Mets Today

After a long hiatus, Luis Castillo is returning from the disabled list and scheduled to be in the starting lineup tonight against the Astros.

UPDATE: Luis will NOT be returning just yet … but feel free to read on anyway.

Many people are unhappy with this development. However, I’m not one of those people. In fact, I am excited to see Luis Castillo back at second base and in the #2 spot in the lineup. Allow me to explain. (more…)

Rattlesnakes are venomous, and thus some people refer to them as “poisonous”. Similarly, Carlos Delgado is poisonous, in the way he approaches and executes his job. Poisonous because as the de facto veteran “leader” of the club, other Mets look to him as an example and might consider emulating his style.

For example, in the bottom of the fifth of last night’s game, there was a popup hit into foul territory on the first-base side by Aaron Rowand with two outs and men on base. Brian Schneider ran a good 100 feet in a hustling effort, but missed the ball by about two feet as the wind blew it just out of his reach. Watching the entire play, and taking digital photographs, was Carlos Delgado, who had a fine view and thanks to the zoom lens was able to get nice, clear shots of the effort. Earlier in the game, we watched Delgado make a half-hearted effort at a ground ball that skipped past him and Luis Castillo and into right field, with neither player making a diving effort.

This was not the first time we’ve seen Delgado make half-assed efforts at baseballs. Rather, this is his usual approach to balls that come off the bat. Sometimes it looks like he’s making a valiant attempt to AVOID batted balls.

I didn’t expect Delgado to get the ground ball, nor the popup. But, my feeling is this: if you are making SIXTEEN MILLION DOLLARS to play baseball, you best be a.) sweating; b.) breathing heavy; and c.) getting dirty. These three elements really need to occur when you are supposed to be, but not delivering as, a cleanup hitter and major offensive threat.

Here’s the thing. I know that age has robbed Carlos Delgado of his most valuable skills. However, that doesn’t mean he should be sleepwalking his way to his paycheck. If you can no longer do one thing well because your age makes it out of your control — then you must at the very least make a full effort with the actions that are in your control. This is called “earning your salary”. Delgado is good at scooping balls in the dirt, and good at occasionally hitting a pitcher’s mistake — sometimes over the wall, sometimes for a single. Every other aspect of his game is awful. His awfulness would be mildly acceptable if he hustled, dove for balls, and looked like he was trying. But he doesn’t — he looks like a lazy bum who doesn’t want the ball hit to him.

Right here is where I bring up Ron “Rocky” Swoboda, a fan favorite from the late 1960s and early 70s. For those of you too young to have seen him, Swoboda was a terrible fielder. He played the outfield — or rather, the outfield played him. Every fly ball was an adventure, and ground balls were far from routine. But, he hustled after every ball hit his way, regularly dove for balls, and thought nothing of smashing into walls. He’s most famous for a reckless, full-extension, diving backhand stab of a line drive in the 1969 World Series (this was known in NYC as “The Catch” after Willie Mays went west and before Endy Chavez robbed Scott Rolen). Bottom line: he was far from the most talented player on the field, but he was almost always the smelliest and the dirtiest. In other words, he earned his paycheck — which was probably around $40,000. Nice pay for an average Joe back then, but even with inflation it’s a far, far cry from the eight-figure salary collected by Delgado.

These days, Delgado is a very old 35. He labors around the bases, can’t bend down on ground balls, and has cinderblocks for feet. It takes three base hits to score him from first. In the past few years, his OBP has dropped 100 points, his slugging percentage slid double that. He always struck out at a high rate, but in the past at least he took walks. Now, walks are rare, in part because pitchers would be silly not to throw him strikes, and mostly because he rarely sees more than three pitches in an at-bat. His forte is his ability to hit homeruns, but he only hits one every 28 times to the plate (that comes out to around 17 in a 500 at-bat season). He’s also supposed to be an “RBI guy”, but he has driven in a total of only 18 runners (besides himself) in 55 games. That is AWFUL. You want to know how awful? Let me throw this at you: Delgado has driven in those 18 runners, out of 163 “ducks on the pond”. That’s right — Delgado has seen 163 runners on base when he’s come to bat, and driven in only 18 of them. That’s a rate of about 11 percent. To put that into perspective, consider that David Wright and Ryan Church are around 18%, Carlos Beltran is at 17%, and Luis Castillo is at 14%. (Most MLB hitters are somewhere around 15-20%, with the true run producers closer to 20).

