The Undead Game

I had this sinking feeling that happened right around the time Todd Helton's monster of a grand slam left the park and tied the game in the 8th inning yesterday that this game wasn't going to end well. But instead of capitulating to the momentum of the Colorados, the Mets got off the mat, got out of a disastrous inning, took the lead, blew that, and then took the lead again for good in the 11th, winning a game that looked doomed and a series that looked a massacre only a couple of days ago. I'd seen games like this many times before, usually the Mets blow the lead and then the game ends, ultimately, in spectacular fashion, with the Mets left holding their jocks. I had visions of Dexter Fowler clanging a pitch off the foul pole with 2 outs in the 9th, and then backflipping around the bases. But that didn't happen. Just when it seemed they would blow their 3rd lead of the game, Marcos Scutaro's drive miraculously died at the warning track and landed in Scott Hairston's glove rather than in the seats, and the game was over, the Mets victorious. So much for momentum.

Momentum is a funny thing, particularly in Baseball, because sometimes the stink can be tough to get rid of. So far this season, the Mets have done a pretty good job of not being taken over by the stink. The past few years, once the stink hit the Mets, it usually ended up sinking them and their season. Not so much this year. After Friday night's disaster, the Mets ended up bouncing back with a pair of nice-looking victories that were predicated more on some timely offense from guys like Tejada, Duda and Nieuwenhuis, rather than just relying on great starting pitching, which they got from Gee and again from Santana on Sunday. It's the pitching, particularly the starters (and mostly Rauch, Byrdak and Parnell) that had been doing most of the heavy lifting in the early going, but over the past few games, the offense has begun to wake up a bit. But, bullpens are bullpens and as such will inevitably have their moments, such as Sunday's game, or any time Manny Acosta is summoned, so it's good to see the Mets offense wake up and come through with the necessary hits when they have to.

I suppose every team has a few games like this over the course of a season, and it's nice to win them, but not necessarily good to get in the habit of doing all the time. Nonetheless, the Mets have done this more than once already this season, which is, perhaps, a good sign for the fortitude of the team.

50 Years in Cards: 1965

Part 4 of our 50-year trip through the annals of time...

What is it: 1965 Topps #285, Ron Hunt.

What makes it interesting: Though the '65 team set features the final cards (as players) of such luminaries as Warren Spahn and Yogi Berra, and combo Rookie cards of Future Met stars like Cleon Jones (featured on a card with Tom Parsons), Ron Swoboda and Tug McGraw (featured on a 4-man card with Dan Napoleon and Jim Bethke), by this point Ron Hunt had established himself as the first real "Star" in Mets history.

Though originally signed as a Milwaukee Brave, his sale to the Mets in the winter of '62 opened the door for him to reach the Majors with the Mets in '63, where his scrappy style of play and his predilection for being hit by pitches endeared him to fans and earned him runner-up for the NL Rookie of the Year. He was even better in '64, hitting over .300 and being named the starting 2Bman for the National League in the All Star game, played in his home park of Shea Stadium. A shoulder injury in '65 undercut his season, but he returned as an All Star in '66 before being traded to the Los Angeles Dodgers. His career took him through LA, San Francisco, Montreal and St. Louis before it ended in '74, and included leading the league in being hit by a pitch 7 times, including a mind-numbing 50 in 1971. Ouch.

Card Back:

Cycle Out The Door

I know that hitting for the Cycle is a rare and hallowed occurrence, and that there have only been 10 times now that a Met has done it. And maybe it's the horrendous outcome of the game that dampens my spirits, but for the most part, outside of, say, Keith Hernandez, Jose Reyes, Tommie Agee and John Olerud, for the most part it's been some really fringe, lousy players who have accomplished it for the Mets, and Scott Hairston just added his name to this list.

Of those for above, John Olerud is probably the least likely to have a cycle, as his notorious lack of speed made him an unlikely candidate for a triple, but sure enough, he legged one out in September of 1997. Jose Reyes, the most recent, on the other hand was a triples machine in his heyday and so it seemed to make sense that he'd pull off the feat, as he did in 1996 (Worth noting that Olerud hit for the cycle again with the Seattle Mariners, I want to say in 2001).

But this list is also peppered with names that would make you think, "Really?" I mean, Alex Ochoa? Mike Phillips? Eric Valent is the most galling on this list. In his time with the Mets, Valent proved himself barely worthy of a Major League uniform, and since leaving the Mets hasn't even come close to sniffing the Majors since then, perhaps a hallmark of the lesser players employed on Art Howe-era Mets teams.

