Among the numerous and overstuffed bookcases in my office is one that is filled with books on the Mets. There you will find a slim orange volume in a binder that dates to the 1980s. The book? GourMets.

Published by Doubleday, sponsored by the Lady Met Fan Club, Ltd., and edited by Randye Ringler (currently assisting former Mets catcher Ed Hearn publicize the safety of live kidney donation), GourMets is a Mets cookbook as well as a time capsule. Proceeds went to the March of Dimes. (This is not to be confused with a 2007 Mets cookbook of the same name.)

I assume I bought this at Shea at some point in the 1980s for someone and, like many well-intentioned gifts, it ended up back in my lap in time. So here we stand 41 years later and I find myself in the rotation to cook at least once per week in a strange new world where kids are mostly out of the house, I am mostly home, and the Mrs. has an office job. So I leafed through the old Mets cookbook and found many recipes for hypertension and heart disease.

Despite contributions from every player and many employees (PR guy/funnyman Jay Horwitz gave directions to Ponce’s Pizzeria in Clifton, NJ), a lot of the recipes left me flat. Or they were way too complicated—ballplayers apparently have a lot of time on their hands when the season is over. Then I came across the Dave Kingman entry: Lasagna. I’d never made lasagna, but if Kong could do it…

Kingman and I went back, “way back,” in the words of Bob Murphy (Mini Cherry Cheese Cakes). Kong landed with the Mets about a month before I did in 1975. At 6-foot-6 he was as massive as almost any ballplayer of the day. A half century later, there are not many players—at least those without steroidal help—who could hit the ball as high or as far as Kong. Dave did it on lasagna power.

As a first-year fan in ’75, I was mesmerized by his longball prowess as much as I was by Tom Seaver’s overall excellence. You didn’t need to know much about baseball as a kid to know that these guys were good at it. If Kingman struck out constantly or couldn’t field, it was forgotten with his next moon shot. And Kong played four different positions in 1975 despite not being good at any of them. That he manned third base at the second Mets game I ever attended (three whiffs but five assists and no errors!) remains a thrill that might only be surpassed by the ball he launched into the parking lot that I witnessed at Shea during the Year of the Kong in 1976.

But since this cookbook dates to 1982, I will put this in the context of the second Kingman regime. Like pretty much all Mets subsequent acts, his second tenure was more complicated; though he did win the home run crown I was ready to die for in ’76, when his dive for a flyball turned into a broken thumb and he lost the HR title to Mike Schmidt, 38-37.

Fast forward through the Midnight Massacre, Kong’s tour of every division in 1977, his 48 bombs as a Cub in 1979, and his eventual return in a trade with Chicago for Steve Henderson exactly seven years after Kingman came from San Francisco. The 1982 Kong was a retread, but he led the NL with 37 homers and 156 K’s. We’re talking the last-place ’82 Mets here, so let us not get caught up in rhetoric. Kingman was the first Met to win a home run crown and despite hitting just .204, he still led the team in RBI (99), walks (59), and slugging (.432), plus he stole four bases without getting caught and somehow got down three sacrifice bunts.

Kong also knew his way around a kitchen. His lasagna recipe sounded good, not too complicated, and something I could whip up. On the other hand, Rusty Staub’s Veal Zingara sounded great if he made it for you at Rusty’s Restaurant; Le Grande Orange lost me when his first ingredient in this cookbook entry was white leg of veal. Check, please!

Rather than tire you with too many stovetop details, it’s probably more helpful to explain what happened in the kitchen in the context of a 1982 game—from the early part of the season, when the Mets had a little something cooking. In May the Mets went 17-11 and were in contention! Then they won nine games in June. July and August were excruciating. The Mets went just 14-41 in those two months and lost 15 straight games, highlighted by three straight walkoff, extra-inning losses in as many nights on a winless nine-game road trip. Even I had stopped watching by then. At 17, I had finally found something better—let’s at least say more interesting—to do than watch godawful Mets baseball. The Mets rallied enough in September to avoid triple-digit defeats—losing a mere 97.