Carlos Delgado is a wonderful human being, a truly nice guy with a big heart, and he has an extremely impressive resume. However, his once-amazing skills have diminished greatly, and he plays the game like a tired senior citizen on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Even if he starts to hit for power with some regularity, it won’t be enough to make up for his other shortcomings. Most importantly, he is the acting leader but doesn’t provide an especially inspirational example. A leader should have an insatiable hunger to get to the baseball while on defense, and a relentless need to beat the ball to the bag on offense. Every time Delgado pulls up and jogs down the line on a routine grounder, or waves his mitt at a passing grounder, he’s sending a signal to everyone else on the team: “No need to sweat, no need to dirty the uniform — save your energy. Hustling and diving are not important to winning.”

And THAT message is poisonous to everyone else on the field and in the dugout.

I just read on MetsBlog that Peter Gammons thinks the Mets need a “gamer” (I’d link you straight to the column but that’s a “members only” section of ESPN).

Funny … I thought the same thing … LAST YEAR.

If only Omar had been reading MetsToday last winter, maybe the Mets would currently be part of the postseason.

There were at least three more articles ready to go concerning the collapse of the Mets, but at this point who cares? It’s over. The subject has been saturated. Time to move on, and start looking ahead to 2008.

Let’s begin with Paul LoDuca.

When the Mets refused to discuss an extension with LoDuca in the spring, it was a red flag that the 2007 season might be his last as a Met. And while his spirited play was a breath of fresh air on an occasionally lifeless squad, his defense took another step backward and his offensive production dropped considerably compared to 2006.

Paul LoDuca 2006-2007 Comparison

The RBI were up, but that was more a function of his being in the bottom half of the batting order, rather than in the #2 spot that he called home for most of 2006. Still, it was nice to see that production at the bottom of the order. And though nearly doubling his homerun output, it came at the expense of 21 less doubles. Bottom line was, he didn’t get the bat on the ball nearly as often in 2007 as he did in 2006 — and for a guy that doesn’t walk, that is a major problem when trying to get on base and score runs (i.e., start rallies).

Looking at LoDuca in a vacuum, it’s easy to say “let him test the free-agent waters, we’ll get someone else in here.” However, the pickings are slim; in fact, LoDuca may very well be the best value available on the market.

Herewith the list of potential free-agent catchers:

• Jorge Posada
• Ivan Rodriguez
• Brad Ausmus
• Jason Kendall
• Mike Piazza
• Damian Miller
• Michael Barrett
• Kelly Stinnett
• Yorvit Torrealba
• Josh Paul
• Doug Mirabelli
• Mike Lieberthal
• Robert Fick
• Rod Barajas
• Paul Bako
• Jason Larue
• Todd Greene
• Chad Moeller

That’s it folks. And the Tigers may or may not be picking up Pudge Rodriguez’s option — something the Mets will be watching closely, we presume. I don’t see Posada crossing town, and I don’t see Piazza returning. Barrett was a guy I once thought might be OK, but he can’t hit and he can’t catch and Lou Piniella says he can’t call a game either (he does have a good left hook, though). Ausmus will either re-sign with Houston or go back to San Diego (it’s simply what he does, for whatever reason). Lieberthal’s days as a regular are over. There’s been some talk about Torrealba, but he looks to me like a Paul LoDuca who strikes out twice as often. Who’s left, realistically? Rod Barajas? Jason Larue? I’m thinking … no.

Before you get on the “Ramon Castro should start” kick, here’s some news: Castro is a free-agent as well. And coming off back problems. Further, though you may not care, both Mike DiFelice and Sandy Alomar, Jr., are free birds as well. So in all likelihood, the Mets’ 40-man roster in November will be devoid of catchers. (Damn the Nats for rule-5-drafting Jesus Flores!)

