Had a good time last night in New Jersey, where Mets by the Numbers was sucked into the awesome gravitational pull of Gary Carter, whose new book pictured here was the featured attraction at Bookends book store.

In addition to us, Dan Reilly, the original Mr. Met, was selling/signing his book as was George “Shotgun” Shuba, the ex-Brooklyn Dodger and Montreal teammate of Jackie Robinson. Both Dan — who was a Shea ticket salesman picked to become the first live-action costumed mascot and knows that Ed Kranepool was originally assigned No. 21 — and George were great, and we all owe one to Gary Carter for being Macy's to our Spencer's Gifts. I also got to meet longtime MBTN contributor Gordon for the first time after years of exchanged scorecards and emails.

After the crowd thinned out some we had a chance to make a gift of our book to Gary, who just as you might expect, was polite and charming and promised to read it. You can catch up to Gary at 12:30pm today at the Barnes & Noble at 46th & 5th Ave.

Tonight, the MBTN World Tour continues with a stop in my backyard, Word Books in Greenpoint, Brooklyn at 7:30 pm. The event includes Spike Vrusho, author of Benchclearing: Baseball’s Greatest Fights & Riots and is moderated by Caryn Rose of Metsgrrl. Word is located on Franklin Street at Milton, a short walk form the Greenpoint Ave. stop on the G.

Seen here is a video still from yet another regrettable moment in Mets uniform history as captured by the remarkable Paul C. Yes that's mercifully deposed announcer Fran Healy, along with Howie Rose, showing off their custom Mercury Mets jerseys during the schlocky promotion on July 27, 1999.

Paul sent this beaut along after reading in our interview published recently that Howie prefers No. 14 (reader Steve R. in the meantime recalled Howie telling the story of wearing No. 36 at a Met fantasy camp). So why 21? Just guessing here, but you may recall the whole turn-ahead-the-clock jersey fiasco was a marketing trainwreck hatched by the geniuses at realty company Century 21. The game, they wanted us to imagine, took place in the Year 2021 (wow! That far ahead?)

Until now the best photo we'd had of Mercury Mets attire came from Dave Murray, aka Mets Guy in Michigan, who this week declared Mets by the Numbers to be "the best book ever written." Aw... Thanks!

And speaking of the greatest blogger of all-time, joining Dave on the links column to the left is No No-Hitters, a site devoted to the New York Mets’ dubious streak of having never pitched a no hitter in franchise history. Personally I find no-hitters just random enough events to not-so-secretly hope this streak continues for another 46 years. I was relieved when Glavine choked one away in 2004. Glavine? In 2004? Go, Kit Pellow!

Still you gotta admire the obsessiveness and attention to detail that site exhibits

When Howie Rose was asked to write the foreword for Mets by the Numbers, he had little help from us since the book, by that point, had barely been written. So when he hit it out of the park on the first swing – I don’t think we had to change a single word and it was a perfect fit stylistically – it was at once a relief and then again, not all that surprising. That’s because Howie knows his stuff. We knew that, and if you listen to his broadcasts, you know that too. Howie approaches his assignment as the Mets' primary radio voice armed with knowledge of the tiny details gleaned, as he explains in the interview below, over a lifetime of fandom aligning nearly perfectly with the history of the team he covers. That he eventually read the book, and hasn’t disavowed his association with it yet, is as gratifying a recommendation as it has received yet.

Can you discuss how you became a Met fan?

Continued from Part 1.

In part 2 of my exclusive, explosive conversation with Greg Prince of Faith & Fear in Flushing, Greg discusses some of his blog's greatest hits while I vainly try and determine how he does it.

What are your feelings on the Mets uniform?
They’ve given us a lot more to think about over the years. haven't they? I suppose I get used to all of them after a while. When they first showed up in 1998 in all this black and orange, I thought they looked like Orioles and needed to get back to emphasizing the blue. Plus it was obviously a craven attempt to make a buck. But, y'know what? Last April, the first time they put the black unis on for the first time, I viewed them as a throwback to the '99 and 2000 teams. Now when I see the Mets in black, it gives me a warm feeling -- nostalgia, I guess, for the Bobby Valentine era when they wore them more frequently. I guess that's the power of the baseball uniform in general.

That said, if they had to do only one uniform I guess I would hope they'd accurately recreate the 1969 jersey, perhaps without the 100th anniversary patch. But I’ve gotten used to the idea they wear different ones. It bothers other people way more than it bothers me.

Have you got a favorite uniform number?
I always wanted to wear 41 on my back – no matter what an insult it may have been to Tom Seaver – because he was my first hero. I’ve always been fond of 24, since it never fails to amaze me that Willie Mays was a Met. Today I like 7 for Jose Reyes and I continue to hold a candle for 26 on account of Rico Brogna. It seems like if I like the player, I like the number.

