Sometimes, the best stories come from the moments we miss. Paul Alfieri, a media relations executive for Motorola, continues our series on Game 6 of the 1986 World Series by sharing his recollections of some magical moments.
I was in Los Angeles for most of the 1986 World Series. I was 11 at the time, and we lived in New Jersey, but my dad was on extended assignment for his job on the West Coast.
My Mom and sisters had flown out there to move him home, right smack on the middle of the Series. I was in the airport, watching the start of Game 6 on a monitor hanging in the terminal.
Sometime during the third inning, we boarded the flight, and I lost contact. I was a nervous wreck... The flight was either a late evening or redeye (I don't remember which) but I know that I fell asleep listening to Channel 9 in my headphones (the one where you can hear the pilots talk to the ground towers).
I was awakened by an announcement from the copilot, letting "all the Boston Red Sox fans" know that they had taken the lead, and that the curse might be over, and he'd tell us all the details after the game was over. So I waited for the inevitable. I remember waiting for a long time. It felt like an eternity -- like waiting for the dentist to call your name.
I don't know exactly what I was doing, but I do remember taking a Lenny Dykstra baseball card out of my waterproof velcro wallet (which was all the rage back then) and trying to telepathically send good vibes through the card to the dugout. After some time. it hit me that the game should have been over, and that maybe the original announcement was a mistake, or some sort of rally had happened. I think I kept on trying to channel something to the team through the Dykstra card. I probably also annoyed my younger sisters sitting next to me.
As an aside: The Dykstra card was in my wallet because of Karma. I had been holding it when he hit his homer in the NLCS, and thought I should keep it on me as I didn't want to disrupt any cosmic forces. While he was my favorite player on that team (Strawberry would replace him in 87 and would hold my personal favorite-Met-I-had-seen-play title until Piazza), I hadn't carried around his baseball card in my 11-year-old wallet until just a week or so before.
Finally, the co-pilot came on the intercom. Again, I don't remember the exact words, but it started with something like "They don't call them the Amazing Mets for nothing folks." And then he told what he had heard -- an error by Bill Buckner had allowed Mookiw Wilson to score the winning run, and the Mets tied up the series.It wasn't until the next day when I read the actual account from the Newark Star-Ledger (Dan Castellano) that I got the story straight. I saw the play for the first time later that evening when Bill Mazer played highlights on his Channel 5 sports report.
Showing posts with label Bill Buckner. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bill Buckner. Show all posts
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Didja ever notice where Ken Hirdt was?
Our tribute to Game 6 of the 1986 World Series moves along as Ken Hirdt, statistician for the Elias Sports Bureau, shares his remembrance of the evening of October 25.
I was 10 years old, watching the game in my parents’ bedroom with my brother while the family was having a dinner party with a few friends from Queens. (We had moved from Queens to Westchester two years earlier.) Towards the end of the game my brother fell asleep and I went down to watch with the grownups. For some reason, I was drinking warm milk. And I (or my mom – don’t remember the specifics at this point) had left it on the stove too long and it had that skin on top. And it grossed me out. But I watched the end of the game, Mookie’s at-bat and Buckner and all that, went crazy yelling at the TV with all the adults and I have not had warm milk since.
I was 10 years old, watching the game in my parents’ bedroom with my brother while the family was having a dinner party with a few friends from Queens. (We had moved from Queens to Westchester two years earlier.) Towards the end of the game my brother fell asleep and I went down to watch with the grownups. For some reason, I was drinking warm milk. And I (or my mom – don’t remember the specifics at this point) had left it on the stove too long and it had that skin on top. And it grossed me out. But I watched the end of the game, Mookie’s at-bat and Buckner and all that, went crazy yelling at the TV with all the adults and I have not had warm milk since.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Didja ever notice where Barry Federovitch was?
We continue our series on Game 6 of the 1986 World Series, with guest writer Barry Federovitch, a sportswriter and copy editor for the Trenton Times, sharing his thoughts on where he was the evening of October 25.
As Oct. 25 turned to Oct. 26 in 1986, I was sitting in my parents' living room in Howell, New Jersey, alone. They were both asleep.
I had just broken up with a girlfriend I deeply loved and was in a distracted depressed state anyway. When it got to two outs, nobody on for the Mets in the bottom of the 10th inning, I bitterly muttered to the television set ''I've had a crappy year, why should it be any different for them.''
At that moment, Gary Carter singled. When Kevin Mitchell came to bat, I began pacing back and forth between the living room and kitchen. When Ray Knight got two strikes, I put my hands over my face like I was watching a horror movie. At the instant the ball got away from Gedman, I closed my eyes and at first didn't know what happened. It was like time froze.
Once the game was tied, I knew they'd win the game and the series. The similarity between that situation and how the Angels let the Red Sox off the hook in the ALCS hit me immediately. But when Mookie hit the ball between Buckner's legs I began screaming.
My parents weren't happy I woke them up, but I felt like it was a truly miraculous moment. It was an epiphany. From that moment on in life, I believe in any good possibility in life.
As Oct. 25 turned to Oct. 26 in 1986, I was sitting in my parents' living room in Howell, New Jersey, alone. They were both asleep.
I had just broken up with a girlfriend I deeply loved and was in a distracted depressed state anyway. When it got to two outs, nobody on for the Mets in the bottom of the 10th inning, I bitterly muttered to the television set ''I've had a crappy year, why should it be any different for them.''
At that moment, Gary Carter singled. When Kevin Mitchell came to bat, I began pacing back and forth between the living room and kitchen. When Ray Knight got two strikes, I put my hands over my face like I was watching a horror movie. At the instant the ball got away from Gedman, I closed my eyes and at first didn't know what happened. It was like time froze.
Once the game was tied, I knew they'd win the game and the series. The similarity between that situation and how the Angels let the Red Sox off the hook in the ALCS hit me immediately. But when Mookie hit the ball between Buckner's legs I began screaming.
My parents weren't happy I woke them up, but I felt like it was a truly miraculous moment. It was an epiphany. From that moment on in life, I believe in any good possibility in life.
Monday, October 24, 2005
Didja ever notice where Gordon Mann was?
For those who didn't read the most recent post, this week we are celebrating the 19th anniversary of Game 6 of the 1986 World Series. As such, I have asked friends, acquaintances, and colleagues from all walks of life to share their stories of where they were on the evening of October 25, 1986. We begin with Division III sports afficianado Gordon Mann.
I was probably either crying or sleeping or both.
You see, my mother wouldn't let me stay up past a certain bedtime. While my mother was sympathetic to my sports fandom, that sympathy only extended so far -- roughly 9:30 as I recall. During football season I used to look forward to Monday night so I could watch MacGyver and then the introduction to Monday Night Football. That was back when they used the dramatic music and a simpler intro narrated by Al Michaels ("JimPlunkett knows the Broncos well") instead of scantily clad cheerleaderslip synching in dopey faux-bar scenes to that country guy's played-out"Are you ready for some football?" song. Can we please get another theme song? Please?
Where was I? Ah yes. That night she made an exception and allowed me to stay up a little later to watch a few innings. I was very upset that my team of heroes -- Strawberry, Doc, Dykstra, Backman, Mookie -- was going to see its season end this way. It wasn't fair. They were the good guys (hey,I was 8 so there was definitely a naivete about their off-field antics), the team who rallied against improbable odds to beat Houston and wore cool wristbands. If they weren't supposed to beat the Red Sox, what was the point? Why have that Mets' hat and pennant in my room? Why fire a super pinky at a brick wall pretending I was Dwight Gooden? Weren't the good guys -- He-Man, Richard Dean Anderson, Roger McDowell -- supposed to win in the end?
So my parents shouted from the other room as my cries of anguish became more audible and angry, "If you're going to get that upset, you should go to bed." I certainly wasn't going to convince them otherwise based on my composure, so I turned out the light, hugged my pink panther stuffed animal, wept bitterly and slept.
I remember getting up the next morning, making my cranky way to the breakfast table. I'm sure I didn't ask about the score since I was in full brood-mode and nursed some superstitions that if I didn't watch the last out or ask the score my team was more likely to win. Of course, if I never asked the score, I'd never know whether this worked. But I was 8 so we're not talking Socratic logic here. One of my parents told me cheerfully, "The Mets won!" And so all was right with the world.
Later I saw the unbelievable football -- Buckner making an improbable mistake ripped from a Bugs Bunny cartoon, the winning run scoring as the Mets celebrated like little 8-year olds themselves. My cereal tasted sweeter, elementary school recess was better and my faith in the justice of life had been restored. So I never saw Wilson's ground ball go through Buckner's legs when it actually happened. But oddly enough that moment remains one of my favorite sports moments of all time.
I was probably either crying or sleeping or both.
You see, my mother wouldn't let me stay up past a certain bedtime. While my mother was sympathetic to my sports fandom, that sympathy only extended so far -- roughly 9:30 as I recall. During football season I used to look forward to Monday night so I could watch MacGyver and then the introduction to Monday Night Football. That was back when they used the dramatic music and a simpler intro narrated by Al Michaels ("JimPlunkett knows the Broncos well") instead of scantily clad cheerleaderslip synching in dopey faux-bar scenes to that country guy's played-out"Are you ready for some football?" song. Can we please get another theme song? Please?