Castro’s not a lock to return, despite his homerun heroics in limited duty. The Mets are concerned with his back, and may not be willing to pay the money he could get from another team — such as, an AL team that could use him as a backup catcher and DH. There is no one outside of 17-year-old Francisco Pena in the minors. There’s a very real possibility that the Mets will have to find a starting and backup catcher from outside the organization.

But unless a trade (or two) can be made, it may make the most sense to bring back LoDuca. The fans love his spirit, the team can use his leadership, and his numbers aren’t that bad compared to what’s available on the market. He’s proven that he can handle the New York media, and the various pressures that go with playing in the big city. The pitchers like pitching to him, and he handles the staff well. He’s a team player, and though he whines once in a while, he’s hardly a distraction. One must wonder who will take the pressure off David Wright — as far as speaking to the media — once LoDuca and Glavine are gone. That duty can’t be measured, nor ignored. It’s not like one of the Carloses will suddenly become the Mets’ spokesperson.

Outside of free agency, I’m not sure there are any good fits worth trading for. Ramon Hernandez? Maybe. Contrary to reports, I don’t believe Victor Martinez can be pried away from the Indians — and if he is, the price is sure to be hefty. There’s been talk about Ronny Paulino of the Pirates, as well as Miguel Olivo of the Marlins, but I’m not sure either of them is an improvement over LoDuca. Gerald Laird is available now that Texas has Jarrod Saltalamacchia, but do you really think Laird is the answer? In New York? Maybe on the 1981 Mets, but not the 2008 version. Johnny Estrada is a possibility, but again, isn’t he essentially LoDuca? Why give up personnel for a guy when you can sign someone similar and give up nothing?

If there were a backstop out there who we could definitely say is a good fit, and could improve on LoDuca’s production, then fine — let Paulie go. But that doesn’t appear to be the case. Barring a blockbuster deal, or an infatuation with Pudge Rodriguez, the odds of Paul LoDuca returning may be better than we originally thought.

Nearly lost in the sea of post-mortem articles covering the collapse was this Daily News article, headlined,

“Lastings Milledge Expresses Disappointment Over Collapse”

My response, to quote the great Miles Davis: “So What?”

From the article, we find out that Lastings Milledge is — not surprisingly, based on the headline — disappointed that the Mets didn’t make it into the postseason. Here’s a quote:

“As a team, we’re disappointed a little bit,” Milledge said Sunday after the Mets’ season ended.”

First of all, I had no idea Milledge was a spokesman for the team. Though I suppose the morgue-like clubhouse didn’t house many yappers after the atrocious game 162.

Secondly, that was the last sentence that did not include the pronoun “I”.

At MetsToday, we’ve been hard on Lastings … and received quite a bit of flak for it. However, it’s not ending anytime soon. His “improvement” in behavior in 2007 was a step in the right direction, but hardly the leap that was necessary for a “future star” playing under the heat of the New York limelight. Yeah, yeah, he has the right to produce rap albums and sing misogynistic lyrics on them as well. He’s misunderstood, representative of the youth of America. I get it. His outbursts on the field — the taunting of opponents, the dancing, the mouthing off with umpires, and the temper tantrums are products of his “enthusiasm” and “exuberance”. Yeah, I get that too. His sometimes abrasive cockiness is the “mark of a confident ballplayer”. Believe it or not, I get that as well. I also get the fact that he has immense skills — specifically, lightning hands that drive the bat through the zone and swat fierce line drives.

And with that complete package (or is it “baggage”?) that is Lastings, we get: a .272 batting average, 7 HRs, 29 RBI, in 59 games and 184 at-bats. Over a 150-game, 600-AB season, that translates to around 23 dingers, 90 RBI, and the same .272 average. Not bad. The RBI look good. It’s better production than Shawn Green. Are the numbers worth the complete “package”?

