Coronation Day

Mike Piazza officially entered the Hall of Fame on Sunday, inducted, of course, in our colors.

I won't try to match the magnitude of the day or of the words he shared in his speech on Sunday afternoon, or the love he spread to all Mets fans, but what I will do here is copy in a blog I wrote back on May 21, 2008, which is the day he announced his retirement. It seems to fit the occasion.

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

The Greatest.

I suppose I should be talking about the Mets letting all of the air out of their weekend triumphs on Tuesday in Atlanta, but I can't.

The real news of the day, for me at least, concerned the retirement of the Greatest Met of my generation, Mike Piazza.

The resumé Piazza boasts as he calls it a career speaks for itself. A .308 career batting average, 427 HRs, 1,335 RBIs are all outstanding accomplishments, considering the number of years he played, almost all of them spent catching for over 120 games a season.

But what Piazza is measured by, particularly in the hearts of Mets fans, goes far deeper than pure statistics. Deeper than being elected to the All-Star team every year (save 2003) he played for the team.

It is one day short of 10 years since the day Piazza came to the Mets, a lazy Friday afternoon in May. Just a week earlier, the Baseball world had been shaken by the Dodgers dealing Piazza to the Marlins, in a cash dump deal that sent a king's ransom to LA in exchange for Piazza and Zeile. The cash-strapped Marlins were sure to deal Piazza. The question was, when and to whom?

The Mets appeared uninterested. They had an All-Star catcher themselves, in Todd Hundley, though he was shelved for most of 1998 following elbow surgery. The Mets, undermanned and unexciting, were muddling through the early part of the season. I had recently returned home after my Freshman year of College. The first games I attended that season, a weeknight Doubleheader against the Reds, saw barely 15,000 people in attendance. Steve Phillips claim that the Mets weren't going to pursue Piazza, was met with widespread anger. On WFAN, Mad Dog Russo was heard screeching, "THESE FANS ARE SCREAMING FOR PIAZZA! YOU GOTTA BRING THIS GUY IN!!!"

That Friday, I was listening to Mike and the Mad Dog, when around 2pm, they immediately broke in with the announcement that the Mets were holding a Press Conference at 4pm. Something big had happened. Mad Dog had his interns searching frantically for information. It was around 2:20 that they broke the news. The deal had been made. Mike Piazza was coming to the Mets. Rejoyce!

I attended that night's game, and before I went in the stadium, I bought a ticket for the Saturday game. A line for tickets had already formed. The excitement was in the air before he even arrived. The scoreboard displayed a large announcement, "HE'S COMING TOMORROW!!!" Del DeMontreux even announced the trade over the PA before announcing the Starting Lineups.

And it was that Saturday, May 23rd, 1998, that he arrived. He not only brought his bat, but he brought credibility and excitement, two things that had been sorely lacking at Shea through most of the 90s. With one swing—a ringing RBI double off the right field wall—the Mets had a New Franchise, a New Face that would carry them into the 21st Century.

Sure, it was rocky early on. Piazza struggled to adjust to his new environs. His relationship with the fans was acrimonious and his clutch failures were magnified when the Mets fell a game short of a playoff berth. He could have left. He could have told the fans to screw themselves, taken a big money deal someplace else and departed New York a cowardly villain, along with the likes of Bobby Bonilla.

But he didn't. He decided to stay. He risked the boos and decided that this was where he wanted to be, for good or bad, better or worse. What happened was that Piazza became the Greatest Hero the Mets would ever see. So many times in so many situations, Mike found himself at the plate in a key moment, and so many times, he would deliver that big hit that we knew he was meant to deliver.

