough fannies to fill the stadium once instead of being half-full twice. Many a dad or mom or sibling or grandparent or family friend or teacher or somebody took a kid or four to a doubleheader because it was 2-for-1 baseball. But who cares about the heart pulls of yesterday or considerations for future fans when there is money to be made today?

Now that my disclaimer and digression have been noted, the official stat keepers of MLB—at least as yet—also have a bee in their bonnet about day-night doubleheaders. These doubleheaders are recognized separately for record keeping. The tally in the 20 day-nighters in Mets history? 5-6-9. Record against the Yankees in two-city doubleheaders is 0-2-1 (0-3-1 overall). Their best record in day-nighters? Philly: 2-1-1. Maybe that doesn’t make up for all the straight doubleheaders the Mets have lost to the Phillies, but it is something.

Oh, and to answer Alan’s September 10, 2011 Letter to the Met-idor query that launched this three-plus year, very off-and-on, don’t sue me if I missed a doubleheader research project, the Mets’ record in first games of doubleheaders: 186-272; 209-249 in the nightcap. I hope this answers your question.

Doubleheader Denouement

Ernie Banks is now the patron saint of doubleheaders. He died a few weeks ago at the age of 83. He played in 19 Mets-Cubs doubleheaders, including starting three twinbills in as many days in September of ’67. (Kudos to Mets Ultimate Database for putting that and a lot of other info for this study—and so much other research—right at my fingertips.)

There were few better ambassadors of the game than Ernie Banks, and none who advocated the doubleheader more than Mr. Cub. “Let’s play two.” Sure, Ernie, why not? Who’s counting?

If you don’t count the start of strike-marred 1995—and if I don’t, why should you?—Opening Day 2003 marked the first Mets lid lifter I’d missed in 13 years. And if you believe 13 is bad luck, you could blame triskaidekaphobia for the cluster-screw that was the 2003 season. Or you could blame Art Howe. But it’s more satisfying—and relevant—to blame Steve Phillips.

The 2003 season was what the Wonderboy GM had wrought. The scapegoating and ousting of Bobby Valentine the previous fall (though let’s give the Wilpons proper credit for that bonehead move as well), was only part of the reason to blame Phillips. What really doomed the 2003 Mets was the lousy roster Howe inherited. And the only reason they hired Art Howe was because Oakland didn’t want him, despite leading their team to three straight postseason berths. Heck, the Mets didn’t want him. They’d wanted Lou Piniella, but the Mariners, who had him under contract, wanted a top prospect to let him go to another team. Even Phillips understood it was folly to trade someone like Jose Reyes for a manager. And if Piniella couldn’t turn around his hometown Devil Rays, as they were called then, what makes you think he could have done diddley with the mess of a Mets team that may have lost 100 games in ’03 if not for an unexpected rookie season by Jae Seo?

Seo came out of the minors and pitched well. Aaron Heilman drew much more attention—I can still hear the strains of the “Kids Are Alright” from the Who for his debut. “Boris the Spider” might have been more apt.  The rookie that made ’03 worth remembering at all, though, was Jose Reyes.

That Jose debuted with the Mets and had not been traded for a manager or a 35-year-old, slop-throwing reliever showed that Steve did have some self-control after all. Phillips was always ogling a new old reliever (this is how they lost pre-disappointment Jason Bay in 2002), but Stevie held off—and didn’t trade David Wright, either, who was still a year away from the majors. Reyes debuted in June 2003 in Arlington, Texas. Phillips must have been proud, albeit briefly. He was axed the next day and his replacement, Jim Duquette, spent the summer banishing the lousy contracts that Phillips had either signed or agreed to take on—the dead weight of the Mo Vaugn contract is a prime example of the latter. Duquette got rid of the stopped-caring Hall of Fame Roberto Alomar; the good-guy, bad hitter Jeromy Burnitz; Aussie lefty Graeme Lloyd; and the haircut twins Rey Sanchez and Armando Benitez, in separate deals.