Where was I? Ah yes. That night she made an exception and allowed me to stay up a little later to watch a few innings. I was very upset that my team of heroes -- Strawberry, Doc, Dykstra, Backman, Mookie -- was going to see its season end this way. It wasn't fair. They were the good guys (hey,I was 8 so there was definitely a naivete about their off-field antics), the team who rallied against improbable odds to beat Houston and wore cool wristbands. If they weren't supposed to beat the Red Sox, what was the point? Why have that Mets' hat and pennant in my room? Why fire a super pinky at a brick wall pretending I was Dwight Gooden? Weren't the good guys -- He-Man, Richard Dean Anderson, Roger McDowell -- supposed to win in the end?
So my parents shouted from the other room as my cries of anguish became more audible and angry, "If you're going to get that upset, you should go to bed." I certainly wasn't going to convince them otherwise based on my composure, so I turned out the light, hugged my pink panther stuffed animal, wept bitterly and slept.
I remember getting up the next morning, making my cranky way to the breakfast table. I'm sure I didn't ask about the score since I was in full brood-mode and nursed some superstitions that if I didn't watch the last out or ask the score my team was more likely to win. Of course, if I never asked the score, I'd never know whether this worked. But I was 8 so we're not talking Socratic logic here. One of my parents told me cheerfully, "The Mets won!" And so all was right with the world.
Later I saw the unbelievable football -- Buckner making an improbable mistake ripped from a Bugs Bunny cartoon, the winning run scoring as the Mets celebrated like little 8-year olds themselves. My cereal tasted sweeter, elementary school recess was better and my faith in the justice of life had been restored. So I never saw Wilson's ground ball go through Buckner's legs when it actually happened. But oddly enough that moment remains one of my favorite sports moments of all time.
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Didja ever notice where you were when it happened?
I will be heading out of town at the end of the week for seven to 10 days (those who know me know where I'll be), but I wanted to maintain regular blog postings through the end of the World Series. So, this post will stay up through the weekend and will set the tone for a series of postings from guest bloggers next week. The theme of these posts deals with Game 6 of the 1986 World Series, as part of my "Didja ever notice..." series.
I can tell you where I was for all sorts of events of varying significance. I can remember everything from my reaction when my sister was born (March 23, 1981, awoken from sleeping in the middle of the night after having watched the Burt Reynolds movie "The End" with my grandmother) to when O.J. Simpson was acquitted on murder charges (in a dorm room, along with several students at The College of New Jersey, one of whom kept saying over and over again "What a crock!")
I can tell you where I was when Ross Jones got his first and only hit as a Met and when Bob Gibson pitched his first and only inning (Shea Stadium, in both instances).
And yes, I can tell you where I was on October 25, 1986, though much to my chagrin, not to the degree that I would like. Years ago, my sister warned me that repeated video viewings of this game and others would not only wear out a VCR but would cause my memories to blend together. That was a slightly accurate assessment on her part. I was only 11 then, so I attribute some of the memory loss to that, but the game left enough of an impression on me that I savor the key moments.
It is a longtime tradition that my dad invites his friends over to watch the Super Bowl, and in 1986, he extended that to the World Series as well. Thus, three middle-aged men named Al Braverman, Bob Ferrucci and Joel Verbit, found themselves at the Simon residence on Manhattan's Upper East Side and were our viewing companions for the evening.
I'm not going to get into an inning recollection of the first nine and a half innings because those memories pale in comparison to the others. I remember being shocked when Michael Sergio parachuted into Shea Stadium (One of my dad's friends had a habit of spilling drinks whenever he came over and I'm guessing this is when the liquid hit the carpet and my mom went running into the kitchen to get napkins) , quite pleased when the Mets rallied to tie the game in the eighth inning, annoyed when Howard Johnson couldn't advance two baserunners via bunt in the ninth inning, dismayed when Dave Henderson homered in the 10th, and somewhat puzzled when Vin Scully announced that the Miller Lite Player of the Game was not Henderson, but Marty Barrett (Scully gave it an odd sell at the end, noting that Barrett not only had three hits and two RBIs, but "handled everything hit his way," which was somehow more important than hitting the go-ahead homer that the Red Sox had been waiting 68 years for).
The first pitch of this particular game came at 8:27 pm and the last pitch came at 12:29 am and some time after midnight, Joel just couldn't take it any more. Al and Bob were diehard followers, but Joel was more of the casual fan. The funny thing is that no one amongst our group noticed that he had fallen asleep on the couch, except me, and I wasn't about to disturb him. There was a bottom of the 10th inning. I was on the floor and I was deep in thought. The Mets were losing, 5-3, and things were looking pretty bleak.
We sat there pretty much in silence, if I do recall, as Wally Backman flied out to left and Keith Hernandez flew out to Henderson in deep center (he handled everything hit his way too). Gary Carter singled, which gave us a little hope, Kevin Mitchell's single gave us a little more hope and Ray Knight's single with two strikes had us feeling pretty good. Now, my mind tends to process things pretty quickly and a 60 to 90 second commercial break prior to Mookie Wilson's at bat for the pitching change removing Calvin Schiraldi for Bob Stanley gave me a chance to ponder all the possibilities for what could happen.
There were multiple conversations going on at this point amongst those who were still awake. I'm guessing the adults were planning out a few hands of the popular pastime, postgame poker (long before the "sport's" explosion). I interrupted with a question.
"Wouldn't it be funny if there was something like a balk or a wild pitch here???"
Al must have had a revelation at that moment that I was clairvoyant. He thought that remark to be clever and worth repeating, perhaps for good luck.
"Yeah, a wild pitch...That would be great."
Well, needless to say, it was. The game was tied and then, in a matter of a few moments, it wasn't anywhere. The Mets had won. I wish I could tell you that I danced around the house, yelling and screaming, but I don't really remember, and that's probably a little out of character for me. I think it was a matter of what the doctor on Seinfield called "restrained jubilation." (I've used that phrase before in this blog) with high-fives all around. We woke Joel up and told him what happened and I think he was a little miffed that he missed the ending. The guests departed not long thereafter and somehow, I went to sleep. The next morning, we got up pretty early for a Sunday (7:30 am or so), en route to a baseball card show in either Union or Jersey City, NJ (the second card show at which my dad, now a 19-year veteran of the business, ever sold memorabilia). It was a dreary morning. Game 7 would be rained out that night and pushed back to Monday. The one thing I remember from that day was that my dad's friend, Marty the cabdriver, was pretty cheery when he greeted us, even though he was a Yankees fan. He greeted us with a rousing "How 'bout those Mets???"
How 'bout those Mets, indeed.
True Mettleheads know... Joel's mom, Helen was a theatre, television and movie actress, who appeared in the Broadway production of "Fiddler on the Roof." One of her guest starring appearances has a Mets connnection. Helen played "Mrs. Wilcox" in the next-to-last episode of the TV show "Eight is Enough." One of the plots in this episode dealt with professional baseball player Merle "The Pearl" Stockwell, husband of Bradford sister Susan (the redheaded one), forced to retire due to a shoulder injury (this was the early 80s, when such injuries weren't as easily treatable), and his acceptance of a job as an assistant high school baseball coach. Which major league organization did Merle "The Pearl" pitch for? None other than the New York Mets, where in one episode he was shown along with teammate Neil Allen. Coincidentally, Stockwell also was a member of a minor league team on the show and that squad was appropriately known as "The Cyclones."
I can tell you where I was for all sorts of events of varying significance. I can remember everything from my reaction when my sister was born (March 23, 1981, awoken from sleeping in the middle of the night after having watched the Burt Reynolds movie "The End" with my grandmother) to when O.J. Simpson was acquitted on murder charges (in a dorm room, along with several students at The College of New Jersey, one of whom kept saying over and over again "What a crock!")
I can tell you where I was when Ross Jones got his first and only hit as a Met and when Bob Gibson pitched his first and only inning (Shea Stadium, in both instances).
And yes, I can tell you where I was on October 25, 1986, though much to my chagrin, not to the degree that I would like. Years ago, my sister warned me that repeated video viewings of this game and others would not only wear out a VCR but would cause my memories to blend together. That was a slightly accurate assessment on her part. I was only 11 then, so I attribute some of the memory loss to that, but the game left enough of an impression on me that I savor the key moments.
It is a longtime tradition that my dad invites his friends over to watch the Super Bowl, and in 1986, he extended that to the World Series as well. Thus, three middle-aged men named Al Braverman, Bob Ferrucci and Joel Verbit, found themselves at the Simon residence on Manhattan's Upper East Side and were our viewing companions for the evening.
I'm not going to get into an inning recollection of the first nine and a half innings because those memories pale in comparison to the others. I remember being shocked when Michael Sergio parachuted into Shea Stadium (One of my dad's friends had a habit of spilling drinks whenever he came over and I'm guessing this is when the liquid hit the carpet and my mom went running into the kitchen to get napkins) , quite pleased when the Mets rallied to tie the game in the eighth inning, annoyed when Howard Johnson couldn't advance two baserunners via bunt in the ninth inning, dismayed when Dave Henderson homered in the 10th, and somewhat puzzled when Vin Scully announced that the Miller Lite Player of the Game was not Henderson, but Marty Barrett (Scully gave it an odd sell at the end, noting that Barrett not only had three hits and two RBIs, but "handled everything hit his way," which was somehow more important than hitting the go-ahead homer that the Red Sox had been waiting 68 years for).
The first pitch of this particular game came at 8:27 pm and the last pitch came at 12:29 am and some time after midnight, Joel just couldn't take it any more. Al and Bob were diehard followers, but Joel was more of the casual fan. The funny thing is that no one amongst our group noticed that he had fallen asleep on the couch, except me, and I wasn't about to disturb him. There was a bottom of the 10th inning. I was on the floor and I was deep in thought. The Mets were losing, 5-3, and things were looking pretty bleak.
