It Don't Mean A Thing If You Ain't Got That Swing

For a look at my offseason plans, go here

http://metswalkoffs.blogspot.com/2006/10/to-do-list.html

I want to address the last comment of my last post: My wish that Carlos Beltran had swung the bat with an 0-2 count with the bases loaded and two outs in the last of the ninth inning of Game 7 of the NLCS. Nearly two weeks have gone by and I've yet to shake out the remnants of my sadness and anger related to this particular moment. The echo from the men's room at Grand Central Station still rings my cries of anguish from that evening, and my car still reverberates from my yelp after picking it up at the airport the other day...

"WHY DIDN'T HE SWING??????????"

I have read the eloquent New York Times column by Bill Rhoden, listened to the words of Mets general manager Omar Minaya, and read the thoughts of other bloggers and their friends who have come to the defense of Beltran on the subject. While their thoughts are perfectly legitimate and their interests are pure, I have still come to the same conclusion. He should have swung. Feel free to disagree if you like, but allow me to vent, as I feel it will be theraputic.

If I may paraphrase the work of Alfred Lord Tennyson (who to my knowledge was never a baseball fan): "T'is better to have swung and lost than never to have swung at all."

I think that when you come to the plate in a last-out situation, you have an obligation to your teammates and to the fans to do everything within your power to prolong the game for as long as possible. I haven't played much baseball in my life (due to lack of height, weight, speed and skill as a youngster), but I can twice recall scenarios in which I struck out as the last out of a Little League game. One time I took strike three and one time I swung and missed. It's 20-odd years later and I still remember the feeling of letting my team down. But I feel good about the time I went down swinging because the pitch was a strike and I gave it my best shot. The pitch that struck me out looking is one to this day that I don't think my nine-year-old eyes ever saw- an Armando-Benitez esque ankle-high fastball- until it landed in the catcher's glove. Carlos Beltran can't use that as an excuse.

I've heard a lot about how Adam Wainwright's curveball of choice in that instance was "unhittable" and while I've never faced a big-league curveball (I don't even remember facing a Little League one), that doesn't wash with me. I can recall instances from every season in which "unhittable" pitches have been hit. Dave Henderson had a couple prior to homering off Donnie Moore in a similar scenario in the 1986 ALCS. Alfonso Soriano had one of the most amazing foul ticks I've ever seen, two pitches prior to homering against Curt Schilling in the eighth inning of Game 7 of the 2001 World Series. Even a pathetically nubbed foul would have served the purpose of prolonging the game and the season in which I had more of an emotional investment than any other for one more pitch. But you can't foul that pitch off unless you swing the bat. If you think that the pitch is going to be anything within the vicinity of home plate, you owe it to your team to swing.

Do I blame Carlos Beltran for the way that Game 7 went? No. Baseball is a team game. This was a team defeat. I just wish he had swung the bat. I have no qualms with the manner in which Willie Randolph managed the game, or the ninth inning. I have no issues with Aaron Heilman being on the mound instead of Billy Wagner, or Cliff Floyd coming to the plate instead of bunt-happy Chris Woodward. My issue is with Carlos Beltran and my wish that he had swung the bat.

There are a lot of things that can happen if you swing the bat at an 0-2 curveball. Some of them are good. Some of them are bad. You might swing and miss. You might swing and foul it off. You might make contact and hit the ball to a vacant piece of land. You might make contact and hit the ball to an occupied piece of land- but the occupant may not be able to handle the incoming object. If you take an 0-2 curveball, realistically speaking, only two things can happen, one of which is acceptable and one of which, as those like myself who were in attendance saw, is very, very, very, very, very unfortunate.

I never pictured that this Mets season would end in a manner befitting a Charlie Brown comic strip and that a team which went one win better than the 1973 Mets (in both regular season and postseason) would end up as the champions. I anticipate that it will take quite some time before I am over this defeat.

Let's end this discussion by putting it in a manner befitting of this blog. While a three-run walk-off passed ball serves as a terrific subject for fantasy (the idea of such, referenced in one blog, brought a smile to my face) it is an unrealistic conclusion and one that goes unfound in the 341 entrants into my Mets walk-off database. Whereas, I can point you to many, many examples in which positive conclusions were reached because a batsman lived up to the duties that he was brought home to fulfill.

You may also wish to read , if you appreciate such works, "Beltran at the Bat," which can be found here

http://mabfan.livejournal.com/285472.html

Happy Shawnukkah

It's an easy trick to remember Shawn Green's career total of eight walk-off RBI, since it coincides with the number of nights in every Jewish youngster's favorite holiday. Just in case you're having trouble, here's some helpful reminders.

August 19, 1995 vs Royals, pinch-hit single (Jeff Montgomery)

On the first night of Shawnukkah celebrate...That Shawn had 6 hits in his first 43 career pinch-hitting appearances, but since has gone 7 for his last 12. This is the only walk-off pinch-hit of his career to this point

September 28, 1997 vs Red Sox, 2-run double (Tom Gordon)

On the second night of Shawnukkah, celebrate...That this was the last day of the baseball season, and thus the last day in the playing careers of both Pete Rose and Ryne Sandberg

May 28, 2001 vs Rockies, single (Ron Villone)

On the third night of Shawnukkah, celebrate...That current teammate Paul Lo Duca, who was 6-for-6 in this 11-10 triumph, scored the winning run.

September 20, 2001 vs Diamondbacks, home run (Greg Swindell)

On the fourth night of Shawnukkah, celebrate...That Shawn hit a career-high 49 home runs that season, with 10, including this one, coming against lefthanded pitching. Sixty eight of his 314 career home runs have come against lefthanders, as have four of his eight walk-off RBI. And speaking of home runs, the Mets have now had four players hit 4 HR in a game at some point in their careers (Shawn joins Willie Mays, Mike Cameron and Carlos Delgado), though none of them played for the Mets at the time.

August 21, 2002 vs Marlins, double (Braden Looper)

On the fifth night of Shawnukkah, celebrate...That the Mets enemies are now Shawn's enemies. Shawn is 18-for-29 with 4 career home runs against Mike Hampton (more of use to us next season), and a .340 career hitter with 19 home runs in 53 games against the Braves.

July 24, 2003 vs Rockies, single (Javier Lopez)

On the sixth night of Shawnukkah, celebrate...That the only two Jewish Mets to have had walk-off RBI for the team are Norm Sherry and Elliott Maddox.

July 5, 2004 vs Dodgers, sacrifice fly (Randy Choate)

On the seventh night of Shawnukkah, celebrate...That Shawn made his major-league debut, batting 9th as the DH on September 28, 1993. The Blue Jays were playing the Brewers that night and their No. 9 hitter was Green's new teammate, shortstop Jose Valentin. Green's first hit came on June 13, 1994, against the Indians future (now former) Met, Mark Clark and his first home run came on May 14, 1995 against Brewers pitcher Cal Eldred. The other two teammates to homer in that game- John Olerud and Roberto Alomar.

May 15, 2006 vs Padres, single (Alan Embree)

On the eighth night of Shawnukkah, celebrate...That by all accounts, Shawn is a good person, which should count for something. If you want to learn more about him, I suggest you visit

http://www.shawngreen.net/

Those who have been Bar Metsvah'ed (a clever wording I saw elsewhere) know...That Rosh Hashanah (not to be confused with Rosh Ha-SHAWN-ah) this year runs from sunset September 22 through nightfall September 24, which allows those wishing to celebrate the 37th anniversary of the Mets first NL East clinching (September 24, 1969) to do so that evening.

Charmed!

It's a weird world when Alyssa Milano sticks around at a Mets-Yankees game longer than Tom Seaver, who walked-off after just 2 1/2 innings, including a rather odd stint in the WB 11 broadcast booth in which he seemed more interested in talking wine than baseball.

That's alright though because the Mets needed a little magic to show who was boss on Friday and got it in the form of yet another walk-off win.

For the record, and for Mr. Seaver, who noted that he still enjoys reading game recaps and boxscores, we offer up the following...

* Mets walk-off win #335 was their fourth against the Yankees and second against Mariano Rivera (the other was July 10, 1999, in the game in which Matt Franco got the winning two-run pinch-hit in the 9th inning).

* It's the 5th walk-off win this season and the 4th this month. The last time the Mets had four walk-off wins in a month was October of 1999, but we cheat a bit here since we include postseason games.

* The last time the Mets had four regular-season walk-off wins in a month was May, 1989

* Wright joins Chris Jones (1995), George Foster (1983), Jerry Buchek (1967), Keith Hernandez (1984) and Kevin McReynolds (1987) as players who had walk-off RBI in at least three games in the same season.

* It was the first 7-6 walk-off win since July 1, 2003 (Expos, Tony Clark 1B)

* It was the 5th Mets walk-off win to take place on May 19. (1978, 1989, 1993, 1997 are the other 4 years that got one).

* It is the 12th walk-off win against a Joe Torre-managed team (Braves 2, Cardinals 6, Yankees 4).

* The Mets have 29 walk-off wins against Milano's favorite team, the Dodgers (she's a Brooklyn native, so maybe there's a family history there). She admitted such in an in-game interview (Milano should have plenty of time for baseball games as she also acknowledged having no work lined up following the conclusion of her most recent tv series, Sunday). Meanwhile, Seaver would be happy to know that he was the winning pitcher in 8 Mets walk-off wins.

True Metanos know...Alyssa Milano played Samantha Micelli, daughter of Tony Micelli on the hit ABC show "Who's the Boss?" from 1984 to 1992. Tony Micelli was said to have been a former ballplayer for the St. Louis Cardinals, whose career was done in by injury. He became a housekeeper for a woman named Angela in a Connecticut suburb. The Mets figured in two episodes. In one, Tony sells a baseball signed by the 1962 Mets to pay for Samantha's ski weekend. In another, Tony gets Angela's son Jonathan a job as a Mets ballboy, only to watch Jonathan get fired for picking up a ball in play (he was distracted by a conversation with a couple of young female fans). I believe there was also a walk-off involving Tony in a softball game, but cannot find enough details to recount it.

You've Got to Know When To Walk-Off...

I got an e-mail from a former colleague (for anonymitys sake, we'll call him "Eric Terrapin") a few days ago lamenting his visit to Citizens Bank Park this past Sunday, particularly a badly timed walk-off of sorts.

"So I take my wife to see Bonds last night...My seat: Section 202, Row 8, Seat 24...The man who caught the (713th home run) ball: Section 202, Row 7, Seat 24...The man who caught it was Carlos, the very nice young man who sat right in front of me...Where was I during Bonds's at-bat in the sixth? I was trying to buy my wife a fleece because she got cold so we were not in our seats and missed a chance to get the ball. As soon as I saw where the ball landed, I knew it was right at our seats."