It began early in the 1999 season. A walkoff HR against the unhittable Trevor Hoffman. The bat flip HR off the Picnic tent against Ramiro Mendoza. A vengeful HR off Kevin Brown to beat his former Dodger teammates. With a retooled and reloaded offense around him, Piazza would match his career highs in HRs and RBIs in 1999 with 40 and 124, busting his ass for 141 grueling games that left him battered, bruised and running on fumes by season's end. Still, he persevered. Playing with a bruised thumb that forced him from the NLDS, a concussion and a strained forearm, injuries that would have had him on the bench in the regular season, it was he who would come up as the tying run in that fateful 6th game in Atlanta on October 19th, with the Mets having trailed 5-0 and 7-3, and smoke a John Smoltz fastball over the right field fence to tie the game. His stone-faced trot around the plate told you everything you needed to know. His postseason drive through the south told you everything you needed to know about how much it meant to him just to be there, to be in that key spot in the big game, and how much it hurt him to be unable to contribute at the level he wanted to.

With that in mind, a decreased workload in 2000 saw Piazza put forth one of the most dominant seasons of his career. Piazza broke from the gate like a house afire, tearing through pitchers on a frightening basis. On May 21st, he hit a pitch from Randy Johnson halfway up the Mezzanine at Shea. One streak in June saw him drive in a run for 15 straight games. It was the 13th game where Piazza would produce one of the signature moments of his Mets career. With the Mets having fought back from an 8-1 deficit against the Atlanta Braves into an 8-8 tie thanks to a 7-run 8th inning, Piazza stepped to the plate with 2 on and 2 out. Terry Mulholland made the cardinal sin of grooving one to Piazza. Piazza swung and unleashed a vicious line drive that would have sailed clear to Flushing Bay had it not caromed off the retired numbers. The sellout crowd went nuts. The normally stoic Piazza let the moment get the best of him, and wildly pumped his fist as he ran to first. The Mets went on to a 11-8 victory, which seemed to spur them on for the rest of the season, as they coasted into the Playoffs as the Wildcard for the 2nd straight year.

Although Mike struggled in the NLDS against the Giants, he worked Mark Gardner for a key walk in the 1st inning of the final game of that series. Gardner thought ball 3 was strike 3, missed badly with ball 4, and grooved his first pitch to Robin Ventura, which he promptly hit for a 2-run HR, setting up a 4-0 victory behind Bobby Jones' 1-hitter.

It was the NLCS where Piazza took center stage and became, quite literally, a monster. Playing the Cardinals in St. Louis, Piazza came up in the 1st inning of the 1st game against Darryl Kile and smacked a double to left, scoring Timo Perez with the series' first run. In the dugout, Mets coach John Stearns screamed, "THE MONSTER IS OUT OF THE CAGE!" in reference to Piazza, the Monster, needing to get that big hit and get out of the cage. Boy, was he ever out of the cage. In Game 2, Piazza blasted a long HR off Britt reames to aid the Mets to a 6-5 victory. In the 4th game, Piazza smacked a long 2B over J.D. Drew's head and off the wall in right, the 3rd consecutive double the Mets would hit in the 1st inning that night. In the 4th inning of that game, Piazza laid into a slider from Mike James and blasted it deep into the night, over the Cardinals bullpen and out of sight. In the clinching 5th game, Piazza hit a double in the 4th inning that preceded Todd Zeile's 3-run double to ice the game. And when the ball came down in Timo's glove, Piazza raced to the mound and led the team in a victory lap around Shea Stadium. He called it his greatest career accomplishment. And although the Mets fell short in the World Series, Piazza didn't disappoint, becoming the first player in World Series history to hit a HR in both Shea and Yankee Stadiums.

In 2001, Piazza again had his typical Piazza year, replete with big hits and big HRs. But it was one particular HR that would stand out far beyond any other he would ever hit. With the City and the Nation reeling following the attacks of September 11th, it was Piazza who delivered a blow that made us forget, at least for a moment, all the pain and the anxiety that followed that day. It was September 21st, 2001, yet another key game against the Atlanta Braves, and it was Piazza, batting in the 8th inning, with the Mets trailing 2-1 with a man on. And it was Piazza, playing the role of Hero once again, coming up and hitting a long, deep drive that clanged off the camera well in deep center field for a 2-run HR, that gave the Mets the lead, the victory, and helped to begin the healing process. It was, for many Mets fans, the moment when Piazza became more than just an ordinary slugger. You knew it from the tears he shed in the pregame ceremony. You knew it when he emerged from the dugout and pointed to the sky. Piazza wasn't just a Hero. He was Our Hero. He was Our Guy, and he would be forever. No matter what would happen, Piazza had cemented his place with the Mets.