In May of ’82, though, there was hope. I was keeping track of each game on my Mets souvenir from Calendar Day. A Mets game that sums up my preparation of Kongsagna 41 years later is represented by the game at the Astrodome on May 22, 1982. At the end of that night, the Mets were just 2 ½ games behind the eventual world champion Cardinals. I included the starting Mets lineup from that night and their corresponding recipes from the cookbook:

CF Mookie Wilson (Candy Yams)

3B Bob Bailor (Chicken Biscuit Pie)

LF George Foster (Broccoli Casserole, Lemon Cake)

1B Dave Kingman (Lasagna)

RF Gary Rasijch (Cheesecake)

C John Stearns (Creamy Butter Squares)

2B Wally Backman (Super Spicy Beef Enchiladas)

SS Ron Gardenhire (Stuffed Tomatoes, Cobbler)

P Pete Falcone (Rock Cornish Hen Gravy & Stuffing)

Like procuring and chopping up all the ingredients, the Mets took the lead thanks to Kingman. With two on and two outs against Nolan Ryan in the seventh, Kong singled in Bob Bailor with the go-ahead run, putting Pete Falcone in line for the win. Former ace Craig Swan (Frosted Salad) had by now been injured enough times that he served as a reliever. He set the ‘stros down in the seventh and eighth and the Mets added enough runs to take a 5-1 lead into the ninth.

Seemed like an easy win—just like Kong’s lasagna seemed like an easy dish. Then I botched a simple play when I misread the instructions and did not realize that the meat, the vegetables, the spices, and the tomato sauce needed to be on the stovetop for 90 minutes. That threw off my planning, prep, and timing. Likewise, Kong mishandled a grounder in the ninth that loaded the bases with none out and chased Swan for Neil Allen (Spaghetti with Shrimp). The big Saturday night crowd at the dome finally had something to cheer about. Allen promptly allowed a game-tying grand slam to Terry Puhl, who hit all of eight home runs in 1982.

We all make mistakes. And Allen atoned for his on that night in ’82. He held the Astros scoreless for four innings. Batting with two on and two outs in the 12th—manager George Bamberger (Meat Loaf and Vegetables) had gone through his bench by then—Allen’s topper in front of the plate resulted in an error by Astros catcher Alan Ashby that brought home John Stearns with the go-ahead run. Allen then retired the dangerous Jose Cruz with a man on for the 6-5 victory.

The game, like the meal, was unnecessarily nerve-racking and required a lot of relief (from my wife). Yet in the end it was delicious and goes down in the books as a win. And Kong’s meal goes in the recipe folder for the next time I need a little drama with my lasagna.

I have done a couple of interviews of late. And I am late on posting my interview with Bob Hurte and his podcast, The Baseball Doesn’t Fall Far from the Tree. It was earlier in the year and I listened to it to make sure that it hadn’t gone stale. It’s still very fresh, as is Bob’s book, Intelligent Influence in Baseball.

More recently I spoke with Dan Reinhard on Sports Talk in Kingston, discussing the Amazin’ Mets and more. Always an honor to be asked and always a pleasure to talk baseball.

If you recall, last season’s first half ended with a blown lead to a bad Pirates team. This year the first half ended with a loss to a Cubs team that is not good, but plays hard (if not all that well). Still, Chicago manager David Ross should not get too comfortable. Buck Showalter, on the other hand, has done a remarkable job in his second go-round in the Big Apple. Anytime over the past 25 years the Mets probably could have hired him, but I am glad it did not happen until now because he has matured, Mets ownership has matured (or, more accurately, changed), and the fans have… well, mature is not the word I would choose. I liked when you did not hear people bitch on each pitch via social media. I much preferred the more passive approach of watching them parade around Shea Stadium once per year letting the world know their feelings between games of a Banner Day doubleheader.

But how ’bout those Mets? To be 23 games over .500 at the All-Star break is something I could not have dreamed. Last year they were 47-40 at this point. The Mets excelled in the first half without Jacob deGrom, unveiled the Seaver statue, retired No. 17, and showed they will do what it takes to win. The acquisitions they made this past offseason paid nice dividends in the first half. Let’s see how they fared.

Overall Class Grade: A- Last year I gave them a B+ for the first half. There is still room for improvement, but this first half is better, no?