Then, there's Hairston. Many in our loyal audience will know that there are always 2 or 3 players on the Mets every season whose presence utterly bewilders me. This list has included (but not limited to) David Newhan, Scott Schoeneweis, Aaron Sele, Ricky Ledee, Mike DiFelice, Manny Acosta (I'll save the diatribe on him for another time) and Pat Misch. Scott Hairston is also on this list. The point has been made to me that he's a righty batter who hammers left-handed pitching, but that seems to be the only thing he does well. In his season plus with the Mets, he's barely distinguished himself as the kind of guy you'd like off the bench, his defense is porous at best, and more often than not I see him coming up to the plate and swinging like he's trying to hit the ball off the Whitestone Bridge. Of course, since he played like a house afire in Spring Training in 2011, management seemed to think he was a good guy to have around, and since nobody particularly better (or ready) has come along, he's still here, and he happened to run into History last night by hitting for the Cycle. This will, more than likely, be the first, last, and only noteworthy thing he does with the Mets. Perhaps I'll be proven wrong, and I'll have to backtrack on Hairston, but for some reason, I don't feel like I'll have to.

And if I do, you're next, Acosta.

50 Years in Cards: 1964

Part 3 of our 50-year voyage through the Cosmos...

What Is It: 1964 Topps #155, Duke Snider

What Makes it Interesting: Like the Hodges' issue from 1963, it's Snider's last card, having returned to New York after bolting to Los Angeles with the Dodgers. The longtime, legendary Brooklyn Center Fielder had finally returned home, to close out his storied career. Snider's contributions to the Mets were minimal in on-field impact, but important in the formative years of the Mets. The presence of players like Snider and Hodges were a way to draw back the National League fans of New York that got the shaft when the Dodgers and Giants left in '57.

It's my selection from a rather large 1964 Mets team set that boasts a whopping 33 cards, most of them guys who were rather unremarkable (Duke Carmel, Amado Samuel, Al Moran, to name a few). A tough call to make, since this team set also features the first card of Ed Kranepool, among other Met Luminaries (among them Choo Choo Coleman, Rod Kanehl and Ron Hunt), but Snider wins this one based on his overall stature among this particular group. Snider was, in fact, gone from the Mets in '64, having gone on to play one final season with, of all teams, the Giants. With Snider in '63, the Mets mustered a 51-111 record. Without him in '64, as they moved into a beautiful new ballpark in Flushing, called Shea Stadium, they did improve, albeit by 2 games to 53-109.

Card Back:

 

Laughing at Them

The Marlins have drawn my ire so many times over the years, that the only way this sweep would have been better would have been if it had come in the Opening Series at their brand new ballpark in front of all 6 of their fans.

See, the Marlins have had this annoying habit, over the years, of beating the Mets in random games and acting as though they'd just won a pennant. This was particularly the case when the Mets were going well and the Marlins were, well, the Marlins. But, now, the shoe is on the other foot. It's the Marlins with the bloated payroll and the fancy new stadium and the high-priced free agents, one of whom was the poster child of "those arrogant Mets" that they loved to beat up on. Meanwhile, the Mets are the also-rans, boasting a lineup of mostly very young, inexperienced players who just want to make a little bit of noise.

Presumably, I would have been happy winning 2 of 3 in this series, but with the Mets having won both games, and the Marlins looking mostly tired and punchless in both games, I wanted the sweep. It's always nice to see your team kick a team you really don't like in the nuts. Today's game was yet another one of the working man's specials, which meant I was relegated to the office radio, and also meant I was sort of drifting in and out of paying attention to the game. I knew that the Mets had scored early, and I sort of perked up my ears when Gaby Sanchez hit his token HR, and at some point later on I knew the Marlins had taken the lead, although this seemed to have occurred when I had gone out to get lunch (my normal routine would not have had me doing so, but my plans were thwarted by a spoiled salad). But by the bottom of the 9th, I dialed myself back in and was on every pitch, despite several people coming into my office and asking me stupid questions. Unfortunately, unlike Don Draper, I can't just shut the door in people's faces. So at some point, Justin Turner was up, and someone came in to talk to me, and then left. Turner was still up. Someone else came in. I dealt with them, tersely, and they left. Amazingly, Turner was still up, fouling off pitches and waiting for Heath Bell to toss another one of his 55-foot curveballs. Sure enough, he did, and Turner walked, and the game was tied, and a few short minutes later, the game was over, thanks to Bell pretty much doing his best John Franco/Armando Benitez impression that we all knew and loved from his days when he was a lousy reliever that the Mets had no role for. And instead of the Marlins whooping it up in the Mets' faces,  faces, the Mets got to whoop it up in theirs. A fine way to finish off a sweep that started off with the Mets looking like they were the ones about to fall into the abyss. Instead, the Marlins are the ones with some explaining to do.

Have fun with that, guys. Couldn't happen to a nicer bunch of people. Jerkoffs.