Naturally Eric Terrapin was a bit perturbed by this course of events (both because he missed history and missed a chance to get rich by obtaining something he could purchase for $8 in a good sporting goods store) and properly so. If you go to a baseball game, you have earned the right to view it in its entirety. There should be no missing of pitches due to scenarios that allegedly require your attention. So I thought I'd offer up an excerpt from the rulebook of baseball attendance I follow in the hopes that I can save future such "fleecings."

Some of you may find this funny, or not so and that's alright. My goal here is to be educational.

METSWALK-OFFS RULE OF ATTIRE:

When you go to a baseball game always bring one extra layer of clothing beyond what you would normally wear under such circumstances. For a night game, bring an extra layer-and-a-half. For example: if the projected temperature is in the low 70s, you'd normally wear nothing beyond normal attire, but for a baseball game, bring along a light jacket (1)and sweatshirt (1/2). If the temp is in the mid 50s, I usually bring my "polar-bear" coat. Casey Stengel described Busch Stadium as holding the heat well. Shea Stadium holds the wind well and you'll appreciate the suggestion once you've sat through an extra-inning night game.

Add an extra half-layer if its a day game and your party includes women who have dressed light with the intention of tanning. This way, when you get that inevitable 7th-inning 15-degree temperature drop, you'll look heroic/chivalric and well-prepared for offering up a fleece.

METSWALK-OFFS RULE OF DINING: I have seen too many fans whose ballpark experience has been ruined by the long lines at the concession stand. While I recommend for most not to eat at the ballpark, or to get to the park allowing for time to eat, I realize this is not always feasible. For those of us who can't tolerate the hot dog or its vendor, I offer up the following advisory. Think of every person ahead of you in line as the equivalent of one batter (children under the age of 12 count as two batters...they're more indecisive in their pickings). If your concession stand line consists of more than three "batters" skip the trip and try again later. This also applies to restroom trips, which brings us to...

METSWALK-OFFS RULE OF BODILY FUNCTION: A properly timed bathroom break is essential to viewing success. Scout out the restroom locations as you walk to your seat, keeping in mind that the nearest restroom may be behind you (like emergency exits on a plane). The best time for such a trip (regardless of whether your purpose is "Number 1" or "Number 2") is in one of two scenarios

a) When a pitcher is a stranded baserunner at the end of an inning. You can usually add 30 seconds on to your standard 2 minute, 15 second between-innings break to allow for time spent walking back to the dugout. If the pitcher is stranded on second base, or the base opposite his dugout, add 45 seconds. If the pitcher is over the age of 35 or weighs more than 210 pounds (thus the walk becomes more of a lumber) add 30 seconds. This of course is applicable only in National League ballparks. Fans at AL games just have to learn to hold it in.

b) Pitching change. However, it is essential to know your relievers. You should have an encyclopedic knowledge of which trot in from the bullpen, and which walk, and of which warm up quickly, and of which kick at the rubber for a good minute-and-a-half.

Additionally, there is the "Jaffe Clause" to this rule, so named after Isaac Jaffe, the character played by Robert Guillaume on the TV show "SportsNight." Isaac was covering the Giants-Dodgers playoff game on October 3, 1951 and when Chuck Dressen yanked Don Newcombe with two outs and two on in the last of the ninth, Isaac was sure he'd have enough time for a quick pit stop because Newcombe's replacement was usually slow to warm up. But Ralph Branca was quickly ready, and when Bobby Thomson hit the "Shot Heard 'Round the World," Isaac was still in the men's room washing his hands.

Now, I'm pro-sanitary so I'm all for the handwashing that cost Jaffe a few extra seconds, but that's not what did him in. The decisionmaking process is what led to Jaffe's downfall.

Thus, the "Jaffe Clause" reads "THOU SHALT NOT ABANDON THY SEAT UNDER ANY WALK-OFF SCENARIO!"

Hold on to the Bannister

for those visitors from Metsblog, rest of site available at http://metswalkoffs.blogspot.com

Parents give you a lot of advice when you're a little kid. Eat your vegetables. Look both ways when you're crossing the street. Don't talk to strangers.

I'd like to focus on one particular suggestion offered to me and millions of other youngsters by wise adults worldwide. I've ascended and descended a lot of sets of stairs in my time, and I've always maneuvered best when I've held on to the bannister.

I mention this because my subject of choice today is Brian Bannister, longshot contender for the No. 5 spot in the Mets starting rotation this year.

It is totally unfair to judge a pitcher based on one minor-league performance, but I'm going to do so anyway. I saw one Bannister start for the Binghamton Mets last season and it was a work of brilliance.

Its origins date back to a game between the Binghamton Mets and Norwich Navigators last June 12 (thanks to B-Mets play-by-play guy Rob Ford for the details). To this point in the season, Bannister had been virtually flawless. On this particular day, he was really good, except for two mistakes to a kid named Julio Cordido, both of which turned into home runs. This was a major improvement from Bannister's last start against Norwich in which he allowed five runs in 4 2/3 innings in a May 14 loss.

Bannister left after seven innings, trailing due to little run support by the Mets against Norwich starter Merkin Valdez. The Mets were down 2-0 in the last of the ninth when a teammate bailed Bannister out. Jay Caliguri tied the score with a two-run home run, then won it in the 10th with a walk-off sacrifice fly.

I didn't know this backstory when I went to see the Mets and Navigators in Norwich on June 17. It was Bannister and Valdez again, though as the game went on, it was more like watching a matchup of Greg Maddux against Pedro Martinez.

Actually I think that Andy Pettitte is a better comparison for Bannister, a righthander, son of former major league pitcher Floyd Bannister, and owner of a burgeoning photo studio in Arizona. I don't have the specifics of Bannister's line that day, but it seemed clear that he knew he was going to have to win this game without much help, because the B-Mets had a history of doing little against Valdez.

Bannister doesn't throw overwhelmingly hard. He topped out at about 91 that day, if I remember right (not sure how good the minor league radar guns are). But he's a smart pitcher. He holds the glove in front of his eyes when he's working from the full windup, which is where I got the Pettitte reminder. He's a smart pitcher who mixes pitches well. I thought he might tire in the late innings, but he got stronger as the game went on. I felt like I had a good seat from which to judge, 8 rows from the field just behind the B-Mets dugout....Jim Duquette, if my eyes didn't deceive me, was a couple sections over to my right.

The Mets eeked out one run against Valdez and Bannister made it stand up the rest of the night. Heading into the ninth inning, he had worked through a couple minor predicaments but still managed to face the minimum 24 hitters. I thought he might get yanked, but manager Jack Lind was determined to let Bannister finish what he started.

Bannister struck out the first Norwich hitter, than whiffed the second as well. The Navigators had one last shot and went to their ace in the hole, sending up Cordido, who entered the game in the prior innning as a defensive replacement. Bannister struck him out as well (I believe he finished with 10 strikeouts), concluding a brilliant 1-0 game. The fellow sitting next to me (who said, and I verified, that his grandfather had a cup of coffee in the majors some 70 or so years ago) said it was one of the finest he had ever witnessed by a minor league hurler.

Everything I've read about Bannister reads winner. This is a sharp guy who sounds like he's going to be a success in whatever he does. I wonder if the Mets will give him a legitimate shot. It occurs to me that he might be a fine version of Aaron Heilman, circa 2005, and that while it would be nice to give him a look as a starter, he might be well suited as a member of a set-up crew that I don't think ranks as trustworthy at the moment.

I read a note the other day that said that the Oakland Athletics are fans of Bannister. Somehow that doesn't surprise me. Mr. Beane is a fine judge of pitching talent and I anticipate that if he dangles Mr. Zito out there this summer, that he would request Mr. Bannister and a kings ransom from the Flushing nine in return.

I've heard Omar Minaya speak on many occasions and based on that, I'm guessing he's a man who received a lot of good advice from his elders growing up. I presume he doesn't use the walkways at Shea Stadium very often, but presumably when he's moving up the ramps of the ballpark he calls home, I'd assume someone's voice rings in his head to "Hold On To The Bannister."

Let's hope it does so when he's on the phone with some of his business rivals this summer.

True Mettisters know...Utility man Alan Bannister (the only other Bannister other than Floyd to make the majors), hit 19 home runs in 3,0007 major league at bats. I'd venture to say the highlight of his career was a walk-off home run on July 14, 1983, giving the Indians (whose starting shortstop that day was Julio Franco) a 4-3 victory over the Royals.

Santa Klaus is Coming to Town

Thanks to those who helped us clear the 20,000 hit mark. Happy holidays!

Santa Klaus, and yes there's a reason I've spelled it that way, came down the Shea Stadium chimney a little prematurely in 1965, but Mets fans didn't mind, as he came bearing a perfectly nice gift- a walk-off win over the Houston Astros.

April 15 of that season marked an unusually early time for the Flushing 9 to be celebrating victory, as it was only their third game of the season. It was a taxing day for some (pardon the pun), but one of the last good ones as Mets manager for Casey Stengel, a jolly, happy soul if there ever was one.

There was some early excitement in this one, as in the second inning, the Mets defense turned a triple play. With runners on first and third, Jimmy Wynn hit a fly ball to right-center field. Johnny Lewis made the catch, and his throw home was in time for catcher Chris Cannizzaro to tag oncoming runner Walt Bond for the second out. Meanwhile, future Met Bob Aspromonte got caught unsure on the throw home, freezing when he thought it might get cut off. When he made a late dash for second, Cannizzaro threw to shortstop Roy McMillan, who tagged Aspromonte out.

The Mets were an out away from a 4-2 win when Aspromonte drew a walk from Mets starter Jack Fisher. Wynn followed with a game-tying two-run homer, ensuring he wouldn't be wearing the goat horns (or maybe, more appropriately reindeer horns) for this contest, which was sent into extra innings.

The Astros missed out on a great chance to take the lead in the 10th. With 18-year old reliever Jim Bethke in the game, and runners on first and second with one out, Al Spangler hit a grounder to third. Third baseman Charley Smith got the force at second, and when Astros baserunner, reliever Claude Raymond, rounded third base a little too far, he was thrown out when second baseman Bobby Klaus fired the ball to McMillan, who had raced to cover third.

Klaus led off the bottom of the 10th, giving him a chance to be a baseball hero in another respect. To be frank, this was someone who was not a good hitter, which likely explains why his major league career lasted only two seasons. Stengel made a list and checked it twice whenever he gave Klaus a chance to play.