Metsies who have not accrued 50 at bats or 15 innings pitched, please remain in your seat. That means you, Nick Plummer, Ender Inciarte (recently cut), Khalil Lee, Matt Reynolds, Stephen Nogosek, Sean Reid-Foley, Tommy Hunter, Yoan Lopez (who has done a lot in 8.2 innings), Trevor May, Jake Reed, Thomas Szapucki, and Robinson Cano, who was mercifully released before he could accrue enough ABs to get a grade (which would have been nowhere near an A or a B).

First-Half 2022 Report Card

Edwin Diaz A This is the guy you trade your top prospect to get. This first half must be what Diaz looked like in his 57-save year in Seattle in 2018.

Pete Alonso A- It is not just the long ball. What I like most is his attitude, aptitude, and ability to try to make contact late in counts. Maybe that is why he is leading the NL in RBIs. Alonso (and Lindor) played every game in 1H.

Max Scherzer B+ He has bank account and sanity of an Arab sheik, but you want him in a must-win game. Despite injury, 6-1, 2.22 ERA, 90 Ks in 69 IP.

Taijuan Walker B+ After the way he crapped out after a great first half in 2021, you feel the need to bump up his first marking period grade a bit.

Jeff McNeil B+ At this time last year, Squirrel was utterly lost. This year he was chosen as the NL All-Star starting 2B. He’s excelled in LF, too.

Brandon Nimmo B+ I don’t want to jinx him by saying he’s finally healthy, but he has been the key cog in this lineup and his defense is topping.

Starling Marte B+ I see why there was talk for years about acquiring Marte. He electrifies the top of the order, the ball leaps off his bat, and I don’t know which is better, his glove or him arm.

Francisco Lindor B Reminds me of Beltran the way people are never happy with him. I am! He’s a shortstop with 16 HRs, 66 RBIs, 10 steals, and 36 BBs.

Luis Guillorme B Luis has made himself into an essential player on this team: In 224 plate appearances he has .293/.369/.369 and is a superb infielder.

Mark Canha B I knew little about him before he arrived, but he has a great plate approach and is good LF. Feels like he scores every time he gets on.

Adam Ottavino B I don’t really trust him in a big spot, but he has done a pretty good job. Elder statesman of the pen.

Colin Holderman B They say wins don’t matter for pitchers, but when he’s in, the Mets win. He is 4-0 in 15 appearances (Mets are 10-5 in those games) with a 2.04 ERA.

Carlos Carrasco B- Cookie has not been as consistent as some pitchers, but 10 wins are as many as almost any NL pitcher in first half, for what it’s worth.

Chris Bassitt B- Leads team in innings, but has been inconsistent and a bit of a red ass. He’s whiffed more batters and allowed more HRs than any Met.

Drew Smith B- He may have blown the game before the break, but then you recall the Mets got him from the Rays (for Lucas Duda). I want to stay patient.

Tylor Megill C+ When healthy, he has looked good despite a 5.01 ERA. Sophomore pitcher steps in at last minute and endures rain delay to win Opening Day.

Adonis Medina C+ Has had a couple of huge moments for the Mets, so I wonder why he hasn’t been used in bigger situations when the big guys can’t go.

Trevor Williams C He’s been in the majors longer than I thought. He threw seven shutout innings one start and had a three-inning save a week later.

Tomas Nido C Has caught twice as many games as McCann and handled himself well behind the dish. His .211 average is better than many catchers.

Seth Lugo C I still think this team’s success in crunch time will depend on Seth coming through in a big spot. Cannot use him on successive days.

Eduardo Escobar C- On any given night, his bat is either great or terrible, but his glove at 3B is very steady. Also seems to fire up the clubhouse.

Joely Rodriguez C- Mets traded a better reliever (Miguel Castro) to the Yankees to get Joely because he’s a lefty. They need another southpaw.

Patrick Mazeika D+ No walkoff fielder’s choice magic for Mazeika this year, but he’s gotten some nice hits and gunned down base stealers.

James McCann D+ Every time he comes up, I repeat, “His job is to catch,” over and over. He has a good arm. Called a no-hitter, but so did Josh Thole.

Travis Jankowski D Because so little was expected of him, I’ll rate Travis above a couple of bigger disappointments. He’s fast and a good drag bunter.

