The original New York Mets were described more like a circus act than a competitive baseball team. Fans flocked to the Polo Grounds, and later Shea Stadium, to catch a glimpse of Casey Stengel, or maybe Marv Thronberry miss touching a base running from first to third. Fans reveled when Jimmy Piersall opted to round the bases in reverse.
“Character is like a tree and reputation like a shadow. The shadow is what we think of it; the tree is the real thing.” — Abraham Lincoln
Rob Concannon is in the position he’s in because of where he’s been – and where he’s been is now legend. The stories have been chronicled and preserved in a frame on his office wall.
Norman Seabrooks clutched his diploma in one hand; the other was balled in a fist. He accepted his degree from The Citadel in honor of Charlie Foster and Joe Shine, who came before him; Red Parker and Keith Roden, who struggled beside him; Herb Cunningham and Flossie Gordon, who sheltered him; the anonymous faces who stuffed his pockets with extra desserts and milk after late-night practices; the maintenance staff that publicly embraced him like a son and privately prayed for Norm’s strength and safety. But this, he thought as he left the stage with degree in hand, was for William Thomas Seabrooks.
New York Mets president Al Harazin was less than two years removed from watching a ball roll through Bill Buckner’s legs; he didn’t need to be reminded just how fragile a post-season lead is. The Mets trailed by two runs and were reduced to a skinny strike on that fateful October night at Shea Stadium in 1986. No reminiscing necessary. The celebration of that World Series title season of 1986, lingered for days, weeks, months and years after.
Former New York Mets catcher Ed Hearn says he has a bag of baseballs in his cellar. They are all from 1986, all from the National League Championship Series and they are all evidence that Michael Warren Scott cheated.
New York Yankee pitcher Don Larsen stood on the mound at Yankee Stadium, legs wobbling, sweating, short of breath and all alone in a stadium packed to the rafters. Some 791 miles west of the Bronx, a Chicago taxi cab driver listening on his radio pulled his vehicle into a no-parking zone at the corner of Michigan Avenue and Wacker Drive, exited and peered through a television showroom window at Larsen on one of the 26 Zenith screens showing the game. Larsen was three outs away from pitching the first no-hitter in World Series history.