In his first 40 at-bats of 1965, Klaus managed only five hits, but it was the second of those that was most valuable. Klaus took a mighty poke at a Raymond pitch and plunked it off the foul screen down the left field line for a walk-off home run. He dashed, danced and pranced around the bases, or at least we can pretend he did for the sake of invoking the names of some reindeer.

It was a victory both naughty and nice, if you know what I mean, and those were few and far between in the early days of the Mets.

True Metclauses know...Ok, a couple of things that I wanted to reference here

Yes, I know his last name isn't pronounced like "Claus." It's actually pronounced to rhyme with "louse" but it works better for blogging purposes not to acknowledge that until now.

The Mets have turned nine triple plays in their history, but this is the only game in which the Mets had both a triple play and a walk-off win.

Happy birthday and happy holidays to Jack Hamilton, Rickey Henderson, Dennis Musgraves, and Tom O'Malley, who were all born on December 25. O'Malley does have a walk-off hit to his credit, but we'll get around to referencing that another time.

You may have noticed I invoked a little bit of "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer" which might be my all-time holiday song. I've done some Rudolph parodies in the past, but couldn't come up with one for blogging purposes. I did learn that the only Met player with Rudolph in his name was one-hit wonder Greg Harts, who batted .500 in a two at-bat career with the 1973 Mets.

The 'Duca of Earl (and walk-offs)

If I told you that the Mets had just obtained a guy who is a career .316 hitter with runners in scoring position? How about if I told you that the Mets just traded for a hitter who has consistently ranked among the toughest in baseball to strike out? Or if I mentioned that the Mets just dealt for a player who was selected to the NL All-Star team the last three seasons, with the last honor coming via a vote by his peers?

So, although he's on the down side age wise, his throwing arm isn't as good as it used to be, and he doesn't provide much power, there are a lot of good things that Paul Lo Duca brings to the New York Mets. For example:

He'll sacrifice his body for the good of the team

The Dodgers and Braves squared off on August 23, 2002 and Lo Duca made an impact both on the start and finish of this game. Three pitches after being dusted by Greg Maddux, Lo Duca made him pay with a first-inning home run. The Braves rallied to tie the game, 3-3 in the ninth, but their bullpen gagged the game away in the last half. A walk, a stolen base, another walk, an errant pickoff throw and an intentional walk loaded the bases for Lo Duca against Kevin Gryboski. When Gryboski came too far inside with a sinker, LoDuca ducked away, but not far enough. The pitch grazed Lo Duca on his elbow pad, good for a walk-off hit-by-pitch, one of 41 times he's been hit in his career.

(for those curious, the details of the only Mets win via walk-off HBP that I've documented can be found here: http://metswalkoffs.blogspot.com/2005/07/boston-bean-party.html)

He doesn't give up

Why was Lo Duca one of the most popular Dodgers of the last quarter-century? Again, let's channel 2002, shall we? On September 28, the Dodgers were all but done in the wild card hunt, but they weren't quite finished mathematically at 2 1/2 back with three to play. With the Giants winning their game late, the Dodgers needed a victory to stave off elimination for at least another day. It was a frustrating night for the Dodgers, who battled the Padres through nine scoreless innings, leaving a combined seven men on base in the last three innings of regulation.

Who hit the first pitch of the last of the 10th into the seats for his first career walk-off home run? I'll give you a hint. His initials are P L and D.

He's good against the Braves

Lo Duca's career batting average is .285. His career batting average against the Braves is .292. Mets fans will think that's a good thing. Remember the Braden Looper implosion in Atlanta in which contributed to blowing a late lead not once, but twice? The Braves tend to always win games like that, but Lo Duca brings karma from a team that turned the tables on the Braves in that regard last season.

On June 29, 2005, the Braves led the Marlins by two runs in the ninth inning, but Chris Reitsma couldn't close the game out, yielding four straight hits to allow the Marlins to tie the game. With two outs, Lo Duca had a chance at the winning hit when he hit a line drive that hit Reitsma, but the Braves reliever recovered the ball and threw Lo Duca out to send the game to extra innings.

Atlanta thought it had the game won again in the 13th when Andruw Jones put the Braves ahead 5-4 with a home run. In the bottom of the frame, the Marlins put the tying run on base with Lo Duca up. Adam Bernero got to within a strike of closing the game out, but Lo Duca singled to center, tying the game up and Juan Encarnacion followed with a walk-off single. The win was one of the seasons best for the Marlins (news accounts described the post-game celebration as "postseason-like) before the team tanked in late September.

So while you can certainly make the case that the Mets would have been better served to sign Msrs. Hernandez or Molina, one can also be made that this will be a far more worthwhile move than it reads on paper. Just knowing his walk-off history will tell you that.

True former Metlins know... While Lo Duca is taking care of the Braves, his teammate for another season, Carlos Delgado, can take care of another division rival, the Phillies. Delgado hit .386 with 13 RBI in 19 games against Philadelphia in 2005, and had a walk-off single against them on May 24 (Lo Duca had an RBI against them that day as well).

PS: Newbies can check out the rest of the site at http://metswalkoffs.blogspot.com

PPS: If you're reading this on Monday, scroll down. I have another item below posted last Friday that many of you might have missed...

Minutiae Break: The Mets Stiffo Rap

It was a few months ago that I referenced something here ...

http://metswalkoffs.blogspot.com/2005/08/minutiae-break-worst-mets-relievers.html

...known as "The Mets Stiffo Rap," a foray into the world of creativity in lyric, by our occasional guest contributor, Barry Federovitch. It is a fitting tribute to the mediocre Met.

After I waited patiently for several months, Barry finally found the verses we enjoyed so much way back when...So as I stall for time before blogging about Cameron/Nady, here is the full text of the "Mets Stiffo Rap." Feel free to sing along or contribute your own thoughts.

Now Brock Pemberton can hit dat ball
and Joe Nolan went o-for-them all....
If Randy Tate don't do the job
then they'll be going deep on a Hank Webb lob...
Look, look, it's behind Cliff Cook.

Mark Bradley's the man who loves to crash
and Jose Moreno can only dash.
If Torre'd put Searage in the game
then Alex Trevino'll take the blame....
Hey, boy! Jumpin' Joe Foy....
Father, father, pray for Jim Gosger.

Now there's surely a point why I wrote this song
as sure as Ellis Valentine should be gone...
While waiting for Schneck to come around,
don't look at Paul Siebert on the mound....
Ouch, ouch, come on Bob Rauch!
I'm gone, gone....
like a ball from Brent Strom.

Haiku for You

I'm on vacation this week, with little to do other than a few fun mini-projects here and there. As such, my mind was wandering the other day, and it turned to a couple of friends of mine in New Jersey, Paul and Gregg.

Paul and Gregg are quite entertaining, far more so than I. They used to host a radio program in which they interviewed weird guests, made bizarre jokes, and played an occasional song or two. Gregg didn't like to go by his own name. He preferred to be known as "The Paragon of Excellence."

When Paul got married a couple of summers ago, Gregg was the best man and I was an usher at the wedding. Gregg is a weird guy. He's worked as a wrestling announcer among other things and presently is a practicing attorney, as well as an advocate for midgets and lepers rights (don't ask!) His baseball obsessions range from Eddie Gaedel to Win Remmerswaal. But alas, Gregg is pretty sharp too. Prior to the wedding, Gregg came up with idea that all the members of the wedding party should write haiku to be read aloud at the reception.

I took it as a creative challenge, as I do with most things. For those who don't know, haiku is a poetry form- three lines, five syllables on the first, seven syllables on the second, and five on the third. After toying with a number of ideas, I came up with this one, with the instant-messaging help of my friend, Jeff the bowler/attorney in Miami (my friends have an odd combination of jobs).

Marriage, like baseball
Requires a commitment
To win in the end

Paul's bride, Andrea liked it. I heard a few people in the background say "Awww..." so that made me feel good.

Anyway, that takes me to today, where my wandering mind decided it still had a few haiku left in the tank, and what better theme to haiku about than the rivalry between the team I follow and the team Gregg follows. There have been many memorable Mets wins against that particular squad, including a couple that I've written about here. Hopefully you'll enjoy the memories.

So without further ado, I present:

The Mets And The Yankees,
A 9-inning Haiku

Dave Mlicki won
It wasn't even that close
Six to nothing Mets

When Brian McRae
went wandering off first base
I was beyond pissed

Matt Franco was up
The Yanks had Satan pitching
Two-run single. Yay!

Clemens beaned our guy
What a piece of expletive
And what a grand slam!

Carlos Almanzar?
You have got to be kidding
Piazza crushed it

Estes missed his spot
But the home run sure was nice
Winning is revenge

One shining moment
A home run off David Wells
Mo should have quit then

Shane Spencer dribbler
A perfectly placed baseball
Sturtze threw home wildly

All hail Mister Koo!
First a triple off Johnson
Then that slide...he's safe!

True Metku know...Paul and Andrea's wedding took place on September 7, 2003 That night the Mets suffered a walk-off loss against the Phillies. Had Paul and Andrea gotten married a year earlier, they would have timed it to a Mets four-game sweep of the Phillies, but then I wouldn't have remembered it.

On that note, The only reason I remember the date of my friend Daniel Gordon's wedding (August 12, 2001) is because it came on the same day that Jason Giambi hit a two-run walk-off home run, allowing the Oakland Athletics to beat the Yankees and future Met Mike Stanton.

The Other Monster

With the playoffs beginning Tuesday, I thought I'd share my favorite postseason walk-off story from 2004.

It's good to know that I'm a positive influence on the young people of America.

It was about a year ago that I had to make a long drive to upstate New York for work purposes, meaning that I wouldn't get to watch that day's playoff action. I was significantly curious about the results, so I have the afternoon game that Friday, Game 3 of the 2004 ALDS between the Red Sox and Angels, my closest auditory attention.

As day became night and the game stretched out, thanks to Vladimir Guerrero's game-tying grand slam, I ran into an issue of significance. I was hungry. I was well-fortified by an early lunch, but having left later than expected, I was also eager to get to my hotel room.

My stomach battled by brain for a good half hour as this game remained even through the eighth, ninth, and into the 10th. There was a sign on the turnpike for an upcoming stop at which there was, among other things, a Roy Rogers. This was important on the food front, because, having already eaten pizza, my fussbudget dining options were rather limited, and the next rest stop was likely 30-45 minutes away.

My stomach won out. I pulled over into the rest stop. I contemplated my options as I sit in my car for the top of the 10th inning. Sit and wait until the game ended or hope for a TV inside that was tuned in to the baseball game. When Derek Lowe got the Angels out in the 10th, I bolted for the Roy Rogers. When I got inside, much to my disappointment, there was nary a TV in sight.

