In Honor of My Grandfather, Who Taught Me About Love and Baseball

My grandparents moved to Puerto Rico when I was three years old.  After they moved to San Juan, I only saw them for a few weeks at a time when my parents and I visited them during my summer vacation from school.  Because those trips coincided with the middle of baseball season, my grandfather always wanted to talk to me about the game.

When I was eight years old, I discovered that Abuelo (that's Spanish for "grandfather") was a Brooklyn Dodgers fan.  He, my grandmother and their four children (one of which is my father) moved from the Island of Enchantment to New York in 1947, the same year Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier in baseball.  Robinson wasn't the only reason Abuelo became a Dodger fan, as 1947 was also the year Gil Hodges and Duke Snider came up to the major leagues to stay.  The Dodgers won the pennant in 1947, making only their second trip to the World Series since 1920.  They would make many more over the next few decades.  Abuelo was hooked for life.

The summer of 1981 was special for both Abuelo and I.  It was the year I became a Mets fan, but it was also the year of Fernandomania.  That summer, when my parents and I went to visit my grandparents in Puerto Rico, the players' strike was nearing its conclusion.  But just because there was no baseball to watch didn't mean there were no baseball stories to share. 

Any time I wanted to talk about Mookie Wilson, my grandfather would remind me that he wasn't as fast as Maury Wills.  (Wills was the first major league player in the modern era to steal 100 bases in a season, swiping 104 bags for the Dodgers in 1962, which was 45 more than the entire Mets team stole in their inaugural season.)  I knew better than to argue with him.

After a few minutes, the conversation would always turn to Fernando Valenzuela, who had taken the country by storm during his rookie season.  Abuelo would normally be in bed by 10 PM every night, but if Valenzuela was pitching and the game just happened to be broadcast on the local television channel, he'd always stay up to watch the game on a 13-inch black and white TV.  He'd keep the volume low so as not to wake my grandmother, telling me that he didn't need to hear the game because Fernando's pitching would tell the story.  In the summer of 1981, he was absolutely right.

I'll always remember talking to him on the phone after the Mets won the World Series in 1986.  He was thrilled that I was finally able to celebrate a championship, but he was also quick to remind me that despite the Mets boasting a pitching staff that included Dwight Gooden, Ron Darling, Bob Ojeda and Sid Fernandez, it was Fernando Valenzuela who led the National League in wins.  (Valenzuela won 21 games for the Dodgers in 1986; his only 20-win campaign in 17 years in the big leagues.)

Oh, Abuelo.  He really loved his Dodgers.

Two years after the Mets won the World Series, they played for the right to appear in another.  But this time it was different.  This time, the Mets were playing the Dodgers for the pennant.  A member of the Leyro family was going to see his favorite team play in the World Series in 1988.  But for that to happen, another member of the Leyro family was going to be disappointed that his team failed to reach the Fall Classic.  It was about as awkward as it was ever going to get between me and Abuelo when it came to our shared love of the national pastime.  In the end, it became one of the most important times in our relationship.

The Dodgers defeated the Mets in the 1988 NLCS, upsetting them in seven games.  The Mets weren't the only ones upset by that result.  The day after Game Seven, the phone rang in our house.  My mother picked it up, spoke for a few seconds, then called me over to the phone.  It was for me, she said.  It was Abuelo.

I thought it was strange that Abuelo would call me.  After all, any time I'd speak to him on the phone, it would be my grandmother who called us and then she'd pass the phone over to Abuelo.  (The men in the Leyro family have never been known as "phone people".)  But this time, my grandfather let his fingers do the walking and he called me directly.  Over three decades have passed since this call was made, but I'll never forget that conversation.

Not once did he mention the Dodgers while talking to me.  Nor did he mention the Mets.  Instead, he reminded me that there would be times in life when we'd question why things happened the way they did.  He told me that he once went on a date with a girl when he was eighteen.  She was his definition of "the perfect girl".  She was smart, beautiful and came from a great family.  He was sure after one date that he was going to marry her.  Two dates later, she decided she didn't want to see him anymore.  He was crushed.

After two years of wondering where he went wrong, he made the acquaintance of another local girl.  Abuelo admitted to me that he wasn't attracted to her at first, but she listened to his story of lost love and gave him words of encouragement.  They continued to talk as friends for nearly a year until he realized something.

He was falling in love.  And this time, the girl he loved felt the same way about him.

The year was 1933.  In 1934, they were married.

When Abuelo finished telling me the story of how he and Abuela met and fell in love, I thanked him for making me smile.  I thought that was the reason he was sharing his story with me, because I was upset that my Mets had lost to his Dodgers and I would need some cheering up.  But that wasn't why he told me the story.  He then went back to the beginning of our conversation, the part where he said there would be times in life when we'd question why things happened the way they did.

For two years, he wondered to himself why the love of his life didn't love him back.  But without that unexpected breakup, he never would have met my grandmother, a woman he would be married to until she passed away in 2001.  He then told me to think about his words and to "never stop believing" before hanging up.

It took me until that evening, but as I was getting ready for bed, it finally hit me.  Abuelo was using his story as an analogy.  I was questioning how the Mets could lose to the Dodgers in the playoffs after defeating them 10 of 11 times during the regular season, just like he had questioned why the girl he loved couldn't reciprocate those feelings for him.  He had to wait two years after suffering through a devastating heartbreak, but in the end, it netted him the love of his life.  Therefore, what Abuelo was telling me was that he knew I was heartbroken because of the Mets' loss to the Dodgers, but before long, they'd be back and I'd love them more than ever.

You know what?  He was right.

Sure, it took 11 years for the Mets to make it back to the postseason, but when they did, they went to the playoffs in back-to-back seasons and made their first trip to the World Series since 1986.  And when they did win the pennant, Abuelo was the first person who called me to offer a congratulatory message.

Abuelo didn't make it to see the next two Mets/Dodgers postseason matchups in 2006 and 2015, as he passed away five days after his 90th birthday in 2002.  But when the Mets defeated the Dodgers to advance to the NLCS in both campaigns, the first person I thought of was him.  What did I think of?  That he didn't have to feel sad because the team he loved would be back.  And they did, as the Dodgers have won eight consecutive division titles and three National League pennants in the last four years.  Somewhere in Heaven, I knew Abuelo was smiling.  And now he's probably smiling even more, as the Dodgers just won their first World Series championship since the year he called me to tell me a story about love and patience.

There is a point to this personal story.  You see, Abuelo was born on October 29, 1912.  That means today would have been his 108th birthday.  He and I never went to a Mets/Dodgers game together, but we didn't have to.  The stories took us there.

When I was eight years old, Abuelo shared his love of the Dodgers with me at the same time I was trying to share my love of the Mets with him.  He never became a Mets fan, just as I never became a Dodgers fan.  But we shared that love of baseball that no rivalry can break.  That love brought us together and provided me with some of my most wonderful childhood memories - memories that I continue to cherish as an adult.

Sometimes we question why things happen the way they do.  I never have to question why I loved my grandfather.  He was the most important man I've ever known.

Happy 108th birthday, Abuelo.  And thank you for always taking me out to the ballgame.

Dedicated to Horacio Leyro (October 29, 1912 - November 3, 2002)

A Tribute to My Grandfather, Who Taught Me Love and Baseball

My grandparents moved to Puerto Rico when I was three years old.  After they moved to San Juan, I would only see them for a few weeks at a time when my parents and I would visit them during my summer vacation from school.  Because those trips would coincide with the middle of baseball season, my grandfather would always want to talk to me about the game.

When I was eight years old, I discovered that Abuelo (that's Spanish for "grandfather") was a Brooklyn Dodgers fan.  He, my grandmother and their four children (one of which is my father) moved from the Island of Enchantment to New York in 1947, the same year Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier in baseball.  Robinson wasn't the only reason he became a Dodger fan, as 1947 was also the year Gil Hodges and Duke Snider came up to the major leagues to stay.  The Dodgers won the pennant in 1947, making only their second trip to the World Series since 1920.  They would make many more over the next few decades.  Abuelo was hooked for life.

The summer of 1981 was special for both Abuelo and I.  It was the year I became a Mets fan, but it was also the year of Fernandomania.  That summer, when my parents and I went to visit my grandparents in Puerto Rico, the players' strike was nearing its conclusion.  But just because there was no baseball to watch didn't mean there were no baseball stories to share. 

Any time I wanted to talk about Mookie Wilson, my grandfather would remind me that he wasn't as fast as Maury Wills.  (Wills was the first major league player in the modern era to steal 100 bases in a season, swiping 104 bags for the Dodgers in 1962, which was 45 more than the entire Mets team stole in their inaugural season.)  I knew better than to argue with him.

After a few minutes, the conversation would always turn to Fernando Valenzuela, who had taken the country by storm during his rookie season.  Abuelo would normally be in bed by 10 PM every night, but if Valenzuela was pitching and the game just happened to be broadcast on the local television channel, he'd always stay up to watch the game on a 13-inch black and white TV.  He'd keep the volume low so as not to wake my grandmother, telling me that he didn't need to hear the game because Fernando's pitching would tell the story.  In the summer of 1981, he was absolutely right.

I'll always remember talking to him on the phone after the Mets won the World Series in 1986.  He was thrilled that I was finally able to celebrate a championship, but he was also quick to remind me that despite the Mets boasting a pitching staff that included Dwight Gooden, Ron Darling, Bob Ojeda and Sid Fernandez, it was Fernando Valenzuela who led the National League in wins.  (Valenzuela won 21 games for the Dodgers in 1986; his only 20-win campaign in 17 years in the big leagues.)

Oh, Abuelo.  He really loved his Dodgers.