There are some who believe Milledge will one day approach the production of Gary Sheffield, who has similarly quick hands in the batter’s box. The quick hands, of course, are not the only parallel drawn between the two.

However, there’s one thing about Sheffield that Milledge has yet to show: hustle over a 162-game season. Milledge hustles all right — when it suits him. Such as, when he’s trying to make the team out of spring training. Or trying to stretch a double into a triple. Or looking to score from second on a hard-hit single. Most of the time, he hustles. Unfortunately, not all of the time.

Add “lazy” and “unfocused” to the list of complaints against Milledge — be they fair or not. He’s been caught — on camera — jogging down to first on easy ground balls. Taking his time in getting to balls hit over his head. Standing on second base because he didn’t know there were two outs. Jawing at umpires over balls and strikes, and then swinging at balls over his head. Missing the cutoff man.

Cut him some slack, the apologists cry. He’s just a kid.

So was Carl Everett. And Milton Bradley. And Sheffield, for that matter.

Next year, Lastings Milledge turns 23 years old. Though it will be his third year in a Major League uniform, in many ways he’s still a “baby”. Will we continue to treat him like one? Will we continue to look the other way when he makes a mistake? Will we glaze over the immature actions, and accept them as the cost of doing business with a man-child who can blast the ball over the fence? If so, at what point — or what age — do we begin to make him responsible for his actions, and ask him to respect both the game and his opponents? At what age does a selfish youth become a veteran malcontent?

We let the immaturity of Jose Reyes slide by when he was 23 — and upon turning 24, it’s not so cute anymore. Yes, Jose’s issues were very different from Lastings’ but nonetheless they were there, and they were excused as the innocence of youth. Now they’re being examined as possible flaws.

The head of Mets management — Omar Minaya — is confident that the immaturity of Milledge, Reyes, and other youngsters on the Mets will work itself out. They’ll mature as they age, simply by hanging around as time passes — like a bottle of fine wine. If that’s the case, I hope these kids are bottles of Grand Cru Burgundy, rather than Gallo Hearty Burgundy.

Duke Snider was the best all-time player to wear #4 for the Mets. But his tenure in the orange and blue — a few months in 1963 — was too brief to consider honoring here.

Instead, we have four former Mets to honor with this magical number — Lenny Dykstra, Rusty Staub, Robin Ventura, and Ron Swoboda. Sure, I could have eliminated Swoboda — who other than a memorable catch in the 1969 World Series didn’t have a terribly significant career — but since the number is four, and we have four guys, what the hey?

Rusty Staub

Though fans who began following the Mets in the 1980s knew him as the big, fat old guy who came in to pinch-hit for Randy Jones and Pat Zachry (and then headed over to Fifth Avenue to cook up “the best babyback ribs in New York City”), Rusty Staub’s “first” career with the New York Mets was much more memorable. Back when he wore number four, Rusty was the entire offense of the early 1970s Mets lineups. Looking at today’s standards, it’s hard to believe that his 15 HRs, 76 RBI, and .279 batting average in 1973 carried the Mets — but he did. In fact, he was easily the team’s most valuable player, as he was the most consistent batter and the one guy who the opposition pitched around (you must understand, the .239-hitting John Milner was often hitting either third or cleanup … these were tough times). After leading the team in RBI, batting average, and finishing second in HRs in 1975, he was inexplicably traded to the Tigers for an over-the-hill Mickey Lolich (why a team with Seaver, Koosman, Matlack, and zero hitting would trade their best hitter for another pitcher … bleh). Still, Rusty had endeared himself to the Shea faithful with his clutch hitting, and is honored here because without him, there’s no way the Mets enter the 1973 World Series.

Robin Ventura

After ten years of terrorizing American League pitchers with his bat — and winning five Gold Gloves in the process — Robin Ventura became a free-agent and signed with the New York Mets prior to the 1999 season. He was the final ingredient for a team on the cusp of greatness.