The following seasons brought injuries and inconsistency for Piazza. He still put up lofty numbers for a Catcher, but the years and the strain were beginning to take their toll. He missed a large portion of the 2003 season with a groin injury, and talk began to emerge that he should consider a move to 1st Base to ease his workload and, perhaps, prolong his career. But he didn't want it. He would close in on the record for HRs by a Catcher, and it seemed right and proper that he remain behind the plate until the record was his.

It was a Wednesday night, May 5th, 2004, and I was in attendance for my first Mets game of the season with the San Francisco Giants. Piazza had tied the HR record the previous weekend, and on this night, in the 1st inning, on a 3-2 pitch from Jerome Williams, Piazza swung, and kept his date with destiny. The ball sailed deep and high and out, fittingly over the 371 mark in Right Center field, a spot where so many Piazza HRs sailed previously. All I could do was laugh. Piazza had a knack for always doing something special when I was at a game. And here, he'd done it again.

Piazza would play out every day of the 7 year contract he signed with the Mets back in 1999. And when that contract began to wind down, the fans began to stand up. It wasn't ever clear that the Mets would or would not bring him back, but the fans stood anyway. He didn't have to do anything great anymore. We would stand and cheer regardless. Our hero, Our Guy, Our Mike Piazza's career was now winding down, and it was time for us to stand and cheer in appreciation and thanks for all the years, and all the big hits and all the great moments he'd given us. I was there once again that final day, October 2nd, 2005, just as I'd been there on that first day and for so many days in between, and I stood and cheered with everyone else. Several videotaped tributes from Piazza played on Diamondvision, and during the 7th inning stretch, Fan Appreciation day became Mike Piazza Appreciation Day.
A 10-minute standing ovation gave way to fans weeping and saying goodbye. But it wasn't goodbye, it was just until we met again.

It was that following August when Piazza returned to Shea, and the ovations and cheers continued. Piazza hit 2 HRs in his 2nd game back. Following his first HR, the fans cheered so loudly that Piazza was prompted to give a curtain call from the visitor's dugout. A return with the Oakland A's in 2007 was short-circuited by an injury. He brought out the lineup card one night and again received a standing ovation. And that was it for Mike as an active player at Shea Stadium. The next time we see him, we'll perhaps be revealing his #31 on the outfield wall, in tribute to all he brought to this franchise. All the hits, all the moments and all the joy he brought us. All he meant to the team when he kept running himself out there, even during times when it appeared there was no hope left at all. He'd certainly be deserving of the honor. Who would be fit to don #31 for the Mets after all that Piazza accomplished wearing it?

And so, on Tuesday, Piazza hung 'em up. In his typical fashion, Piazza handled the situation with humility and stoicism, only releasing a statement through his agent. All the adulation and love he received from Mets fans was mutual. "...I have to say that my time with the Mets wouldn't have been the same without the greatest fans in the world," he said. "One of the hardest moments of my career, was walking off the field at Shea Stadium and saying goodbye. My relationship with you made my time in New York the happiest of my career and for that, I will always be grateful."

We Love you too, Mike. We always will. We're making our hotel reservations in Cooperstown for Hall of Fame Weekend, 2012. You'll be there. I know you will. For almost 8 seasons, I had the pleasure and the privilege of watching you carry my team on your back, and I enjoyed every moment of it. Thank you for coming, Thank you for staying, Thank you for delivering those hits when we needed them the most. You handled everything with class, dignity and grace. You knew how good you had it here. You appreciated us, and we appreciate you. Maybe Seaver was The Franchise, Maybe Hernandez brought home the Championship, but I never saw a better player or a better person wearing the Orange and Blue.

Thanks, Mike.

Certified

A date that seems a few years overdue will finally come to pass this Summer when Mike Piazza will indeed be inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame. For the past few years, I've gotten myself geared up for that January day when they announce the electorate and each time come away feeling kind of jilted, and then wrote some snarky, tongue-in-cheek post about it because Piazza was ultimately being blackballed for the company he kept.

