Since I can go weeks without a post, I will not date myself by discussing the initial 1/16th of the 2022 season. I will discuss Opening Day, however. Let’s start with the one in Washington, which began a week late, thanks to a lot of labor-owner B.S. that nobody needed after two years of already ruined schedules. By April 7, with the promise that all games would be made up, the offseason animosity was mostly forgotten and we could get down to business. The Mets continued to be the best team ever on Day One, drubbing the Nationals to improve to a ridiculous 40-21 record in lid lifters. The record is remarkable because the Mets had a world championship before they even had an Opening Day win, spotting the major leagues an 0-8 start in the 1960s.
With the dawn of the 1970s and Tom Seaver’s ascendancy as one of the game’s all-time greats, the Mets were a different team when the starting gun sounded. Seaver started 11 season openers, logging a 6-0 mark. From 1970 on, the Mets won eight of his last nine Opening Day starts, the only loss coming on a Mike Schmidt walkoff two-run homer against Tug McGraw in Philly. Likewise, some bad bullpen work cost Tom a lead in the ninth in his first Opening Day start in 1968. The only other time the Mets lost when he started the opener was 1969, when his best year started with a bad day in Montreal’s first-ever game.
Seaver’s 1983 return from Cincinnati banishment was still the subject of spirited discussion with my friend Duck, who skipped high school with me that day and now has access to much better seats than I could scheme back in the day. On a resplendent afternoon much like we enjoyed in 1983, we agreed that Tom’s return day was still one of our favorite regular season games at Shea.
So it was fitting we were there against the Diamondbacks as Tom Seaver finally got a statue in 2022. We listened to the unveiling on the radio in separate cars in separate traffic. Everyone in baseball knows the seven-letter, four-letter name that is the reason why there was no Seaver statue before this. Looking for historical comparisons make is equally disheartening.
There are almost 90 statues currently in front of major league ballparks. (The most recent comprehensive list I could find is five years old.) The list includes all manner of players, but the only ones I can truly say are better than Terrific would be the members of the first class at the Hall of Fame: Babe Ruth, Walter Johnson, Ty Cobb, and Honus Wagner. (In the hopes of cutting off debate, I will say that statuesque players on par with Tom include Willie Mays, Ted Williams, Hank Aaron, Rogers Horsnby, Johnny Bench, Frank Robinson, Cal Ripken, George Brett, Mike Schmidt, and a bronzed handful of others.)
Granted, such comparisons are relative, no matter the metric you use. You can say players today are better physical specimens than those of yore, but the feats accomplished in massive parks with inferior equipment is extraordinary. When the first group of players was announced as the inaugural class in the Hall in 1936, there were almost half as many teams as there are now; yet the rank and file opposition they faced was a bit watered down because large segments of the population were excluded from the major league talent pool due to ingrained intolerance. This is not the time for ideological historic arguments, but I will say that the idea that the fifth member of that initial Hall of Fame group, Christy Mathewson, has no statue in front of a stadium but Paul Konerko, Frank White, and Kent Hrbek all do, makes me shake my head a bit. Kind of like heads shaking in the Marlins’ Bobblehead Museum in an earthquake when it comes to fathoming how it took so long to get Seaver a statue in front of a stadium housing the Mets.
For at least 50 of the 60 years that the Mets have existed, Seaver has been worthy of a statue. And if someone said they should put one up for him after his 25-10, 2.21 ERA season in 1969, few would have complained other than some crusty sportswriters. Young Tom probably would have griped it was too soon—as would have his level-headed manager, Gil Hodges. And if they want to put up any other 21st century statues in Flushing, Gil is the first I would nominate. Though since it took more than 50 years to get him a plaque in Cooperstown, let’s not rush it.
Seaver is clearly better than everyone else in franchise history. It has been this way since he arrived in New York in 1967. That we had to hear his widow, Nancy, cry instead of witnessing Tom fighting back the tears, is a damned shame. But now at least the statue is taken care of. Terrific!
Two Ways to Find Me
A couple of interviews have recently come my way.
Tim Hanlon and I had a rollicking time talking Shea Stadium Remembered at his Good Seats Still Available podcast. Go here to hear.
And my go-to interview show, WKNY in Kingston, hosted me on April 18. Dan Reinhard and I spoke about the nice start to the 2022 season, the aforementioned Seaver statue, and the 60th anniversary of Mets baseball.