Unless you remember Edwin Almonte, Royce Ring, Victor Diaz, or any of the acquired players who never made it out of the minors, there’s not a whole lot more of 2003 worth recalling. My son was born that year, so it worked out nicely for me; certainly better than letting lame duck Steve Phillips do the drafting a week before they fired him. So you can blame him for 2003 top pick Lastings Milledge. Only five Mets from that draft made the majors and the best was Brian Bannister, a good-looking, slow-throwing son of big leaguer who got hurt running the bases as a rookie and was traded for Ambiorix Burgos in 2006, but we’ll get to ’06 soon enough.

First there was 2004. A cruel season, for it brought more Art Howe, and crueler yet, it provided hope in a slow-starting division. And then, like an army that thinks it’s on the verge of winning a battle when it is actually on the verge of being routed, the Mets charged right into an ambush and came out prisoners. Jim Duquette, who proved adept at dumping salary, was not as good going the other way: sending prospects for veterans. On the ill-fated trading deadline day in 2004, in two separate but regrettable deals, he sent away Scott Kazmir and Jose Bautista, among others, for Victor Zambrano and Kris Benson. The Mets, who were 44-41 two days before the All-Star break, went 21 games under .500 after that. They lost 16 of 17 in August, including 11 in a row. Duquette and Howe were fired in September—and the Mets couldn’t even do that right. Instead of an interim replacement, Howe finished the last two weeks of the season. The year ended with the Mets saying bon voyage to Howe as well as the Expos in the last game played in the history of the Montreal franchise.

It also marked the end of three straight losing seasons for the Mets. Willie Randolph was the hire. Ironically, that came the same week Wally Backman was hired to manage the Diamondbacks. It must have been an impulse buy because he was fired four days after being hired when Arizona got freaked out by some events in Wally’s past that they obviously didn’t uncover in their not-so due diligence. Backman had been up for the Mets job, but he pulled himself out of the running since it seemed he felt he was a long shot in New York. He still is. Sigh.

New Mets GM Omar Minaya surrounded Randolph with pretty things, notably Pedro Martinez and Carlos Beltran, plus a trade for a new first baseman, Doug Mientkiewicz, who couldn’t hit but had a good enough glove to save David Wright many errors. The “New Mets” still had too many “old Mets,” including past free agents Braden Looper and Kaz Matsui. The Mets had way too much money tied up on players past their prime—see Glavine, Tom; Floyd, Cliff; and Cameron, Mike—but the Mets also finally got back over .500. It wasn’t easy, either. The Mets lost their first five games under Randolph, including a Looper implosion on Opening Day, the first of five such Mets bullpen meltdowns that cost Pedro five wins in ’05. And then after being ahead in the Wild Card race as September dawned, the Mets lost 14 of 17 to fall four games under .500. The Mets showed actual life in September, rallying to finish four games over. 500 and sending off Mike Piazza right in his final game as a Met.

Omar actually had an even better winter between the 2005 and ’06 seasons. He eschewed sentimentality and let Al Leiter and Piazza finish their careers elsewhere. A year after the big-talking Marlins beat out the Mets for free agent Carlos Delgado, Minaya traded with the suddenly-downsizing Marlins to get both Delgado and catcher Paul LoDuca. Another key swap was getting John Maine from the Orioles for Kris Benson a few weeks after Anna Benson’s Christmas party appearance caused plenty of trouble with her massive, inexhaustible, never-ending, um, mouth. Some scrap picking turned up gems (Jose Valentin, Endy Chavez) and old junk (Julio Franco). Minaya built up a bullpen that had been spotty except for, get this, Aaron Heilman. Omar traded for Duaner Sanchez, signed Chad Bradford and Pedro Feliciano, plus he convinced Darren Oliver to come out of retirement. He filled a huge hole at the back of the pen with a huge A-hole: Billy Wagner. Minaya kept busy all year, acquiring veterans like Orlando “El Duque” Hernandez, and, when Duaner Sanchez went down in his career year (torpedoing the Mets bullpen in the process), Minaya did what he could during a time of year where trades aren’t easy to make and brought in Oliver Perez, Roberto Hernandez, Guillermo Mota, and outfielder/shell of his former self Shawn Green. I said he tried, I didn’t say he succeeded.