Dominic Smith D- I thought that one silver lining about forcing the DH on the NL was that Dom and J.D. would finally platoon. That has not worked out so far.

J.D. Davis D- Still figuring out which end of this paltry platoon has been more of a letdown. But Dom is a better runner and fielder, so he goes first.

Chasen Shreve F He’s already been cut, so let’s saddle him with a well-deserved F. Mets need a second lefty, gave him every chance, and he failed.

Manager/GM

Buck Showalter A I have been watching the Mets a long time, and this guy gets it as well as any Mets manager I have seen. He has them prepared for anything.

Billy Eppler B I am not sure how much of the handiwork from the past six months is his, but in the coming month he’ll have a chance to get his grade up.

To Keith Hernandez… getting No. 17 retired is a quite an achievement—for a second choice! On that franchise-shifting day when he arrived out of the (baby) blue and put on a Mets jersey in June 1983, he knew he was going to need a new number to go with his new surroundings. He well knew that the Mets had retired No. 37 for Casey Stengel. Mex came up with a new number to honor childhood fave Mickey Mantle while maintaining his Keith-like individuality.

I don’t know how to say it without sounding like I’m bragging, so I’ll just say it—years ago I wrote a book with Keith on his view of the Mets and the last days of Shea from his unique perspective. He far eclipsed that book effort with his recent memoir, I’m Keith Hernandez, which I had nothing to do with—as far as I can tell, neither used a ghostwriter, nor needed one. I listening to the audio book, which has the added bonus of Keith reading Keith. I cannot recommend that book enough. He and I don’t cross paths much, but whenever I have needed to ask him something or interview him for a project, he has been nothing but kind, generous, and friendly. So I felt I owed it to Keith, the baseball gods, and myself to be in the “upper tank”—Keith’s term—for the occasion with a couple of old friends, trying not to get sunburned while taking it all in. What a ceremony! What a win!

Keith joins the retired numbers of Tom Seaver (41), Gil Hodges (14), Stengel (37), Mike Piazza (31), and Jackie Robinson (I was at Shea in 1997 for the surprise announcement that 42 would be retired forever throughout baseball). Honestly, I don’t think the Mets need to retire any more numbers. Keep it special. Keep it for the precious few. For the difference makers. The Mets don’t win in 1969 without Seaver and Koosman; they don’t revitalize the fan base without bringing in Piazza in 1998 and, like Keith, tying him up with a contract worthy of the man; and the Mets don’t win in 1986 without Keith arriving before almost everyone else in 1983 to set the groundwork and—using another Keith favorite—be on point. We were all on point for him at Citi.

The Ozzie Smith of first base, the perennial All-Star, the blue-and-orange icon, the broadcast legend—Keith belongs in the upper pantheon of Metdom. In case that was not obvious enough before, now it is official.

I relished the text I sent out to my hardcore foursome in the eighth inning on Friday, April 29, 2022. “Mets game on if possible. You’ve been alerted.” No other words were needed. All tuned in. The Mets got their second no-no. No lives were ruined in the attempt of watching a potential Mets no-hitter.

There was a time, long ago, when some of these same obsessed friends and I would freeze when a potential Mets no-hitter went beyond the sixth inning. Then you were supposed to hop into your car and drive to Shea Stadium, without tickets, with no word to loved ones as to where you’d gone, and be there in person when the impossible happened. Fortunately for me, it never came up. I never had to explain why I went to wash my hands and didn’t come back for three hours.

I was, however, actually sitting at Shea Stadium on June 9, 1998, when Rick Reed took a no-hitter into the seventh. Wade Boggs broke it up with a two-out double in the first game ever between the Mets and the expansion Tampa Bay Devil Rays. Reed completed the three-hitter, throwing 121 pitches.

The last part is the rub. Managers like Bobby Valentine were well aware of pitch counts in the 1990s, but they certainly were not married to them. In MLB in ’98, there were 302 complete games and 101 route-going shutouts. Last year there were 50 complete games and 29 complete-game shutouts—and I was surprised to see that many. The world is changing, baseball along with everything else. As lofty as those 1998 pitching totals were, go back a quarter century before that. With fewer teams and thus fewer opportunities in 1973, with the advent of the DH and lots of other interesting stuff, there were 1,061 complete games and 236 CG SHOs.