That, however, can no longer be said as Piazza received a robust 83% of votes in his 4th go-around and has finally earned his place among Baseball's elite.

And I get to thinking about Piazza's career and specifically his time with the Mets, and I've probably written more than my share waxing poetic about those years and those great Piazza moments because they're so easy to remember, and that's what made him great. Ask 10 different Mets fans what their favorite Mike Piazza memory is and you might get 10 different answers.

And so I guess what I'm trying to say is that I can't write anything further that hasn't already been said about Mike. Perhaps the ultimate Badass in Mets History, I think what really needs to be done is for you to watch this series of videos I've shot over the years. When you've been long retired and past your prime and people still tear down the house when you show up, you were probably pretty good.

Arbiters of Justice

Yesterday's Hall of Fame announcement called into question once again a lot of the factors that go into the voting process. The Baseball Writer's Association, of course, is the group that has the final say as to who's in and who's out, and certainly, the three players that were voted in, Greg Maddux, Tom Glavine and Frank Thomas, are all well worthy of the honor (in spite of the ill will most Mets fans harbor towards Glavine).

But once again, the argument revolves around who didn't get in, and central among the snubbed is Mike Piazza. Piazza's credentials don't need to be discussed. Neither do those for the similarly snubbed Craig Biggio or any of the others who probably should be taking their rightful place in Cooperstown's hallowed halls.

The issue obviously lies in the voting process, and how those 571 individuals choose to cast their votes. It becomes, then, a rather subjective process and a bias against certain players who might have rubbed one, or several, of those 571 the wrong way. Or, however many of those 571 that choose to vote based on some archaic principle that only makes sense to them. Invariably, we get stories like the ballot holder from Los Angeles who voted for Jack Morris—and nobody else. Of course, what ends up happening is that Craig Biggio, who should be a Hall of Famer whether you feel he's a compiler or not, falls 0.2% shy of election, and Mike Piazza falls 12.8% short.

Neither Biggio or Piazza has been specifically implicated of any wrongdoing. If anything's holding Biggio back, it's probably a general lack of splash in his career, although I do believe he is the career leader in being hit by pitches. Piazza's problem is basically guilt by association—though he's never failed a drug test and never been specifically implicated for steroid use, he's of that era so the suspicion will follow whether he's guilty or not. At this point, if you haven't gotten a smoking gun on Piazza, you're probably not going to, because there really aren't any guns left for the players of that era.

The case could certainly be made that other prominent players such as Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens and Mark McGwire don't deserve to be elected because there is greater evidence (or outright admission) of steroid use, and that it's their own fault that they used and their reputation therefore sullied. But it's my contention that these players were simply taking advantage of the system in place, and the fault doesn't lie on the players for doing so. Cheating in one form or another has existed in baseball forever, whether it's a pitcher loading up a baseball with vaseline or a steroid user. The fault lies with Bud Selig and the owners for allowing it to go on, because it would have been the easiest thing in the world to institute a testing system back in 1996 when the CBA was renewed. Owners tabled the issue (and the Players' Association was, I'm sure, more than happy to agree to it) in favor of allowing the players to juice up and create an offensive explosion to rekindle interest in the game. Not everybody partook, but, of course, those that did are now being treated as pariahs and more or less hung up on a cross as an example of what happens when you sully the reputation of the Grand Ole Game.

But why should they be made examples of when for all intents and purposes the behavior was encouraged?

And why, when reports and investigations have been made and released, should players that haven't been accused pay the price for the indiscretions of their peers?

The problem lies in the voting pool. The photo above is basically to illustrate what my impression is of a majority of the 571 vote-holding members of the BBWAA: Cranky Old Men who seem to believe that the true heroes of Baseball played sometime in between 1920 and 1968 and these new-era ballplayers are generally a bunch of rabble-rousers up to no damn good (To be fair, there's certainly charm to Andy Rooney but we'll just say the impression he presents is a close enough example of my point). They're not all like that; plenty of voters seem to have enough common sense to realize that every player is more or less a product of the era that they played, and if guys like Bonds et. al, are the best of the steroid era, then so be it. Many of them also probably also feel as though there are too many Andy Rooneys in a pool that holds too few Dan LeBatards, and so their only hope to affect a change in the system is to simply make a mockery of it.