Ventura was part of the “Greatest Infield Ever”, and (with all apologies to Edgardo Alfonzo) easily the most-skilled all-around third baseman in Mets history — a position that had been something of a jinxed sore spot for the organization since 1962. Similar to the circumstances surrounding the acquisition of John Olerud two years before, there were whispers that Ventura’s best days were behind him, and perhaps his personality would not be ideal for New York. Like Olerud, Ventura proved the naysayers wrong, big time.

All Ventura did in his first season as a Met was have the best season of his life, assembling career highs of a .301 batting average, 32 HRs, 120 RBI, and 38 doubles. His production was ample protection for cleanup hitter Mike Piazza, and instigated late-season “MVP!” chants from the Shea Stadium fans (he finished 6th in the voting). In August, he suffered a serious knee injury that he played through down the stretch — unbeknownst to the fans until the last week of the regular season, when it was revealed that he had torn cartilage. Nonetheless, he came up huge with heroics at the end, stroking a game-winning, pinch-hit RBI single against the Pirates to help propel the Mets into the Wild Card, and later hitting the historic “Grand Slam Single” to force a Game Six in the NLCS.

Lenny Dykstra

Before he turned into something resembling a WWF champion (roids? no, just a lot of work in the gym, cough cough), “Nails” was a scrappy little “smurf” who was an instant hit with the New York fans for his all-out, gritty style of play and flair for the dramatic. His 1986 rookie year was jam-packed with highlights, web gems, clutch hits, and tobacco juice — a storybook season if there ever was one. Diving catches, drag bunts, and ninth-inning homeruns were his forte, and we came to expect him to do something huge at just the right moment — and he rarely let us down. His walkoff two-run homer against Astros closer Dave Smith in Game Three of the ‘86 NLCS goes down as one of the most memorable and important in Mets history. Why he was ever traded to NL East rivals the Philadelphia Phillies — with Roger McDowell and for Juan Samuel, no less — goes down as one of the worst trades in Mets history.

Ron Swoboda

The Mets had their own “Rocky” long before Sylvester Stallone came along with his Balboa character. Ron Swoboda was another fan favorite — and like Dykstra was a hit for his all-out hustle, lack of fear, perpetually dirty uniform, and clutch hitting prowess. After hitting 19 homeruns as a 21-year-old in his rookie season of 1965, big things were expected of “Rocky”. Unfortunately, he never quite built on that rookie year, and finished a nine-year career with a .243 batting average.

Ironically, Swoboda was known as an awful fielder, prompting Casey Stengel to once say, “He will be great, super, even wonderful. Now if he can only learn to catch a fly ball.” I say ironic because between “The Catch” made by Willie Mays and “The Catch” made by Endy Chavez, there was “The Catch” made by Swoboda in the 1969 World Series — a valiant, amazing, diving stab of a line drive in the ninth inning of Game Four that saved at least one run and helped the Mets win 2-1 (in extra innings) and defined his place in baseball history. He also had six hits in the Series — more than any other player on either team. What Swoboda lacked in skill, he made up in heart, and will forever be cherished as a hero by Mets fans who had the pleasure of seeing him play.

Finally, many Mets fans — including several MetsToday diehards — will see the MLB debut of Philip Humber as a starting pitcher, on Wednesday against the Nationals.

Yes, we know he made his MLB debut in a five-minute stint at the end of last September, and we know he’s pitched three garbage innings this year. But Wednesday will mark his true baptism — by fire, no less — throwing his first meaningful innings as a New York Met. By then, with some help from (ironically) the Braves, the Mets could have first place wrapped up. However, it could also turn out to be the most vital game of the season — because, if the Mets lose on Monday and Tuesday, and the Phillies beat the Braves on Tuesday, only one-half game will separate the Mets from the Phils. In other words, a loss on Wednesday could potentially put the Mets in a first-place tie, less than two weeks after being seven games ahead. Talk about pressure for your first MLB start.

But it didn’t have to happen this way.

Philip Humber spent the entire season in AAA, pitching for the New Orleans Zephyrs. His numbers were only so-so on paper, but fairly promising considering that the PCL is a hitter’s league. And he finished with a flourish, taking a no-hitter into the ninth in his second-to-last start on August 22nd. He won his last game on August 27th, and was briskly promoted to the big club on September 1, leaving his Zephyrs teammates behind to begin the AAA postseason.