So I got on what was a long line for the requisite burger and fries when I had an idea. I'd call my parents. Surely someone would be home who could keep me updated. I got a rather abrupt "I'm watching something important" hello from the voice that answered the phone. It was my sister. Thankfully that something important was Red Sox-Angels, Game 3.

Lisa Simon, better known for her uncredited work last season as "Production Assistant #1986" on the hit drama series "Law & Order," graduated from Boston University in 2003. During her time at the school she caught Red Sox fever (preceded by a bout of "Liberty Madness" in which I received a crazed phone call upon a game-winning halfcourt shot in the WNBA Finals) and that bout lasted up through October, 2004. My sister and I have gone to the occasional baseball game and she's told me she appreciates that I don't dumb down my commentary for her, even though her fandom is minute in nature compared to mine.

So as the line turtled around, I figured, ok, I can get an idea of what happens in the next few minutes, than run back to the car to catch the end. I asked my sister to provide play-by-play. The beginning of said commentary was rather uneventful. Johnny Damon singled, but Mark Bellhonr forced him out at second base. Manny Ramirez was up, but Angels reliever Francisco Rodriguez struck him out. The food line wasn't moving any faster.

"Hang on a second," my sister said. "They're making a change. A big guy is coming in to pitch."

"Troy Percival" I presumed, but was mistaken.

"It's Washburn" my sister informed me when they came from break.

Before I could even say "Jarrod Washburn???" something pretty magical happened.

"Ohmigod!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Ohmigod!!!!!!!!!!!!! He hit it over the monster!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!He hit it over the monster!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" the voice screamed from the phone. It was an utterance the equivalent of Russ Hodges, Bobby Thomson, and "The Giants win the Pennant!"

Well how about that? A game-winning, series-clinching home run for David Ortiz and the Boston Red Sox. I let the others on the food line know, though none seemed particularly excited. I guess those who were smart stayed in their cars, or were watching at home.

It was good to know that my sister had an appreciation for the moment. I'd like to think that my influence played a major role. Who knew that she'd get to broadcast one of baseball's most memorable walk-off moments before I would?

True Metsters know...Two of the original characters from "Law and Order" are Mets fans, according to this show FAQ. They are Sgt. Max Greevey (played by George Dzundza) and Executive Assistant District Attorney Ben Stone (played by Michael Moriarty).

(Two posts today...scroll down for the other one)

Minutiae Break: Cake for the Knee

I can remember several occasions when, as a little boy, I fell in the playground and scraped my knees. The pain usually stung and lingered for a few days and the reminders of what happened came in the form of scabs and scars, both physical and mental.

Mets fans are probably feeling like that little boy who scraped his knees, based on the recent occurrences combining a long road trip, some bad fortune and a dash of incompetent play. We tried to remedy the wounds with stories from a quarter-century ago but I don't know if those did the trick. Band-aids can cover up the wounds, but there's always the temptation to pull them off too soon, before the healing is completed.

The best cure I know for scraped knees came from Grandma Sophie, played so well by Marion Ross on the television show "Brooklyn Bridge." When Sophie's young grandson, Nathaniel Silver, scrapes his knees while playing ball in the street, she comes quick to the rescue, with some yummy desserts.

Nathaniel's older brother Alan doesn't understand the method's to Grandma Sophie's madness. As she rushed to the kitchen to get the requisite dessert, Alan said to no one in particular "Yeah, put some cake on it. That will make it better."

We'll take it from Nathaniel Silver that Grandmas (almost) always know best. With that in mind as inspiration, I wanted to offer up a few stories, not walk-off related, that brought a smile to the faces of some Mets fans I knew. They're brief in nature and fun to remember. The phrase "Chicken Soup for the Soul" doesn't quite seem appropriate here (besides, it's already taken), so perhaps you can think of these vignettes as "Cake for the Knee."

----------------------------------------

I had the chance to interview the great broadcaster, Curt Gowdy, a couple of years ago and as we reminisced about some of the thrilling games he worked during a Hall of Fame career, the talk eventually came around to The Miracle Mets of 1969. Gowdy talked briefly about the games, but also shared a funny anecdote post-haste.

Years after that World Series, Gowdy and former Orioles third baseman Brooks Robinson went on a trip, either hunting or fishing (don't remember which he said). They spent a lengthy day at their hobby and the trip was a successful one. Gowdy and Robinson go back to the hotel and Gowdy notices when they arrive that Robinson seems unusually distracted. He figures something is wrong and asks the two-time World Series champ, Gold Glover and Hall of Famer what's the matter.

"Curt," Robinson says, shaking his head. "I still can't believe we lost to the Mets in 1969."
-----------------------------------

If you go to a game and there's an annoying fan sitting nearby, sometimes you just have to be patient, and hope that eventually he or she will shut up. Sometimes you have to be really patient.

On May 31, 1964, my dad and his brother went to see the Mets and Giants in a Memorial Day doubleheader at the brand new Shea Stadium, along with 57,000 of their closest friends. They got pretty good seats that day (My dad's stub is for Loge sec. 18, row J, seat 4), but a kid in front of them had slightly better seats and boy was he annoying. Every time Giants first baseman Orlando Cepeda came to bat, this kid would stand up and scream "Orlando Cepeda is my uncle!"

The Giants rallied to win Game 1 as Cepeda went 3-for-4, so there was a lot of screaming and clapping to drown out the moaning in Loge 18. To make matters worse for those rooting for the Flushing 9, Cepeda scored the go-ahead run in the sixth inning on a straight steal of home. We imagine that said fan went bonkers, though my dad does not remember it as such.

The Giants went ahead 6-1 in a third inning in which Cepeda had another hit. It looked like this was going to be a long afternoon for the Mets and in fact it turned out to be longer than anyone could have imagined. The Mets rallied to tie and force extra innings, at which point many fans likely ran out of patience and headed for the exits. Cepeda's nephew stuck around, as did my dad and his brother. They would be there for awhile.

In the 14th, the Giants put their first two men on base for who else, Cepeda. Again the young man stood up. Again he screamed. The count went full. Mets fans anticipated the worst. Cepeda gave the ball a kuh-nock (a tribute to how Grandpa Jules described his baseball "experience" on "Brooklyn Bridge") The ball went right on a line to Mets shortstop Roy McMillan, who caught it, stepped on second, and fired to first. Triple Play! Those in Loge 18 rejoiced. Except for one fan.

"He shriveled up and we didn't hear from him again," my dad said with a laugh.

Postscript: The Giants won in 23 innings. My dad left after 21. No word on whether Cepeda's nephew stuck around to the finish.
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A fellow blogger gave me a nice plug on his site the other day and I shall reciprocate in kind, as his story played a role in my putting this piece together. Dave Murray, also known as "Mets Guy in Michigan" told a really nice story of how his life was different because of his decision to work rather than watch the Mets-Cardinals game on September 12, 1985. Enjoy his slice of Cake for the Knee and then feel free to click on my "Comments" section and entertain your fellow readers with your own such feel-good stories.

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."

Oh Doctor!

For old postings, check out the Table of Contents, an easy-to-read reference guide for previous stories .

Alas, this again has nothing to do with walk-offs, but it's as good a Mets-related story as I can tell, even if it is a little bit of a downer. This seems like as good a time as any, with the news of Dwight Gooden's fugitive status being resolved on Thursday.

As was mentioned in a previous post, I was a Shea Stadium tour guide for 10 weeks or so in the summer of 1994. Long story short, I showed up at an open audition advertised in the New York Times and showed enough enthusiasm in a videotaped tryout to be one of 20 or so employees hired by Nickelodeon, which was building a mini-carnival beyond the right field bullpen.

In order to prepare us to give tours, we had a couple of weeks of rehearsal time. The tour script was dreadful (those in the know realized there was no way Jay Horwitz, the Mets PR director, could have approved any of this), penned by someone who hadn't attended a game in 20+ years, who thought that the announcers broadcast the game by watching it in a tv studio. The tour guides were a devoted group of Mets fans and historians, so each worked his/her own stories into their tours. After a few sessions in front of Nickelodeon management, we were sent to different sections of the park for walkthroughs. Mornings, before players arrived, we had access to the right field bullpen, the Mets dugout and warning track (one tour guide, an aspiring actor named Lane Luckert, had me take pictures of him recreating Tommie Agee's catches in the 1969 World Series).

June 24 was a Friday and it seemed like a good night to stick around and watch a game, so I called my friends, Dan Gordon and David Cooper, and we sat through a disgusting, miserable, wet, rainy night of baseball. Dwight Gooden pitched for the Mets against the Pirates and got smoked. He gave up two home runs to Dave Clark, and left in the sixth, charged with nine runs and a loss in an awful performance. This came on the heels of two very-well pitched Gooden outings, so it seemed rather odd.

I don't remember why, but we ended up working the next day, a Saturday, perhaps because it was close to the date of the park's opening and they wanted to make sure we were ready for the supposed throngs of fans who would want to see the "inside" of Shea Stadium. When we got to the office at Shea that day, we were told to rehearse on our own. So each guide went to a different part of the ballpark to practice. I walked down to the basement, on my way to the Mets bullpen.

As I was thinking about how I could make the story of Joe Pignatano's vegetable garden sound more exciting, someone crossed my path, heading the opposite way. It wasn't just anyone though. It was Dwight Gooden. Now it couldn't have been later than noon, and the Mets weren't playing until 7 that night, so perhaps I should have thought that something was odd about his appearance. I don't think that quickly though. As Gooden walked by, I felt I had to say something. Not knowing that my future career would be in sports journalism, and that I'd talk to famous athletes regularly, I didn't know when my next chance to talk to Dwight Gooden would be. So, once he was about three or four steps past me, I yelled out "Better luck next time out, Dwight!!!"

What happened next has bothered me for the last 11 years. Instead of ignoring me, or thanking me, Dwight Gooden did neither. But as he continued to walk, I could hear his reaction very clearly- laughter. It wasn't a cackle and it wasn't a soft sound. It was a good, honest laugh.

That really struck me as odd. I went looking for my fellow tour guides and told them what happened and did the same with my family and friends. None of them could answer my question. Why did Dwight Gooden laugh?

Dwight Gooden wasn't my favorite Met of that era, but I was certainly a fan of his. I was at the Mets-Pirates game in September, 1985 when Gooden hit his first major-league home run. I was at the Mets-Cubs game in 1988 when Gooden homered, and threatened to throw a no-hitter.
In my collection of sports memorabilia, I have a really, really nice Dwight Gooden pastel drawing, done by sports artist John Kiely in 1986. I got it autographed by Gooden at a baseball card show, who had a wide grin when he saw it, asking if I was the artist who drew this picture of him rearing back to throw a fastball, with "K" placards lined up in the background.