Two years after the Mets won the World Series, they played for the right to appear in another.  But this time it was different.  This time, the Mets were playing the Dodgers for the pennant.  A member of the Leyro family was going to see his favorite team play in the World Series in 1988.  But for that to happen, another member of the Leyro family was going to be disappointed that his team failed to reach the Fall Classic.  It was about as awkward as it was ever going to get between me and Abuelo when it came to our shared love of the national pastime.  In the end, it became one of the most important times in our relationship.

The Dodgers defeated the Mets in the 1988 NLCS, upsetting them in seven games.  The Mets weren't the only ones upset by that result.  The day after Game Seven, the phone rang in our house.  My mother picked it up, spoke for a few seconds, then called me over to the phone.  It was for me, she said.  It was Abuelo.

I thought it was strange that Abuelo would call me.  After all, any time I'd speak to him on the phone, it would be my grandmother who called us and then she'd pass the phone over to Abuelo.  (The men in the Leyro family have never been known as "phone people".)  But this time, my grandfather let his fingers do the walking and he called me directly.  Nearly three decades have passed since this call was made, but I'll never forget that conversation.

Not once did he mention the Dodgers while talking to me.  Nor did he mention the Mets.  Instead, he reminded me that there would be times in life when we'd question why things happened the way they did.  He told me that he once went on a date with a girl when he was 18.  She was his definition of "the perfect girl".  She was smart, beautiful and came from a great family.  He was sure after one date that he was going to marry her.  Two dates later, she decided she didn't want to see him anymore.  He was crushed.

After two years of wondering where he went wrong, he made the acquaintance of another local girl.  Abuelo admitted to me that he wasn't attracted to her at first, but she listened to his story of lost love and gave him words of encouragement.  They continued to talk as friends for nearly a year until he realized something.

He was falling in love.  And this time, the girl he loved felt the same way about him.

The year was 1933.  In 1934, they were married.

When Abuelo finished telling me the story of how he and Abuela met and fell in love, I thanked him for making me smile.  I thought that was the reason he was sharing his story with me, because I was upset that my Mets had lost to his Dodgers and I would need some cheering up.  But that wasn't why he told me the story.  He then went back to the beginning of our conversation, the part where he said there would be times in life when we'd question why things happened the way they did.

For two years, he wondered to himself why the love of his life didn't love him back.  But without that unexpected breakup, he never would have met my grandmother, a woman he would be married to until she passed away in 2001.  He then told me to think about his words and to "never stop believing" before hanging up.

It took me until that evening, but as I was getting ready for bed, it finally hit me.  Abuelo was using his story as an analogy.  I was questioning how the Mets could lose to the Dodgers in the playoffs after defeating them 10 of 11 times during the regular season, just like he had questioned why the girl he loved couldn't reciprocate those feelings for him.  He had to wait two years after suffering through a devastating heartbreak, but in the end, it netted him the love of his life.  Therefore, what Abuelo was telling me was that he knew I was heartbroken because of the Mets' loss to the Dodgers, but before long, they'd be back and I'd love them more than ever.

You know what?  He was right.

Sure, it took 11 years for the Mets to make it back to the postseason, but when they did, they went to the playoffs in back-to-back seasons and made their first trip to the World Series since 1986.  And when they did, Abuelo was the first person who called me to offer a congratulatory message.

Abuelo didn't make it to see the next two Mets/Dodgers postseason matchups in 2006 and 2015, as he passed away five days after his 90th birthday in 2002.  But when the Mets defeated the Dodgers to advance to the NLCS in both campaigns, the first person I thought of was him.  What did I think of?  That he didn't have to feel sad because the team he loved would be back.  And they did, as the Dodgers have won seven division titles in the last ten seasons.  Somewhere in Heaven, I knew Abuelo was smiling.  And now he's probably smiling even more, as the Dodgers are playing for their first World Series title since the year he called me to tell me a story about love and patience.

There is a point to this personal story.  You see, Abuelo was born on October 29, 1912.  That means today would have been his 105th birthday.  He and I never went to a Mets/Dodgers game together, but we didn't have to.  The stories took us there.

When I was eight years old, Abuelo shared his love of the Dodgers with me at the same time I was trying to share my love of the Mets with him.  He never became a Mets fan, just as I never became a Dodgers fan.  But we shared that love of baseball that no rivalry can break.  That love brought us together and provided me with some of my most wonderful childhood memories - memories that I continue to cherish as an adult.

Sometimes we question why things happen the way they do.  I never have to question why I loved my grandfather.  He was the most important man I've ever known.

Happy 105th birthday, Abuelo.  And thank you for always taking me out to the ballgame.

Dedicated to Horacio Leyro (October 29, 1912 - November 3, 2002)

The Thrill of Victory, The Agony of the Mets: Jerry Koosman

"We're No. 2!  We're No. 2!"

Those are words you will never hear at a sporting event.  In baseball, like in any other sport, the object is to come out on top, not ride someone else's coattails.  But for one Mets pitcher, being No. 2 became second nature.

He was the first runner-up in the Rookie of the Year vote in 1968.  Eight years later, he finished second in the Cy Young Award ballot.  And for over a decade, he was No. 2 in the starting rotation behind the team's first Hall of Famer.

But when the stakes were highest, it was this perennial second fiddle who became the team's top banana.  He was on the mound when the club won its first championship in 1969 and helped fuel a miraculous late-season run to the postseason four years later.  Just imagine how drastically different the history of the franchise would have been had it not been for the pitcher who wasn't "The Franchise".

Jerry Koosman strikes a pose at Shea Stadium.  (Bettmann/Getty Images)

Jerome Martin Koosman might never have been a Met if not for his catcher in the Army.  After he was drafted to serve in the military in 1962, Koosman went to basic training and was eventually transferred to Fort Bliss in Texas where he could play baseball.  His catcher at Fort Bliss was the son of an usher at the newly-opened Shea Stadium.  Word of Koosman's pitching prowess eventually traveled from the mouth of a catcher to the ears of an usher to the office of farm director - and future general manager - Joe McDonald, who sent scout Red Murff to watch Kooz perform on the mound.  Murff loved what he saw and offered Koosman a $2,000 bonus to sign with the Mets.  Wanting more money, Koosman rejected the offer, only to eventually sign when the amount of the offer went down by 20 percent.

Koosman's first year as a pro in 1965 was mostly forgettable, as he combined to go 5-13 with a 4.61 ERA between Single-A Greenville and Double-A Williamsport.  The southpaw was nearly released by the Mets after his subpar season, but the team decided against it.  It wasn't because they thought Koosman would turn a corner in his second professional campaign; it was because he owed the team fifty bucks.

In 1966, Koosman - with his newly-learned curveball - showed tremendous improvement on the mound (and supposedly settled his loan), going 12-7 with a brilliant 1.38 ERA at Single-A Auburn.  As Koosman was fulfilling his potential, future teammate Tom Seaver was toiling at Triple-A, completing a .500 campaign with an ERA north of 3.00.  Despite the varying degrees of success from Koosman and Seaver in the minor leagues, the dynamic duo made their major league debuts one day apart in April 1967, with Seaver starting the second game of the season for the Mets and Koosman pitching in relief the following night.

Seaver remained with the team the entire season and became the first Met to win the N.L. Rookie of the Year Award.  Koosman, on the other hand, made just three starts and six relief appearances in 1967, with the Mets losing each of Koosman's nine games.  However, because he spent most of the season in the minors (he was demoted to AAA-Jacksonville in mid-May and wasn't called back up until early September), Koosman retained his rookie status for the 1968 campaign.  And under new manager Gil Hodges, Koosman got every opportunity to shine as a full-time starting pitcher.

In 1968, Koosman was tabbed by Hodges to be the team's No. 2 starter.  After not having appeared in a Mets victory in 1967, Koosman pitched a complete-game shutout at Dodger Stadium in the team's second game of the '68 campaign.  Koosman's next start took place in the Mets' home opener on April 17.  A delighted crowd of 52,079 witnessed Koosman's second shutout in as many starts, as well as the first-ever victory by the Mets in a home opener.  Koosman went on to pitch five more shutouts in his rookie year and his ERA didn't rise above 2.00 until his next-to-last start of the season.  He also had a brilliant 12-inning performance in which he allowed no runs to the San Francisco Giants but was saddled with a no-decision because the Mets couldn't find a way to cross the plate in their 17-inning, 1-0 defeat.  The lack of run support would become a common theme for Koosman throughout his career.

Although Koosman finished the 1968 season with 19 wins, a 2.08 ERA (fourth in the N.L.) and 178 strikeouts (tenth in the league), not to mention earning a save in that summer's All-Star Game, he failed to become the Mets' second consecutive Rookie of the Year, as Johnny Bench and his just okay numbers (.275, 15 HR, 82 RBI) edged out Kooz by a single vote.  But just as Bench didn't succumb to the sophomore slump, neither did Koosman.  In fact, Koosman did far more in 1969 than anyone could have imagined.

Koosman pitches with bunting adorning the Shea Stadium walls.  And no, it wasn't Opening Day.  (Bettmann/Getty Images)

After making four starts in April, Koosman missed nearly a month of action with an injury.  But in his second start following his stint on the disabled list, Koosman became the first Met to strike out 15 batters in a game, as he pitched ten shutout innings in the Mets' 1-0, 11-inning victory over the San Diego Padres.  Koosman didn't earn the win - there goes that lack of run support again - but the team did, and that hard-fought effort kicked off a franchise-record 11-game winning streak that instantly made the Mets contenders for the first time in their brief history.  

Koosman's performance against the Padres began a six-start stretch in which he was practically unhittable and virtually unscored upon.  Kooz allowed just 32 hits and two earned runs in 53 innings, with the Mets winning five of those six starts.  (The one loss came in a game in which Koosman allowed no earned runs.)