Strangely, though, Humber was forgotten in Willie Randolph’s bullpen, and was never considered for spot starting. If he wasn’t going to be given a decent look by the Mets, then why didn’t he stay in New Orleans to help the Zephyrs in their postseason?

The explanation is likely similar to the reason why Humber was not brought up for a spot start earlier in the season, when the Mets were giving the ball to Jason Vargas, Brian Lawrence, Dave Williams, and others. First of all, 2007 is Humber’s first full season after Tommy John surgery, so the Mets were going to make sure he didn’t do anything that might cause a relapse or a step backward. In spring training, with little chance of making the 25-man roster, Humber was overthrowing, in an attempt to catch the attention of Mets management. Well, he caught their attention, all right — and as a result they made the decision to keep him at AAA all year, lest he reinjure himself. No doubt, someone in Port St. Lucie was part of the Mets organization the day Tim Leary blew his arm out overthrowing in his MLB debut, or remembered similar issues with Jason Isringhausen, Grant Roberts, Bill Pulsipher, etc. The Mets have invested millions in Humber’s right arm, and nursed it back to health, and were not taking any chances in him reinjuring it.

Secondly, the Mets did not want to make the same mistake with Humber they did with Mike Pelfrey in 2006. Pelfrey was rushed to the big leagues, and overmatched when he arrived. As a result, he had a less-than-stellar rookie season, and after losing his confidence early in 2007, looked to take a step backward. Because they see a bright future for Humber, they decided to keep him back to continue honing and polishing his stuff, so that when he’d face MLB hitters, he’d be better prepared than Pelfrey was in his debut.

Indeed, the Mets did a fine job of protecting Humber for five months and three weeks of their regular season. When the Zephyrs made the playoffs, they promoted him, perhaps, to keep him from throwing too many pitches in his first full year back. By the way he’s been used, it’s clear the promotion was similar to last year’s September callup: a reward for the hard work he’d done all year. Get a taste of big league life, to motivate him to make the team next spring. To have the opportunity to rub elbows with, and perhaps learn from, legends such as Pedro Martinez and Tom Glavine. And maybe once or twice before the end of the season, he’d get the chance to throw pitches to big-league batters, in a big-league park, in front of a big-league crowd.

Well, the plans have been amended.

Humber will indeed pitch in front of a big-league crowd — likely the sellout variety — at Shea Stadium. If the Mets are lucky, it won’t be as big a game as is possible. For example, if the Mets win the first two games, the magic number will be down to 3 (at minimum). If the Phillies also lose, it could be down to two. Not a lot of pressure for the big strapping Texan.

However, if the worst-case scenario is realized — if the Mets lose the first two games and the Phillies win one — then Humber’s start will be the biggest game of the year for the New York Mets. The Phillies would then be a half game out of first, and a loss by the Mets would either create a tie for first or drop them into second place for the first time since May, with three games left to play. I’m feeling a bit of tension simply typing out this possibility, so we can only imagine how a quiet youngster with four innings of MLB experience might react.

The shame of this falls on Willie Randolph, who for unknown reasons thought it best to start Brian Lawrence — rather than Humber — last Monday against the Nationals. Prior to the start of that game, the Mets had been swept by the Phillies at home, but were still 3 1/2 games ahead. In other words, no time to panic. If Humber had the jitters, so what? The Mets had a decent cushion, and didn’t it make sense to let the youngster get his feet wet then, rather than now? This shouldn’t have been suprising, of course — the decision was completely in line with Willie’s premature paranoia, the same fear that forces him to bring in Aaron Heilman, rather than a fresh arm, on back-to-back days when the Mets are leading by three runs. It’s the same fear that makes Willie walk out to the mound to remove Pedro Feliciano after three pitches in the ninth inning (again, with a three-run lead).