We sat there pretty much in silence, if I do recall, as Wally Backman flied out to left and Keith Hernandez flew out to Henderson in deep center (he handled everything hit his way too). Gary Carter singled, which gave us a little hope, Kevin Mitchell's single gave us a little more hope and Ray Knight's single with two strikes had us feeling pretty good. Now, my mind tends to process things pretty quickly and a 60 to 90 second commercial break prior to Mookie Wilson's at bat for the pitching change removing Calvin Schiraldi for Bob Stanley gave me a chance to ponder all the possibilities for what could happen.
There were multiple conversations going on at this point amongst those who were still awake. I'm guessing the adults were planning out a few hands of the popular pastime, postgame poker (long before the "sport's" explosion). I interrupted with a question.
"Wouldn't it be funny if there was something like a balk or a wild pitch here???"
Al must have had a revelation at that moment that I was clairvoyant. He thought that remark to be clever and worth repeating, perhaps for good luck.
"Yeah, a wild pitch...That would be great."
Well, needless to say, it was. The game was tied and then, in a matter of a few moments, it wasn't anywhere. The Mets had won. I wish I could tell you that I danced around the house, yelling and screaming, but I don't really remember, and that's probably a little out of character for me. I think it was a matter of what the doctor on Seinfield called "restrained jubilation." (I've used that phrase before in this blog) with high-fives all around. We woke Joel up and told him what happened and I think he was a little miffed that he missed the ending. The guests departed not long thereafter and somehow, I went to sleep. The next morning, we got up pretty early for a Sunday (7:30 am or so), en route to a baseball card show in either Union or Jersey City, NJ (the second card show at which my dad, now a 19-year veteran of the business, ever sold memorabilia). It was a dreary morning. Game 7 would be rained out that night and pushed back to Monday. The one thing I remember from that day was that my dad's friend, Marty the cabdriver, was pretty cheery when he greeted us, even though he was a Yankees fan. He greeted us with a rousing "How 'bout those Mets???"
How 'bout those Mets, indeed.
True Mettleheads know... Joel's mom, Helen was a theatre, television and movie actress, who appeared in the Broadway production of "Fiddler on the Roof." One of her guest starring appearances has a Mets connnection. Helen played "Mrs. Wilcox" in the next-to-last episode of the TV show "Eight is Enough." One of the plots in this episode dealt with professional baseball player Merle "The Pearl" Stockwell, husband of Bradford sister Susan (the redheaded one), forced to retire due to a shoulder injury (this was the early 80s, when such injuries weren't as easily treatable), and his acceptance of a job as an assistant high school baseball coach. Which major league organization did Merle "The Pearl" pitch for? None other than the New York Mets, where in one episode he was shown along with teammate Neil Allen. Coincidentally, Stockwell also was a member of a minor league team on the show and that squad was appropriately known as "The Cyclones."
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Didja ever notice the other goats?
And no, I'm not talking about Rich Gedman, Bob Stanley, Calvin Schiraldi, and John McNamara. If you're reading this post, chances are that you know about their foibles in Game 6 of the 1986 World Series. I'm here to spread the word about the others, whose poor showings hurt their squads in postseason matchups against the Mets. Such as...
Tony Gonzalez and Orlando Cepeda, whose eighth-inning errors in Game 1 of the 1969 NLCS led to a five (unearned) run rally, and a 9-5 Mets win that set the tone for the next two games, in which the Mets pounded Braves pitching for 18 runs and 27 hits.
Paul Blair, Don Buford, Davey Johnson, Brooks Robinson, and Frank Robinson: The Orioles hit only .146 in losing the 1969 World Series in five games to the Mets. This supposedly fearsome fivesome went a combined 9-for-91 against the Amazins.
Joe Morgan and Tony Perez, because if we're going to pick on the Hall of Fame Robinsons, there are two Cooperstown residents who wore the horns in the Mets upset of the Reds in the 1973 NLCS. Morgan went 2-for-20 and Perez was worse at 2-for-22. The mighty Reds were anemic against Mets pitching, mustering two runs or fewer in all five games.
Dave Smith, who struggled against the Mets at various points in his career, but particularly during the 1986 postseason. His blunders weren't quite as significant as Brad Lidge's from Monday night, but Astros fans won't easily forget them. First, he took the loss in Game 3, allowing a two-run walk-off home run to Len Dykstra in the ninth inning (Smith gave up five homers in the 1986 regular season, but amazingly none in 60 IP in homer-happy 1987). Then, brought in with a 3-2 edge and a runner on second with one out in the ninth inning of Game 6, Smith got a little freaked out, walking both Gary Carter and Darryl Strawberry before yielding a sacrifice fly to Ray Knight. Smith would have walked in the go-ahead run as well, but was taken off the hook when Danny Heep swung at an errant 3-2 pitch with two outs, sending the classic contest into extra innings. Had Smith been a little better perhaps Hal Lanier would still be managing in the majors, instead of in an independent league in Winipeg (and yes, I know Lanier didn't have a great series either).
Kevin Bass, because even though he is a former Met, that doesn't make him immune to criticism. Bass, a master of impersonations (as shown on ABC's playoff telecasts) , passed himself off as a struggling big leaguer in Game 6 of the 1986 NLCS, which was a shame because other than that he had a terrific season. Bass went 1-for-6 and is best known for making the last out, whiffing at a 3-2 slider in the 16th inning against Jesse Orosco. He also was twice caught stealing (once on a botched squeeze) and made a pair of dreadful throws to home plate when the Mets got go-ahead hits to right field in both the 14th and 16th innings.
Buck Showalter, a good manager, who made one particularly unwise move in the 1999 NLDS, bringing Bobby Chouinard into the 9th inning of Game 1, with the score knotted at four. The move initially looked good, as Chouinard got Rickey Henderson to hit into a force play, but Edgardo Alfonzo made Showalter regret his decision not to use Matt Mantei or Gregg Olson by crushing a go-ahead grand slam. Perhaps I'm being a little harsh here, and those who think so can cite Tony Womack's lack of performance (2-for-18) as being problematic for the Diamondbacks that postseason. Womack had a couple of big hits in future postseasons, so we'll chalk up his struggles to first-time jitters.
Barry Bonds, who made the last out for the Giants in Game 2, 3 and 4 of the 2000 NLDS (yes, Game 3 was a walk-off, but that win was set up when Bonds popped out against Rick White to end the top of the 13th). After going 2-for-3 in Game 1, Bonds went just 1-for-14 in the next three games of the series and flew out to cap Bobby Jones' one-hit wonder performance in the series-clinching Game 4.
Cardinals pitching, which was depleted both by injuries and other issues heading into the 2000 NLCS, but in the postseason, excuses don't cut it. In all four Mets wins in the series, the Flushing 9 put multiple runs on the board in the first inning. Darryl Kile, Rick Ankiel and Pat Hentgen all had trouble against a Mets lineup that sizzled before fizzling against the Yankees in the World Series.
So Bill Buckner, you shall not stand alone for your misfortune. There are others whom you overshadowed, but whose misaccomplishments are not forgotten here.
Tony Gonzalez and Orlando Cepeda, whose eighth-inning errors in Game 1 of the 1969 NLCS led to a five (unearned) run rally, and a 9-5 Mets win that set the tone for the next two games, in which the Mets pounded Braves pitching for 18 runs and 27 hits.
Paul Blair, Don Buford, Davey Johnson, Brooks Robinson, and Frank Robinson: The Orioles hit only .146 in losing the 1969 World Series in five games to the Mets. This supposedly fearsome fivesome went a combined 9-for-91 against the Amazins.
Joe Morgan and Tony Perez, because if we're going to pick on the Hall of Fame Robinsons, there are two Cooperstown residents who wore the horns in the Mets upset of the Reds in the 1973 NLCS. Morgan went 2-for-20 and Perez was worse at 2-for-22. The mighty Reds were anemic against Mets pitching, mustering two runs or fewer in all five games.
Dave Smith, who struggled against the Mets at various points in his career, but particularly during the 1986 postseason. His blunders weren't quite as significant as Brad Lidge's from Monday night, but Astros fans won't easily forget them. First, he took the loss in Game 3, allowing a two-run walk-off home run to Len Dykstra in the ninth inning (Smith gave up five homers in the 1986 regular season, but amazingly none in 60 IP in homer-happy 1987). Then, brought in with a 3-2 edge and a runner on second with one out in the ninth inning of Game 6, Smith got a little freaked out, walking both Gary Carter and Darryl Strawberry before yielding a sacrifice fly to Ray Knight. Smith would have walked in the go-ahead run as well, but was taken off the hook when Danny Heep swung at an errant 3-2 pitch with two outs, sending the classic contest into extra innings. Had Smith been a little better perhaps Hal Lanier would still be managing in the majors, instead of in an independent league in Winipeg (and yes, I know Lanier didn't have a great series either).
Kevin Bass, because even though he is a former Met, that doesn't make him immune to criticism. Bass, a master of impersonations (as shown on ABC's playoff telecasts) , passed himself off as a struggling big leaguer in Game 6 of the 1986 NLCS, which was a shame because other than that he had a terrific season. Bass went 1-for-6 and is best known for making the last out, whiffing at a 3-2 slider in the 16th inning against Jesse Orosco. He also was twice caught stealing (once on a botched squeeze) and made a pair of dreadful throws to home plate when the Mets got go-ahead hits to right field in both the 14th and 16th innings.
