11 DUPACR: Lenny Randle

There are 11 Days Until Pitchers And Catchers Report to spring training, and today I’m honoring former #11 Lenny Randle.

To be perfectly blunt, Randle was (and still is) a nut job. But he was ours.

A switch-hitter with speed and an ability to get on base, Randle was an up-and-coming star who the Mets were able to wrangle away from the Texas Rangers for a song (actually, less than a song — futility infielder Rick Auerbach). How did the Mets steal this former #1 pick? Easy — no one else wanted him after he belted his Rangers manager Frank Lucchesi during batting practice one day and pummeled the 49-year-old to the point where he required reconstructive surgery to his face. Randle was charged with aggravated battery — that’s a felony, folks — and faced a possible prison sentence. So naturally, the Mets were only too happy to take him off the Rangers’ hands and sign him to a 5-year, $400,000 contract; then-owner M. Donald Grant even offered Lucchesi $10,000 to forget the whole matter (Lucchesi declined).

But that’s how it was for the Mets in 1977; things started bad and just got worse.

As it turned out, Randle refrained from assaulting anyone in his Flushing tenure, and for one year, performed like a borderline All-Star. Playing the outfield, second base, shortstop, and third (where he eventually settled in), Randle hit .304 with a .383 OBP, .787 OPS, 7 triples, 78 runs, and 156 hits, pacing the Mets in all of those categories (among others) in ’77. He also set a Mets record with 33 stolen bases — though, he set another Met record by being thrown out 21 times. And, he grounded into 15 double plays to tie for the team lead — strange for a speedster, but you have to understand Lenny hit the ball on the ground just about all the time.

Unfortunately for the Mets, Randle was something of a one-hit wonder; he followed up his big ’77 season by hitting only .233 in ’78. The saberheads will point out that in ’77, he had an unusually high .343 BABIP and an unusually low .262 BABIP in ’78 — so in other words, he was very lucky one year and very unlucky the following year. Maybe … but, he also stunk. Pitchers and defenses didn’t know him in ’77 — his offensive style was not unlike that of Luis Castillo — and in ’78 teams adjusted to his bloops and seeing-eye grounders by attacking him with more hard and high stuff and positioning defenders accordingly. Randle didn’t adjust to the adjustments, and didn’t hit the ball with as much authority as he did previously. In ’79, Richie Hebner was brought in to play 3B, and so Randle didn’t make the team out of spring training in ’79 and was released, with the Mets eating the last three years of his deal. In a disturbingly inappropriate move, Randle was purchased from the Pirates by the Yankees on August 3rd — taking the roster spot of Thurman Munson, who died in a plane crash the day before. Ugh. Randle played a few more years in MLB as a utility man before becoming the first American to play pro ball in Italy in the early 80s — and hit .477 one year. Ironically, he also was a slugger in Italy, setting records for most homeruns and longest homeruns.

I have to admit, Randle wasn’t my favorite #11, but he is the one I immediately think of in that uniform number — mainly because he was crazy but also because he was their offensive star in an otherwise dark 1977. Other players who wore #11 for the Mets include — among others — Tim Teufel, Frank Taveras, Tom Veryzer, Wayne Garrett, Garry Templeton, Kelvin Chapman, Roy McMillan, Dick Schofield, Vince Coleman, Jason Tyner, Ramon Castro, and Joe McEwing (after Super Joe gave up #47 to Tom Glavine).

What memories do you have of a former #11? Share your thoughts below.

The countdown thus far:

#11 Lenny Randle
#12 John Stearns
#13 Edgardo Alfonzo
#14 Gil Hodges
#15 Jerry Grote
#16 Dwight Gooden
#17 Felix Millan
#18 Darryl Strawberry
#19 Anthony Young
#20 Howard Johnson
#21 Gary Rajsich
#22 Ray Knight
#23 Doug Flynn
#24 Kelvin Torve
#25 Willie Montanez (no link … sadly, didn’t have time to write a post)
#26 Dave Kingman
#27 Pete Harnisch
#28 John Milner
#29 Alex Trevino
#30 Jackson Todd

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12 DUPACR: John Stearns

With 12 Days Until Pitchers And Catchers Report, we honor former #12 John Stearns.