But the 2006 Mets were in control of the NL East from the opening series forward. It was the Mets, not the Phillies, who brought an end to the 14 years of dominance by the Braves. Minaya even looked ahead, signing a teenager by the name of Juan Lagares, and drafting Joe Smith and Daniel Murphy. He could not control injuries, though, as Pedro and El Duque could not pitch in the postseason. Still, the Swiss-cheese rotation almost made it to the World Series with Oliver Perez pitching a Game Seven. So close. So very frigging close.

I just can’t go into 2007 and 2008. I had to live through those years not just as they were happening, but in books, magazines, and websites as I was working on all three around the clock during this period. I also worked on a diary of the 2008 season with Keith Hernandez and the team’s inability to put the finishing touches on a postseason berth was excruciating. It was both great and terrible to be at Shea for the final day of that ballpark’s existence. As for 2007-08, I spilled enough ink about those two years to say I gave at the office.

But how about those doubleheaders? Well this period in question began with the Mets just getting killed in doubleheaders both straight and split. The ’03 Mets lost all three doubleheaders they played at Shea—the traditional kind—and had a makeup with the Yankees that turned into one of those deals with two games in two stadiums in one day, which they of course lost. The ’03 Mets not only lost all their doubleheaders, but all six games against the Yankees. Howe’s Mets never did win a doubleheader. After losing another DH in 2004, Howe wound up 0-4-2 (plus 0-1 in his lone day-night doubleheader).

Willie Randolph went 1-0-4 in straight doubleheaders, and he was the first second Mets skipper to manage a day-night twinbill at Shea. The Mets made it count, drawing a record 98,000 in a single day at Shea while splitting with Washington in 2007. The Mets surpassed 100,000 for a split DH against the hated Phillies in 2008. A day-night doubleheader loss in Atlanta that year, however, saw Ryan Church get a concussion before flying to Colorado at the same time many people—including those paragons of virtue in the owner’s box—were already furious at Willie for comments about racism in Flushing.

A doubleheader proved to be Willie’s last day at Shea. It was good for me, catching my only foul ball in 350-plus games at Shea, but Willie caught a flight to Anaheim after the twinbill and never made it back. In a Mets uniform, at least.

Willie’s replacement, Jerry Manuel endured some rough twinbills in ’08 as well. One of the countless Mets bullpen implosions occurred in a doubleheader that cost Johan Santana (and the team) yet another win in the first game and then Jon Niese combined for a shutout for his first major league win in the nightcap. Day or night or one after the other, doubleheaders were torture for a good team with a terrible bullpen. The Mets split two straight doubleheaders at Shea, split two on the road, split a two-borough doubleheader against the Yankees, and lost one doubleheader outright on the road. That’s a lot of doubling up, and that’s a year I lived through again and again. That’s something no one would want to live through twice.

Nightcap: Put This in the Books

I could listen to Howie Rose on the radio all day. I understand he has his own career goals and all, but the day he left Mets Extra on WFAN was a sad one. He soon came back to the Mets fold in many capacities—and his replacement for 18 years on Mets Extra, Ed Coleman, was one of the best in the business. But I have always admired Howie’s ability to not only take the conversation to different levels while always maintaining the perspective of both the Mets fan and the Mets team and never, ever getting a fact wrong.

His book, fittingly named after his game-ending calling card—Put It in the Book—is not just a recollection of his rise up the ladder from kid in the upper tank with a tape recorder to radio voice of the Mets (though there is obviously plenty about that). He also analyzes where the team has been and where it’s going, throwing in items like “The 10 Most Important/Influential/Iconic/Indispensable Persons in the Mets First Half Century.” He’s also not afraid to call ’em like he sees ’em during this literary respite from the booth. I fully concur with his assessment of Jeff Kent, who both came and went in bad trades, as a “pain in the butt.” And Howie isn’t afraid to make himself look bad, either, telling how he realized too late that calling Rob Reiner “Meathead” to his face at Dodger Stadium was a no-no. And speaking of no-no’s, Howie had the thrill of a lifetime in calling the first—and only—no-hitter in Mets history in 2012. He is enough of a walking encyclopedia to have taught us in the foreword he kindly wrote for Mets by the Numbers for Jon Springer and me that Gordie Richardson, the last number 41 before Tom Seaver, had thrown a no-hitter as a Met in 1965… during spring training (Gordo combined for the no-no with the equally immortal Gary Kroll).