So what does that have to do with a combined no-hitter by the Mets? Well, some say that a five-man no-hitter is not as impressive as the one-man variety—and maybe it isn’t. Johan Santana’s 2012 gem also included a ball that clearly landed fair, but that was before instant replay was fully adopted. And while Santana went the distance in a star-spangled night, the reality is that he was never the same after the 134-pitch effort against the defending world champion Cardinals to end the Mets’ 50-year no-hit drought, at the time the longest any team had gone before finally tossing a no-no (the Padres had even more staying power before finally getting their first no-hitter last year). Johan’s previous outing before the no-hitter, a complete-game shutout against San Diego at Citi Field, was a much cleaner affair. He allowed four Padres hits and threw just 96 pitches, allowing fewer baserunners than he did in the no-hitter (when he walked five Cardinals).

Johan got the Mets’ monkey off their backs, but he was never quite the same. Santana went 3-6 with an 8.27 ERA in what were the final 10 starts of his career. He shut it down in August, never to fully ramp it up again. Johan attempted multiple comebacks, but he did not pitch again after 2012. I know Mets manager Terry Collins was worried about what might happen to Santana that night, and I do not blame him or any of us who so wanted Johan to finish it.

I love the days of the four-digit complete games in the big leagues, of the swash-buckling stud pitchers going toe to toe, of starters going 10, 12, 14 innings to get a win for their team. I appreciate that generational pitchers like Tom Seaver and Nolan Ryan had body parts that wore out from age—finally—instead of from overuse. Just like Tom never expected to approach Cy Young’s career mark of 511 wins—he was exactly 200 short—maybe we too should adapt. Starting with me. Even if I don’t like it. A No-Han is more storybook, but I like it better when the story has a happy ending for the guy who made it happen.

You can’t have an active blog with Mets in the title and ignore the news that Gil Hodges is finally in the Hall of Fame. And who would want to?!

This announcement marks 10 years to the day after another head-scratching snub, Cubs rival Ron Santo, got into Cooperstown. The wait for Gil has been far longer. Hodges died 50 years ago this coming April. To some newer fans who barely remember Shea Stadium or didn’t know that the place once had colored panels on its exterior, Gil might seem like simply some old-time figure reduced to a one-off statement when answering questions about those number in the far reaches of Citi Field: “Casey Stengel was their first manager,” “Tom Seaver was their greatest pitcher,” and “Gil Hodges managed the Mets to their first world championship.” All that is true, but those names are so much more than that.

When people ask who was the team’s greatest manager, to me it seems almost as obvious as asking who was the franchise’s best pitcher. The lineup of the 1969 Mets looks like a great candidate to be shut out. In fact the ’69 Mets were shut out 14 times—twice as many times as the Cubs, who surpassed the Mets in almost every offensive category and led New York by 10 games in mid-August of ’69. Besides having a manager who relied on 25 players instead of 12, as Leo Durocher did to his detriment in Chicago, the major reason the Mets won is because they shut out opponents 28 times, the most in baseball. The most memorable was Seaver’s “Imperfect Game” against the Cubs, which went from perfect game to one-hit shutout in the blink of a Qualls. (Second and third of most impressive Mets 1969 shutouts: the magical doubleheader sweep in September at Forbes Field in Pittsburgh, both won by 1-0 scores with the pitchers driving in the only runs in each.)

Gil got the most from his talented club, and then he squeezed a little more. He platooned relentlessly, he had the ultimate faith in his young pitching staff, he made erratic starter Tug McGraw into a reliever, and though he never seemed to know what to do with wild Nolan Ryan, he utilized him in crucial moments, especially during the postseason. Ryan won the pennant clincher against the Braves with seven innings in relief at Shea and put out the Orioles’ uprising (with a lot of help from Tommie Agee) in Game Three of the World Series. Stricken with a serious heart attack at the end of the 1968 season, it was no sure thing he would be able to manage at all in 1969. A heavy smoker, he quit—alas, but not for good.