That same fear in Willie instigated the illogical explanation of starting Lawrence last week — because Lawrence was “on schedule” and Humber was “just a baby”. Randolph’s exact words:

“You don’t take a young guy like that who’s never done it and force-feed him,” Randolph said.

Willie! You were up by more than three games! If THAT was a “force-feed” situation then what the heck is this Wednesday?

Exacerbating the situation is the fact that Randolph had been reluctant to give Humber more than a scant few garbage innings, despite having several opportunities. The kid has pitched three innings since September 1st. THREE. Two innings against Cincinnati in a 7-0 blowout on September 5th, and one lousy inning in a similar situation on September 11th. The opportunities where there, however. He could have been used against Philadelphia, after the Mota meltdown, for example, or against the Nats after Lawrence faltered the next day. He could have been given an inning in the game the Mets blew out the Astros 11-3 — but we supposed he couldn’t be trusted to hold an eight-run lead for an inning or two. In any case, Humber hasn’t thrown enough game innings to be sharp — and don’t think his three-inning “simulated game” in Port St. Lucie counts. EVERYTHING changes when you walk onto the mound in a REAL game. It’s silly to believe that you can use tired A-ball players in a vacant park to prepare Humber to face big leaguers in front of 55,000 New York fans. It could have been a little easier had he done it before — say, last Monday.

Hopefully, the Mets will take the first two against the Nats and thereby reduce the tension for Humber’s start. Maybe, it won’t matter — maybe we’ll find out Humber has the stomach to handle the biggest game of the season.

Luckily, his manager won’t be adding any pressure to the situation.

�??We hope he�??s real sharp,�?� Manager Willie Randolph said of Humber, who appeared twice in relief last season for two innings. �??Go out there and throw a gem.�?�

Great, Philip — just go out there and throw a gem (and nothing less).

Let’s hope the “baby” grows up — real fast.

There have been a multitude of Mets who have worn the number five on their back. Steve Henderson, Hobie Landrith, Joe Foy, Sandy Alomar Sr., Ed Charles, Brook Fordyce, Mark Johnson, and Tsuyoshi Shinjo were just a handful (I didn’t say they were good, only that they were many). But before David Wright, only one #5 stands out:

John Olerud.

The Mets stole Olerud from the Blue Jays for a song — journeyman pitcher Robert Person. At the time, it seemed an unreal deal, and looking back, it’s even more of a head-scratcher. But the Blue Jays had to clear some salary and the first base position to make room for a young slugger named Carlos Delgado, so Olerud made his way to Flushing.

Olerud had come off a poor season, batting only .274 — mostly because his coaches in Toronto were trying to get him to pull the ball more and hit more homeruns. Former manager Cito Gaston questioned his toughness and his love for the game, and told newspapers that the 27-year-old might retire after the ‘97 season — and that he might not have the proper personality to play in New York.

Boy was Gaston wrong.

Johnny O not only handled the tough New York crowd and pressure of playing in the media capital of the world — he flourished, and became a fan favorite to boot. Olerud had so many clutch hits in a Mets uniform, it got to the point where you expected him to come through with the impossible base hit in the bottom of the ninth to win the game. Platooned in Toronto, Olerud vowed that he’d make it difficult for new manager Bobby Valentine to take him out of the lineup — and delivered on his promise. Allowed to hit “his way” — often to the opposite field — Olerud hit 22 HRs, drove in 102, and batted .294 in his first year as a Met. But that was only the beginning. He followed it up with a .354 season in 1998, finishing second for the batting title. In 1999, his average dropped to a shade under .300 but nearly every one of his hits counted as he drove in another 96 runs, while playing in all 162 games. He also walked 125 times that season and scored 107 runs, setting the table for Mike Piazza and Robin Ventura.

In addition to his bat, Olerud did it with the glove, playing the right corner so well that some questioned whether Keith Hernandez was the best-fielding first baseman in Flushing history. He was part of the Sports Illustrated cover article — pictured with Edgardo Alfonzo, Rey Ordonez, and Ventura — that proclaimed them “The Best Infield Ever”.