Why Stearns? If you are a loyal MetsToday reader, you know I have a special place in my heart for all catchers. Stearns in particular was one of my favorite players growing up; I tried emulate him, Jerry Grote, and Thurman Munson in my time behind the plate (and still do). You have to love his nickname, too — “Bad Dude”. And then there was the time he chased down and tackled Chief Noc-A-Homa prior to a game in Atlanta … how can you not love someone who brought the Braves’ mascot to the ground?

Stearns, in fact, was a tremendous athlete and a tough S.O.B. After leading the country in homeruns, he was the second overall pick by the Phillies in the 1973 draft (right behind high school phenom hurler David Clyde) and was also a 17th-round pick of the Buffalo Bills (he played in four bowl games as a defensive back for Colorado). Interestingly, Stearns was picked ahead of Continue reading

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13 DUPACR: Edgardo Alfonzo

With 13 Days Until Pitchers And Catchers Report, we mark the day with former #13 Edgardo Alfonzo.

“Fonzie” was a key player for the last Met team to win the NL pennant, a quiet leader who spent his first four years as one of the best-kept secrets in baseball. By 1999, though, the secret was out, as Alfonzo exploded with 27 HR, 41 doubles, 108 RBI, and a .304 AVG. He followed that up with an even better season in 2000, hitting another 25 HR, reaching .324 AVG and posting a .967 OPS. But it wasn’t just about the offensive numbers — Fonzie did everything well. He could hit, of course, and he also ran the bases well (with speed and intelligence), played Gold-Glove defense (at two different positions), and from all accounts a good clubhouse guy during his peak years in Flushing. Other All-Stars such as Mike Piazza, Robin Ventura, and John Olerud may have overshadowed him, but for a six-year period, it could be argued that Edgardo Alfonzo was the Mets’ best all-around ballplayer.

One thing in particular about Fonzie that sticks in my memory was his “clutchness” in 1999 and 2000; it seemed that whenever the Mets needed a big hit, either he or Olerud came up with it. Of course, our memories are not always perfect, and there are people who don’t put much stock into the concept of “clutch”, so I went back to check the numbers. As it turns out, in ’99, Fonzie hit .340 with a .925 OPS in “high leverage” situations; in 2000 he was .333 / .963 in the same situations. A few more numbers from 2000: .360 AVG / 1.043 OPS with 2 outs and RISP; .357 / 1.057 in “late and close” situations; and .323/.956 in tie ballgames. The last stat is congruent with his overall performance in all situations in ’00, so from that one could suggest that Alfonzo was simply good and the situational numbers reflected that. But those other two stats in particular suggest that he stepped up his game a notch when the heat was on, and if nothing else, prove my memory was in line with the reality.

Other than Alfonzo, not too many other notable Mets wore #13; Billy Wagner was the most recent, and the only other Met to wear it for more than 3 years. The rest of the #13s includes, among others, Neil Allen, Roger Craig, Clint Hurdle, Matt Ginter, Jorge Velandia, Rodney “Crash” McCray, Rick Cerone, Jeff Musselman, Brian Daubach, and Lee Mazzilli (who wore it on his second go-around in Flushing, from ’86-’98).

What Met do you most associate with #13, and why?

The countdown thus far:

#13 Edgardo Alfonzo
#14 Gil Hodges
#15 Jerry Grote
#16 Dwight Gooden
#17 Felix Millan
#18 Darryl Strawberry
#19 Anthony Young
#20 Howard Johnson
#21 Gary Rajsich
#22 Ray Knight
#23 Doug Flynn
#24 Kelvin Torve
#25 Willie Montanez (no link … sadly, didn’t have time to write a post)
#26 Dave Kingman
#27 Pete Harnisch
#28 John Milner
#29 Alex Trevino
#30 Jackson Todd

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14 DUPACR: Gil Hodges

With 14 Days Until Pitchers And Catchers Report, we honor #14 Gil Hodges.

This was easy, since only three people in Mets history ever wore #14 on their back — Hodges, Ron Swoboda (for one season) and Ken Boyer (for two seasons).