In July, the Mets hosted the Cubs at Shea Stadium in a series remembered for Seaver's Imperfect Game (Seaver retired the first 25 batters before allowing a single to Jimmy Qualls).  But it was Koosman who provided the opening act to Seaver's headlining effort, as Kooz outdueled future Hall of Famer Ferguson Jenkins to earn a complete-game victory.  Three months later, Koosman delivered another statement to the Cubs, one that let Chicago know that the Mets weren't going to be anyone's pushovers.

The Mets had pulled to within 2½ games of the first-place Cubs when the North Siders made their final trip to Shea Stadium in early September for a two-game series.  Once again, the memorable moment occurred in Seaver's start, as Tom Terrific was on the hill when a black cat wandered onto the field and walked in front of Chicago's dugout.  The cat may have been given credit for delivering the knockout punch on the Cubs' season, but it was actually Koosman who supplied the first blow to Chicago in the series opener.

In the bottom of the first, Cubs' manager Leo Durocher wanted to set the tone for the series and ordered pitcher Bill Hands to throw at Mets' leadoff hitter Tommie Agee.  Hands threw a fastball that was up and in to Agee, but did not hit him.  Not liking what he saw, Koosman retaliated in the top of the second, drilling Ron Santo with a pitch.  Koosman's message to Durocher kept the Cubs on their heels all game, as the lefty went on to strike out 13 batters - the second-highest total of his career - in the Mets' 3-2 victory.

Four days after Koosman's victory over the Cubs, the Mets swept a doubleheader from the Pittsburgh Pirates, winning both games, 1-0, with Koosman and fellow moundsman Don Cardwell driving in the only runs in each game.  Cardwell's feat wasn't totally unexpected, as the veteran right-hander knew how to handle a bat.  Entering the game, Cardwell had amassed 15 homers and 51 RBI in 749 career plate appearances.  But Koosman was the definition of "automatic out" at the plate, as he was just 10-for-161 with 102 strikeouts for his career up to that point.

"Kooz kept telling me he hit a line drive," Cardwell said of the rare occurrence.  "I checked with the other guys and they said, 'Cardy, he hit it off the end of the bat, it was a blooper.'"

The face of a man who doesn't hit bloopers.  (Focus On Sport/Getty Images)

Of course, Koosman was convinced the ball was hit solidly off his bat, even if it wasn't.  But no one needed to be convinced that the Mets were about to clinch their first postseason appearance.  Koosman's 1-0 win over the Pirates was the first of three complete-game shutouts he pitched in September, helping the Mets coast to the first-ever N.L. East title.  Koosman finished the regular season - his second as an All-Star - with a 17-9 record, 2.28 ERA, 180 strikeouts (despite spending most of May on the disabled list) and a career-best 1.058 WHIP.

Koosman's first postseason start didn't go according to plan, as he allowed six runs and was knocked out of the game in the fifth inning.  But the Mets bailed him out by doing what they had rarely done before in a Koosman start; score a plethora of runs.  In fact, the Mets' 11-6 victory over the Atlanta Braves in Game Two of the NLCS marked the first time in Koosman's 70 career starts that the team reached double digits in runs scored.

Kooz's next playoff start was a complete turnaround from his first.  After the Mets lost Seaver's start in Game One of the World Series, Koosman carried a no-hitter into the seventh inning of Game Two before Paul Blair singled to lead off the frame.  Blair later stole second and scored the tying run on a single by Brooks Robinson.  The Mets retook the lead in the eighth on a run-scoring hit by Al Weis and Koosman and closer Ron Taylor did the rest, keeping the Orioles off the scoreboard in the ninth to tie the series.

After Koosman got the Mets back on the winning track, New York returned to Shea Stadium and promptly won Games Three and Four.  Manager Gil Hodges then gave the ball to Koosman for Game Five, hoping the lefty would pitch the Mets to a championship.  Koosman got off to a rough start, allowing home runs to pitcher Dave McNally and slugger Frank Robinson.  But after Robinson's blast, which gave Baltimore a 3-0 lead, Koosman settled down, retiring 19 of the next 21 batters to face him.

In the sixth, the Mets began their rally with a little help from Koosman's foot.  Cleon Jones, who had just two hits in 18 at-bats in the World Series, led off the inning by appearing to get out of the way of a ball in the dirt.  But manager Gil Hodges convinced home plate umpire Lou DiMuro that Jones had been hit by the pitch, presenting a ball stained with shoe polish as evidence.  DiMuro agreed with Hodges, sending Jones to first.  Koosman, though, had an idea whose shoe polish was on the ball.

"(The ball) came to me," Koosman recalled.  "I wasn't sitting but a couple of yards from Gil and he says 'slide it on your shoe and throw it here' and I did it.  And he took it and he walked out to the umpire with it.  And there was shoe polish on the ball.  Whether it was mine or Cleon's is debatable.  I didn't have time to look (to see if there was shoe polish on it), it all happened so fast.  Hodges was way ahead of me.  He was a genius."

Hodges' quick thinking gave the Mets a base runner.  One batter later, it gave the Mets two runs, as Donn Clendenon followed Jones' phantom HBP with a lead-slicing home run.  As Koosman continued to mow down Orioles' hitters, the Mets proceeded to take apart the Orioles' pitchers.  Light-hitting Al Weis tied the game in the seventh with a rare home run.  The Mets then took the lead an inning later on a run-scoring double by Ron Swoboda and an an error by first baseman Boog Powell.  This time, Koosman wouldn't need relief help from Taylor, as he pitched a scoreless ninth, retiring Davey Johnson on a fly ball to Jones to end the game and give the Mets an improbable World Series victory.

The No. 2 pitcher in the Mets' rotation was No. 1 after defeating the Orioles.  (Walter Iooss Jr./Getty Images)

Alas, neither Koosman nor the team could repeat the success from 1969 in subsequent seasons, as the Mets won exactly 83 games in each year from 1970 to 1972.  Koosman dealt with nagging injuries in the first two seasons following the team's championship, missing three weeks in 1970 and over a month in 1971, then was relegated to the bullpen by new manager Yogi Berra after a poor start to the 1972 campaign.  After going 36-21 with a 2.18 ERA in his first two full seasons in the majors, Koosman was a disappointing 29-30 with a 3.41 ERA from 1970 to 1972.  Koosman entered the 1973 campaign determined to turn his career around.  It nearly took him the entire season, but Koosman kept his promise and delivered one of the most memorable stretch runs in franchise history.

The 1973 season began with Koosman almost being traded to the San Francisco Giants for slugger Dave Kingman, but general manager Joe McDonald turned down the deal because the Giants wanted Jon Matlack instead.  With Koosman still on the team, the Mets got off to a great start, going 12-8 in April and ending the month on a high note, as Koosman pitched a complete-game shutout in the month's final game.  The victory earned Koosman (4-0, 1.06 ERA in April) his first N.L. Player of the Month Award.  Koosman eventually ran his record to 5-0 before losing 14 of his next 17 decisions.  Once again, Koosman was victimized by poor run support during his rough patch, more so than any of his pitching brethren.  From May 27 to August 14, the Mets scored one run or fewer 25 times; 11 of those games were started by Koosman.  So if the Mets weren't going to score for Koosman, he would have to keep opposing hitters from circling the bases.  He did just that, and in doing so, helped the Mets go from last to first in the span of six weeks.

On August 19, the Mets were 12 games under .500 and bringing up the rear in the mediocre N.L. East.  Then Koosman defeated the Cincinnati Reds, 2-1, with the Reds' only run scoring on an error.  After allowing the unearned run to cross the plate, Koosman proceeded to toss 31⅔ consecutive scoreless innings, setting a new franchise record that wouldn't be broken for nearly four decades.  As Koosman was putting up zeroes, the Mets were reeling off wins, and by the time Koosman allowed his next run on September 7, the Mets had leapfrogged over two teams and were just four games out of first place.  Incredibly, New York continued to win and chip away at the deficit.  When the Mets faced the first-place Pirates at Shea Stadium on September 20, they were just 1½ games out of first.  And that's when "The Ball on the Wall" became part of the Mets' lexicon, which of course, happened in a game started by Koosman.

Koosman pitched eight solid innings, allowing just one earned run and four hits, but got a no-decision because, you know, run support.  In the top of the 13th inning, the Mets kept the Pirates off the scoreboard when Cleon Jones fielded Dave Augustine's double off the top of the left field wall, then fired to shortstop Wayne Garrett, who made a perfect throw to catcher Ron Hodges to nail Richie Zisk at the plate.  Hodges then delivered the game-winning hit in the bottom of the frame.  A day later, the Mets completed the sweep of the Bucs to move into first place by half a game.

Once the Mets took over the lead in the N.L. East, they never gave it up, as Koosman made two starts in the season's final week and failed to allow an earned run in either of them.  For the second time in five seasons, the Mets were N.L. East champions, and Koosman was one of the main reasons why the team was playing in October again.  In his final ten starts, Koosman went 6-1 with a 1.30 ERA.  That included a start on September 11 in which he allowed six runs to the Phillies.  Take out that start - his only loss during the season's final six weeks - and his ERA was just 0.65.

The Mets' opponent in the NLCS was the Cincinnati Reds, who were attempting to win their third pennant in four seasons.  Koosman refused to be intimidated by the Big Red Machine, even after Pete Rose and Buddy Harrelson started a bench-clearing brawl at second base in the fifth inning.  Despite the long wait for the fight to settle and for the fans to stop throwing things at Rose when he took the field in the bottom of the fifth, Koosman was not rattled, allowing no runs and only two hits the rest of the way.  His complete-game victory gave him a 3-0 postseason record in four starts, with the Mets winning the game in which Koosman earned a no-decision.