The problem is that there's no good solution. Opening up the balloting to a larger pool, say, broadcasters, ends up creating even more subjectivity and probably a good deal of homerism. Revoking balloting rights probably wouldn't ever happen lest the BBWAA wants to have soiled Depends thrown at them. Perhaps opening up the vote to living Hall of Fame members is a possibility. I don't know. But unless some kind of change is made, you're going to have guys blacklisted from taking their worthy place in the Hall of Fame for no other reason than they had the poor fortune of playing in a certain era.

Holier Than Thou

I've already gone on record as expressing my displeasure with the Baseball Hall of Fame. When I visited last Summer, there was a shamefully small representation of the New York Mets, or anything relatively related to them on display there. My feeling, at the time, was that, "Well, Mike Piazza ought to get elected next year, so maybe that will give the Mets a little more presence."

I see, unfortunately, that I was mistaken.

I realize that the Hall of Fame itself doesn't really control who is or is not elected, it's a consortium of mostly cranky old Baseball Writers who seem to have an incredible desire to erase an entire era of Baseball from the records. They've already spoken, with recent years' balloting, by continually keeping Mark McGwire out of the Hall of Fame, and today, they spoke the loudest. On this year's Hall of Fame Ballot were Baseball's All Time Home Run King, a 7-time Cy Young Award Winner, a 3,000 hit man, and the Greatest offensive Catcher of All Time. Save for the 3,000 hit man, all of them fell under the suspicion, or proof, of having used PEDs at one point or another. None of them were elected to the Hall of Fame.

Being in New York, a lot of the reaction, both before and after the results were announced, focused on Mike Piazza. I'll spare the thoughts on Barry Bonds, since he's got enough people talking about him, and Roger Clemens, because fuck him. Craig Biggio, honorable though his 3,000 hits may be, didn't necessarily have the panache of a first ballot Hall of Famer. But Piazza seems to have caused the most controversy. Though he certainly looks the part of a steroid user, there's never been that smoking gun specifically implicating that he did use, outside of a brief passage in Jeff Pearlman's book on Roger Clemens (the groin injury he had in 2003 is also indicative of steroid use, but that's not proof). Regardless of that, both hosts and callers on WFAN, as well as posters on Facebook seemed so adamant that Piazza got screwed over that I was surprised.

I had a bit of a sneaking suspicion that, though there's no proof of guilt, Piazza would simply be considered guilty by association as a muscle-bound slugger from the 90s and 00s, but that ultimately, the BBWAA would have to recognize his achievements, along with those of Bonds and Fuckhead. That didn't happen and that's a shame. After hearing enough pro-Piazza rhetoric, I began to realize what was really going on here. It wasn't so much that Piazza got screwed. Everyone got screwed. The same talk is probably going on over Bonds in San Francisco, and Biggio in Houston. Nobody likes Clemens, so screw him. Ultimately, it's a problem with the system. There needs to be a better way of deciding who's in and who's not in the Hall of Fame, because the BBWAA have proven themselves far too morally stilted to make an accurate decision. The Veterans Committee was reformed some time ago, and the committee to elect players on the ballot should be reformed as well. I don't believe any living Hall of Famers have any kind of say. Why don't they? Why don't broadcasters, who follow the game on a daily basis, have a say?