Unfortunately for me, I never knew/saw Hodges while he was alive, and can only comment on what I’ve read in books and seen of him in the old newsreels. From everything I’ve gathered, he was an incredible human being, tremendous leader, and highly intelligent, innovative baseball man. For example, I’m pretty sure he is the one responsible for instituting throwing programs and counting (not the same as limiting) pitches in the Mets organization — though I can’t find any hard evidence to corroborate (where was Al Gore and his interweb idea in the 1960s?). I’ve also read and heard from many sources that Hodges was beloved in Brooklyn, and never once booed there. And of course we can thank Hodges for protecting our country while he served in the USMC during World War II. Me, I accept him immediately for the fact he began his pro career as a catcher — moving to first base only because some guy named Campanella was a little better behind the dish. Oh, and then there is that part of his life where he guided the 1969 “Miracle Mets” to the World Championship. A favorite quote of mine was relayed by Bob Costas via Gil Hodges, Jr., in a PBS presentation of New York baseball, regarding the opening of the series. The gist of it is that Gil Jr. walked into his dad’s office, ran down a bunch of impressive statistics accumulated by Baltimore players, and asked how the heck the Mets had any chance at all to beat the Orioles, who many believed was among the greatest teams of all time. Gil’s response was, “I have a group of 25 men in that room who believe they can win this thing, and that’s all I need to know.”

Since I have no personal recollection of Gil Hodges, I hope some of you who do, can share your thoughts and memories of him in the comments.

Meantime, we have about two weeks before balls are tossed in Port St. Lucie.

The countdown thus far:

#14 Gil Hodges
#15 Jerry Grote
#16 Dwight Gooden
#17 Felix Millan
#18 Darryl Strawberry
#19 Anthony Young
#20 Howard Johnson
#21 Gary Rajsich
#22 Ray Knight
#23 Doug Flynn
#24 Kelvin Torve
#25 Willie Montanez (no link … sadly, didn’t have time to write a post)
#26 Dave Kingman
#27 Pete Harnisch
#28 John Milner
#29 Alex Trevino
#30 Jackson Todd

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Reactions To News That Mets Are For Sale

Amazin’ Avenue says the Mets / Wilpons “haven’t been totally forthright with the ticket-buying public”

BarStoolSports – NYC wonders if his prayers have been answered

MadoffMemoranda finds it hard to believe that Fred Wilpon and Saul Katz never found anything fishy about Bernie Madoff’s operations

Geez, even our NL East rivals are getting into the act … TheNatsBlog discusses how this news affects their suddenly free-spending Washington Nationals (and included a quote from yours truly)

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Mets For Sale

So much for the conspiracy “theory” — as it turns out, the Madoff scandal did and does affect the Wilpons and the New York Mets in particular, despite countless denials to the contrary.

From last week’s press release:

As Sterling Equities announced in December, we are engaged in discussions to settle a lawsuit brought against us and other Sterling partners and members of our families by the Trustee in the Madoff bankruptcy. We are not permitted to comment on these confidential negotiations while they are ongoing.

However, to address the air of uncertainty created by this lawsuit, and to provide additional assurance that the New York Mets will continue to have the necessary resources to fully compete and win, we are looking at a number of potential options including the addition of one or more strategic partners.

I’ve always enjoyed the Mets’ strategy of releasing bad news on a Friday, whenever possible, so that the media pickup is somewhat lessened. They’ve done it consistently with player injuries, arrests, suspensions, and firings, for example.

Another consistency regarding news out of Flushing: telling us things are fine, when they aren’t — a theme that ran repeatedly with the player injuries of 2009 and 2010.

I was going to write my own, original response to this latest situation, but someone already published a piece that pretty much sums up my thoughts, so why reinvent the wheel? See Barstool Sports NYC. That site could be considered NSFW and has some foul language, so I’ll give you snippets of the best parts.

But mark my words, this is the beginning of the end for the Wilpons owning the Mets. For 3 reasons – 1. This is how the Mets … operate. How many years have we heard about a Carlos Beltran “strain” and 6 weeks later we find out he needs season ending surgery? How many times have we seen Reyes as “day-to-day” and it turns out to be like 90 … days? This is what they do. The come in real low in an effort to keep everyone calm and as time goes on you realize just how (bad) of a situation they are in and all the sudden its a full blown disaster. So all this “just looking for financial partners” and what not is the tip of the iceberg. 1 year ago the Wilpons promised Madoff wasn’t an issue at all. Now its somewhat of an issue. And in another year we’ll find out it they’re completely broke.