The Reds could only watch from the dugout as Koosman defeated them in the NLCS.  (Focus On Sport/Getty Images)

The World Series against the Oakland A's did not have the happy ending the Mets were hoping for, as the Mets dropped the series in seven games.  Koosman started two of the three games won by New York in the series and put the Mets within a victory of the title pitching on short rest in Game Five.  The A's may have led the American League in runs scored in 1973, but none of that mattered to Koosman, who shut them out for 6⅓ innings in the critical fifth game.  Short rest clearly didn't affect Koosman in his Game Five victory.  The same could not be said for Seaver and Matlack, as both pitchers fell behind early in Games Six and Seven and the team couldn't recover.  Koosman could only watch from the bullpen, where he was warming up to come into Game Seven in relief had his manager deemed it necessary.

"I never got into that ballgame," Koosman said.  "That's the game I remember most, being in the bullpen and just so ready to come in."

The Mets needed seven wins in the 1973 postseason to win the championship.  They managed just six, with Koosman starting half of the team's victories.  In fact, between 1969 and 1973, Koosman made six postseason starts for the team.  The Mets won all six.  On a team with two former Rookie of the Year Award winners (Seaver, Matlack), it was Koosman who became their most dependable postseason pitcher.  A year later, he became the team's best pitcher.

With Seaver enduring the worst season of his eight-year career in 1974 (11-11, 3.20 ERA), it was Koosman who carried the load for the team, winning 15 games for the first time since 1969 and pitching a career-high 265 innings.  Unfortunately, the rest of the club couldn't follow Koosman's lead.  Kooz finished the year with a 15-11 record.  The team's other pitchers were a combined 56-80.  It was New York's first losing season since Koosman's rookie year.

The Mets recovered to win 82 games in 1975, winning the final game of the season to finish above .500.  Koosman had a strong finish for the team, pitching to a 2.41 ERA in his final ten appearances, which included two saves in a couple of rare relief efforts by the lefty.

In 1976, the Mets got off to a poor start and were out of contention by the middle of June.  On the morning of June 23, the Mets' record was 33-37 and they were 14½ games behind the first-place Phillies.  Koosman was also off to a mediocre start, as he was 6-6 with a 4.36 ERA.  But just as the Mets found their second wind as spring turned to summer, so did Koosman.  The Mets went 53-39 in their last 92 games, with Koosman being the team's main contributor, going 15-4 with a 1.79 ERA in 20 appearances (19 starts).  The year ended with the Mets winning 86 games - the second-highest total in franchise history at the time - and Koosman posting his first 20-win season.  Koosman finished the year with a 21-10 record, 2.69 ERA, 1.096 WHIP and a career-high 200 strikeouts.  But just as he did eight years earlier when he finished behind Johnny Bench in the Rookie of the Year vote, Koosman had to settle for second-best on the 1976 Cy Young Award ballot, as the Padres' Randy Jones took home the prize as the league's top pitcher, even though Koosman had a higher winning percentage, lower ERA and more than twice as many strikeouts as Jones had.

The 1976 season signified the last hurrah for Koosman and the Mets, as the dawn of the free agent era caused the team to count its pennies rather than use them to bring the top tier of talent to Flushing.  As a result, the team plummeted in the standings in 1977.  By the time the trade deadline arrived in mid-June, the Mets were ten games under .500 and mired in last place.  They were also a team of disgruntled players, as several veterans were becoming well aware that if they were going to continue playing in New York, they would have to do so earning far less money than if they were playing somewhere else.  Tom Seaver was the first to go.  He would be followed by Dave Kingman, who became a Met just two years earlier without the Mets having to trade Koosman or Matlack to acquire him.  Two months later, catcher Jerry Grote was dealt away, followed by Matlack and Harrelson during the off-season.  Needless to say, Koosman was not happy with the state of the Mets.

"How could they trade him?" Koosman said about his long-time pitching mate.  "Tom was one of the first, and after Tom we kept dropping like flies.  (General manager Joe) McDonald was making trades that just did not make sense.  We were not getting better.  We were getting worse.  It was like every general manager in the league was taking advantage of us."

"Pssst, Jerry.  We're trading you next."  (William N. Jacobellis/NY Post Archives)

Through all the tumult, Koosman remained, even though he had just followed up his first 20-win campaign with his first season of 20 losses.  Koosman finished the 1977 campaign with an 8-20 record, despite having a respectable 3.49 ERA and a league-leading 7.6 strikeouts per nine innings.  But on a team that finished dead last in batting average, on-base percentage, runs scored and home runs, it should come as no surprise that in 16 of Koosman's 20 losses, the Mets scored no more than two runs.

It was more of the same for Koosman in 1978, as he went 3-15 with a 3.75 ERA and watched his teammates score two runs or fewer in ten of the 15 defeats.  The pitcher who was second in the Rookie of the Year vote, second in the Cy Young balloting and second to Tom Seaver in virtually every pitching category didn't want to spend another second in New York.  At the conclusion of the 1978 campaign, Koosman demanded a trade back home to Minnesota and the Mets obliged, shipping him to the Twins for minor league pitcher Greg Field and a player to be named later, who ended up being Jesse Orosco.  Koosman's departure was bittersweet, but all parties involved ended up benefiting from the transaction.

"It was sad to leave New York, but New York was in a rebuilding process at the time," Koosman said.  "I wanted to move on and play for a club that had a chance to win."

Of course, Orosco became a mainstay in the Mets' bullpen for eight seasons and became as good a postseason pitcher for the Mets as Koosman was, winning three games in the 1986 NLCS and saving two others in that year's World Series, including the seventh and deciding game against the Boston Red Sox.  Koosman, meanwhile, had already retired before the Mets won their second championship, but not before he won 82 more games in the majors, including the second 20-win season of his career in 1979 while he was pitching for the Twins.  Koosman also made a return to the postseason in 1983 as a member of the Chicago White Sox, pitching one game in relief in the ALCS against the Baltimore Orioles.

In all, Koosman won 222 games in the majors, with 140 of them coming in a Mets uniform.  Only Seaver and Dwight Gooden ended their Mets careers with more.  Seaver, Koosman and Gooden are also the answer to just about every trivia question pertaining to the top three starting pitchers in franchise history.  But Seaver and Gooden were right-handed pitchers.  No discussion about the greatest left-handed pitchers in club annals can be had without Koosman being mentioned at the top.  The pitcher who was constantly No. 2 throughout his career with the Mets has no rival among southpaws.

Jerry Koosman played his first game with the Mets on a squad that would go on to lose over 100 games.  When Koosman played his final game in New York, he was on a team that nearly reached triple digits in losses.  In between, Koosman became the greatest postseason pitcher in franchise history despite playing for a team that provided him with very little offensive support.  Koosman also provided many key late-season moments that helped the team qualify for the playoffs.  And of course, Koosman never let anyone intimidate him, always pitching with ice in his veins and a fire in his heart.

With a career that lasted nearly two decades, including a dozen seasons in a Mets uniform, Koosman lived through all the highs and lows a player can experience in baseball, but one of those moments always stood out above the others.  That's what becoming a champion tends to do to a player.

"It is no doubt the highlight of my baseball life," Koosman said.  "Winning the World Series changes your life.  There's a closeness that comes from it, you're kind of like brothers to your teammates.  You have a much different relationship with them when you have that in common."

For a player who had become accustomed to being second-best, finishing on top made it all worthwhile.

Koosman and Seaver will always be linked, especially as champions.  (Bettmann/Getty Images)

Note: The Thrill of Victory, The Agony of the Mets was a thirteen-part weekly series (that's "was" - as in the past tense of "is" - because you just read the final installment) spotlighting those Mets players and personnel who experienced the best of times and the worst of times with the team.  For previous installments, please click on the names below:

January 2, 2017: Tom Seaver
January 9, 2017: Mike Piazza
January 16, 2017: Wally Backman
January 23, 2017: Daniel Murphy
January 30, 2017: Frank Cashen
February 6, 2017: Ed Kranepool
February 13, 2017: Doug Sisk
February 20, 2017: Joan Whitney Payson 
February 27, 2017: John Franco and Armando Benitez 
March 6, 2017: Dwight Gooden
March 13, 2017: Bobby Valentine
March 20, 2017: Jesse Orosco

 

The Thrill of Victory, The Agony of the Mets: Ed Kranepool

In the film "Forrest Gump", the titular character ran across the country from one ocean to the other just because he "felt like runnin' ".  His travels took him across flat land, up the highest mountain, back down again, and even through a pile of dog ... ahem ... poo.  After spending three years, two months, 14 days and 16 hours on the roads of America, Gump decided to stop running because he was tired.  There was no fanfare as his run came to an end.  He just quit and went home.

Gump's spirited jog commenced around October 1, 1979, as a news broadcast that was airing at the beginning of his cross-country trek was reporting that President Jimmy Carter had collapsed that day while attempting to complete a six-mile race.  Just one day before Gump began his long run in the fictional town of Greenbow, AL, another long run was coming to an end in the very real city of St. Louis, MO.  And when this run of 18 seasons with a single major league franchise came to an end, it also had no fanfare.  It just marked the quiet close to the career of the last man who played for the original Mets.

He was steady.  He was Eddie.  But as a teenager, was he ready?  (Bettmann/Getty Images)

Edward Emil Kranepool was barely out of his James Monroe High School cap and gown when the Mets signed the amateur free agent to an $85,000 contract in June 1962.  The new expansion team was enamored with the young man who broke Hall of Famer Hank Greenberg's home run records at Monroe, promoting him to the big club before its inaugural season was over.  At age 17 and just three months out of high school, the Bronx-bred Kranepool collected his first major league hit at Manhattan's Polo Grounds - an opposite field double off Cubs reliever Don Elston.