The other thing that bothers me about all this is the whole issue of morality. I read these quotes from people who do get to vote that say things like [sic] "How can I vote for Mark McGwire and look my child in the eye?" I've made the argument over Pete Rose and I'll restate it here. It is called the Hall of Fame for a reason. It's not the Hall of Morals, or the Hall of Good Behavior, or the Hall of Clean Living. It's the Hall of FAME. That means that the best players who have ever played the game must be recognized and honored there, personality be damned. Babe Ruth was soused his entire career and he's the greatest hero Baseball has ever seen. Ty Cobb was a virulent racist who used to slide into bases with his spikes up. The Hall of Fame is dotted with all sorts of players with unsavory personalities or players with questionable behavior. But they were still deemed the best of the era they played in. The Steroid era, like it or not, is a part of Baseball History, and the players that were the best, though they were doping, have to be held to the same standard. These players were simply taking advantage of the fact that the great Commissioner and all the Owners willingly turned a blind eye to what was going on and only instituted a steroid testing policy once everything was far too out of control. Why should they be blamed now? Why should they be blamed at all when nobody will ever know for sure who did or didn't use steroids (short of the results of the Mitchell report and the 2003 testing)? It's not as though cheating is somehow a new invention, either. Players have always been looking for a way to get an edge, somehow. As the world advanced, so did the methods of cheating. What makes a steroid user any worse than someone using Greenies or corking his bat?

The point is, this has become far too subjective and, basically, hypocritical. It's no different than, say, the All Star Game Balloting. Just one big popularity contest. I suppose I was simply deluding myself into thinking otherwise, and that maybe we'd be toasting the career of Mike Piazza across all of Metville tonight. At least his bat is there. For now, that appears to be as close as he's going to get.

Where Are We?

I'd mentioned that I was visiting the Baseball Hall of Fame last weekend. I'd been to the Hall of Fame several times before, but not in over 10 years. The Hall itself is, of course, Baseball Mecca as it were, but for those in my audience who haven't ever visited, I'll give a brief background.

The Baseball Hall of Fame is located in Cooperstown, NY, a sleepy little village located in Upstate New York, somewhere in between Binghamton, Albany and Syracuse. Cooperstown itself is a charming little town with one stoplight and a small main drag where the Hall of Fame is located. Also on this drag are a number of charming little stores selling all sorts of Baseball-related tchochkes. The Hall itself is constantly evolving; their collection ranges far beyond what's actually on display and they have exhibits that rotate in and out from time to time.

That said, every time I've visited Cooperstown, there has always been a wide array of Mets items on display.

For some reason, this was not the case this time around. I can't think of a good reason why this has happened.

I spent a good few hours browsing the shops along Main Street, where I found only one store that had any kind of decent selection of Mets items (mostly overpriced T-shirts). Baseball cards, forget it. But if you rooted for a team like the Yankees, or the Red Sox, or even the Phillies, you could pick and choose from whatever you wanted. Just not the Mets. This didn't sit well with me.

Then, I went into the Hall of Fame.

I know that the Mets don't have the storied history of certain franchises, but they do have a history, and a pretty damn good one at that. But if you want to go to the Hall of Fame and learn about the Mets, don't waste your time, because they've barely bothered to acknowledge them. And that's a crime.

Don't get me wrong, there's some Mets-related displays here and there. There's a small photo of Joan Payson located in a "Women in Baseball" section. Further along, there's a photo of Tom Seaver, the lone Met represented in the Hall of Fame, aside from a jersey of his in the Baseball History timeline section. Moving further along, into the "Locker Room" section, where items from each team are shown, there's a baseball that Johan Santana used in his No Hitter this season, which quickly made its way to Cooperstown. But if you're looking for something interesting in the Mets display, well, I can't really share that with you, because I didn't see anything of note.

There's a few things worth mentioning in the Hall of Records section, somewhat begrudgingly, as if they had to mention these token Mets because they hold records of some significance. Mike Piazza's bat, which he used to break the Catching Home Run record in 2004, is there, as is Tom Seaver's glove that he used when he struck out 10 batters in a row. Also buried in the back of a display case is a "K" sign that was "one of many used to count strikeouts notched by Mets rookie Dwight Gooden during games at Shea Stadium in 1984."

The World Series section also gives the Mets short shrift. There is a video display that does show the 1969 Mets winning their World Series Championship, but once that video loops around to the 1980s, there's the Dodgers, and the Cardinals, and the Tigers, and the Twins...

...But no Mets. Where are the 1986 Mets? Where is, perhaps, the most memorable little roller in the History of Baseball? The only thing there is a small photo of Ray Knight, in a corner on an adjacent wall. Not even worth a photo.