Pretty much how I see it, too. But there’s more good stuff from Barstool:

2. The fact that they announced this without a bidder lined up means this Madoff lawsuit is 150 times worse than they ever expected. Seems like they were sucker punched by the potential severity of this suit. This is a New York baseball franchise. Top 3 profitable franchise in all of baseball. And they are basically putting out an open casting call for financial partners? Thats like the kinda (stuff) I do on Barstool. Put up a picture of a chick and ask the Stoolies to find her. Just announcing you are now open to whoring yourself out without any prospective partners already lined up is … desperate. It’s like online dating. The Mets are … J-Dating right now.

Barstool sums up the Wilpon ownership era thusly:

I’ve always maintained this team will never win a World Series under the Wilpons management. Too incompetent, too timid. Always willing to go three quarters of the way, but never willing to go the distance. The Mets will always be stuck in no man’s land with the Wilpons – Never rebuilding, but never winning. That’s New York Mets baseball under Fred and Jeff Wilpon.

I agree with most of these points. In particular, that this recent news is only the tip of the iceberg; there will be much, much more as this lawsuit drags on.

By the way, in case you missed it, we had an interesting discussion in a comments thread from December 8, 2010, where we suspected “something big” regarding the Madoff situation was going to come out eventually.

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15 DUPACR: Jerry Grote

Loyal readers of MetsToday know that I’m a catcher. Do you know why I’m a catcher? Because when I first became aware of baseball (thanks to WOR and WPIX), in the mid-1970s, my two favorite players were Thurman Munson and Jerry Grote — both catchers, both wore #15. Therefore, since there are 15 Days Until Pitchers And Catchers Report, we honor Jerry Grote.

Contemporary Mets fans most closely associate the number fifteen with Carlos Beltran, and that’s fine. To me, #15 on Beltran’s back is weird; it’s like seeing a single-digit number on a pitcher’s uniform, or #99 on a quarterback’s jersey. Because the number 15 (and 5, for that matter) is supposed to be a catcher’s number — but that’s my issue.

How did Jerry Grote grab my attention in my formative years? Because he was a bad ass (or a red ass, as some of his employers and teammates described him). His nasty character begins with his name — pronounced “grow-tee” — which sounds like the short name for grotesque, or gross. You didn’t need to meet him to know he was mean, you need only look at his baseball card — his grimace and threatening eyes burned through you. Grote was the catchers’ catcher, a throwback to another time. He caught with two hands, sans helmet, in a dirty uniform and with a menacing aggression.

John Strubel wrote a fitting, accurate profile of Grote earlier this winter; here is a snippet:

Grote’s desire to win led to unparalleled intensity on the field. During his 12-year career in New York, teammates labeled Grote surly, irascible, testy and moody. Then, there’s Koosman’s description: “If you looked up red-ass the dictionary, his picture would be in there. Jerry was the guy you wanted on your side, because he’d fight you tooth and nail ‘til death to win a ball game.”

Grote played with an anger and intensity that was, at times, intimidating to opponents, umpires, the media and teammates alike.

“When I came up I was scared to death of him,” said Jon Matlack, winner of the 1972 Rookie of the Year award. “If you bounced a curveball in the dirt, he’d get mad. I worried about him more than the hitter.”

Jerry Grote he had no fear, took crap from no one, and poured every last ounce of himself onto the field. Looking back at them now, his offensive numbers look underwhelming, but for the era his hitting was acceptable considering what he provided behind the plate. His first priority and main value was his ability to absolutely control the defense, call a ballgame, and properly handle a pitching staff — and his accurate, shotgun arm was lethal to would-be basestealers. In his heyday, he threw out 45-50% of basestealers and prevented many from taking off — important in the pitching-dominant NL in the late 1960s. Even into his early to mid-thirties, when his battered body was older than his age, he was able to gun down 30-35% of baserunners — which was still about average for the time.

How great was Grote behind the plate? Ask Tom Seaver and Nolan Ryan, both of whom included Grote in their Hall of Fame induction speeches. Intangibles may be immeasurable, but they can also be invaluable.

To this day, when I squat my creaking knees behind the dish, I channel my inner Grote — the ultimate bad ass.

Other #15s who you may remember include Claudell Washington, George Foster, Al Jackson, Rick Aguilera, Jose Vizcaino, Matt Franco, and Ron Darling (when he wasn’t wearing #12 or #44). Which #15 do you remember, and why? Post in the comments.