Unfortunately, it was easy come, easy go, as Olerud took advantage of free agency to go West to play for the Seattle Mariners in his home state of Washington. Sadly, he did return to New York, but as a Yankee, in 2005. However, he’ll forever be remembered in New York as a Met — for three years one of the classiest and most clutch players ever to wear the orange and blue.

Chuck Carr, Daryl Boston, Gary Bennett, Jason Phillips, Juan (ugh) Samuel, and several others wore number 7 for the Mets — not quite the level of player who wore the same digit in the Bronx.

But then, there was also Todd Pratt — he of the clutch pinch-hit homerun. And Hubie Brooks, who for a short time in the early 1980s was the Mets’ closest argument for the All-Star team.

However, there’s only one Met deserving of the honor today: Ed Kranepool — who switched to 7 from 21 when Warren Spahn joined the club.

Expectations were high when Kranepool was signed out of James Monroe HS as a 17-year-old in 1962 — after all, he played the same position at the same school as the great Hank Greenberg. Also, like Greenberg, Kranepool was 6′3″ and 210 pounds — a strapping young lad. Unfortunately, that’s were the comparisons end, as Eddie K’s career .261 average and 118 HRs in 18 seasons will attest.

While Kranepool never fulfilled the stardom that was hoped for him, he did in many ways embody what it was to be a Met. He was average or below-average in every facet of the game, and even as a teenager resembled the over-the-hill veterans that studded the Mets’ roster in the early 1960s. During his rookie season, manager Casey Stengel once quipped, “He’s only seventeen and he runs like thirty.” As a 19-year-old, his play prompted one Polo Grounds fan to hang the banner, “Is Ed Kranepool Over the Hill?”.

“Steady Eddie” was the Mets’ starting first baseman from 1964-1969 by default — somehow the Mets couldn’t come up with any better first sackers during that time period. That is, until Donn Clendenon showed up. The slugging first baseman picked up from the Montreal Expos took over Ed’s duties and helped hit the Mets into their first Championship. However, Kranepool did play one game of the 1969 World Series, and hit a solo homer.

Kranepool’s batting dropped below the Mendoza line in 1970 (before anyone knew who Mario Mendoza was) and he was sent to AAA Tidewater. At age 24, Ed Kranepool was considering retirement.

However, he eventually resurfaced, and rebounded with the best season of his career in 1971 — batting .280 with 14 HRs and 58 RBI and leading NL first basemen with a .998 fielding percentage. From there on, he quickly evolved into a part-time player and then a pinch-hitter — a role in which he flourished. Besides extending his career to 1979, Kranepool batted .396 as a pinch-hitter from 1974-1978, including a .486 mark in 1974, finally endearing himself to fans. If nothing else, “Steady Eddie” had longevity — 18 seasons and 1853 games as a New York Met.

All apologies to former Mets legends such as Phil Mankowski, Rick Sweet, Dan Norman, Chris Cannizzarro, Dave Gallagher, and Desi Relaford (as well as a more respectful one to Yogi Berra) — but the only number eight to honor is “The Kid” Gary Carter.

I distinctly remember the moment that the evening news announced the Mets had made a trade for Gary Carter; it was at first shock, then pure elation — and more exciting than any present I opened two weeks later on Christmas morning. The Mets’ young hurlers and spunky smurfs had given us hope in 1984, and now that the best catcher in baseball would join a lineup that already included Darryl Strawberry and Keith Hernandez — the first legit #3 hitter in Mets’ history — a pennant was seemingly a foregone conclusion. While many point to the acquisition of Hernandez as legitimizing the Mets, in truth it only showed that they were on their way toward being taken seriously. The Carter deal cemented the fact that the Mets were going after first place.

And Carter delivered, as a rock behind the plate and a clutch run-producer in the middle of the lineup. He drove in over 100 runs in his first two seasons, and helped shape the raw young mound talent into stars. Though he smacked 532 basehits in a Mets uniform (regular + postseason), he will forever be remembered for one: a seemingly harmless, two-out single on October 25, 1986 that ignited the greatest comeback in World Series history.

Here’s to you, Kid!