June 28 was supposed to be a big day for Nickelodeon, as it was scheduled to be the grand opening for the mini-theme park. There were scheduled guests like the child actors from "Clarissa Explains it All" and the Adventures of Pete & Pete" and certain tour guides were selected as escorts (I was not chosen, but was selected to co-give a tour for Mets general manager Joe McIlvaine. When we showed a video of Mookie Wilson's grounder through Bill Buckner's legs, one of McIlvaine's kids responded by rolling up his shirt sleeve and showing his dad the goosebumps.) The centerpiece of this attraction, the "Guts Arena" would be host to a special show. We would give tours for the media that were expected to attend, including a reporter from Sports Illustrated. My fellow tour guides and I were quite excited.

Late in the afternoon we got word that while the park would open that evening, the media tours were abruptly canceled. At first we didn't know why, but eventually the news circulated to us. The Mets were holding a press conference to announce that Dwight Gooden had been suspended for 60 days for violating the conditions of baseball's after-care program (which he was in after being suspended for drug use prior to the start of the 1987 season). Bob Klapisch's book "High and Tight. The Rise and Fall of Dwight Gooden and Darryl Strawberry" (written with the two players) tells how Gooden admitted to using cocaine after getting drunk in a Manhattan nightclub on June 2. He had a drug test, as part of his after-care, on June 4. The results came back on June 20 and he had a meeting with the Player's Association on June 24, the day of his last start.

As detailed in this book, The Mets asked Gooden to pitch that night anyway, as the suspension would not be announced for a few days, a rather bizarre request under the circumstances. Gooden was incredulous, but agreed, and understandably, his performance was affected, thus explaining how he gave up nine runs.

So it turned out that Gooden knew his fate when we crossed paths at Shea Stadium on June 25. He knew he couldn't say anything, but he also knew that there wasn't going to be a "next time out." anytime soon. Laughter was probably his best medicine at that point.

The player's strike that August led to the end of the baseball season and eventually the end of Nickelodeon's entertainment venture at Shea Stadium. Gooden tested positive for cocaine again in September and in November it was announced that was he was suspended for the entire 1995 season. "Next time out" turned into never again for the Mets as the next time Dwight Gooden appeared in a major-league uniform, it was for the other team in New York, the Yankees.

There were more highs and lows in Gooden's career. I interrupted the watching of a Knicks playoff game to see the end of Gooden's no-hitter against the Mariners. In 1998 he was ejected in the first inning of a playoff start for the Cleveland Indians for arguing a play at home plate. In 2000, when it appeared his career was finished, he was back with the Yankees, beating the Mets at Shea Stadium in July. Gooden won a World Series ring that year, though he was ineffective in the postseason and did not pitch in the Subway Series. Gooden retired the next spring, leaving the game on a high note, with a won-loss record of 194-112 that left a lot of fans wondering how much better he would have been had drugs not gotten in his way.

This past Thursday was the 20th anniversary of Dwight Gooden becoming the youngest pitcher to win 20 games in a season (during the remarkable 24-4 campaign of 1985). It was also the day that Dwight Gooden turned himself in to Tampa police, after his latest brush with the law (Police said Gooden bolted after refusing to get out of his car after being pulled over in the middle of the night earlier in the week). When I heard the news, both of Gooden's fugitive status and of his eventual surrender, then saw video of him in an orange jumpsuit in a Florida courtroom, I had a pretty strong reaction. Because I know that this is no laughing matter.

An Ode to Playgrounds and Egg Creams

I have been asked if I take "blog-requests" and indeed I do. My first request comes from the folks at "Faith and Fear in Flushing" who wanted to read my take on the walk-off of September 12, 1985. Since one of those bloggers works in the beverage industry, I think he'll appreciate my special twist on this story.

First, some context. In 1985 I was 10, so the memories are a little fuzzy, but baseball moments tend to stick in my head, like watching Cesar Cedeno's two-strike home run fly over the left field fence, and John Tudor's whiff of Darryl Strawberry to end a 1-0 10-inning classic Cardinals win the night before the game we're referencing. I believe our seats that night were along the left field line and Cedeno's homer whizzed right past us. That allowed the Cardinals to tie the Mets for first place in the NL East. The night was historically notable because during one half-inning break, the DiamondVision showed us that Pete Rose had broken Ty Cobb's hit record with the 4,192nd of his career (never mind that it's now believed that Ty Cobb actually had fewer than 4,191 hits). I always tell people that I was at "the game" when Rose passed Cobb. When prodded, I tell them which game and am usually met by a "that's a bad joke" face.

So on to September 12, which was a Thursday afternoon game , the finale of this three-game series and it must have been a school day, because I have no recollection whatsoever of watching this contest, one of the most exciting games in a thrill-filled season.

I'm wondering whether my recollection of that day is an amalgam (see the opening scene of "Parenthood," in which a boy tells an usher that he's not a real person, but a composite of all the ushers his dad left him with) of many of my after-school experiences from that era, which consisted of a trip to Carl Schurz Park and a stop at the Egg Cream store. We'll presume that my mind is not playing tricks on me and that this actually did happen.

One of my biggest "baseball regrets" is that I never hit a home run over the fence on the upper-level of Carl Schurz Park, located at 84th street and East End Avenue. That park was a regular visit during my childhood days and the 4-on-4 baseball games (wiffle or tennis ball, plastic bat) took place right by the entranceway. The bases were probably only 40 feet apart, and home plate was only about 150 feet or so from a pointy fence, over by the 'swings with no backing' (a girl once fell off one while I was there...rumor was that she died, but I could never confirm that). There are two levels at Carl Schurz and the shorter one is usually filled by basketball and hockey games- the fence separated us from the walkway that connected the upper and lower levels.

There were two kids who starred in our games. One was a Hungarian-American named John who had the advantage of being 2 years older than most of us, and the other was previously-mentioned 'playground legend' Tim Murphy. They hit lots of home runs. I was a singles (and outs) hitter for the most part. Hitting home runs was cool. It meant you had to stop the game and track the ball down. It gave you a little bit of status. I came close to hitting one on a number of occasions. My longest drive hit the very top of the fence (remember, it was pointy) and bounced back into play, for a long single. On the lower level of Carl Schurz, one of the fences was really close, and I hit a homer or two down there, but looking back, it would have meant a lot more to trot around the bases in the real 'ballpark.'

Those games were a lot more enjoyable than Little League for me. The playing field was more even and the contests were a lot more fun as a result. If I had to guess, I believe I was a regular in those games for two to three years (feels like that long, anyway), with my interest dwindling after a local bully named Dale shot me in the hip with some sort of pellet gun that looked to be made of one of our plastic bats (I was not seriously wounded, though my dad walked right up to these wannabe thugs, grabbed the gun and smashed it in half)

When it was time to go home, if my mom or dad had taken me, we usually walked up to 84th and 2nd. There used to be three good places to get an egg cream on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. One was my dad's candy shop ("The Sweet Suite") on 91st and Madison (frequented by the likes of grammar-school aged Gwyneth Paltrow, it closed in 1981). One was a store on 79th beween 2nd and 3rd (this is a very fuzzy memory...for some reason I think this mom-and-pop place was owned by a guy who looked like the host of Candid Camera). The third place lasted the longest, and shoot, I don't remember it's name.

The egg cream store was owned by two brothers and a sister, who must have been in their 50s. There was a skinny brother and a fat brother (I don't really remember the sister) and both were always chomping on cigars (the fat one died of cancer, I believe). They were an 80s version of Sid, the candy-shop owner from the short-lived tv show "Brooklyn Bridge." Both guys made good chocolate egg creams.

It is very difficult to combine syrup, milk and seltzer in just the right combinations (and you must stir an egg cream by hand, not by machine). My dad still has a pretty good touch a couple of decades later (we used to order specially-bottled seltzer), but you can't go into a Ben and Jerry's or Haagen Dazs in your local mall and get a good egg cream. The best egg cream makers have been toiling at their craft for years. The egg cream is a dinosaur, on it's last legs. It's too retro. I have no clue where I could find someone in Connecticut who makes one, but I can find a dozen places to get a pretty good smoothie. The store I'm referencing was sold to a man who I believe said he was from India, in the late 80s. After about two weeks he realized he couldn't duplicate the quality of egg cream and turned the place into a rather impersonal newstand.

Anyway, if you haven't bailed on this tale yet, here's the walk-off connection. I'm pretty sure on this day we got to the egg cream shop a little after 5 pm, about 10 minutes or so after the Mets-Cardinals game ended. I believe the fat owner (not the skinny one) filled my mom and I in on what happened.

The Mets scored four times in the first inning and twice in the second off Joaquin Andujar, to snatch a 6-0 lead. While the Cardinals bullpen quieted the Mets down, St. Louis rallied. Whitey Herzog's team tallied three times in the third and twice in the fifth against Mets starter Ed Lynch. The score held, with the Mets dodging Cardinals threats in the seventh and eighth, into the ninth inning. With one out, Jesse Orosco gave up the lead, surrendering a game-tying home run to eventual MVP Willie McGee. Remember that first place was on the line, so that was a pretty big moment. With two outs, reliever Ken Dayley tried to find a way to win his own game, reaching on a single, but Orosco struck out Terry Pendleton (who would get a big hit at Shea two years minus a day hence) to end the inning.

The one good thing for the Mets was that even though they hadn't scored since the second inning, the top of the order was up. Mookie Wilson led off with an infield hit when Ozzie Smith couldn't throw him out from shortstop (first baseman Brian Harper juggled the throw). Wally Backman bunted Wilson to second, bringing Keith Hernandez up and the speculation from Cardinals radio announcer Jack Buck was that Dayley would walk one of the NL's leader in game-winning RBI and bring in Jeff Lahti to pitch to Gary Carter. Instead Dayley went after Hernandez, who rapped a base hit to left field (going the opposite way, Buck lamented, as he did so often against lefties). Mets fans have probably heard Tim McCarver yelp "(Vince) Coleman can't come up with it!" The ball rolled under the glove of the future Met and Wilson scampered home with the winning run, concluding baseball at Shea for the day.

It was a good day to be a Mets fan because the team was now in first place. It was also a perfectly good day for an egg cream.