Buck Showalter, a good manager, who made one particularly unwise move in the 1999 NLDS, bringing Bobby Chouinard into the 9th inning of Game 1, with the score knotted at four. The move initially looked good, as Chouinard got Rickey Henderson to hit into a force play, but Edgardo Alfonzo made Showalter regret his decision not to use Matt Mantei or Gregg Olson by crushing a go-ahead grand slam. Perhaps I'm being a little harsh here, and those who think so can cite Tony Womack's lack of performance (2-for-18) as being problematic for the Diamondbacks that postseason. Womack had a couple of big hits in future postseasons, so we'll chalk up his struggles to first-time jitters.
Barry Bonds, who made the last out for the Giants in Game 2, 3 and 4 of the 2000 NLDS (yes, Game 3 was a walk-off, but that win was set up when Bonds popped out against Rick White to end the top of the 13th). After going 2-for-3 in Game 1, Bonds went just 1-for-14 in the next three games of the series and flew out to cap Bobby Jones' one-hit wonder performance in the series-clinching Game 4.
Cardinals pitching, which was depleted both by injuries and other issues heading into the 2000 NLCS, but in the postseason, excuses don't cut it. In all four Mets wins in the series, the Flushing 9 put multiple runs on the board in the first inning. Darryl Kile, Rick Ankiel and Pat Hentgen all had trouble against a Mets lineup that sizzled before fizzling against the Yankees in the World Series.
So Bill Buckner, you shall not stand alone for your misfortune. There are others whom you overshadowed, but whose misaccomplishments are not forgotten here.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Didja ever notice the evolution of Bill Buckner's reaction?
I have two memories related to Bill Buckner and the aftermath of the 1986 World Series. The first is seeing him on crutches at a National Pastime baseball card show a few weeks after the series concluded. He was there along with Mike Witt and Eric Davis, and while I don't remember getting their autographs (I did on a baseball on which the signatures have since faded away), I do remember the crutches and the sad look on his face.
The other comes from working as a tour guide at Shea Stadium in the summer of 1994. We were gathered as a group in the old Jets locker room when fellow tour guide Lane Luckert tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to a man applying fresh paint to one of the walls.
"Hey look," Lane said, pointing to a man with a bushy mustache and a slight resemblance to a former player. "It's Bill Buckner."
That was a good moment for a few yucks, though I don't think the real Buckner would have laughed at the time. Remember that this was just two years after he claimed, for some bizarre, to have had the ball that rolled through his legs (the ball was auctioned to actor Charlie Sheen. Buckner later acknowledged he was fibbing). Perhaps he could chuckle now though, as he seems to have finally come to terms with his place in baseball history.
A beer company is paying Buckner to serve as a spokesman for its new commercial about second chances and he said all the right things about what happened way back when. He hasn't always been this willing to talk about it. His mood seems to change on a regular basis, so perhaps the next time we hear from him, he won't be as pleasant. Here's a look at what he has said about the error that led to the winning run scoring in Game 6 of the 1986 World Series.
''The dreams are that you're going to have a great Series and win. The nightmares are that you're going to let the winning run score on a ground ball through your legs."
-- To a Boston TV station prior to Game 1 of the 1986 World Series
"What's up?"
-- First comment to reporters crowded around his locker following Game 6 of the 1986 World Series.
"You were there. You saw it."
-- To TV sportscaster Dan Patrick, who didn't actually see the play or know how the game ended when he asked Buckner not long after the game "Bill, can you describe what hapened?"This was relayed in Patrick and Keith Olbermann's book The Big Show.
"I feel lousy the way things happened- but if God had meant it to be, I would have caught it. It was a great game. It was exciting and it was a lot of fun- except for the last inning. I look at it this way: I have never played in a Game 7 of the World Series- and now I will."
-- To reporters after Game 6, noted in Howard Blatt's book, Amazin Mets Memories
"I'm not going to talk to anybody about it. Once I get to spring training, that's it. It's been blown way out of proportion in the first place. This is the last time I'm talking about it, so tell your friends: This is it."I hate to downplay it, but a lot more important things happened than that. Now that I've seen the films, I know that we were not going to get Mookie Wilson at first anyway. (Bob) Stanley was not going to be there (to cover first base). It's just a mistake, and it's still being blown out of proportion."What bothers me the most is the way the media has blown it out of proportion. Other people had a tough time in that Series, too. I won't mention names, but other people had as tough a time as I did."
-- Buckner to reporters, including Dan Shaughnessy of the Boston Globe, stories published February 16, 1987
"If it hadn't been for the wild pitch and I had still been holding the runner on first base, it would have been a nice little ground ball."But I was playing off the line against a hitter who normally doesn't pull the ball and that Shea Stadium infield is terrible."I'm not making excuses, but when you miss only five or six ground balls out of 300 or so over the course of a season, it's as if what happened was meant to be."I mean, it wasn't mechanical. I didn't pull my head up. I didn't fail to get my glove down."The glove was down, but the ball skidded toward second base and seemed to go right around (the glove)."
I'm not living in the past. It hurts that we lost and I don't like some of the criticism I've received, but it doesn't still bother me, because in my own mind I don't feel responsible for losing the World Series. It was a 24-man thing."I mean, we had the best pitcher in baseball (Roger Clemens) and the best hitter in baseball (Wade Boggs) and neither did as well as expected."We reached the seventh game of the World Series after being picked to finish fifth. You have to be happy about that. We had a lot of fun. We made a lot of money. You've got to keep things in perspective."Sure, the farther you go, the bigger the fall. But every time I start to feel badly, I think about the Angels. They're the ones who've got reason to feel badly."
--To Ross Newhan, Los Angeles Times, story published March 4, 1987
"This is a new beginning for me. I just want to get it started."
-- To reporters regarding the standing ovation he received in his first game back at Fenway Park after returning to the Red Sox in 1990. He was released in June.
"I mean, they make Mookie Wilson out to be some kind of hero or something, when he really didn't do that much."
"...I mean, it's nice being out here. No one talks about it. In Boston, you spent most of the time talking about it. Somebody does at least a couple of times a week. I've been out here (living in Idaho) two months and this is the first time I've heard it mentioned."
-- To Mike Sowell, One Pitch Away, published in 1995
"Da-da-da Da-da-da."
-- Appearing in one of those goofy SportsCenter commercials, one showing him pretending to field the ground ball years later. I know this occurred, but can't find the date.
"And you'll never hear me say that (Mookie Wilson would have been safe anyway or anything else that would be perceived as an excuse). No excuses. Should have had it."
"I'm not a fielding coach. I'm a hitting coach."
''I can't tell people whether to like me or dislike me. ''They can do whatever they want. I can't control that. A lot of good things happened to me.''
-- To various reporters in his first few days as White Sox hitting coach, Spring Training 1996.
"It's unbelievable. You know what? This is the honest-to-God's truth. My first thought was, 'Oh [expletive], we lost the game.' The second thought was, 'Oh man, we get to play the seventh game of the World Series.' I mean, I was having so much fun. You're trying to win, obviously, but I mean, if we won the game, it was over with. I'm thinking, 'We get to play another game, and we'll win.' There was no doubt in my mind we were going to win the last game..."The whole play was bizarre. Marty Barrett was standing on second base to try and pick off Ray Knight. We had him picked off. I saw Marty move over to second, so I moved way over toward the hole. Normally with Mookie, you would play up with a runner on second base. You play a little deeper because you don't want the ball to go through. So then he dribbled the ball down the first base line. The reason he would've beat it out had nothing to do with Stanley getting over there. It's because I was so far out of position, trying to cover the hole over there. An infield hit still would've had Knight on third base. I had run up a long way, but I don't remember feeling like I was rushed. I didn't feel any kind of tension to catch the ground ball. Usually, when you miss a ground ball, it's because you look up. I didn't look up. The ball hit . . . I'm pretty sure the ball hit something . . . because the ball didn't go underneath my glove. It went to the right of my glove. It took a little bit of a funny hop, bounced to the right a little bit. It wasn't like, you know, you feel rushed and you look up. It took a funny hop. I mean, it's funny. It's funny. What do I chalk it up to? Fate. That's part of the game.
To Stan Grossfeld, Boston Globe, story published October 23, 2003.
"Personally, on my end of it, I'm just a little disappointed with the whole thing. This whole thing about being forgiven and clearing my name, you know, I mean . . . cleared from what? What did I do wrong? It's almost like being in prison for 30 years and then they come up with a DNA test to prove that you weren't guilty."I've gone through a lot of, what I feel, undeserved bad situations for myself and my family over a long period of time, and for someone to come up to me and say, 'Hey, you're forgiven,' I mean, it just kind of brings a really bad taste in my mouth."
-- Appearing on Sporting News Radio, October 28, 2004
"It was a little bit touchy for a couple of years. But it's no big deal now. Life is good."
-- To Fred Mitchell, Chicago Tribune, dated March 22, 2005
For links to the stories on Buckner that ran after he appeared in New York last week, go to this link
http://metswalkoffs.blogspot.com/2005/10/buckner-speaksstory-links.html
The other comes from working as a tour guide at Shea Stadium in the summer of 1994. We were gathered as a group in the old Jets locker room when fellow tour guide Lane Luckert tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to a man applying fresh paint to one of the walls.
"Hey look," Lane said, pointing to a man with a bushy mustache and a slight resemblance to a former player. "It's Bill Buckner."