In 1963, Kranepool split his time between AAA-Buffalo and the Mets, producing an impressive .310 batting average and .507 slugging percentage in 53 minor league games, while being overmatched at the major league level, batting .209 and slugging .289 in 86 games.  The following year, his last as a teenager and his first at the newly opened Shea Stadium, Kranepool became just the 13th player to appear in 100 or more games in a single season prior to blowing out 20 candles on his birthday cake.  The first baseman improved greatly during that 1964 campaign, batting .257 and finishing among the team leaders in hits (108), doubles (19) and home runs (10).

Although Kranepool was blossoming into an offensive talent, the Mets continued to bring up the rear in the National League standings.   After losing 111 and 109 games in 1963 and 1964, respectively, the Mets found a way to regress in 1965, finishing the year with a 50-112 record.  The team could actually have been a lot worse had it not been for Kranepool's performance in the first half of the season.

Through games of June 3, Kranepool batted a hefty .344 and produced a .922 OPS, while racking up 21 extra-base hits and 29 RBI.  As a result, Kranepool was chosen to be the Mets' sole representative in the All-Star Game, his first and only selection for the Midsummer Classic.  Kranepool didn't get to play in the game, as N.L. manager Gene Mauch chose to play Ernie Banks at first base during the entire contest, but the Mets' first baseman did become the youngest player at that position to become an All-Star - a distinction Kranepool still holds to this day.

Kranepool ran out of gas in the second half of the 1965 campaign, as evidenced by his .216/.268/.292 post-All-Star Game slash line.  He also had to deal with the unexpected retirement of the only manager he had ever played for in the big leagues, Casey Stengel, who broke his hip in a fall in late July and called it a career a month later.

When the Mets signed Kranepool in 1962, they were hoping to get the player who broke all of Hank Greenberg's high school records.  Instead, they got a mediocre player who seemed to be living out a real life "Groundhog Day" situation, doomed to repeat the same campaign year after year.  From 1964 to 1967, an average season for Steady Eddie saw him put up a .258/.312/.383 slash line with 19 doubles, 12 homers and 52 RBI.  Kranepool never hit below .253 or above .269 in any of those four seasons.  He also hit exactly ten home runs in three of the four years (he flexed his muscles in 1966 when he bashed a career-high 16 homers) and produced between 45 and 57 RBI during the quadrennium.  Kranepool was also playing almost every day, averaging over 500 plate appearances per season.  That all changed in 1968, when a new manager came aboard and ended up extending Kranepool's career by playing him less.

Prior to 1968, the Mets had lost 100 or more games in five of their first six seasons.  They had also established a permanent residency in the National League cellar, coming out for a sniff of ninth place just once in 1966.  But after six seasons of playing like a first-year expansion team, the arrival of skipper Gil Hodges shifted the mindset of the team.

"Spring Training, Gil Hodges wanted you to lead by example," Kranepool said about his former teammate and current manager.  "He built the ballclub around leadership."

Kranepool made his debut as a defensive replacement for Hodges, then played under him.  (Herb Scharfman/Getty Images)

The Mets won 73 games in '68, fueled by the pitching of rookie Jerry Koosman and sophomore starter Tom Seaver.  Unfortunately, Kranepool had his worst season since 1963, batting .231 with only three homers and 20 RBI despite getting the majority of the starts at first base.  Kranepool continued to get the bulk of the playing time at first base during the early part of the 1969 season as the team got off to an 18-23 start.  But after a club-record 11-game winning streak in late May and early June suddenly thrust the Mets into second place, the team felt the need to upgrade its offense, especially after being held to three runs or fewer in 34 of their first 56 games.  The team addressed the problem by trading for veteran slugger Donn Clendenon.

At the time of the trade, Kranepool was back to his typical pre-1968 self, which meant he was batting .256 with six homers and 26 RBI while getting most of the starts at his customary position. The lefty-swinging Kranepool and the right-handed batting Clendenon were then platooned at first base by Hodges, which maximized power production at the corner infield spot.

From June 15 until season's end, Kranepool and Clendenon combined to produce 17 homers and 60 RBI in 441 plate appearances.  Kranepool also produced some huge hits along the way.  His walk-off RBI single off future Hall of Famer Ferguson Jenkins on July 8 capped a three-run, ninth-inning rally and gave the Mets a thrilling victory over the rival Cubs, just one day before Seaver shut down Chicago with his Imperfect Game.  Five days after his hit against Jenkins, Kranepool delivered another game-winner, this time a tie-breaking RBI double in the eighth inning against Montreal that gave New York a 4-3 victory.  The Expos were once again victimized by Kranepool on September 18, when the veteran homered and drove in both runs in the Mets' 2-0 victory.  Six days later, the Mets wrapped up their first N.L. East division title.

"We kept applying the pressure, and the Cubs knew they were in a pennant race," Kranepool said.  "Every time we played a big series, we won it.  We beat the Cubs head to head in every series after that.  We got some breaks - but look, a winning team makes its breaks."

Buoyed by their late-season push for the playoffs, the Mets miraculously won it all in 1969, sweeping the Atlanta Braves in the inaugural National League Championship Series and needing just five games to upset the heavily favored Baltimore Orioles in the World Series.  Kranepool started four of the Mets' eight postseason games, collecting a hit in each contest.  In the Mets' first-ever playoff game, Kranepool scored two runs and delivered the fielder's choice that plated the go-ahead run in the eighth inning.  The following day, Kranepool got the Mets on the board first with an RBI single in the first inning.  Kranepool played in just one World Series game because the Orioles started left-handed pitchers in four of the five games, but he made the most out of his sole appearance, clubbing a home run in the Mets' Game Three victory - the first Fall Classic game ever played in Flushing.

The look of a champion.  (Focus On Sport)

Although he was only 24 at the time, Kranepool had become the longest tenured Met.  He was also a world champion and one of the leaders in the tight-knit clubhouse.  Third baseman Ed Charles, the poet laureate of the Mets, said it best when he discussed the team's camaraderie during their championship season.

"We felt like a family," Charles said.  "It started with Mrs. Joan Payson, the owner, who had a habit of making people feel at home.  It included the leadership of Gil Hodges.  And there was the chemistry of the team.  We were all close.  I went to barbecues at the home of Kranepool, (Art) Shamsky, (Ron) Swoboda.  We went out together on the road.  I never saw a team with so much closeness."

As close as Kranepool was to his teammates in 1969, he ended up playing far away from them for most of the 1970 campaign.  Kranepool batted just .222 in April, then went 0-for-May, failing to collect a hit in the 12 games he appeared in during the month.  After not collecting a hit in five June games, which dropped his batting average to a pitcher-like .118, Kranepool was unceremoniously demoted to AAA-Tidewater, spending the next two months there trying to regain his hitting stroke.  Kranepool batted .310 in 47 games with the Tides and was called back up to the Mets in mid-August, where he was used exclusively as a pinch-hitter.  His final major league stats for the year: .170 batting average, eight hits, no homers and three RBI in 43 games.

While Kranepool was in the minors in 1970, his bat wasn't missed in the starting lineup, as Clendenon batted .288 with 22 homers and a then-franchise record 97 RBI.  But Clendenon saw a significant drop-off across the board in 1971 (.247, 11 HR, 37 RBI in 88 games), which allowed Kranepool to re-establish himself in the big leagues.  Kranepool's renaissance season ended with a .280 batting average, 14 homers and a career-high 58 RBI.

At the conclusion of the 1971 campaign, Clendenon was released by the Mets, allowing Kranepool to take over first base on a full-time basis for the first time since before Clendenon's arrival.  But the sudden death of Gil Hodges prior to the start of the 1972 season changed the direction of the club, with Yogi Berra tabbed to replace the beloved Hodges.  The passing of his manager and mentor also affected the play of Kranepool, who batted just .204 with four homers and 14 RBI through the team's first 87 games.  Kranepool eventually recovered after a three-month mourning period, batting .326 with 15 extra-base hits and 20 RBI over his final 195 plate appearances.

As good as Kranepool was during the second half of the 1972 season, he was surely going to lose playing time the following season to John Milner, who finished third in the National League Rookie of the Year vote in '72.  Milner played mostly in left field during his stellar rookie season, but was more suited to play first base.  In 1973, Milner and Kranepool switched positions, with Milner getting most of his starts at first base and Kranepool splitting time between first and left.  Kranepool did not respond well to the switch, batting .239 in 1973 with just one homer and 35 RBI.  He was also mostly a spectator during the Mets' run to their second division title in five seasons, appearing solely as a pinch-hitter during the last two weeks of the regular season.  But even in limited action, Kranepool was instrumental in getting the Mets back to the World Series.

The Mets played a dozen games during the 1973 postseason; Kranepool started one of them.  That lone start occurred in the first do-or-die playoff game in franchise history and only happened because right fielder Rusty Staub injured his shoulder in Game Four of the NLCS while making a spectacular catch against the outfield wall.  With the Mets and Cincinnati Reds having split the first four games of the best-of-five series, Kranepool got the nod from Berra to start Game Five in left field, with Cleon Jones moving to right in lieu of the injured Staub.  Kranepool rewarded his manager immediately, driving in the first two runs of the game with a bases-loaded single.  The Mets never trailed in the game and advanced to their second World Series, which they lost in seven games to the Oakland A's with the underhand-throwing Staub returning to right field and the healthy Kranepool returning to the bench.

The bench became a familiar place for Kranepool for the rest of his career.  From 1974 to 1978, Kranepool started just 317 games over the five-year period, making more than 82 starts in just one of the five seasons (1976).  Although he performed well as a part-time starter, batting .286 with a .399 slugging percentage, Kranepool was lethal as a pinch-hitter.  When he came off the bench from 1974 to 1978, Kranepool batted an eye-popping .396 (57-for-144) and slugged .590.  Included in the torrid stretch was a .486 batting average as a pinch-hitter in 1974 - the first of four consecutive seasons in which Kranepool batted .400 or higher as a sub - and a .300 pinch-hitting average in 1978, which doesn't seem as impressive until you consider that he hit .065 (2-for-31) during the season when he batted in other roles.