True Metcreams know...The Cardinals played several players in that September 12 game who have a Mets connection. Left fielder Coleman and second baseman Tommy Herr were future Mets. First baseman Mike Jorgensen was a former Met. They combined for four walk-off hits (Jorgensen had three and Coleman had one) with the Mets. Additionally catcher Tom Nieto (who had 2 RBI that day) can often be found in the Mets bullpen as the team's catching coach, and Harper's son Brett is currently playing first base for the Binghamton Mets.

A Favorite of Mine

I was on the No. 7 train coming back from Flushing a couple weeks ago and my uncle Richard told the story of how his son, my cousin Michael, cried the day that the Mets traded Todd Zeile in January, 2002.

I don't remember how I reacted the day that my favorite Met was dealt, and I don't have any recollection of why I picked this player as my favorite, but I do have a neat story to tell about him, and I can tie it in to walk-offs, if you'll indulge.

Neil Allen (middle name Patrick) was born in Kansas City, Kansas, on January 24, 1958. That part I know by heart, as his birthday was a week before mine (the January 24, part, not 1958). He was drafted in the 11th round in 1976, made his Mets debut in 1979 as a starter but was moved to the bullpen shortly after recall. His chronology of pictures his Topps cards are rather oddly sequenced. His 1980 rookie card shows him in mid-delivery, ball in hand. The 1981 card has him just about to plant his front leg and the back reveals he "spurned football scholarship offers from all Big 8 Conference schools." In 1982, he's shown post-delivery and appears to have just completed his final warm-up toss (I thought he was about to do a celebratory fist-pump until I looked in the background and saw the third baseman with hands on hips). His 1983 card, his last as a Met, features a rather ginger follow-through, not quite what you'd expect from someone with a huge leg kick and big curveball, which made Allen more distinct.

From 1980 to 1982, Allen was one of the most reliable relievers in the National League. He had 59 saves in that span and had stretches in which he was totally unhittable. In 1981, he had a 14-inning scoreless streak and pitched particularly well in three outings against the Cardinals, something of which Redbirds skipper Whitey Herzog must have taken note.

When you're eight years old (even one who reads the newspaper cover-to-cover every day), you're not as aware of some of the other things. In 1983, Allen had some issues that came to the surface and his pitching suffered in turn. On April 13, Phillies catcher Bo Diaz hit a walk-off grand slam against Allen to cap a 10-9 Phillies win as the Mets were mired in an early six-game losing skid. In his first 10 outings, Allen allowed runs in eight of them. There was a question as to whether Allen was an alcoholic and though it was thought to be shown at the time that he wasn't (a doctor said he had stress issues), he acknowledged in an Associated Press series on sports and alcohol in 1991 that he was a recovering alcoholic.

In May, the Mets moved Allen into the starting rotation to see if that might change his karma, and in his second start, he shut out the Dodgers. It was around this time that Allen was a guest at a baseball card show. My dad owned a candy store in the late 70s, early 80s and one thing for which he was known was custom-made t-shirts. Since Allen was my favorite player, my dad thought it would be cool for me to wear a t-shirt to the show with his picture on it, so he took Allen's rookie card and turned it into an iron-on.

I don't think the line was particularly long for Allen that day, as his popularity diminished. He seemed to be signing quickly and when it got to my turn in the line, I put his rookie card down, and he quickly inked his name without looking up. "Neil," my dad said. "Look at the shirt! Look at the shirt!"

In an instant Allen's whole demeanor changed. His face brightened and he had a huge smile. He said "Wow!" or something to that effect, said something about trying to win a game for me, and signed the shirt. I don't think he ever got the chance to deliver as a Met, because his last two starts and final six relief appearances with the team were unimpressive.

On June 15, I was sitting in my room, playing something (probably an Atari 2600 game) with my friend David Cooper when word passed over the radio that Allen had been traded to the Cardinals along with pitching prospect Rick Ownbey for star first baseman Keith Hernandez, who was dealing with his own issues (drug addiction) and whom Herzog wanted off the team. Allen was the pitcher that Herzog wanted, but the fans didn't and they let him know in a rather unpleasant fashion, even though he went 10-6 with four complete games and two shutouts (with a win in his first appearance against the Mets) to close the 1983 campaign.

Flash forward to 1985 and the game for which most remember Allen, at least anecdotally, was on April 9 when Gary Carter punctuated his Mets debut with a walk-off 10th inning home run. Carter reached out and punched Allen's big curveball just over Lonnie Smith's glove and over the left field fence for a well-known, dramatic welcome to New York. ''It was the best pitch I threw,'' Allen told reporters. ''A breaking pitch, what I wanted to throw, where I wanted to throw it. You have to give the man credit. That's why they pay him $2 million a year.''

Two days later, Allen walked in Danny Heep for another Mets walk-off win, and to be fair, he never had the same trust from Herzog again (would the 1985 season have gone as it did for St. Louis if Herzog had stuck with Allen as his closer?). The Cardinals sold him to the Yankees, for whom he pitched decently for half a season. The Yankees in turn traded him to the White Sox and Allen pitched well in 1986, but his numbers sunk sharply after that and after another mildly decent trial with the Yankees and a three-game stint with the Indians in 1989, he was done as a pitcher. He finished with a career mark of 58-70 and 75 saves.

There are some blanks to fill in along the way, but in 1996, Allen became the pitching coach for the St. Catharine's Stompers, the Blue Jays affiliate in the New York-Penn League. Apparently the reviews were good, because after three seasons with the Stompers and two with the Staten Island Yankees, Allen joined the Triple-A Columbus Clippers, for whom he served as pitching coach in 2003 and 2004. In 2005 he was promoted and can be seen in the background quite often on YES Network telecasts, serving as the Yankees bullpen coach (and viewed as the heir apparent to retiring pitching coach Mel Stottlemyre). That's the best way that I can identify him when I tell people at work about my first favorite, because their response is often "Who the heck is Neil Allen???"

I spoke with former Mets pitcher John Pacella (the one whose cap always flew off post-delivery) about another project last year, and he told me that Allen, still a friend of his, had the best memory of any player he's ever known. I haven't had the chance to try to contact Allen, though in the profession in which I work, it wouldn't surprise me if our paths cross someday. I don't know if he remembers our encounter during what must have been a rough time in his life, but I'm glad that I can say that I think I made one of his last Mets memories a good one.

True Methodologists know... Neil Allen was the winning pitcher in eight Mets walk-off wins and the losing pitcher in three Mets walk-off wins.

I Was A Walk-Off Baby (another tale of self-indulgence)

I'm going to interrupt my Mets-related chatter to tell a brief story and perhaps it explains my interest in all things walk-off and buzzer beater. Basketball is a hot topic in New York City with the Knicks hiring Larry Brown as their head coach earlier this week, so we'll tell a hoops-related tale for this weekends entry.

The date was January 30, 1975 and the Knicks were on the road, taking on the Atlanta Hawks. My mom and dad were big basketball fans during the glory days of New York's basketball franchise. My dad was at Madison Square Garden when Willis Reed limped on to the court for Game 7 of the 1970 NBA Finals and not long after that he met my mom. They got married on November 8, 1970, better known as the day that a New Orleans Saints kicker named Tom Dempsey set an NFL record by kicking a 63-yard field goal to beat the Detroit Lions. My dad's job on Wall Street enabled him easy access to Knicks tickets and I've been told the story on more than one occasion of how my mom had to practically carry him out of the Garden the day the Knicks came back from 18 down in the final minutes to beat Lew Alcindor and the Bucks in 1973.

The 1974-75 Knicks season was kind of the equivalent of 1991 for the New York Mets, the season that began optimistically but instead found the team headed on a long road to mediocrity. The 1973-74 squad was an aging group that lost in the Eastern Conference Finals, basically the last hurrah for the likes of Reed, Dave Debusschere and company. A six-game win streak put them at 17-8 after 25 games, but reality set in, as it became clear that big men Phil Jackson and John Gianelli could not match the production of their predecessors. On January 30, when they were scheduled to conclude a three-game, three-night stretch, the record slipped to 25-23.

It makes sense that my parents were at home following the game that night. After all, my mom was nine months pregnant so it's not like they were going to be out and about..

What they heard in listening to WNEW-AM was that the Knicks got out to a comfortable 18-point lead and proceeded to fritter it away, despite solid play from Jackson, Gianelli and Earl Monroe. The lead was still 11 with six minutes to play and six points with 1:40 but Atlanta mounted a furious comeback. The Hawks tied the score at 115 when Tom Henderson drove past Jesse Dark for a layup with two seconds remaining. Red Holzman called timeout right as I apparently started to get a little restless in the womb. Apparently I had a sense, even then, that something important was going on.

Holzman called a play the Knicks had tried unsuccessfully in the past, a lob play from Walt Frazier to Gianelli. This time, everything worked very well. Gianelli (referred to in the New York Times the next day as "much-maligned") got free off a screen. Frazier made a perfect pass and the result was a buzzer-beating hoop and a Knicks walk-off win.

I'm going to guess that my dad got pretty excited by the victory, even in that season of false hope (the Knicks finished 40-42 and lost in the first round of the playoffs). Having watched him for as long as I have, that seems like a safe bet. My mom got excited too, a few minutes later, when she realized her water broke. They quickly cabbed it over to Mount Sinai Hospital on Manhattan's Upper East Side, not too far from their residence. I'm happy to admit I wasn't an overwhelmingly lengthy labor. I was born the next morning, enabling me to share a January 31 birthday with the Hall of Fame trio of Jackie Robinson, Ernie Banks and Nolan Ryan).

I bring this up partly because I wanted to write something a little different this weekend, and partly because I turn 30 1/2 on Sunday. That's significant, because I've officially crossed an important, unfortunate border. I can no longer say "I just turned 30" now that we've reached the midpoint. Instead, according to proper Metiquette, I must go with the "I turn 31 in January," which to be honest, isn't something I'm looking forward to doing.

True followers of Metiquette know...The Mets have had 3 walk-off wins on July 31 and all three came against the Pittsburgh Pirates.

Young and the Restless (another self-indulgent tale)

I am a graduate of Stuyvesant High School (Class of 1993, the first to graduate from the "new building" in Battery Park) and that is a label I sport with pride. Stuyvesant is not only one of the best high schools in New York City, it is one of the finest academic institutions in the country.

Stuyvesant has graduated many Nobel Prize winners (forgive me for not knowing their names), TV and movie stars (Tim Robbins, Lucy Liu, and Paul Reiser), sportscasters (Ted Husing, Len Berman, and Sam Rosen) and even baseball executives (Mets president Saul Katz and Marlins owner Jeffrey Loria).