But that's not the most galling part of this trip.

On the 3rd floor, is a hall of Ballparks. There are displays and items from all sorts of ballparks, from those long gone to the current time. You're greeted with a full panorama display of Ebbets Field when you enter the room. On one side is an Astrodome display. On the other side, a full row of seats from Veterans Stadium, right next to a giant Philly Phanatic costume. There's displays from Three Rivers Stadium, Riverfront Stadium, any stadium you could think of. I was delighted to see this, and went searching around, because certainly, there had to be some items from Shea Stadium, right?

RIGHT???

Well, there wasn't anything. Just a little ignominious sign on a timeline, that said something like Shea Stadium, home of the New York Mets, 1964-2008. No seats. No bricks. No photos. No nothing.

So, let me get this straight. You can put out a row of seats from boring, decrepit, doughnut-shaped Veterans Stadium, but Shea Stadium, which was unique and iconic for its time (and outlasted The Vet by several years) gets nothing? That ruined my visit right then and there.

Well, I guess I can't say there's nothing whatsoever from Shea. Buried somewhere in the recesses of the Hall, by the Kids Klubhouse or whatever it's called, there was one piece from Shea, though. It was the retired number circle for Casey Stengel from the outfield wall. You know, back where nobody would notice it.

The gift shop was no better. There was a Mets shirt that listed "Mets Hall of Famers," and right at the top of it was Roberto Alomar. Roberto Alomar was certainly a Met, although we'd rather forget that, and he's certainly a Hall of Famer. But a Met Hall of Famer? No thank you.

So, in summation, this is an open complaint to the Hall of Fame. I came to see the Mets well and rightly represented, and I was sorely let down. This is the fifth time I've visited the Hall, and every time prior, there was plenty of Mets stuff on display. Now, they're being shoved off into corners, only acknowledged because it appears like they have to be, not because they should be. This isn't right. Even my girlfriend, not a Baseball fan, noticed this. Why are the Mets being ignored? Am I the only one who's made this trip recently to notice this? What have the Mets done to merit this treatment? I'm incensed enough by all this that I'm compelled to write a letter to the Hall expressing my displeasure. Maybe I'm nuts, but the Mets deserve more recognition then they're receiving, all over Cooperstown.

Vacation!

Although it's a rare occurrence for me, I'm going to be on vacation for the next week, conveniently coinciding with the All Star Break and not much to write about, baseball-wise. Nonetheless, among the places I'll be spending my vacation is in Cooperstown, NY, and the Baseball Hall of Fame, replete with the plaque of our lone Hall of Famer, Tom Seaver. It's my 5th such trip to The Hall, and my first in over 10 years.

Fear not, however. I'll be leaving you with a fresh set of installments of "50 Years in Cards" for your enjoyment while I'm away.

Enjoy the All Star Game, everyone!

Rickey Henderson Time!

Instead of continuing to rant about the varied negativity surrounding the Mets, I'd like to take a moment to salute Rickey Henderson on his Hall of Fame induction (Jim Rice deserves a nod as well, however he never played for the Mets and was also not nearly as interesting as Rickey).

We at The Ballclub always remember Rickey fondly for his contributions to the 1999 Mets. Clubhouse card games aside, Rickey was a major reason the Mets were able to perform as well as they did that season. Beyond his performance on the field, which included a team leading .315 BA, 12 HRs and 42 RBIs, Rickey's influence on other players was evident. I'm fully convinced that Roger Cedeno was as good a player as he was that year because of playing with Rickey. Despite being 40 years old and having 20 years in the Major Leagues, Henderson still had plenty left in the tank, and even kept some in reserve for the postseason, where, in the NLDS against Arizona, he hit .400, stole 6 bases and generally made the DBack pitchers nuts for 4 games.

We tip our hat to Rickey Henderson, who amazingly did not refer to himself in the 3rd person in his Hall of Fame acceptance speech. But if there was ever a moment to pull out the "Rickey Henderson Time" quote, yesterday would have been the day.