In the mid-to-late '70s, Kranepool was the team's top pinch-hitter and top mustache-grower.  (Michael Zagaris/Getty Images)

By the time 1979 rolled around, the team was in shambles.  Gone were Seaver and Koosman, with The Franchise being traded to Cincinnati as part of the Midnight Massacre in 1977 and Kooz being dealt to the Minnesota Twins following the 1978 campaign.  Not a single player from the '73 pennant-winning team remained at the start of the 1979 season.  Except for Kranepool.  And his days as a Met were also about to come to an end.

Following the death of team owner Joan Payson in 1975, control of the club went to her husband, Charles, and daughter, Lorinda de Roulet, neither of whom shared the same passion for the game that Mrs. Payson had.  Baseball operations fell into the hands of team chairman M. Donald Grant, who had no intention of spending much money to better the team.  Instead, he pared the roster of veteran players who were asking to be paid like their counterparts in other cities.  The camaraderie that existed between the players when the Mets won the World Series in 1969 was completely gone a decade later, and so was Grant, who was removed as the team's chairman by the club's board of directors prior to the 1979 season.

Kranepool, who was never one to mince his words, had some harsh feelings about the questionable transactions made by the team during the ill-fated M. Donald Grant era.

"Look at some of the deals they made," Kranepool said.  "They were horrendous.  They unloaded everybody and didn't make a good deal."

And although most of the negativity surrounding the team following the death of Payson fell on Grant, Kranepool always dished out more vitriol towards general manager Joe McDonald.

"I didn't have a good relationship with Joe McDonald," Kranepool said matter-of-factly.  "I didn't respect him.  I didn't like him; he didn't know anything about baseball.  There were termites who ate away at the organization, and he was part of the termites.  Donald Grant got blamed for it, but Joe McDonald was the one who made the trades."

Because of his testy relationship with McDonald, Kranepool knew that when his contract expired at the end of the 1979 season, he would no longer be a Met, regardless of how he performed.  In what would be the final year of his long career, Kranepool batted .232 and managed just two homers and 17 RBI in 174 plate appearances.  To add insult to injury, the Mets closed out their season at Shea Stadium on September 23 by honoring Lou Brock of the Cardinals, who set a major league record when he stole the 938th base of his career in his final appearance at Shea.  Kranepool, the only man to play for the Mets in each of the franchise's first 18 seasons, didn't even get to play in the game and received no ovation from the home crowd.

Following the season, Kranepool was not tendered a contract and became a free agent.  Although he was only 34 at the conclusion of the 1979 campaign, Kranepool never played another game in the majors.  He finished his career as the Mets' all-time leader in nearly offensive category, even though a good chunk of his career was spent riding the pine.

Ed Kranepool wasn't just a hometown kid living out his dream on the baseball diamond.  He was also a stockbroker and a restaurateur.   He appeared in commercials, movies and TV shows, doing everything from plugging shaving cream to being accused of stealing Chico Escuela's soap in a classic Saturday Night Live sketch.  And on multiple occasions, he used his business savvy to try to purchase the team he once played for.

Krane.  (Paul Hawthorne/Getty Images)

Following the 1979 campaign, the newly-retired Kranepool joined forces with a small group of investors in a failed attempt to buy the Mets from the Payson/de Roulet family.  The Mets were eventually sold to the team of publisher Nelson Doubleday and real estate investor Fred Wilpon.  Three decades later, when Wilpon encountered financial difficulties due to his connections with Ponzi scheme swindler Bernard Madoff, he attempted to sell a small percentage of the team to increase his cash flow.  Once again, Kranepool stepped up to the plate, this time with a group of investors that included Martin Luther King III, but no purchase was ever made.

When Doubleday and Wilpon bought the Mets in 1980, Kranepool officially ended his career in baseball.  His retirement as a player ensured that he couldn't affect the Mets on the field, and his inability to purchase a part of the team meant that he couldn't have a say off it.  But despite his numerous failures - not being able to buy a part of the team, not developing into a perennial All-Star and not even being an everyday player for the majority of his career - Kranepool remains beloved by Mets fans to this day.

His career began as a 17-year-old when the expansion Mets called the Polo Grounds home.  He developed into a serviceable player as the team moved into their new home in Queens.  He owned a World Series ring before he turned 25.  He thrived as a pinch-hitter during the latter part of his career.  And he was inducted into the Mets Hall of Fame after his playing days were over.

Forrest Gump got to experience and influence many key moments in American history just by being there.  Ed Kranepool's longevity did the same for him, as he witnessed and participated in many of the Mets' seminal moments.  Kranepool was there for the highs of two pennants and one World Series championship.  He was also present for the decline and dismantling of a once-proud team.  And when his run as the longest tenured Met was done, the native New Yorker just went home.

Kranepool will always have a home when it comes to the Mets.



Note: The Thrill of Victory, The Agony of the Mets is a thirteen-part weekly series spotlighting those Mets players and personnel who experienced the best of times and the worst of times with the team.  For previous installments, please click on the names below:

January 2, 2017: Tom Seaver
January 9, 2017: Mike Piazza
January 16, 2017: Wally Backman
January 23, 2017: Daniel Murphy
January 30, 2017: Frank Cashen

The Thrill of Victory, The Agony of the Mets: Tom Seaver

The Franchise.  Say those two words to any Mets fan and they'll know exactly who you're referring to.  To get that moniker, a player needs to have seen it all.  He needs to have experienced the highs that go with being the best, both as an individual and as part of a team.  But he also should know what it's like to fail and come just short of achieving his and the team's goals.

During the beginning of his career, the Mets' franchise player experienced a last place finish, followed by a quick rise to the top of the baseball world.  Individual awards would follow, as would the team's fall to mediocrity.  The Mets eventually shocked the baseball world again, only to be the laughingstocks of the league just a few years later.  And through it all, "The Franchise" kept doing what he did best until his best wasn't good enough for the franchise.

Just as the Mets eventually came back from their darkest days, so did "The Franchise", who returned to the team just as it was about to rise from the ashes that had been smoldering for seven long seasons.  And once again, a lower-case franchise blunder allowed the upper-case Franchise to walk away before a last ditch effort to have him end his wonderful career wearing blue and orange came to a crashing halt.

After so many victorious thrills and agonizing defeats, "The Franchise" called it a career after two decades in the game.  But what a career it was.

Call him "The Franchise", "Tom Terrific" or "The Greatest Player in Mets History".  (Getty Images)

George Thomas Seaver became a Met by accident.  Originally drafted by the Dodgers in the tenth round of the 1965 June Amateur Draft, Seaver balked at a $2,000 offer by Los Angeles, as he was looking for a hefty $50,000 sum.  When then-scout Tom Lasorda could only offer $3,000, Seaver walked away from his first professional contract, choosing to stay at the University of Southern California.

Seven months later, the Atlanta Braves selected Seaver in the secondary phase of the January draft and Seaver signed with the team, earning a $40,000 bonus.  But that contract was voided by Commissioner William Eckert because USC had played an exhibition game that the Braves did not know about prior to signing Seaver.  Baseball rules prohibited the signing of college players once their teams had played a game, even if that game didn't count in the standings.  In addition, once Seaver signed the now-voided contract with the Braves, he became ineligible to return to the USC baseball team, putting him in baseball limbo and making him a free agent.  As a result, a special lottery was held to determine which team had the right to sign the former Trojan pitcher.  Surprisingly, only three teams - the Indians, Phillies and Mets - entered the lottery for Seaver's services.  Defying not-so-overwhelming one-in-three odds, the Mets won the lottery, changing their franchise's fortunes forever.

Seaver spent his first season in professional ball at the Triple A level in Jacksonville.  That was his only year in the minors, as he posted a 12-12 record with the Suns, to go with ten complete games, four shutouts and 188 strikeouts in 32 starts.  During that same 1966 campaign, the Mets lost fewer than 100 games for the first time, finally climbing out of the National League basement.  Hope seemed to be on the horizon for New York and that hope arrived a season later, when Seaver was promoted to the big leagues.

The Mets regressed somewhat in 1967, going 61-101 and once again finishing in last place in the ten-team Senior Circuit, but Seaver proved that the Mets had done right in participating in the lottery for his services.  The 22-year-old neophyte set franchise records for wins (16), complete games (18) and strikeouts (170) and was the first starter in club history to post an ERA under 3.00 (Seaver finished the year with a stellar 2.76 ERA), becoming the ace of the staff in his rookie season - one that culminated with the National League Rookie of the Year award.

The 1968 season brought two new faces to the team that would help put an end to the 100-loss campaigns in Flushing - manager Gil Hodges and lefty starter Jerry Koosman.  As manager of the Washington Senators, Hodges ended the club's perennial rendezvous with triple-digit losses and the American League cellar and turned them into a middle-of-the-pack team, as Washington finished in sixth place in the ten-team American League in 1967.  Hodges then returned to his New York roots via a rare player-for-manager trade, as the Mets sent pitcher Bill Denehy and his one major league victory, along with $100,000 in cash to Washington in exchange for Hodges.  The deal became one of the best in Mets history, as Hodges ended up winning more championships as a manager (one) than Denehy won games as a pitcher (zero) after the two men switched uniforms.

Meanwhile, Jerry Koosman, who made his major league debut just one day after Seaver made his in 1967, but couldn't pitch well enough to stay at the big league level, flourished when given a second chance in 1968.  Retaining his rookie status in '68, Koosman surpassed Seaver's stellar debut campaign, winning 19 games, posting a 2.08 ERA and striking out 178 batters.  Seaver was also spectacular in 1968, going 16-12 with a 2.20 ERA and 205 strikeouts, becoming the first Met to reach the 200-K mark.  It would become a staple of Seaver's career.