I really enjoyed my time at Stuyvesant, and I always get a kick out of pulling out my high school yearbook and reading some of the inscriptions from my fellow alums, ones that would have to be explained if I ever showed them to my grandchildren. There's "Yellow Team!!!" (the name of our gym class championship co-ed lacrosse squad, a.k.a. the "Running Slashers")"I'm sure I'll be running into you at an awards ceremony at Columbia" (a future rabbi apparently thought I'd win a Pulitzer) and "Basketball Rotisserie-- Bad!!" (one guy thought I was a little too obsessed with our fantasy hoops league).

One of my favorites came from a classmate named Jonathan Wilensky, whom I haven't seen since graduation, and whom I believe has fulfilled his lifelong dream of becoming a plastic surgeon. Within a list of inside jokes ("at guard, at 4-foot-2 from Stuyvesant..."), Wilensky included the phrase "Only the good die Anthony Young."

The Mets got progressively worse during my time at Stuyvesant and a lot of people had fun kicking them while they were down and by 1993, they were a pathetic joke. That didn't matter much to me. I was just as much a fan as I always was, and the neat thing about that season was that it was one in which I began "broadcasting" games from my $6 seat in the upper deck (usually in the section adjacent to the "Section 1 Fan Club").

Anthony Young (no relation to Cy)was basically the cult goat of the 1993 team. Young's problem was that he was too good. If he had stunk, he wouldn't have been pitching. But, relatively speaking, he was better than most else the Mets could throw out there, so he became a symbol of both ineptitude and bad luck. He did what you could call "Youmans work." (not yeomens...Young follows ex-Mets farmhand Floyd Youmans in Retrosheet's player database). In 1992, he lost 14 straight games to close out the season. In 1993, he lost games in manners both hideous and heartbreaking.

One of my favorite memories at Stuyvesant is basically of what amounted to our "breakfast club." (minus the food). That was a gathering of half-a-dozen of us, in the cafeteria every morning (or the auditorium in the pre-Battery Park Stuy) before classes to read the newspapers and talk about sports (our own version of "Mike and the Mad Dog"). I had pretty much established myself as a mini sports encyclopedia, someone who had the definitive word on every issue (foreshadowing my future career, basically) Those discussions continued at lunchtime, and Wilensky must have mocked Anthony Young a few times within them (otherwise, why would he have written what he did?).

Young's losing streak was still alive after graduation and I remember making a deal with one Brooklyn-based classmate, Eddie Lieber (yearbook quote: "If you come to a fork in the road, take it.")that if Young won a game, we would call each other to celebrate.

It looked like that day was going to be July 7, 1993 against the Padres when Ming Hui Kuang played Bob Murphy to my Gary Cohen and Anthony Young, loser of 25 straight decisions, dueled with Padres starter Andy Benes. For seven innings, this was one of the great pitchers duels of all-time (or at least, that I had ever seen) Both Young and Benes had allowed only one hit. Young retired 23 consecutive batters before rookie catcher Kevin Higgins singled with two outs in the eighth. Wouldn't ya know it, the next batter, Archi Cianfrocco hit one that carried just over the right field fence (My home run call was one of despair and impatience, "Anthony Young is running out of chances!") Benes and Gene Harris finished up their one-hitter, handing Young consecutive defeat number 26 and dropping the Mets to 25-57 for the season.

Some may remember that game for other reasons. Apparently afterwards, Bret Saberhagen thought it humorous to toss a firecracker at the reporters who were interviewing Young (the 1993 Mets specialized in embarassing themselves off the field as well).

Anthony Young would have to wait a few more weeks (and through one more defeat), until July 28 against the Marlins, to snap his losing streak. The triumph came in very Metsian fashion Young didn't exactly earn the win. It just happened that he was the last man on the mound for a walk-off win.

The two teams were tied 3-3 in the ninth inning and with Young in the game, only bad things could happen. The Mets botched two bunts to help the Marlins load the bases, and after getting a double play, Young allowed a bunt hit to Chuck Carr, one that gave the Marlins a one-run lead.

The Mets rallied in the ninth in improbable fashion against Marlins closer Bryan Harvey (who entered with a 1.66 ERA). Two singles sandwiched around a sacrifice, the second by Ryan Thompson, plated the tying run and got Young off the hook. With two outs, Eddie Murray, lined a double into the right field corner and Thompson came home with the winning run. I did a victory lap in my bedroom while Young was telling reporters "This wasn't a monkey (on my back). It was a zoo," than called Eddie Lieber, who didn't share my enthusiasm. The Mets were 30 games under .500, so I guess he (and probably Jonathan Wilensky as well) had better things to do now that high school was over.

True Metvesants know- Prior to Murray's hit, the last three times the Mets had won by walk-off, Bobby Bonilla got the winning hit. That is the only time in Mets history in which a string of three straight walk-off wins (though not in three straight games) ended on hits by the same player.

P.S. "Yellow Team!!!"

A Shiny What?

The NHL is unofficially officially back and I have to imagine that Mets radio broadcaster Howie Rose is grateful for that, because it provides him with employment calling New York Islanders games during the winter months.

Rose, for a long time, was the New York Rangers radio voice, splitting duties with Marv Albert. It was in this job that he crafted one of the most famous goal calls in all of sports.

If I may digress for a moment and talk hockey (a sport I covered very intensely at the minor league level), Game 7 of the 1994 NHL Eastern Conference Finals is basically the equivalent of Game 6 of the 1986 NLCS and Game 5 of the 1999 NLCS wrapped into five gut-squashing periods. The best word to describe that game would be "Metsian."

I watched Game 7 of that series, one in which the winner would go to the Stanley Cup Finals and the loser would go home, with my dad and three good friends, the previously-mentioned David Cooper, Daniel Gordon and Hubert Chen. I am an extraordinarily superstitious fan, and to the best of my knowledge, I watched that entire game on May 27, half-lying down, legs outstretched, on the floor, about 19.40 inches from my television set (my dad sat in his chair and my friends sat on the couch).

Those who know about the tortured existence of the New York Rangers over a 54-year period between Stanley Cups know the story of this game well. Brian Leetch gave the Rangers the lead with a second-period goal, and it looked like that would be the only tally, until the Devils scored on a crazy scramble with just over seven seconds remaining in the third period to tie it (picture three friends crushed, mouths agape, as this writer chuckled, knowing it was appropriate that this ultimate game would be decided in walk-off fashion).

The game stretched deep into the evening, into a second overtime, with each shot providing gasps, groans, and phews. In the second overtime, the Devils had a great scoring chance, in which the puck was kicked just wide of the net. After the Rangers managed to work the puck into the Devils zone, an errant clearing attempt came to Rangers forward Stephane Matteau. In a moment of Mookieesque glory (and good fortune), Matteau's wraparound attempt banked off the stick of Devils goalie Martin Brodeur and into the net for a conference-clinching walk-off goal (picture three 19-or-so year-olds and a 190-pound 47-year old tackling this writer before he could get off the floor).

Those who were watching on TV got a nice call from Sam Rosen, but that was more a case of the pictures telling the story. If you were listening on the radio, you heard the hockey equivalent of "The Giants win the Pennant!" from Rose, who screamed "Matteau!!! Matteau!!! Matteau!!!" Rose admitted that he was a little nervous afterwards, because, before seeing a replay, he had a ghastly vision that the goal was actually scored by Esa Tikkanen. Fortunately, Rose made the right call, one that will live in hockey history.

Now, what does this have to do with baseball? (this is what we call "burying the lead.") Well, Howie Rose's second-most famous call, in my mind, is one that I still puzzle over to this day. It came on September 13, 1997, in the third game of what was an amazing four-game series with the Expos (the Mets lost the second game in 15 innings and won the finale, 1-0, throwing out a runner at the plate in the 9th inning, with the help of a blown call by the home plate ump).

As baseball games go, this one was pretty ugly for the first eight-and-a-half innings. The Expos buried the Mets early, scoring three runs in the first and two more in the fifth against starter Jason Isringhausen. The Mets only got one hit off Dustin Hermanson through eight innings, a cheap one at that, as Carlos Mendoza (remember him??) dunked a single off the glove of Expos left fielder Brad Fullmer (witnesses told me it probably should have been scored an error), and it was 6-0 in favor of Montreal heading to the last of the ninth.

Those who saw the bottom of the ninth probably won't ever forget it. Those who missed it, well, we live vicariously through writing blogs about such moments (I was in on an NJ Transit train from Trenton to NYC). The Mets were still down six runs with two on and two outs after human rally-killer Brian McRae flied out, and it took an unlikely combination of batsmen to produce what was thought unproducable.

Roberto Petagine singled in two runs off Hermanson (Petagine's only hit in 15 at-bats that season), whose day ended with that at-bat. Luis Lopez (0-for-7 in his previous two games) singled off Shayne Bennett, and Matt Franco (for whom the hit would be his only one in a skid that spanned 24 at-bats), did likewise against Ugueth Urbina, loading the bases and giving the Mets some desperate hope. That brought up Carl Everett as the tying run. Everett hadn't homered in a little more than a month, and was dealing with some rather ugly issues related to whether he and his wife should retain custody of their kids, so he was hardly the people's choice for the moment.

Everett went the Cliff Floyd route, crushing an early Urbina offering for a foul home run (missed the pole by 15-20 feet). The count worked full before Everett worked his magic.

Now, I've seen the replay of this long fly ball several times. It is a pretty fun moment. I don't remember too many of the details of the home run call, which is odd, because I tend to remember those things very well. What I do recall is that when the ball cleared the right-center field fence, then-tv broadcaster Rose yelled out the magic words.

"And we've got a brand new shiny one!!!"

In the annals of well-known home run calls, I think of phrases such as "Going, Going, Gone!", "That one is long gone!", "Open the window Aunt Minnie, here she comes!" "It is high, it is far, it is gone!" and "It's outta here!"

When I think of "And we've got a brand new shiny one!!!" I wonder the following:

Did Howie Rose find a quarter on the press box floor?

Did someone's wife just give birth in the press box?

Was Howie going for the most unique home run call in the history of baseball broadcasting?

Or am I, someone who routinely botches song lyrics, imagining this?

Ever in search of answers, I've made a request through a contact at WFAN to effort an answer. We'll see how that works out. I like the call, actually. It was high energy and it strikes me as spontaneuous. Howie wasn't expecting a home run there. No one was. His call reflected the moment. It was pretty funny and pretty bizarre. It certainly was memorable.