His greatness as a player could have gotten him into the Hall of Fame while he was still alive, but starting with his first year of eligibility, which was, ironically, 1969, bigger names took precedence. Stan Musial and Gil’s Dodgers teammate Roy Campanella got the 75 percent of the vote needed to enter the Hall that year. Gil’s vote total doubled to 48 percent in 1970 after the Mets won the World Series, the third-highest total on the ballot after the only inductee, Lou Boudreau. (Mets broadcaster and Pirates slugger Ralph Kiner, whom Hodges passed as the NL’s most prolific right-handed hitter, was second in the balloting that year—Ralph finally made it six years later.) Gil’s total remained the same in 1971, but even his Mets first-base coach Yogi Berra, a three-time AL MVP and 10-time world champion catcher, didn’t get in—nor was anyone else voted in; though eight men, including original Mets GM George Weiss, went into the Hall through the Veterans Committee, while Satchel Paige got in via the new Negro League Committee. Berra, Early Wynn, and another Dodgers teammate, Sandy Koufax, were all voted in during the 1972 election, announced a couple of months before Hodges’s tragic death in front of his coaches (except for Berra) on a golf course in Florida. Ironically, Hodges had that Easter Sunday free to play golf because of the MLB work stoppage. He was voted in 49 years later during a lockout.

Hodges hit 60 percent of the vote in the years after his death, reaching a high of 63.4 percent in his 15th and final year on the ballot in 1983. If you go by Wins Above Replacement, a formula that can be used to measure players from different eras, Gil’s numbers were lower than players who never made the Hall, including Vada Pinson, Jimmy Wynn, Thurman Munson, and Dick Allen, who was again denied access to Cooperstown despite being one of the game’s best players during the early 1970s. But whereas Allen—and the likes of Albert Belle—were considered to have attitude problems, Gil’s mind-set was off the charts. Hodges was the team’s first base anchor and never booed at Ebbets Field—and I think we all know how New Yorkers aren’t afraid to boo—and Brooklyn fans famously prayed for him during a postseason slump (the title of a very good memoir by Tom Oliphant).

Many of Gil’s young Mets players considered him a father figure. He was a World War II Marine sergeant who led his squad through hellacious fighting in the Pacific. And he didn’t take crap. Amos Otis and Nolan Ryan were Mets Hodges wasn’t sure what to do with when they chafed at his quiet but demanding way of leading that dictated he lead and you follow. Though these are the two poster boys for worst Mets trades, it also didn’t work out for Ron Swoboda, who still regrets his impetuousness that led to his being banished to Montreal not long after his 1969 World Series glory. Those are the exceptions. The Hodges Way worked ideally for many Mets. Cleon Jones was one of his biggest supporters despite being pulled from a game mid-inning when Hodges walked out to left field and removed him after not hustling as the Mets slumped during the summer of ’69. They played about .800 baseball down the stretch after that week.

Few messed with Hodges in matters of leadership. Even buttinsky and Mets uber-villian M. Donald Grant deferred to Hodges on all matters. If Gil had lived and continued to run the Mets, maybe Grant would be forgotten instead of loathed for what happened in the wake of Gil’s death. Had he lived, maybe Hodges would have ascended to GM and named Whitey Herzog as his replacement in the dugout. No one will ever know. But what we do know is that thanks to the Golden Era ballot, Gil is finally a member of the Hall of Fame. And that is a truly wonderful thing.

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It’s been a privilege to have written about Gil Hodges and the wonderful team he led many times over the years. And with holidays coming up, a reminder to go here if you want to check out some of my books.

But it was also fun to look at the Mets from a fictional and animal perspective in Out of a Dog’s Mouth, a novel I wrote under the pseudonym McNally Berry. There are dogs named Choo Choo and Kooz, and, not surprisingly, the family we follow for 70 years is filled with Mets fans (after switching allegiance from the Brooklyn Dodgers, natch). You can find it on Amazon in paperback or e-book form here. Or get a signed copy here in time for Christmas.

Howard Cosell. Growing up in the 1970s you could not get away from the man. Yet unlike, say, Joe Buck who today has a similar gig to Cosell, you felt like it was worth putting up with the annoyance factor of “The Mouth That Bored.” Howard was annoying, but he was good.