That was a good moment for a few yucks, though I don't think the real Buckner would have laughed at the time. Remember that this was just two years after he claimed, for some bizarre, to have had the ball that rolled through his legs (the ball was auctioned to actor Charlie Sheen. Buckner later acknowledged he was fibbing). Perhaps he could chuckle now though, as he seems to have finally come to terms with his place in baseball history.
A beer company is paying Buckner to serve as a spokesman for its new commercial about second chances and he said all the right things about what happened way back when. He hasn't always been this willing to talk about it. His mood seems to change on a regular basis, so perhaps the next time we hear from him, he won't be as pleasant. Here's a look at what he has said about the error that led to the winning run scoring in Game 6 of the 1986 World Series.
''The dreams are that you're going to have a great Series and win. The nightmares are that you're going to let the winning run score on a ground ball through your legs."
-- To a Boston TV station prior to Game 1 of the 1986 World Series
"What's up?"
-- First comment to reporters crowded around his locker following Game 6 of the 1986 World Series.
"You were there. You saw it."
-- To TV sportscaster Dan Patrick, who didn't actually see the play or know how the game ended when he asked Buckner not long after the game "Bill, can you describe what hapened?"This was relayed in Patrick and Keith Olbermann's book The Big Show.
"I feel lousy the way things happened- but if God had meant it to be, I would have caught it. It was a great game. It was exciting and it was a lot of fun- except for the last inning. I look at it this way: I have never played in a Game 7 of the World Series- and now I will."
-- To reporters after Game 6, noted in Howard Blatt's book, Amazin Mets Memories
"I'm not going to talk to anybody about it. Once I get to spring training, that's it. It's been blown way out of proportion in the first place. This is the last time I'm talking about it, so tell your friends: This is it."I hate to downplay it, but a lot more important things happened than that. Now that I've seen the films, I know that we were not going to get Mookie Wilson at first anyway. (Bob) Stanley was not going to be there (to cover first base). It's just a mistake, and it's still being blown out of proportion."What bothers me the most is the way the media has blown it out of proportion. Other people had a tough time in that Series, too. I won't mention names, but other people had as tough a time as I did."
-- Buckner to reporters, including Dan Shaughnessy of the Boston Globe, stories published February 16, 1987
"If it hadn't been for the wild pitch and I had still been holding the runner on first base, it would have been a nice little ground ball."But I was playing off the line against a hitter who normally doesn't pull the ball and that Shea Stadium infield is terrible."I'm not making excuses, but when you miss only five or six ground balls out of 300 or so over the course of a season, it's as if what happened was meant to be."I mean, it wasn't mechanical. I didn't pull my head up. I didn't fail to get my glove down."The glove was down, but the ball skidded toward second base and seemed to go right around (the glove)."
I'm not living in the past. It hurts that we lost and I don't like some of the criticism I've received, but it doesn't still bother me, because in my own mind I don't feel responsible for losing the World Series. It was a 24-man thing."I mean, we had the best pitcher in baseball (Roger Clemens) and the best hitter in baseball (Wade Boggs) and neither did as well as expected."We reached the seventh game of the World Series after being picked to finish fifth. You have to be happy about that. We had a lot of fun. We made a lot of money. You've got to keep things in perspective."Sure, the farther you go, the bigger the fall. But every time I start to feel badly, I think about the Angels. They're the ones who've got reason to feel badly."
--To Ross Newhan, Los Angeles Times, story published March 4, 1987
"This is a new beginning for me. I just want to get it started."
-- To reporters regarding the standing ovation he received in his first game back at Fenway Park after returning to the Red Sox in 1990. He was released in June.
"I mean, they make Mookie Wilson out to be some kind of hero or something, when he really didn't do that much."
"...I mean, it's nice being out here. No one talks about it. In Boston, you spent most of the time talking about it. Somebody does at least a couple of times a week. I've been out here (living in Idaho) two months and this is the first time I've heard it mentioned."
-- To Mike Sowell, One Pitch Away, published in 1995
"Da-da-da Da-da-da."
-- Appearing in one of those goofy SportsCenter commercials, one showing him pretending to field the ground ball years later. I know this occurred, but can't find the date.
"And you'll never hear me say that (Mookie Wilson would have been safe anyway or anything else that would be perceived as an excuse). No excuses. Should have had it."
"I'm not a fielding coach. I'm a hitting coach."
''I can't tell people whether to like me or dislike me. ''They can do whatever they want. I can't control that. A lot of good things happened to me.''
-- To various reporters in his first few days as White Sox hitting coach, Spring Training 1996.
"It's unbelievable. You know what? This is the honest-to-God's truth. My first thought was, 'Oh [expletive], we lost the game.' The second thought was, 'Oh man, we get to play the seventh game of the World Series.' I mean, I was having so much fun. You're trying to win, obviously, but I mean, if we won the game, it was over with. I'm thinking, 'We get to play another game, and we'll win.' There was no doubt in my mind we were going to win the last game..."The whole play was bizarre. Marty Barrett was standing on second base to try and pick off Ray Knight. We had him picked off. I saw Marty move over to second, so I moved way over toward the hole. Normally with Mookie, you would play up with a runner on second base. You play a little deeper because you don't want the ball to go through. So then he dribbled the ball down the first base line. The reason he would've beat it out had nothing to do with Stanley getting over there. It's because I was so far out of position, trying to cover the hole over there. An infield hit still would've had Knight on third base. I had run up a long way, but I don't remember feeling like I was rushed. I didn't feel any kind of tension to catch the ground ball. Usually, when you miss a ground ball, it's because you look up. I didn't look up. The ball hit . . . I'm pretty sure the ball hit something . . . because the ball didn't go underneath my glove. It went to the right of my glove. It took a little bit of a funny hop, bounced to the right a little bit. It wasn't like, you know, you feel rushed and you look up. It took a funny hop. I mean, it's funny. It's funny. What do I chalk it up to? Fate. That's part of the game.
To Stan Grossfeld, Boston Globe, story published October 23, 2003.
"Personally, on my end of it, I'm just a little disappointed with the whole thing. This whole thing about being forgiven and clearing my name, you know, I mean . . . cleared from what? What did I do wrong? It's almost like being in prison for 30 years and then they come up with a DNA test to prove that you weren't guilty."I've gone through a lot of, what I feel, undeserved bad situations for myself and my family over a long period of time, and for someone to come up to me and say, 'Hey, you're forgiven,' I mean, it just kind of brings a really bad taste in my mouth."
-- Appearing on Sporting News Radio, October 28, 2004
"It was a little bit touchy for a couple of years. But it's no big deal now. Life is good."
-- To Fred Mitchell, Chicago Tribune, dated March 22, 2005
For links to the stories on Buckner that ran after he appeared in New York last week, go to this link
http://metswalkoffs.blogspot.com/2005/10/buckner-speaksstory-links.html
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Buckner speaks...story links
Next blog post will likely be Friday morning.
In the meantime...In case you missed it, Bill Buckner was in New York to help market a beer commercial that has the theme of "Second Chances." Apparently in said commercial, Mighty Casey gets another turn at bat and hits a home run. Buckner did the media tour on Tuesday and here are a few of the stories that were written. I will have something to say on the subject in a "Didja ever notice?" post (part of my series on 1986 WS Game 6) that will run either this weekend or next week.
Newsday story
http://www.newsday.com/news/local/wire/newyork/ny-bc-ny--billbuckner1011oct11,0,6519370.story?coll=ny-region-apnewyork
New York Post
http://www.nypost.com/sports/yankees/29386.htm
NY Daily News
http://www.nydailynews.com/sports/story/354875p-302501c.html
AP Story
http://sports.espn.go.com/mlb/news/story?id=2187744
Lastly, here's a link to "Elias Says" on ESPN.com. They had an unbelievable nugget linking Hideki Matsui's performance in Game 5 of the ALDS to Buckner's effort in Game 6 of the 1986 WS.
http://insider.espn.go.com/espn/news/story?id=2187089&univLogin02=stateChanged
In the meantime...In case you missed it, Bill Buckner was in New York to help market a beer commercial that has the theme of "Second Chances." Apparently in said commercial, Mighty Casey gets another turn at bat and hits a home run. Buckner did the media tour on Tuesday and here are a few of the stories that were written. I will have something to say on the subject in a "Didja ever notice?" post (part of my series on 1986 WS Game 6) that will run either this weekend or next week.
Newsday story
http://www.newsday.com/news/local/wire/newyork/ny-bc-ny--billbuckner1011oct11,0,6519370.story?coll=ny-region-apnewyork
New York Post
http://www.nypost.com/sports/yankees/29386.htm
NY Daily News
http://www.nydailynews.com/sports/story/354875p-302501c.html
AP Story
http://sports.espn.go.com/mlb/news/story?id=2187744
Lastly, here's a link to "Elias Says" on ESPN.com. They had an unbelievable nugget linking Hideki Matsui's performance in Game 5 of the ALDS to Buckner's effort in Game 6 of the 1986 WS.
http://insider.espn.go.com/espn/news/story?id=2187089&univLogin02=stateChanged
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Didja ever notice how the telecast ended?
Continuing our "Didja ever notice?" series on Game 6 of the 1986 World Series
"A little roller up along first...behind the bag!!! It gets through Buckner!!! Here comes Knight and the Mets win it!!!... ... ... If one picture is worth a thousand words, than you have seen about a million words...but more than that, you have seen an absolutely bizarre finish to Game 6 of the 1986 World Series. The Mets are not only alive, they are well, and they will play the Red Sox in Game 7 tomorrow. Let's go down on the field in this madhouse, to Marv Albert."