The Mets won the game, 9-6, in the 11th inning when Bernard Gilkey, bothered by injuries, came off the bench to hit a three-run walk-off home run to keep the Mets tease (Bobby Valentine said afterwards "You might have had the obituary written, but we're not dead yet.) I've heard the home run call, but it doesn't stick out in my mind at the moment. It must have been more along traditional lines. It wasn't a brand new shiny one.

True Metaphors know...That I made a mistake in a previous post when I said that George Foster was the only Mets player to win two games via walk-off fielders choice in the same season. Carl Everett has done it as well.

Self-Indulgent Walk-Off Story Number 2

Traffic on this blog tends to be weakest during weekends. So, rather than do a writeup of a Mets walk-off win, I once again treat you to the second part in a series of ramblings on how walk-offs have affected my life. Regular blog programming should resume Monday...

One of the key moments in my life as a baseball fan came for my 13th birthday, when, as a bar mitzvah gift, my cousins, John and Deanna bought me a Laser 128 computer. A Laser 128, in case you didn't know, was a cheap Apple clone (affordably priced at $399) that was perfectly sufficient at the time for someone who didn't know any better. In other words, it was great for game playing.

To that point, I had grown up on Strat-O-Matic Baseball, an excellent baseball simulation, that taught me about the likes of big-eared Tigers pitcher Don Mossi (whom I had to know more about...Mossi came within 2 outs of a Strat perfect game before 1983-84 Mariners catcher Orlando Mercado broke it up with a triple) and more importantly about strategy and in-game management.

In that winter of 1988, one of the first games I purchased for my Laser 128 was Micro League Baseball, basically the Strat equivalent. One of the best things about Micro League was that I no longer needed someone to play against- the computer could serve as my opposing manager (on the box, I believe the computer manager was known as "Sparky" or "Casey."

I think it's fair to say that I became a Micro League junkie. I'd estimate that over a span of six years, I probably played out 5,000+ games, and let the computer play itself in another 5,000. It was an easy game to play- punch a key, watch the result, punch another key, watch another result. The game was stat-based and realistic, and for the most part, the computer manager was a formidable foe.

A typical Micro League game took about 15 minutes, which was terrific, because it made it easy to run full-season replays. I don't know why, but I never really felt comfortable playing as the Mets, so usually I would pick another team and try to see if I could do better with them than they did in real life.

Since I was working with the 1987 team disk, my team of choice that season was the Oakland Athletics. The 1987 A's were an average team in Tony La Russa's first season as manager. They finished 81-81, but only four games behind the champion Minnesota Twins. It seemed like a reasonable goal to try to win 86 games.

I don't know if the person who programmed Micro League did something screwy, but 1987 was the most bizarre season I ever played of Micro League. Home runs were up significantly that season, but there must have been something in Micro League's code that wrecked with batting averages. Mark McGwire, in his rookie season, hit 49 home runs in real life, and 40 or so for my A's, but his real-life batting average of .289 dipped to about .205 with me. The same was true for Jose Canseco. The good thing was that my opponents couldn't hit either. Dave Stewart and Gene Nelson pitched like Seaver and Koosman of 1969, with both posting sub-2.00 ERA's.

To fast forward a bit, I won the AL West, with something like 90 wins and moved on to the playoffs to face the Tigers. Here's what I remember about the first six games of that series: Dave Stewart pitched a no-hitter in Game 2, but that was overshadowed by a 20-inning contest in Game 6, in which the Tigers won on a Tom Brookens 2-run home run.

For Game 7, I decided to do something special. I figured it would be fun, not only to play the game, but to "broadcast" it as well, into a tape recorder. Those who know me well would not be surprised by that.

The game was one that was worthy of ESPN Classic. Nelson and ex-Mets pitcher Walt Terrell both pitched brilliantly and the tension grew with each pitch. Each team scored once and the game went into extra innings. By the ninth inning, I was practically bouncing off the walls. I had spent a good two months of my young life focused on this season, and now it was all coming down to one potential keystroke.

I remember the bottom of the 10th inning vividly, as if it were yesterday (yes, this is a computer game!!). My designated hitter, Mickey Tettleton (who batted .194 in 1987) led off against Terrell, who pitched a dandy of a game. I can see myself, punching the "0" key (swing away) and I can hear myself turning into Russ Hodges.

"The 2-1 pitch...DEEP TO LEFT....WAY BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!GONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!GONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The A's win it on Mickey Tettleton's home run!!!!!!!!The team pours onto the field. The A's are the American League champions. An amazing finish!!!!!!!Holy Moly!!!"

This was followed by a description of the celebration ("The fans are all over the field, folks...") and a trip to both locker rooms (in which I "pretended" to pour champagne on myself in the role of both interviewer and Mickey Tettleton, then consoled Sparky Anderson and Walt Terrell outside the Tigers locker room.) Oakland didn't win the World Series (matter of fact, I bailed on it after Game 2 also went 20 innings, figuring something was wrong with my software).

As someone who broadcasts sports on occasion, I can tell you that there is nothing better than calling a walk-off home run or a buzzer-beating, game-winning basket. It is as exhilerating as anything you will ever see in a sporting event. It took a few hours after that Tettleton homer for the euphoria to wear off, and even thinking about it now, it still makes me smile. It is a walk-off experience for me that was unlike any other (yes, it was a computer game!!!!).

On a rather sad note, the tape from that day is MIA. About 8 or 9 years ago, I was telling a former colleague of mine named James Brennan this story and he thought it was pretty funny. He wanted to hear the call. Rather than dub him a copy, I lent him the tape. That was a mistake. He left it in his mom's car one day, and then the next day it was gone. He never found it.

I'm going to guess, much like Tettleton's home run, that it is, as another broadcaster with a memorable home run call (Ernie Harwell) might say, "Long gone!"

True Metputers know...This isn't a walk-off note, but it's still good minutiae. The first Mets pitcher to throw a no-hitter in a Micro League Baseball game for me was Sid Fernandez.

Clairvoyance, Prognostication, and Walk-Offs

One of my cousins, a young, Brooklyn-based chap named Matthew Sunday, thinks that my choice of vocabulary during conversation is too complex. He's not going to like this essay on clairvoyance and prognostication. Perhaps you will.

Clairvoyance is a skill that millions of sports fans think they have, but only a select few do.That's one of the reasons that prognosticating for money is so popular, because so many have a clouded belief of expertise in a subject matter that is as unpredictable as any in the world.

I have experienced moments of clairvoyance and take pride in my ability to selectively prognosticate with great accuracy. For example, moments after the New York Rangers lost Game 6 of the 1994 Stanley Cup Finals, I told my friends Daniel Gordon and David Cooper "Game 7 will be won by a captain." Let the record reflect that Vancouver captain Trevor Linden scored two goals in a losing effort and Rangers captain Mark Messier was credited (admittedly incorrectly) with the game-winning goal (Besides the fact that it was really Brian Noonan's goal, in hockey, they give the game-winning goal, for some reason, to the player that scored the goal that gives his team one more than the opponent's goal total).

But our subject is baseball, and on the subject of clairvoyance and prognostication, we turn to the Mets. When I think of Mets prognostication, I think of a pair of managers. Jeff Torborg, in a moment of what some might call delusional clairvoyance once uttered the phrase: "New York fans are going to love Bill Pecota!" That was poor prognostication. In 2001, about a month before the season ended, Bobby Valentine was asked how many wins it would take to win the NL East. His answer was 88. That was a pretty good prognostication.

Walk-off clairvoyance is something with which I have familiarity. It was sometime after midnight, in late October, 1986, when an 11-year-old turned to his father's friends and said "Wouldn't it be funny if this guy throws a wild pitch or balks here?" In May, 1988, with two outs and nobody on with the Mets down a run to the Reds in the 10th, an adolescent interrupted his dad's phone call to let him know that "Strawberry's gonna come up..." as Keith Hernandez stood at the plate, in what appeared to be a lost cause of a game. He did, and the Mets won (we'll save the story of that game for another day). In September, 1990, a loud-mouth sitting behind a pair of Mets fans let them know that after Dave Magadan's failed bunt, that Strawberry was going to launch a walk-off shot ("accurately called" as a colleague of mine would say).

My favorite walk-off clairvoyant story deals with July 29, 2001, with the Mets staggering along at 48-57. This was at a time in which we had a Sunday ticket plan, and this was a game my father and I went to without the enthusiam that accompanied trips to Shea Stadium the previous three years. Turned out, we got to see one heck of a game between the Mets and Phillies.

The Mets had an early 2-0 lead, but Kevin Appier couldn't hold it, and the game was even after four innings. Both teams had chances to go back ahead, but the Phillies left a combined five men on base in the fifth and sixth, and the Mets had a runner thrown out at the plate in the fifth.

New York went ahead in the seventh on an RBI groundout by Mike Piazza in which Desi Relaford's takeout slide prevented a double play, but the Phillies snatched the advantage away in the top of the eighth when Scott Rolen hit a two-run homer off John Franco. The game went topsy-turvy in the bottom of the eighth, when with a man on, Tsuyoshi Shinjo put the Mets back in front, 5-4, with a two-run home run off Jose Santiago.

Armando Benitez tried for the save in the top of the ninth, but that immediately went awry when he walked the leadoff batter (if you ever read me referring to something as being "Benitezian," it means, "walked the leadoff man"), who subsequently advanced to third on a single and scored on a sacrifice fly.

Proof that clairvoyance is an inherited trait came from the person sitting next to me, who decided aloud that as the Mets were ambling back to the dugout that "We'll be going home after Piazza's at-bat."

Now, my father has good prognosticative skills (hence his success at poker), so I listened, but still took those words with a grain of salt. My facial expression showed that. This was 2001 and things like that weren't happening for the Mets that season (at least not yet). So when Relaford grounded out to start the inning, that left only one way for the moment of clairvoyance to be correct.

For dramatic purposes, I'll say here that the prognostication was repeated as Piazza stepped to the plate, but I don't remember whether it was or not. What I do remember was the tap on the knee, and the words "Let's go!" a millisecond after Piazza's swing. He launched Rheal Cormier's second pitch over the left-center field fence for a no-doubt, walk-off home run (Phillies announcer Harry Kalas had a good home run call too, muttering "Oh brother!" as the ball left the bat). Afterwards, we lamented how this game wasn't going to make much of a dent in the standings. The cool thing about it is that, if you're familiar with how that season concluded, it almost did.

Anyway, for the last four years, I've had to endure the question "Was that a call, or was that a call????" any time that game is brought up in our household. In fact, I have a feeling I'm going to see it again in an e-mail or instant message from a certain family member at some point this evening. I don't have to be clairvoyant to prognosticate that.

True Metsicators know...Mike Piazza's first four walk-off hits for the Mets have all been home runs.