The countdown thus far:

#15 Jerry Grote
#16 Dwight Gooden
#17 Felix Millan
#18 Darryl Strawberry
#19 Anthony Young
#20 Howard Johnson
#21 Gary Rajsich
#22 Ray Knight
#23 Doug Flynn
#24 Kelvin Torve
#25 Willie Montanez (no link … sadly, didn’t have time to write a post)
#26 Dave Kingman
#27 Pete Harnisch
#28 John Milner
#29 Alex Trevino
#30 Jackson Todd

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16 DUPACR: Dwight Gooden

With 16 Days Until Pitchers And Catchers Report, we honor the day with former #16 Dwight Gooden. This was a fairly easy choice, though I did for a moment consider Lee Mazzilli, who made the number famous in Flushing in the 1970s and early 1980s. If you weren’t around back then, you might think it preposterous to consider “Maz” — but back then he was the closest thing the Mets had to a star (and matinee idol, believe it or not). Mazzilli was annually the Mets’ lone All-Star representative and usually the only guy in the lineup hitting over .250. Plus he had a great baseball name.

Funny, in high school (1984-88) I used to wear a gray #16 “Property of New York Mets Baseball Club” t-shirt under my football and baseball game jerseys for good luck. People used to think the #16 was for Gooden, but it was actually for Mazzilli — a too-large gift for my 11th birthday. The timing for when I finally grew into it was impeccable.

But I digress … this is about Duh-wight (as Ralph Kiner used to say), who electrified Shea Stadium with the lightning bolts that screamed from his right arm.

Like Darryl Strawberry, we knew Dwight was a superstar the moment he stepped on the field. It was hard to separate the two in our heads — if you thought of Dwight, you thought of Darryl, and vice-versa. Ironically, this is the way it went for most of each of their roller-coaster careers.

Dwight and Darryl were supposed to make the Mets a “dynasty” — something the Yankees were called in the late 70s — leading the team into the World Series every year for the next 10-15 years. Darryl was going to some day break both the single-season and career homerun records, and might even win the Triple Crown. Dwight was going to pitch the first no-hitter in Mets history — we were sure of it! — and win 300 games easily. In their early 20s, they were sure-fire Hall of Famers — barring injury or some other incredibly unfortunate mishap.

But we won’t go there; we know how things turned out. As with Darryl, no matter what turns “Doc” took off the road to greatness, I still vividly remember that greatness, and cherish it — however brief it was.

For three years — 1984-1986 — Dwight Gooden was the best pitcher in baseball, hands-down. He accomplished this status while being too young to drink (legally), which when you think about it, is all the more amazing. Starting from a violent, intimidating, high knee lift and hip coil, he threw a blazing, 96-98 MPH fastball that moved laterally and vertically; an overhand curveball with such tight spin and sudden drop it was deemed “Lord Charles” (curves were called “Uncle Charley” in the old days); a wicked slider that dashed furiously away from waving lumber; and just for fun, he’d toy with a change-up that he didn’t even need. Dwight was so dominant, it didn’t seem fair that batters had to face him — particularly at night, when his fastball seemed to speed up just a bit more, and his curve dropped a little harder.

That curve was something else. Nolan Ryan was the only other pitcher I ever saw with a curve like that, but he didn’t have the same control of it, and it didn’t drop as dramatically. Doc’s deuce would seem to start two feet over the batter’s head, then dart straight down into the strike zone at his buckling knees. With the image of the yellow hammer now firmly entrenched in the batter’s head, Dwight would follow up with a rising fastball that started toward the strike zone at a level near the batter’s belt buckle, and wind up at shoulder height — past the breeze of a too-slow bat.

What was nearly as unbelievable as Gooden’s talent was the fact he didn’t throw a no-no in a Mets uniform. With his dominating stuff, a no-hitter seemed inevitable every time he made a start. How anyone ever made contact remains a mystery to me.

What are your memories of #16? And are they of Gooden, Mazzilli, or someone else? Share in the comments.

The countdown thus far:

#17 Felix Millan
#18 Darryl Strawberry
#19 Anthony Young
#20 Howard Johnson
#21 Gary Rajsich
#22 Ray Knight
#23 Doug Flynn
#24 Kelvin Torve
#25 Willie Montanez (no link … sadly, didn’t have time to write a post)
#26 Dave Kingman
#27 Pete Harnisch
#28 John Milner
#29 Alex Trevino
#30 Jackson Todd

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