In another “I Watched This Moldy Old Game So You Don’t Have to” presentation, we go back to 1978 with the Mets in Philadelphia making a rare Monday Night Baseball appearance on ABC.  Maybe I watched it. Maybe I was at baseball camp. It was a long time ago. But Howard was there, as well as Keith Jackson, and Don Drysdale, and don’t forget Billy Martin. How big was that broadcast booth at Veteran’s Stadium?

However many people they could cram into the booth at the Vet, the real star of the broadcast was Pete Rose, who was playing several hundred miles away in Atlanta. Jim Lampley was there giving at bat by at bat updates as Rose tried to match Wee Willie Keeler’s National League 44-game hitting streak. And in the crowded booth in Philly, they were making news, too. Billy Martin, who a week earlier tearfully resigned as Yankees manager, only to be named the new manager starting in 1980 at Old-Timer’s Day, was on the ABC telecast. (Billy would take over for reigning world champion manager Bob Lemon in 1979 and be fired again after the season, only to spend 1980 in Oakland instead of Yankee Stadium.) As for managing Reggie Jackson—one of the main reasons he left in 1978—Martin tells the ABC audience, “I’ll manage anybody if he can get us to win.” (I wish Howard had broken in with a nasally, “A ringing endorsement if I have ever heard one!”)

Enter into all this excitement the ultimate party pooper: the 1978 Mets. At 45-61 they are in fifth place, having been swept in Houston following a series victory against the Reds in New York in which Shea disturbingly broke character and fawned all over Rose. Ovation after ovation rang from the second- and third-largest crowds of the year at Shea as Rose pursued his hitting streak. Pat Zachry summed it up for most hardcore fans stuck in Mets prison when he kicked a step in disgust and broke his toe. He was out for the season. Mets fans were stuck watching a slow fade to last place. Cue Howard’s yellow jacket—the same one he wore several years earlier in the Monday Night Football booth with famed New York sportswriter Oscar Madison.

July 31, 1978: Mets at Phillies

Before the Mets-Phillies game even starts, Pete Rose is up, so we zip down to Atlanta. He walks amid hometown boos to future Hall of Famer Phil Niekro at Fulton County Stadium, where, like Shea, the fifth-place club has a Rose-inflated crowd figure (Fulton County’s 45,000 is bigger than Shea managed a week earlier). With far less fanfare in Philly, Mets third baseman Elliot Maddox grounds out against Dick Ruthven. The Phillies also have a Maddox leading off—Garry; he flies out to open things against Nino Espinosa.

The Mets are so unworthy of prime time. Keith Jackson, fresh off a 17-day vacation, has to wonder why they summoned him from Hawaii for this. Jackson, whom I always felt was a very underrated baseball broadcaster, ponders New York’s future as Joe Torre gazes across acres of Philly AstroTurf and concrete. “Grim visage most of the time,” Jackson says of Torre, “because he’s deeply involved.” Jackson, already the voice of ABC college football, is much more upbeat about Mets catcher John Stearns because he was a star defensive back in college at Colorado—“busting helmets in Boulder.” Stearns is only a few weeks removed from the game-ending collision in Pittsburgh when Dave Parker tried to bowl over the smaller catcher. Stearns got the out, the Mets won the game, and Parker spent the rest of the year with a football facemask on his batting helmet as he recovered from a fractured jaw and cheekbone. (A major league first according Paul Lukas, with his usually exhaustive info on that uniform breakthrough.) Parker was still named MVP. Stearns got his own baseball card the following year for his 1978 shattering of the then-major league record for steals by a catcher.

Speaking of records, Cosell crowed that “one record that will never be broken is Lou Gehrig’s consecutive game streak.” In a way he was right—he never saw it. Cosell died in April 1995, a few months before Cal Ripken finally toppled the mark.

Cut to: Pete Rose in Atlanta. He tries to bunt his way on in his second appearance. Would Joe D. have done that to keep his hit streak alive? Anyway, Rose then swings away and lines to Jerry Royster at short.