That's what NBC broadcaster Vin Scully had to say in describing the final play of the baseball game that took place at Shea Stadium on October 25, 1986. In the space in which there are ellipsis (between the words "Mets win it" and "If one picture," there is a gap, one that lasted three minutes and 23 seconds. In that time, viewers watched the magic of television, as all sorts of fascinating images flashed across the screen. NBC's directorial crew and cameramen did a great job capturing reaction from both teams, as well as the 55,078 fans in attendance.
There's no written record of what Vin Scully did during that time, but I think I can take an educated guess. Scully has a history, in such historic moments, of calmly removing his headset, walking away from the booth, and grabbing a cup of coffee. He doesn't want to do anything that would disturb the viewing experience.
However, while Vin was soothing his throat (perhaps his choice was tea, as that's more useful to a sportscaster in mid-event), all heck was breaking loose. Bob Costas, who was NBC's sideline reporter, has told the story many times of how he was in the Red Sox clubhouse, watching the end of the game with the likes of Red Sox owner Jean Yawkey, as Major League Baseball staff members prepared for the trophy presentation that never occurred. When the contest concluded, MLB staff members hurriedly took down all the celebratory paraphernalia and Costas and crew exited as quickly as they possibly could. After doing so, Costas was faced with a dillemma. He was at the game to interview people, but was in a rather inopportune position, right by Boston's clubhouse of misery. He pondered aloud what he should do.
Unfortunately for NBC, someone didn't realize that Costas' had a live microphone. That's why, if you have an original copy of the telecast, you can hear a voice in the distance say "I don't think I'm going to get anybody." That's Costas, realizing that Bill Buckner, Rich Gedman, Bob Stanley, Calvin Schiraldi, John McNamara and the cast of 1,000 goats is going to be unavailable.
There's some mumbling in the background as what sounds like a producer is saying something to Costas. Of course, no one seems to realize that millions of viewers are being exposed to this discussion. There's about an eight-second pause, after which Costas said "Ask him if he wants me to go over there and..."
There's no record of what Costas said, because at that point, his microphone is wisely cut off. From having sat through the chaos of a baseball game production in a TV truck, I'm going to guess that someone somewhere yelled out "GET COSTAS THE (BLEEP) OFF THE AIR!!!!!"
Thankfully at this point Scully's beverage hunt had concluded (or perhaps he was standing by, patiently waiting for the appropriate moment to de-mute) and he began summarizing for the viewer ever so eloquently. I actually asked to be put on hold upon calling the Dodgers a month ago, such that I could hear the conclusion of one of his calls (that's there version of on-hold music...the operator obliged). I'm thinking of commissioning Scully to soothe me with play-by-play the next time I have to take a trip to the dentist. He is the perfect combination of grace and appreciation for the moment and it's really a shame that he hasn't been seen or heard nationally the last few years. The telecast calmly concludes with Marv Albert interviewing Mookie Wilson and Ray Knight, and Scully and Joe Garagiola wrapping things up. Scully notes that Davey Johnson got "an 11th-hour reprieve" and exclaims with a rare usage of bad grammar "The World Series is home on NBC and ain't we got something!"
As for the cup of coffee, I'd hope that on a night in which the game ended by error, Scully would describe it as "Good to the last drop!"
"A little roller up along first...behind the bag!!! It gets through Buckner!!! Here comes Knight and the Mets win it!!!... ... ... If one picture is worth a thousand words, than you have seen about a million words...but more than that, you have seen an absolutely bizarre finish to Game 6 of the 1986 World Series. The Mets are not only alive, they are well, and they will play the Red Sox in Game 7 tomorrow. Let's go down on the field in this madhouse, to Marv Albert."
That's what NBC broadcaster Vin Scully had to say in describing the final play of the baseball game that took place at Shea Stadium on October 25, 1986. In the space in which there are ellipsis (between the words "Mets win it" and "If one picture," there is a gap, one that lasted three minutes and 23 seconds. In that time, viewers watched the magic of television, as all sorts of fascinating images flashed across the screen. NBC's directorial crew and cameramen did a great job capturing reaction from both teams, as well as the 55,078 fans in attendance.
There's no written record of what Vin Scully did during that time, but I think I can take an educated guess. Scully has a history, in such historic moments, of calmly removing his headset, walking away from the booth, and grabbing a cup of coffee. He doesn't want to do anything that would disturb the viewing experience.
However, while Vin was soothing his throat (perhaps his choice was tea, as that's more useful to a sportscaster in mid-event), all heck was breaking loose. Bob Costas, who was NBC's sideline reporter, has told the story many times of how he was in the Red Sox clubhouse, watching the end of the game with the likes of Red Sox owner Jean Yawkey, as Major League Baseball staff members prepared for the trophy presentation that never occurred. When the contest concluded, MLB staff members hurriedly took down all the celebratory paraphernalia and Costas and crew exited as quickly as they possibly could. After doing so, Costas was faced with a dillemma. He was at the game to interview people, but was in a rather inopportune position, right by Boston's clubhouse of misery. He pondered aloud what he should do.
Unfortunately for NBC, someone didn't realize that Costas' had a live microphone. That's why, if you have an original copy of the telecast, you can hear a voice in the distance say "I don't think I'm going to get anybody." That's Costas, realizing that Bill Buckner, Rich Gedman, Bob Stanley, Calvin Schiraldi, John McNamara and the cast of 1,000 goats is going to be unavailable.
There's some mumbling in the background as what sounds like a producer is saying something to Costas. Of course, no one seems to realize that millions of viewers are being exposed to this discussion. There's about an eight-second pause, after which Costas said "Ask him if he wants me to go over there and..."
There's no record of what Costas said, because at that point, his microphone is wisely cut off. From having sat through the chaos of a baseball game production in a TV truck, I'm going to guess that someone somewhere yelled out "GET COSTAS THE (BLEEP) OFF THE AIR!!!!!"
Thankfully at this point Scully's beverage hunt had concluded (or perhaps he was standing by, patiently waiting for the appropriate moment to de-mute) and he began summarizing for the viewer ever so eloquently. I actually asked to be put on hold upon calling the Dodgers a month ago, such that I could hear the conclusion of one of his calls (that's there version of on-hold music...the operator obliged). I'm thinking of commissioning Scully to soothe me with play-by-play the next time I have to take a trip to the dentist. He is the perfect combination of grace and appreciation for the moment and it's really a shame that he hasn't been seen or heard nationally the last few years. The telecast calmly concludes with Marv Albert interviewing Mookie Wilson and Ray Knight, and Scully and Joe Garagiola wrapping things up. Scully notes that Davey Johnson got "an 11th-hour reprieve" and exclaims with a rare usage of bad grammar "The World Series is home on NBC and ain't we got something!"
As for the cup of coffee, I'd hope that on a night in which the game ended by error, Scully would describe it as "Good to the last drop!"
Sunday, September 18, 2005
Didja Ever Notice What They Wrote?
Part IV of a continuing series on Game 6 of the 1986 World Series
I went to work for my dad at a baseball card show on Sunday, October 26, 1986, and since we had to get up early to head to New Jersey, I didn't get to go through the newspaper as thoroughly as I would.
Nowadays, if there's a big baseball event, I like to read about it from as many different perspectives as possible. That wasn't something that was as easily accessible back then as it is today, with the magic of the internet allowing the ability to surf a dozen newspapers within a few minutes. Thankfully now, we have the capability to flash back, and when I was given the opportunity to test a newspaper database a few years ago, I checked its thoroughness by compiling the different stories written about Game 6 of the World Series.
The cool thing about going through the various pieces is how clever some of the writing could be, particularly at such a late hour with deadline pressures looming in many cities.
What I did likely read that morning was the New York Daily News, and deadlines being what they were, I believe that Phil Pepe was a bit rushed in trying to put together his game story. From what I gather, he only had time to write the most basic lead: "Down to their last out, the Mets ralied for three runs in the bottom of the 11th inning last night at Shea to beat the Red Sox, 6-5, and force Game 7 of the World Series." (The Daily News published a compilation of stories from the season and it did include that typo referring to the inning of reckoning).
Fred Mitchell of the Chicago Tribune was able to find a way to tie one jinxed city back to another: "To err is human. To err at first base in a crucial postseason game seems to be a Cub malaise."
Tom Boswell of the Washington Post was his usual wordy, but creative self: " "When this World Series finally is laid to rest, several exhibits should be shipped directly to the Hall of Fame in Blooperstown as evidence that Game 6- probably the most thrillingly atrocious contest ever perpetrated on a Classic- really came to pass."
Bruce Lowitt of the St. Petersburg Times had a series of rather humorous one liners, more noteworthy than his lead. He evidently is quick-witted. About halfway through his story, he wrote "If the World Series had been a pleasure cruise to the fans of most teams, it has been to two generations of Bostonians, a stateroom on the Titanic, a deck chair on the Lusitania, first class passage on the Hindenburg."
Howard Sinker (an apt name for a baseball follower) of the Star Tribune (Minneapolis) decided to rub it in to those who chose not to watch: "Tell your friends about all four hours, what they missed by going out Saturday night and failing to witness baseball's greatest comeback."
Bernie Lincicome of the Chicago Tribune sounds a little bitter: "One extra-inning thriller doesn't make a great World Series, but we'll take what we can get."