The Mets finished 73-89 in 1968, prompting Hodges to proclaim that the team would win 85 games in 1969.  He based his prediction on the fact that the team lost 37 games the previous season by a single run.  "If you win half of those," Hodges said, "you are a contending ball club."

Defying the odds, the team did make it to the lofty 85-win plateau, reaching the prophetic skipper's total with three weeks left in the regular season, helped in part by the team's 41-23 record in one-run games.  They then proceeded to win 15 more contests, winning the division title to advance to the inaugural National League Championship Series against the Atlanta Braves - the team that tried in vain to sign Seaver just three years earlier.  Seaver was a huge part of the Mets' success in 1969, winning 25 games - a franchise record that still stands to this day - and nearly became the first Met to toss a no-hitter.  In fact, Seaver retired the first 25 Chicago Cubs batters he faced on July 9 before surrendering a clean single to Jimmy Qualls to break up his bid for perfection.  This is the same Jimmy Qualls who finished his career with 31 hits, or 171 fewer than Seaver had as a batter in his career.  Seaver would take no-hitters into the ninth inning again in 1972 and 1975, but neither of those near no-nos would be as cherished as his "Imperfect Game" against the Cubs in 1969.

Cleon Jones catches the final out of the "Imperfect Game" as Tom Seaver ponders what might have been.  (MLB.com)

Seaver's fantastic season - he also posted a 2.21 ERA and struck out 208 batters - earned him his first Cy Young award.  Seaver would have been the unanimous winner of the award had one vote not gone to Braves knuckleball pitcher Phil Niekro.  But Seaver got the last laugh, defeating Niekro in Game One of the NLCS.  The Mets went on to sweep the Braves in the best-of-five series to win their first National League pennant and a date with the powerhouse Baltimore Orioles in the World Series.

Although Seaver lost the first game of the Fall Classic in Baltimore, he came back with a tremendous performance in Game Four at Shea Stadium, pitching ten innings of one-run ball.  The Orioles' sole tally of the game scored on a sacrifice fly by Brooks Robinson in the ninth inning, a play that is now famous in Mets' lore because of Ron Swoboda's jaw-dropping diving catch.  Upon completing the top of the tenth, Seaver was removed for pinch-hitter J.C. Martin, who reached base on an errant throw by Orioles' reliever Pete Richert, which allowed pinch-runner Rod Gaspar to scamper home from second base with the winning run.

Seaver's complete-game, extra-inning masterpiece gave the Mets a commanding 3-1 lead in the series and Jerry Koosman's complete game win the following day wrapped up the Mets' first World Series championship.  In a span of three seasons, Seaver helped transform the Mets from cellar dwellers to penthouse occupants, and he reflected upon the team's sudden rise to the top of the baseball world in a post-game locker room interview with Mets broadcaster Lindsey Nelson.

"No matter what happened, no matter where we were ... we never put our heads between our legs and we always fought and it's the greatest feeling in the world."

With a nucleus built around the young pitching staff that included Seaver, Koosman, Gary Gentry and Nolan Ryan, the Mets were expected to contend for many years to come.  But the team that surpassed Hodges' 85-win prediction never won that many games again under Hodges' leadership, racking up 83 victories in 1970 and 1971.  The sudden death of Hodges prior to the start of the 1972 campaign shook up everyone on the team, but none more so than Seaver.

"It was utter disbelief," said Seaver.  "I don't think Gil's death had an effect on the team but it had an effect on the individuals... He prepared you for your career - and unfortunately one that turned out to be not having him as a manager."

Seaver clearly was affected as an individual during the 1972 season, his first without Gil Hodges as manager since his rookie campaign.  After completing what was arguably his finest season in 1971, setting career highs in complete games (21) and strikeouts (289), while leading the league in ERA (1.76) and WHIP (0.946), Seaver dropped off a bit under new manager Yogi Berra, completing eight fewer starts, striking out 40 fewer hitters and watching his ERA go up by more than a full run, although 13 complete games, 249 Ks and a 2.92 ERA are numbers most pitchers would love to have.  Not satisfied with his season in 1972, Seaver set out to return to championship form in 1973.  It took his teammates a little longer to join him.

Seaver thrived under Gil Hodges and missed him terribly after he was gone.  (Bob Moreland/St. Petersburg Times)

The 1972 season saw the Mets get off to a strong start (32-13 in their first 45 games) before limping to the finish line (51-60 after their hot start).  The hangover continued into the 1973 campaign, as the Mets were below .500 most of the season.  Although Seaver posted an impressive 2.08 ERA through his first 19 starts, he only had nine wins to show for it.  But from July 18 to September 13, Seaver made sure the team wouldn't saddle him with no-decision after no-decision.

In 13 starts over the two-month stretch, Tom Terrific pitched 118⅓ innings, incredibly averaging over nine innings per start.  Seaver won eight of those starts, posting a 1.29 ERA and 0.90 WHIP while holding opposing batters to a .200/.239/.276 slash line.  Included in those starts was a 12-inning, 12-strikeout performance against the Reds in August and an 11-inning, 12 strikeout game versus the Phillies in September.  When Seaver's streak began, the Mets were still double digit games out of first place.  By the time he defeated the Phillies with his Herculean effort on September 13, the Mets had moved to within 2½ games of first place.  Finally, on September 21, Seaver put the Mets in first for good with a complete-game victory over the Pittsburgh Pirates.  Ten days later, the Mets wrapped up their second division crown in five seasons with Seaver earning the title-clinching win over the Chicago Cubs.

The disappointing (to him) 1972 campaign was no longer in Seaver's rear view mirror, as Seaver's 1973 campaign saw him lead the league in ERA (2.08), complete games (18), strikeouts (251), WHIP (0.976), fewest hits per nine innings (6.8), strikeouts per nine innings (7.8) and strikeout to walk ratio (3.92).  Seaver earned his second Cy Young Award and received MVP consideration for the sixth time in seven years.  But Seaver couldn't help the team win its second championship despite having a stellar postseason.  In four games against the Reds and A's, Seaver pitched to a 1.99 ERA, 1.073 WHIP and had 35 strikeouts in 31⅔ innings, but the Mets lost three of those four starts.  With the Mets holding a three games to two lead in the World Series, manager Yogi Berra tabbed Seaver to pitch the potential championship-clinching game on three days rest rather than going to a well-rested George Stone.  The decision failed miserably, as Oakland won a pitchers' duel in Game Six and then took the seventh and deciding game, defeating Jon Matlack on short rest instead of what could have been Seaver on normal rest.  

Passing a kidney stone is a daunting experience.  But passing up Stone for Seaver was enough to give repressed memories to fans for years to come and served as the beginning of the end for the Mets as we knew them.  In fact, Seaver's long-time teammate, Ed Kranepool knew Berra's costly decision to start Seaver over Stone was wrong from the moment it was made.

"Sometimes managers will affect a short series.  The best team is going to win in 162 games, but when it comes to the World Series, a critical mistake by a manager can affect the game.  Sometimes (managers) are asleep,"  said Kranepool.  "George (Stone) was our hottest pitcher down the stretch.  If they knock him out, big deal, we got (Game Seven) with the whole staff.  Yogi is the greatest guy in the world, he's a sweetheart, he's a nice guy but I wouldn't want him to lead me to war."

With the team still stewing over their bitter defeat in the World Series, the 1974 squad became the first to finish with a losing record since 1968 and the first to lose 90+ games since Seaver's rookie campaign.  Seaver's season was easily the worst of his eight-year career, as he won just three of his first 15 starts with an ERA approaching 4.00 during that time, before finishing his injury-plagued year (he suffered from shoulder and hip pain) with a mediocre 11-11 record and 3.20 ERA.  His poor showing caused him to be left off the National League All-Star roster for the first time and also caught the attention of New York Daily News writer Dick Young, who claimed that Seaver "was an agent of discontent among his teammates."

Brushing off his subpar showing in 1974 as well as Young's comments, Seaver rebounded with his third Cy Young Award-winning season in 1975, posting a league-leading 22 wins and 243 strikeouts to go with a 2.38 ERA and 1.088 WHIP.  His pitching brethren, however, did not follow suit, as the rest of the team combined to go 60-71 with a 3.63 ERA and 1.365 WHIP.

Only Sandy Koufax had ever won three Cy Young Awards.  Until Tom Seaver matched him.  (Larry C. Morris/Getty Images)

The opposite was true in 1976, as Seaver could only manage a 14-11 mark on a team that went 86-76, which at the time was the second-most wins in franchise history.  Although Seaver did extend his major league record with his ninth consecutive season of 200 or more strikeouts - Seaver's 235 whiffs gave him a fifth National League strikeout crown - he was no longer the top winner on the team, as both Jerry Koosman (21-10, 2.69 ERA, 200 strikeouts) and Jon Matlack (17-10, 2.95 ERA, team-leading six shutouts) set new career highs in victories.

The 1976 campaign was also the first without original team owner Joan Payson, who passed away just days after the completion of the 1975 regular season.  Upon her death, ownership of the club shifted to her husband, Charles Payson, and their daughter Lorinda de Roulet, but baseball operations were placed solely in the hands of team chairman M. Donald Grant.  As much as Charles and Lorinda were not really fans of baseball, Grant was not a fan of spending money on his own players or on other teams' players, as free agency had just begun around that time.  This, of course, came into play when it was time to negotiate Seaver's contract.

Prior to the 1976 season, Seaver asked Grant for a three-year, $825,000 contract.  Seaver had just won his third Cy Young Award, joining Hall of Famer Sandy Koufax as the only pitchers to have won as many as three.  Grant would have none of Seaver's demands and threatened to trade him to the Dodgers for Don Sutton if he didn't agree to the chairman's terms.  Eventually, Seaver agreed to a three-year, $675,000 deal that would keep him in Flushing.  At the same time, slugger Dave Kingman had noticed the multi-million dollar contract that the Yankees had offered Reggie Jackson and wanted a comparable deal.  When Grant offered Kingman a paltry $200,000, the Sky King held out for more, causing Grant to blame Seaver for what he felt were exorbitant demands by Kingman, as if Seaver's contract squabbles had coerced Kingman to ask for the financial compensation he felt he deserved.

