The Mets: A 50th Anniversary Celebration

Editorial Director Jennifer Levesque makes nice on her promise to pay respect to her beloved Mets, just in time for our 50th anniversary commemorative book.

I’m very excited for the publication on September 1st of The Mets: A 50th Anniversary Celebration, which I worked on in conjunction with the New York Daily News. The book is written by two of their reporters, Andy Martino and Anthony McCarron, and includes a moving foreword by former Met Ron Darling.

This is not my first time writing about the Mets for this blog. A few months ago, I wrote a piece about going to Yankee Stadium for the first time as a Mets fan. I thought I was being very fair and balanced and not at all offensive (cue “Kumbaya”) as I wrote about the nice time I had, the people I met, and how I’ve come to appreciate Jeter. Boy, was I wrong. I was shocked by how much crap I got from friends and relatives. The feedback I received was that no true Mets fan would write so lovingly about the Yankees. (I guess it didn’t help that I posted a photo on Facebook of me at the game wearing a Yankees cap—a cute, pink Yankees cap, but a Yankees cap no less.)

Anyway, this time I decided to devote this post to my friends and colleagues who are Mets fans. Let them do the talking! Below are some memories from die-hard fans of those lovable underdogs:

The Mets have been a staple in my life since 1962. I was 20 years old when they were born. I saw my first Mets game in the Polo Grounds that year! Since expansion was new then, the team seemed pretty weird to me. Jim Hickman, Frank Thomas, and Richie Ashburn were 1962 Mets. It seemed like a team from the 1950s, not the 1960s. Yes, they’ve now won two world championships. But in between those 1969 and 1986 championship teams there have been lean years and laughable teams. The words of the immortal Casey Stengel, spoken when he first looked at his players in that 1962 spring training, are appropriate even today: “Can anybody here play this game?”
—Marc H. Lavietes, physician (and Jen’s stepfather), New York

Back in the summer of 2001, I interned for the Mets in their front office. One of my responsibilities was to escort players, and on occasion I would escort Mr. Met to autograph signings. During one of those trips, on a very hot summer day, I was alone with Mr. Met in an elevator and I asked him how he was able to stay alive in that costume during this terrible heat. Keeping in character, Mr. Met put out his giant right hand and rubbed his four fingers together, insinuating that it’s all about the money!
—Chris Blank, senior manager of digital and Web development at ABRAMS, New York City

Literally my earliest memory is of the Mets. In 1986, I was a little over 2 years old, and I watched the World Series in Park Slope with my stay-at-home father. I’d like to tell you that I vividly recall Game Six, but that would be a stretch; still, watching those games on my dad’s knee formed the basis of our very earliest meaningful interactions, and to this day, we quiz each other to see which of us can name the most 1986 Mets off the top of our heads.
—Aiah Wieder, editor, New York City

Being a Mets fan takes intestinal fortitude. With noisy neighbors, extreme highs (“a little roller up the line…BEHIND THE BAG”), and devastating lows (Beltran taking a called third strike), you have to WANT to be a Mets fan, and that’s what makes it so special.

I remember my first game, colored tiles hanging on the cables. I remember the neon players. I remember my dad buying me a hot dog and an RC. I remember the World Series that we won, and the one we didn’t. I remember watching the new place go up, and the old place come down. I remember how excited my daughter was when I took her to her first game and I hope she remembers me the way I remember my old man— as a Mets fan.

If the Mets were a dog they’d be a mutt—Pinstripes from the Bronx (Yankees), Blues from Brooklyn (Dodgers), Orange from the Polo Grounds (Giants). Playing in the most ethnically diverse county in the world, it makes sense that the team from Queens is a mish-mash of New York baseball. As an Asian American, it also makes sense that they’re my team.
—John Suzuki, baseball-loving father, Forest Hills, New York

Growing up in Queens meant the Mets were family. We walked home from the games triumphant with a win or loss, knowing our heroes played their hearts out.
—Dan Perez, teacher, Manorville, New York (formerly from Jackson Heights)

My dad was always a Red Sox fan so he hated the Yankees. Growing up in Connecticut we needed a local team to support so we were instant Mets fans when the team began play in 1962. My biggest baseball conflict of interest was the ’86 series between the Mets and Red Sox and trying to pick the team to root for, as I really wanted my Dad to see his beloved team win a World Series during his lifetime. I had mixed emotions when the Mets beat the Sox. I have on my wall at home a photo (with signatures) of the famous Mookie Wilson/ Bill Buckner play. If the Mets were to meet the Red Sox again in the Series I will wear my blue and orange colors proudly.
—Marty McGrath, executive director of sales at ABRAMS, Connecticut

My uncle was married the night of Game 6 of the 1986 World Series, between the Mets and the Red Sox. My uncle is from New York and my aunt is from Boston, so the church was divided right up the middle with Mets fans on one side (the groom’s) and Red Sox fans on the other (the bride’s). As the wedding party walked up the aisle and passed my grandfather, he leaned across the aisle and stage whispered “Go Mets!” to the bride’s father… During the ceremony the priest stopped more than once to give updates on the score… I remember everyone gathering in the honeymoon suite later that night to watch the end of the game and the now-infamous “Bill Buckner Incident.” The air of resignation in the room as the Mets neared what seemed like certain defeat, followed by the disbelieving elation as the ball dribbled between Buckner’s legs, pretty well sums up the roller coaster of emotion that comes with being a Mets fan.
—David Blatty, managing editor at ABRAMS, Brooklyn, NY

I remember, in ’86, being on the phone with my friend Rick Tetzeli at the end of game 6 with Boston. We had gone to a ton of games that season (splitting some season ticket package), and we thought it was all over in the bottom of the 10th with two outs before the Mets staged their classic rally. After the ball went through Buckner’s legs and Mookie scored I remember jumping up and down for probably 10 minutes. It was, well, amazing!              
—Steve Tager, vice president and publisher at ABRAMS, New York City