Shifting back to Philly, Jackson relayed a story from the previous day in Cincinnati, where the Reds tried the novel idea of playing three infielders on the right side of the infield and shifted the third baseman Rose (who had two hits to continue the streak) playing in the shortstop spot to negate Philadelphia pull hitter and future Mets prisoner Richie Hebner. Hebner foiled the defense by bunting three times for base hits before the Reds relented the shift; he added two more hits for a 5-for-5 day. That is the elusive proof I’ve been looking for about how the shift wouldn’t have lasted a day if they tried that crap in the 1970s. A bunt would still work now.

Hebner was a better thinker than base runner. Against Espinosa on Monday in Philly, Hebner had his sixth straight hit (pulled to right field, by the way) and then was deked by Mets shortstop on a hit-and-run. Lee Mazzilli caught the ball in center and fired his patented 12-hopper to first that hot dog Willie Montanez somehow never touched. Nino backed up the play and stepped on first for the only 8-1 double play I’ve ever seen. And Hebner made it happen against the man he’d be traded for the following spring. And Pete Rose, of all people, joined Nino and replaced Hebner at first in Philly in 1979.

This just in: Chevy Monza is one ugly car. The ad should be—“Hey, we have a stick shift! And it beats walking!!”

A better case for speed was made by Dick Ruthven. The Phillies starter threw 89 miles per hour and the crowded booth went ga-ga over his zip on the ball. He tied the Mets in knots—not that that was hard during this period—but he was a key piece for the Phillies, acquired from the Braves during the trade deadline for reliever Gene Garber—who would end Pete Rose’s streak, but not tonight. Because in Atlanta, Rose tied Wee Willie Keeler’s 1897 mark of 44 straight games with a groundball single to right—a routine out today in the shift that only Richie Hebner could out-think.

Back in Philly, Cosell lamented about Torre’s torture when Bob Boone snapped a scoreless tie in the fifth with a home run. “This is what’s driving Joe Torre crazy,” Howard pontificated. “Torre has to put together architecture of a ballclub with the personnel given to him… They reveal their vulnerability at given points.” In a less hopeful review of the Mets, shortstop Larry Bowa of the first-place Phillies said in a pregame interview that the Mets were the kind of “noncompetitive club we need to beat up on.” The Phillies would win their third straight division title and take 12 of 18 games against the 1978 Mets. (Though somehow Kevin Kobel would beat Steve Carlton the following night at the Vet.) On this night the Phils knocked out Nino with four runs in the sixth. The Bull, Greg Luzinski, had the big hit, a two-run double after architect Torre walked Mike Schmidt in front of him.

The network started getting a little antsy at that point and switched to the White Sox-Red Sox game at Fenway Park. The once impenetrable Boston AL East lead was down from 14 games to four. Jim Rice, who would join Dave Parker as an MVP in 1978, was in the midst of a 1-for-23 slump. He’d recover but Boston’s error was fatal. It would end on an October afternoon with one of best and most heartbreaking games I’ve ever seen.

To my surprise, ABC switched back to the Vet, where Ed Kranepool came off the bench to hit a long fly to plate Doug Flynn with the only Mets run. Philadelphia immediately got the run back en route to the 6-1 win, but Mazzilli’s popgun arm actually nailed Hebner at the plate, with the Hacker spiking the Bad Dude. And then the tape ends. The crystal ball back to 1978 goes fuzzy. The entire crowded booth now dead. Nino is gone, too. The Vet is kaput. Who the hell ever thought we’d miss 1978?

The weekend of October 2-3, I will be a vendor to kick off Walktober at Walkway Over the Hudson in Poughkeepsie. This landmark joins Highland and the city of Poughkeepsie and is as cool a place as any to get some walking or bike-riding in while taking in Amazin’ autumnal views. I will be offering selected copies of my baseball books (selected means copies I have at hand). I will also be selling and signing copies of my new novel under my new pseudonym, McNally Berry. The book is Out of a Dog’s Mouth. Dogwalkers are very much welcome. So join me. I’ll be there both afternoons with free bookmarks, pens, and dog treats!

Listen and Learn

Thanks, as always, to WKNY Kingston Radio’s Dan Reinhard, who had me on a recent show. We talked the Mets as well as baseball in general and my recent Midwestern/Southern journey to ballparks and places of historical significance.