That is the kind of stuff Howie just knows without referring to books or computers or tea leaves. Like the TV broadcasting trio we hear so much about, we are very lucky to have the radio voice of Howie, and Howie is very fortunate to have the one job he always wanted.

Before I get into this weekend’s plans, let’s me just mention the weekend past. As I may have mentioned previously, I am an Arizona Cardinals fan and I confess that that was some pathetic effort they put in against Carolina in the first round of the NFL playoffs. The Panthers literally gave two touchdowns to the Cardinals and their third-string quarterback, Mark Lindley, who displayed the athletic prowess of David Lindley. The Panthers even threw in an intentional safety at game’s end. But any year in which my team, football or baseball, winds up in the playoffs shall not be considered devastating. (I reserve that word for Tom Glavine’s Hall of Fame lexicon.) My teams simply don’t get to the playoffs often enough for that level of pretension. I’d still give Omar Minaya’s right arm for the Mets to get swept out of either the 2007 or 2008 postseason, intentional safety and all.

Now that I don’t have to worry about missing a Cardinals playoff game this Saturday, I can concentrate on attending the second Queens Baseball Convention. This was put together by Shannon Shark of Mets Police, whose campaign helped bring back Banner Day. Shannon as well as many others put in their time so the Mets wouldn’t have to bother. Unlike many other teams, the Mets don’t do a winter caravan to try to get their fans psyched for the upcoming season. They figure if you can’t get up for a Buddy Carlyle signing, it’s your own fault.

And I like reliever Buddy Carlyle, but I really like the Queens Baseball Convention. I did not know what to expect for the first installment last year, and it was wonderful. The second annual QBC begins a little after noon on Saturday at McFadden’s next to Citi Field. It runs through 6:30 p.m., with some two dozen events on the schedule. Among the guests will be former Mets Mookie Wilson, Wally Backman, and Ed Charles, plus announcer Josh Lewin, Adam Rubin from ESPN.com, Jared Diamond from the Wall Street Journal, and Todd Radom, who is not just an old friend and colleague but a designer of team logos, pro sports branding, and an expert on the legacy of uniforms. Heather Quinlan, who is putting together the documentary ’86 Mets: The Movie, and who I’ve spoken to many times regarding my ’86 Mets book, will host a panel on that beloved Mets team at 1:45 p.m.

So bring your kiddies, bring your wife. Mike Piazza may not have made the Hall of Fame, but I think there will be a happier end to this story than what has happened to Gil Hodges’s candidacy (to read a good piece on the reality of that situation, check out Mike Avallone’s piece on Amazin’ Avenue). The Hall should one day join Mike with Glavine—and I don’t mean Mike Glavine, who played first base instead of Piazza at the end of the lamentable 2003 season (though give Mike Glavine credit for becoming head baseball coach at Northeastern University). Piazza’s day will come, but in the meantime take a day for yourselves at the QBC. You’ve earned it.

Due to technical difficulties, this site was down for a month and a half. There are still a couple of bookkeeping issues with Doubleheader Dip and all that I will not be able to finish up until 2015. We missed the Mets Gift of the Year—just give a gift card or gift certificate: Make it out to the Wilpons for whatever amount you can, hopefully something in the nine-digit range. Or higher.

So we’re skipping right to Reflections of a Mets Life for this season just past. This also being the Festivus time of year, we are going to list this year’s reflections in the form of aired grievances.