Former Met turned broadcaster Jimmy Piersall was called upon to critique the games for the Chicago Sun-Times. He too was a bitter man. "Major league baseball, my foot. The Mets 6-5 victory over the Red Sox last night in Game Six was one of the worst World Series games of all time."
Tony Kornheiser of the Washington Post had some fun: "I can only imagine what the good citizens of Boston are doing now. Are the blindfolds in place? Are they out on the window ledges? Have they wrapped up the sharp instruments?"
So did Fran Blinebury of the Houston Chronicle: "The born losers are at it again. So what else is new?"
Mark Purdy of Knight Ridder's chain of papers had the good fortune to write a piece before the game concluded on someone that he thought had a chance to be a hero. The Seattle Times ran the piece anyway, apparently. "Some people give their bodies to science. Bill Buckner is giving his to the World Series."
Hal Bock of the Associated Press has been doing this for a long time. He's pretty good. "It would not happen this time, the Boston Red Sox had promised. Not in this World Series. Their failures belong to the past. That was then, this is now. Alas, the team that lived by the last strike in the American League playoffs died by the last strike when the World Series was in hand against the New York Mets in Game 6."
I say this with a slightly biased viewpoint, but my favorite lead comes from Bus Saidt of the Trenton Times. Saidt, a wannabe play-by-play guy (like myself) pursued sportswriting instead (like myself) and made a great career out of covering the Mets, Yankees, and Phillies, all at the same time, writing stories that blended game information with commentary. He died before I got to work for that paper, but was posthumously selected as the recipient of a baseball writers highest honor: The Ford C. Frick Award.
On this night, Saidt's style was able to capture with his first sentence the emotions of millions of Mets fans who were sitting, watching the game at home (like myself).
"I'm sitting here and I still don't believe it."
I went to work for my dad at a baseball card show on Sunday, October 26, 1986, and since we had to get up early to head to New Jersey, I didn't get to go through the newspaper as thoroughly as I would.
Nowadays, if there's a big baseball event, I like to read about it from as many different perspectives as possible. That wasn't something that was as easily accessible back then as it is today, with the magic of the internet allowing the ability to surf a dozen newspapers within a few minutes. Thankfully now, we have the capability to flash back, and when I was given the opportunity to test a newspaper database a few years ago, I checked its thoroughness by compiling the different stories written about Game 6 of the World Series.
The cool thing about going through the various pieces is how clever some of the writing could be, particularly at such a late hour with deadline pressures looming in many cities.
What I did likely read that morning was the New York Daily News, and deadlines being what they were, I believe that Phil Pepe was a bit rushed in trying to put together his game story. From what I gather, he only had time to write the most basic lead: "Down to their last out, the Mets ralied for three runs in the bottom of the 11th inning last night at Shea to beat the Red Sox, 6-5, and force Game 7 of the World Series." (The Daily News published a compilation of stories from the season and it did include that typo referring to the inning of reckoning).
Fred Mitchell of the Chicago Tribune was able to find a way to tie one jinxed city back to another: "To err is human. To err at first base in a crucial postseason game seems to be a Cub malaise."
Tom Boswell of the Washington Post was his usual wordy, but creative self: " "When this World Series finally is laid to rest, several exhibits should be shipped directly to the Hall of Fame in Blooperstown as evidence that Game 6- probably the most thrillingly atrocious contest ever perpetrated on a Classic- really came to pass."
Bruce Lowitt of the St. Petersburg Times had a series of rather humorous one liners, more noteworthy than his lead. He evidently is quick-witted. About halfway through his story, he wrote "If the World Series had been a pleasure cruise to the fans of most teams, it has been to two generations of Bostonians, a stateroom on the Titanic, a deck chair on the Lusitania, first class passage on the Hindenburg."
Howard Sinker (an apt name for a baseball follower) of the Star Tribune (Minneapolis) decided to rub it in to those who chose not to watch: "Tell your friends about all four hours, what they missed by going out Saturday night and failing to witness baseball's greatest comeback."
Bernie Lincicome of the Chicago Tribune sounds a little bitter: "One extra-inning thriller doesn't make a great World Series, but we'll take what we can get."
Former Met turned broadcaster Jimmy Piersall was called upon to critique the games for the Chicago Sun-Times. He too was a bitter man. "Major league baseball, my foot. The Mets 6-5 victory over the Red Sox last night in Game Six was one of the worst World Series games of all time."
Tony Kornheiser of the Washington Post had some fun: "I can only imagine what the good citizens of Boston are doing now. Are the blindfolds in place? Are they out on the window ledges? Have they wrapped up the sharp instruments?"
So did Fran Blinebury of the Houston Chronicle: "The born losers are at it again. So what else is new?"
Mark Purdy of Knight Ridder's chain of papers had the good fortune to write a piece before the game concluded on someone that he thought had a chance to be a hero. The Seattle Times ran the piece anyway, apparently. "Some people give their bodies to science. Bill Buckner is giving his to the World Series."
Hal Bock of the Associated Press has been doing this for a long time. He's pretty good. "It would not happen this time, the Boston Red Sox had promised. Not in this World Series. Their failures belong to the past. That was then, this is now. Alas, the team that lived by the last strike in the American League playoffs died by the last strike when the World Series was in hand against the New York Mets in Game 6."
I say this with a slightly biased viewpoint, but my favorite lead comes from Bus Saidt of the Trenton Times. Saidt, a wannabe play-by-play guy (like myself) pursued sportswriting instead (like myself) and made a great career out of covering the Mets, Yankees, and Phillies, all at the same time, writing stories that blended game information with commentary. He died before I got to work for that paper, but was posthumously selected as the recipient of a baseball writers highest honor: The Ford C. Frick Award.
On this night, Saidt's style was able to capture with his first sentence the emotions of millions of Mets fans who were sitting, watching the game at home (like myself).
"I'm sitting here and I still don't believe it."
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Didja ever notice, signs, signs, everywhere signs?
Part III of an ongoing series regarding Game 6 of the 1986 World Series
Some people believe that signs exist that a team is going to win a particular game. On October 25, it was kind of hard to miss. They were everywhere.
Signs have been a ballpark staple at the Polo Grounds and Shea Stadium since the Mets played their first game in 1962. There's something about this team that makes them so prevalent. One fan, Karl Ehrhardt, even became known as "Sign Man" because his work became quite popular.
There were 55,078 people in the stands that night and it seems like a lot of them felt the need to express their feelings in writing on what some might call 'Placards.' Banner Day was never a favorite of mine, but I've always had an eye out for creative endeavors and there were plenty on display.
There was bedlam on the field that night and bedsheets off the field, mostly hanging from the facing that separates the loge from the box seats. I paused my VCR for one crowd shot and counted six banners, unfortunately unreadable from so far away.
There were a few that were legible during the bottom of the 10th inning and I thought I would take a few moments to review them. None were quite as memorable as "Now I can Die in Peace" (seen in the stands at Madison Square Garden won the 1994 Rangers won the Stanley Cup" but there were some good efforts.
One fellow had the obligatory "John 3:16," bible verse, seen at every major sporting event, which actually may have been appropriate for the moment since its subject happens to be "eternal life."
"Let's Go Mets. Make The Dream Work" got pretty good play in the bottom of the 10th and served as an unofficial advertisement for the Mets music video, produced earlier that season ("We've got the teamwork to make the dream work, Lets go...Lets go Mets!")
Every good sign maker knows that the best way to get face time is to take the initials of the TV network and come up with some clever wordplay. We had one of those here too, and I chuckled when I saw it.
Now
Boston
Chokes
Some, no offense, seemed more appropriate for a high school game than for an event of such magnitude "Wash Out The Sox" belongs next to "Sink the Sharks" or "Slay the Dragons"
Others offered errant prognostications: "Sunday at Shea Will Be a Happy Day!" (Game 7 was rained out and thus played on Monday), cocky boasts: "Bring On 'The Can'!" (Bruce Hurst replaced Oil Can Boyd as the Game 7 pitcher), and gleeful celebration: "We Win!!" (which replaced "Congratulations Red Sox" on the Diamond Vision Board)
Then there are those that are forever shrouded in mystery. Someone in the box seats, in the midst of the post-game madness held up a yellow piece of cardboard that appears to read "HILOUAVUL" I've tried everything short of hiring a codebreaker to try to figure that one out to no avail. Anyone have a guess as to what that means?
With all these folks waving their creations, it's a wonder that the players on the field don't get distracted by such doings. Perhaps that's why Rich Gedman didn't fully shift over to catch Bob Stanley's errant palmball, with the count 2-2 with Mookie Wilson up in the last of the 10th. His eyes probably shifted a little bit, and caught a glimpse of "Now Boston Chokes."
Don't believe that something like that could happen. Perhaps you should heed these words from Casey Stengel on the impact that fans and their signs can have on a game.
"Why, they're the most amazing fans that I've ever seen in baseball. They stick by you in the hotel. They're on the streets. They're carrying placards. They're going through the place. You find them over here in right field. Four innings later, if you get a base hit, they'll be over on the left field line. They make up wonderful placards. The placards are terrific. I even had to stop and look at them. I think I made 15 mistakes this year reading the placards instead of watching the pitcher or watching the hitter."
Some people believe that signs exist that a team is going to win a particular game. On October 25, it was kind of hard to miss. They were everywhere.
Signs have been a ballpark staple at the Polo Grounds and Shea Stadium since the Mets played their first game in 1962. There's something about this team that makes them so prevalent. One fan, Karl Ehrhardt, even became known as "Sign Man" because his work became quite popular.