Seaver and Kingman began the 1977 season unhappy with their deals, but still on the team.  By the time the season was half-complete, that would no longer be the case.

Entering the 1977 campaign, New York tabloid writers were mostly on Seaver's side of the argument, seeing how instrumental "The Franchise" was in the success of the franchise.  One such writer was Maury Allen of the New York Post.

"When you have the best pitcher in the world, you sign him, you don't humiliate him," wrote Allen.  "Grant can't stand opposition from Seaver or anybody."

Unfortunately, one writer stood steadfastly with Grant, and that was all it took to get Seaver to ask for a ticket out of New York.  Going back to 1974, Dick Young of the New York Daily News had always been critical of Seaver and how he affected the Mets clubhouse.  But once free agency began, Young really unloaded upon Seaver, calling him a "pouting, griping, morale-breaking clubhouse lawyer poisoning the team."  On the morning of June 15, 1977 - the day of the trade deadline - Young and fellow Daily News scribe Jack Lang took opposing views on the Seaver vs. Grant feud.

"My unhappiness started with the contract negotiations a year-and-a-half ago," said Seaver to Lang.  "All of a sudden, nine years of performance for the Mets was thrown out the window... They even threatened to trade me if I didn't sign it, so I signed."

That deal would have kept Seaver in New York until 1978.  However, the night before the Daily News article was published, Seaver went directly to owner Lorinda de Roulet, bypassing Grant in the process, and finalized a three-year contract extension that would pay him $1.1 million to remain a Met through the 1981 season.  The next day, in his counterpoint to Lang, Young brought up Seaver's good friend and former teammate, Nolan Ryan.  Young also brought up someone else who was quite dear to Seaver.

"Nolan Ryan is now getting more than Seaver", wrote Young in his article, "and that galls Tom because Nancy Seaver and Ruth Ryan are very friendly and Tom Seaver long has treated Nolan Ryan like a little brother."

A dick and a Dick helped push Tom Seaver out of New York.  (AP Photo/Daily News photo)

Seaver had tolerated years of criticism from Young and had always turned the other cheek rather than retaliate.  But once Young brought Seaver's wife into his smear-fest, that was the final straw for Seaver and his decade-long tenure in New York.  "Get me out of here," screamed a disgusted Seaver.  And with those five words, Seaver backed away from his million dollar extension and demanded to be traded.  By the end of the day, "The Midnight Massacre" was complete, with Seaver being dealt to the Reds for Pat Zachry, Steve Henderson, Doug Flynn and Dan Norman.  In addition, Dave Kingman was shipped off to San Diego for Bobby Valentine, which effectively silenced the two players who were most vocal when it came to how much they should be paid for their services.  Or so Grant thought.

At the time of the trade, Seaver had a 7-3 record for the last place Mets and Kingman was leading the team with nine homers and 28 RBI.  Once the deals were consummated, the Mets went 38-63 to end the season with 98 losses.  Meanwhile, Seaver and Kingman let their play on the field do the talking for them.  Seaver posted his fifth 20-win season in 1977 and led the league in shutouts (7) and WHIP (1.014), which helped him finish in a third-place tie for the Cy Young Award, while Kingman continued to hit the long ball, peaking two years later when he smacked a league-leading 48 homers and drove in 115 runs for the Cubs.

From 1977 to 1982, the Mets finished in last place four times, never winning more than 67 games.  But with the sale of the team in 1980 to Nelson Doubleday and Fred Wilpon, the days of playing in "Grant's Tomb" were soon to be over.  By 1983, the team had brought back Kingman, traded for George Foster, were about to call up top hitting prospect Darryl Strawberry and were soon to acquire perennial Gold Glove winner Keith Hernandez.  One other veteran was added to the mix in 1983 - one that was happy to return now that M. Donald Grant was no longer running the show.

In his first five seasons with the Reds, Seaver posted a 70-33 record, finally completed the no-hitter that eluded him on three occasions as a Met, and had three top-five finishes in the Cy Young Award vote, including a second-place finish behind Fernando Valenzuela in the strike-shortened 1981 campaign.  But Seaver's 1982 season was one of physical pain (shoulder) and professional embarrassment, as the 37-year-old struggled through 21 starts, averaging barely over five innings per outing and posting a 5-13 record, 5.50 ERA and 1.617 WHIP.  The Reds wanted nothing to do with Seaver entering the 1983 season, and the Mets were quick to bring him back to Flushing.

(Focus On Sport/Getty Images)

Seaver posted his second consecutive losing season in 1983, going 9-14 in 34 starts.  Although that represented his worst record in 12½ seasons as a Met, Seaver did improve his ERA by nearly two runs (3.55) and his 231 innings were the most he had thrown since 1978.  At age 38 and in his 17th season in the big leagues, Seaver managed to lead all Mets starters in innings pitched and ERA, as well as strikeouts (135) and WHIP (1.242).  He also tied for the team lead in starts (34), complete games (5) and shutouts (2).  Seaver's return to New York did not help the Mets in the National League East standings, as the team finished the 1983 campaign in last place with a less than spectacular 68-94 record.  However, that still represented the most wins the Mets had recorded since 1976 - Seaver's last full season with the team.  

But the place where the Mets really reaped the rewards of Seaver's return was in the ticket booth.  Whenever a pitcher other than Seaver started for the Mets at Shea Stadium in 1983, an average of 12,284 fans were in attendance.  But in Seaver's 19 starts at home, the average attendance nearly doubled to 23,007 fans.  The Mets had seven home dates during the 1983 season in which they surpassed 30,000 fans.  All seven were Seaver starts.

Despite the obvious attendance boost that Seaver gave the team, the Mets front office failed to protect him in the free agent compensation draft.  Although Seaver was under contract for the 1984 season, the Mets incorrectly assumed that his age (Seaver turned 39 in November), contract (he was due to earn nearly $800,000 in 1984) and his 20-37 won-loss record over the previous two seasons would discourage potential suitors from scooping him out of the compensation pool.  They were wrong.  For the second time in seven years, "The Franchise" parted ways with the Mets, this time going to the Chicago White Sox.

"It's a personal decision," said Seaver about the Mets' decision to leave him unprotected.  "I don't feel betrayed, and I'm not going to blast anybody.  But I'm upset.  It was a mistake, they admit that."

Seaver left New York just 27 wins shy of 300 for his career and two victories away from 200 as a Met.  He then proceeded to go 31-22 for the White Sox over the 1984 and 1985 campaigns, despite the fact that Chicago was a combined 159-165 over the two seasons.  Seaver pitched nearly 500 innings over the two seasons and had 16 complete games and five shutouts, with one of those complete games coming on August 4, 1985 at Yankee Stadium, when Seaver earned his 300th win.  Not bad for a supposedly washed-up quadragenarian.

After splitting the season between the White Sox and Red Sox in 1986 (and watching the Mets win the World Series from the visitors' dugout), Seaver got one more chance to play for the Mets when he was signed by the team on June 5, 1987 after a rash of injuries felled several of the club's pitchers.  But the third time with the Mets was not the charm for the 42-year-old Seaver, as a poor outing in a simulated game on June 20 - one in which Seaver allowed Mets backup catcher Barry Lyons to go 6-for-6 against him with a home run - ended Seaver's comeback and career.

"In my heart, I feel the time has come for me not to play anymore," said Seaver at his retirement press conference.  "I've used up all the competitive pitches in me... I don't know what the future holds for me.  That's what I'll be digesting for the next year.  I'm sure the answer is out there.  I'm not going to rush into anything."

The future for Seaver held many accolades.  First, in 1988, his number was retired by the Mets, making him the first player in franchise history to have his number permanently removed from circulation.  (Casey Stengel and Gil Hodges were bestowed that honor as managers.)  Then, in 1992, Seaver was inducted into the National Baseball Hall of Fame, receiving the support of 98.8% of the voters - a record that stood until Ken Griffey Jr. was named on 99.3% of the ballots in 2016.

Tom Seaver.  Hall of Famer.  Baseball Legend.  (Bettmann/Getty Images)

Tom Seaver was named "The Franchise" not just because he's the Mets' all-time leader in the majority of pitching categories.  He received that nickname because he brought life to a dormant franchise.  When he first pitched for the Mets in 1967, Seaver gave fans hope that the team was finally heading in the right direction.  Two years later, he helped deliver a miraculous championship to the masses.  When he left in 1977, the hopes of the franchise went with him and the team embarked through a moribund period that lasted for more than half a decade.  Once Seaver returned in 1983, fans flocked to Shea Stadium to see him pitch when nothing else would bring them to the ballpark.  And until Mike Piazza was enshrined in Cooperstown in 2016, Seaver was the only Hall of Famer wearing a Mets cap on his plaque.

He threw a no-hitter as a member of the Cincinnati Reds.  He won his 300th game pitching for the Chicago White Sox.  But he won his only championship with the New York Mets.  In 20 big league seasons, Tom Seaver experienced all the highs and lows a player can face.  He pitched for winning teams and he pitched for second division clubs.  He also dealt with an untrustworthy front office and the backstabbing media as well as he could.

"The Franchise" will always be loved and remembered in New York.  It's unfortunate that not all of his memories of New York are ones he would love to remember.


Note: The Thrill of Victory, The Agony of the Mets is a thirteen-part weekly series spotlighting those Mets players and personnel who experienced the best of times and the worst of times with the team.  Please come back next week for the latest installment.