1. 79 wins. Hey, it’s more than last year, but for the love of Pete can we hit 80 wins again in this lifetime? The last time the Mets went longer between 80-win (or more!) seasons was the dark ages of 1977-83. You’d better do something because there’s an angry mob forming… online, that is. In reality, there might be handful of people standing outside the Jackie Robinson Rotunda looking at their phones, getting announcements of moves by other teams.
2. Getting a shortstop. Say what you want about current management, they have not stuck us with a Mo Vaughn-esque contract. Troy Tulowitzki may be a future MVP, or he may be the next fragile statue who sells a lot of jerseys and then spends weeks, months, and years on the DL with a salary that keeps the team from making any upgrades, or worse, forces trades of good players due to get big raises in order to keep paying a perpetually disables player. Let someone else take the risk on his $20 million per year brittle physique. When you think Tulo, think Mo. And Mo Vaughn was at least a nice guy with local ties… before he ate large sections of the tri-state area.
3. 3. Moving in the fences. I was on their side about Tulo, but man, oh, Manischewitz have I been holding this grievance for months. Moving in the fences—a second time in the Sandy Alderson era—is the most misguided thing the Mets have done, well, since the last time they moved in the fences. (No matter what they do, opponents still keep hitting more home runs. Perhaps because they are actually better.) You have a franchise that has nothing but young pitchers learning the ropes, so your solution is to move in the fences and take away their safety net and lessen the importance of having the league’s best defensive center fielder: Juan Lagares. Have you seen those three world championships won by the Giants in the last five years? Did you notice how big their ballpark is? Do you guys not watch the World Series? Or at this point do you figure it’s more useful to watch The Big Bang Theory? Even their version of baseball is more entertaining than what passes for the game at Citi Field in the Alderson era.
4. Matt Harvey. Matt, I say this as a fellow Matt and a big Mets fan. Tone it down. Let your Twitter account go. Don’t listen to the FAN. (I ditched them when they ditched the Mets and I feel much better now.) Save the intensity for the mound. Listen to the doctor. Tell the team when you don’t feel well. But above all else—pitch like the guy who started the 2013 All-Star Game.
5. Go easy on Harvey, Mets brass-holes. Come up with a regimen that works for Matt Harvey. Start him in the minors to open the year, if you must. Start him on the disabled list, if need be. But make sure that, God willing, if the Mets ever see October, Harvey won’t have to be pulled from the rotation due to innings limits. If that happens and the Mets lose because of it—see Strasbourg, Nationals, 2012—those fans who were looking at their phones before really will storm the gate.
6. Stop with the BS. I’ve been reading about collusion in the 1980s, about how Sandy Alderson was caught in the middle of it when he ran the A’s. The ’86 Alderson gives the same answers as now, referencing markets and changes in direction as to why the loss in interest about free agents. We understand you don’t have money. But please make a trade if the team is close. The rotation only holds five, maybe six, slots for pitchers. Be wise choosing the ones you keep and the ones you trade. The lack of a deal in July 2008 kept the last game at Shea from being a playoff game. All it would have taken to fix their bullpen was trading the immortal Fernando Martinez at the deadline. Know your personnel. Trust your people. reward your fan base, when the situation is right.
7. Playoffs. Whenever that word came up in 2014, it was like Jim Mora’s sarcastic refrain. (Come to think of it, he does kind of look like a relative of Terry Collins.) Sure, October/November is watered down in baseball. But all we want for Christmas is a playoff game. Santa, I can’t say we’ve been good, but we have been patient.
8. Beat the Nationals… once in a while. The year began with the bullpen blowing what would have been an awesome Opening Day win. But it was the first in another season of drubbings by Washington. The Nats have beaten the Mets like a drum the past three years, to the tune of 15-41. In 2014 it hit bottom at 4-15. Go 9-9 against them and maybe finishing second isn’t a joke like it was last year, sitting 17 games out; nine out of the Wild Card.
9. Win in the second half. We’ll end on a positive note. The Mets have had a batter second half than first half each of the past two years! In 2013 the Mets were still under .500 in the second half, but they played slightly better. Last year the Mets had a winning second-half record at 34-33. It marked the first time since the Mets moved into Citi Field that the Mets were over .500 in the second half. In 2013, the Mets played .465 ball in the second half, compared with .451 in the first half. The other years of Citi’s existence were Mr. Hyde second halves after first halves that Dr. Hyde might have enjoyed. In 2012 the second-half percentage was .167 lower, in 2011 it was .068 lower, in 2010 it was down .126, and in 2009 it was .110 lower. Keep those second halves coming and we’ll remember 2014 as the year the Mets started becoming a second-half team. Because second-half teams make historic runs at the postseason. They are fun to watch. They sometimes even win the big games. That’s the takeaway from ’14—maybe one day we can say this is where it all began.