There were 55,078 people in the stands that night and it seems like a lot of them felt the need to express their feelings in writing on what some might call 'Placards.' Banner Day was never a favorite of mine, but I've always had an eye out for creative endeavors and there were plenty on display.
There was bedlam on the field that night and bedsheets off the field, mostly hanging from the facing that separates the loge from the box seats. I paused my VCR for one crowd shot and counted six banners, unfortunately unreadable from so far away.
There were a few that were legible during the bottom of the 10th inning and I thought I would take a few moments to review them. None were quite as memorable as "Now I can Die in Peace" (seen in the stands at Madison Square Garden won the 1994 Rangers won the Stanley Cup" but there were some good efforts.
One fellow had the obligatory "John 3:16," bible verse, seen at every major sporting event, which actually may have been appropriate for the moment since its subject happens to be "eternal life."
"Let's Go Mets. Make The Dream Work" got pretty good play in the bottom of the 10th and served as an unofficial advertisement for the Mets music video, produced earlier that season ("We've got the teamwork to make the dream work, Lets go...Lets go Mets!")
Every good sign maker knows that the best way to get face time is to take the initials of the TV network and come up with some clever wordplay. We had one of those here too, and I chuckled when I saw it.
Now
Boston
Chokes
Some, no offense, seemed more appropriate for a high school game than for an event of such magnitude "Wash Out The Sox" belongs next to "Sink the Sharks" or "Slay the Dragons"
Others offered errant prognostications: "Sunday at Shea Will Be a Happy Day!" (Game 7 was rained out and thus played on Monday), cocky boasts: "Bring On 'The Can'!" (Bruce Hurst replaced Oil Can Boyd as the Game 7 pitcher), and gleeful celebration: "We Win!!" (which replaced "Congratulations Red Sox" on the Diamond Vision Board)
Then there are those that are forever shrouded in mystery. Someone in the box seats, in the midst of the post-game madness held up a yellow piece of cardboard that appears to read "HILOUAVUL" I've tried everything short of hiring a codebreaker to try to figure that one out to no avail. Anyone have a guess as to what that means?
With all these folks waving their creations, it's a wonder that the players on the field don't get distracted by such doings. Perhaps that's why Rich Gedman didn't fully shift over to catch Bob Stanley's errant palmball, with the count 2-2 with Mookie Wilson up in the last of the 10th. His eyes probably shifted a little bit, and caught a glimpse of "Now Boston Chokes."
Don't believe that something like that could happen. Perhaps you should heed these words from Casey Stengel on the impact that fans and their signs can have on a game.
"Why, they're the most amazing fans that I've ever seen in baseball. They stick by you in the hotel. They're on the streets. They're carrying placards. They're going through the place. You find them over here in right field. Four innings later, if you get a base hit, they'll be over on the left field line. They make up wonderful placards. The placards are terrific. I even had to stop and look at them. I think I made 15 mistakes this year reading the placards instead of watching the pitcher or watching the hitter."
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Didja ever notice the look on his face?
Part II of a series of oft-forgotten notes regarding the most famous walk-off win in Mets history. Part I can be found here
Every story you read about Game 6 of the 1986 World Series will tell you that John McNamara screwed up big-time when he didn't bring Dave Stapleton into the game at first base as a defensive replacement for Bill Buckner. Those pieces cite how Stapleton played first base at the end of every other Boston win that postseason, and how Buckner, dealing with a myriad of injuries, had no business being in the game. The decision was a total no-brainer for McNamara and he blew it, particularly after what happened in the next-to-last at-bat of the final frame.
Most people stop their videotape after Dave Henderson's home run, and fast forward to the bottom of the 10th. They miss two moments of significance. One is the single by Marty Barrett that bring in Boston's second run. The second is Bill Buckner's at-bat.
Buckner came up with Barrett on second and two outs. He battled Rick Aguilera to a 1-2 count with a couple of foul balls. Then, Aguilera did something unexpected. He came about as far inside with his next pitch as Bob Stanley did when he was a strike away from ending the series a few minutes later. Bill Buckner wasn't quite as nimble as Mookie Wilson was. He couldn't get out of the way. The pitch nails Buckner just below the belt buckle, by his right buttocks. When ball hits flesh, you can actually hear a scream, perhaps his. If you pause the tape to catch Buckner's reaction as he coils backwards slightly, he looks like a man in the midst of a visit to the proctologist. He is in agony. Clearly a pinch-runner was needed, but none was proffered. Instead Buckner walked to first base. He didn't run, because it doesn't look like he could. Before he did, he said something to Aguilera (perhaps along the lines of "I'm still gonna be on the field when we win the World Series, nyahh, nyaah, nyaah,nyaah, nyaah, nyaah").
So while we're handing out roses to all the Mets who contributed to the bottom of the 10th rally, don't forget to praise Aguilera, because his hitting Buckner in just the right spot ensured that Boston's first baseman wouldn't be able to fully bend over to field a ground ball when it became necessary in the course of that frame.
(this is the second post of the day. You can read the other one if you keep scrolling)
Every story you read about Game 6 of the 1986 World Series will tell you that John McNamara screwed up big-time when he didn't bring Dave Stapleton into the game at first base as a defensive replacement for Bill Buckner. Those pieces cite how Stapleton played first base at the end of every other Boston win that postseason, and how Buckner, dealing with a myriad of injuries, had no business being in the game. The decision was a total no-brainer for McNamara and he blew it, particularly after what happened in the next-to-last at-bat of the final frame.
Most people stop their videotape after Dave Henderson's home run, and fast forward to the bottom of the 10th. They miss two moments of significance. One is the single by Marty Barrett that bring in Boston's second run. The second is Bill Buckner's at-bat.
Buckner came up with Barrett on second and two outs. He battled Rick Aguilera to a 1-2 count with a couple of foul balls. Then, Aguilera did something unexpected. He came about as far inside with his next pitch as Bob Stanley did when he was a strike away from ending the series a few minutes later. Bill Buckner wasn't quite as nimble as Mookie Wilson was. He couldn't get out of the way. The pitch nails Buckner just below the belt buckle, by his right buttocks. When ball hits flesh, you can actually hear a scream, perhaps his. If you pause the tape to catch Buckner's reaction as he coils backwards slightly, he looks like a man in the midst of a visit to the proctologist. He is in agony. Clearly a pinch-runner was needed, but none was proffered. Instead Buckner walked to first base. He didn't run, because it doesn't look like he could. Before he did, he said something to Aguilera (perhaps along the lines of "I'm still gonna be on the field when we win the World Series, nyahh, nyaah, nyaah,nyaah, nyaah, nyaah").
So while we're handing out roses to all the Mets who contributed to the bottom of the 10th rally, don't forget to praise Aguilera, because his hitting Buckner in just the right spot ensured that Boston's first baseman wouldn't be able to fully bend over to field a ground ball when it became necessary in the course of that frame.
(this is the second post of the day. You can read the other one if you keep scrolling)
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Didja ever notice??
So I was sitting at work on Monday night, getting things done, when one of my colleagues at his desk flipped on ESPN Classic. The program that was on was "5 Reasons You Can't Blame Bill Buckner for Losing the 1986 World Series" (I must admit, that's rather catchy).
This colleague, a Red Sox fan, watched rather intently, and I peered over his shoulder for a little while. A shot of Dave Henderson's go-ahead home run in the 10th inning of Game 6 appeared on the screen, with a quick cut to Roger Clemens giving high-fives to his teammates in the Mets bullpen. I pointed out to my colleague, that just behind Clemens, there was some grafitti on the bullpen wall. In big red letters, were the spray-painted initials "R.C."
I casually mentioned that it was good to see that Roger Clemens was such a class act back then that he (or some other vandal) felt the need to leave his signature at Shea. That, of course, created the bad karma that caused the Red Sox to lose that game in historic fashion.
"You know, I never noticed that before," said the Boston fan.
It occurs to me that that is one of a bunch of neat things worth mentioning about Game 6 of the 1986 World Series, many of which people have either failed to catch, or forgotten completely. I would estimate that I've watched or listened to portions of that game 1,986 times, and read about it countless others, so I'm familiar with the material. Every so often, I'll pop in at random times with a "didja ever notice??" anecdote or two about the most famous walk-off game in Mets history. If you have an odd nugget to share from October 25, 1986, feel free to send it along, or post a comment.
This colleague, a Red Sox fan, watched rather intently, and I peered over his shoulder for a little while. A shot of Dave Henderson's go-ahead home run in the 10th inning of Game 6 appeared on the screen, with a quick cut to Roger Clemens giving high-fives to his teammates in the Mets bullpen. I pointed out to my colleague, that just behind Clemens, there was some grafitti on the bullpen wall. In big red letters, were the spray-painted initials "R.C."
I casually mentioned that it was good to see that Roger Clemens was such a class act back then that he (or some other vandal) felt the need to leave his signature at Shea. That, of course, created the bad karma that caused the Red Sox to lose that game in historic fashion.
"You know, I never noticed that before," said the Boston fan.
It occurs to me that that is one of a bunch of neat things worth mentioning about Game 6 of the 1986 World Series, many of which people have either failed to catch, or forgotten completely. I would estimate that I've watched or listened to portions of that game 1,986 times, and read about it countless others, so I'm familiar with the material. Every so often, I'll pop in at random times with a "didja ever notice??" anecdote or two about the most famous walk-off game in Mets history. If you have an odd nugget to share from October 25, 1986, feel free to send it along, or post a comment.
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