Now and again when I need to fall asleep, instead of counting sheep I count uniform numbers: 1 for Mookie, 2 for Valentine, 3 for Harrelson. I always like to see who jumps to mind first. What’s funny is that whenever I get to 44, Bob Myrick comes up. I've never been able to think of anyone else. And this was when Jason Isringhausen was hot stuff, when Jay Payton was here, right up to Lastings Milledge. 44 is Bob Myrick, and I barely remember Bob Myrick as a ballplayer. Just as 44 on the Mets.

Tell me about The Greg Commandments.
It’s just a bunch of things that had been stewing around in my mind as Mets fan. I’m not big on telling people they have to do this or do that, or to use one of those phrases I hate, “you gotta respect that,” but when it comes to the Mets I found a code of conduct, a way to comport yourself in the world as a Met fan and get the most of the Met experience. Things like not going too nuts when you lose or overboard when you win, and don’t be one of those people who likes both New York teams. Some of it was to help the reader enjoy their experience and some was just picky stuff on my part.

Was it something that came quickly or did you work on it a long time?
I’d actually been working on a list of things like that years earlier. And I found it one day after we started the blog, I stewed it in my head. It was the beginning of the second half of ’05, it just seemed like a good time to put it out there. That post helped put us on the map a little. We weren’t all that well-known before then. It was some thing I got emails about for a long time.

What other events helped put you on the map?
One of the things that drew people to us is we were able to do a lot on Mike Piazza’s last year. Jason wrote a great post about the 10 greatest home runs Piazza had hit as a Met and I had written something that got good response.

I had been to the ballet, of all things, a few weeks before, and it so happened there was a ballet dancer, the male primary dancer, named Jock Soto. And two women sitting behind me were going on and on about how it was Jock Soto’s last year in the ballet and how awful it was going to be to have to replace him. Can you imagine the New York City Ballet without Jock Soto? That kind of thing. And I’m sitting there just riveted to this conversation, thinking, this is exactly what I’m thinking about Mike Piazza. He’s our Jock Soto; and Jock Soto is their Mike Piazza. I wrote something about that and it turned out Jock Soto’s mother read it. She was very excited, saying they compared my son to a big baseball player.

Also at the time, we got a celebrity email from one of the team’s announcers, who’d actually read us, in response my saying I’d turned down the TV and listened to the radio when Gary and Howie were working together. He basically wanted to know what was wrong with them. That was one of several things we had going on in about a two-week period in July of ’05 when it just seemed like we achieved critical mass. We went from being a voice in the wilderness to something people knew about. If there was some way of calculating the percentage of all Met fans who know any bloggers beyond Metsblog, it’s probably infinitesimal. But among people who know computers can lead them to information and insight on your favorite team we established a foothold.

What particular things have you enjoyed accomplishing?
There are times where you think you’ve written something amazing and you get only two comments. I wrote about the 20^th anniversary of the Terry Pendeleton game and everything that went wrong in the 1987 pennant race and I braced for a great reaction, but there was one comment. It felt lonely. It’s tough to write flashbacks in the middle of pennant race.

The definitive post for me was the day they announced the new ballpark. I didn’t know they were even doing it that day but I flipped on SNY and there they were in the Diamond Club showing off the drawings and the model for the first time and how great it’s going to be, and it struck me – isn’t this so odd they’re doing this inside Shea Stadium? They’re going to obliterate Shea Stadium. And it crossed my mind it must be a bad day to be Shea Stadium. It was one of those things that just took off. Fortunately I work at home and had the flexibility to put everything else aside and write it right then.

It started as a straightforward piece where I was just going to state my opinions and instead I started write it as a conversation between a ballpark that had no idea it was going to be replaced – a loyal employee but a little slow on the uptake – and Fred Wilpon giving him his notice. It takes him a while to get it and then he’s very disturbed by it. Shea finally stands up to him, and is speaking for me toward the end.

That was also a touchstone in how I view Shea and how I write about it. Because until then, I was ready to throw Shea away. I’d been to 30 ballparks and wanted our own Camden Yards in my lifetime. I recall writing something on opening day ’05 how they had all winter and couldn’t get the escalators to work. Jason was thrilled because for years he was like “Where’s the detonator?” But I’d come over to the dark side.

Then I realized, this was it. It was a stadium we’d grown up with and grown older in. I did a 180. I was like those superdelegates changing from Hilary to Obama. I went from “Let’s get the new ballpark in here!” to “How dare you?”

I worry about turning into a caricature of myself. I don’t want to be a good-old-days blogger. I don’t want to dwell on the idea of “Wasn’t it great when Jane Jarvis played the organ and Karl Erhardt held up the signs and box seats were $4.50 and Tommie Agee led off every game with a home run?” I want the 2008 season to start. But defender-of-Shea-to-the-end has become a sort of calling card for me. And Jason is laying low on the point because he knows I’m sensitive to it. I can feel him rolling his eyes.

It brought out in our readers a lot of the same feelings. They’d bought that line that it was time for Shea to go. I think they saw someone saying what they had been suppressing: Hold on a second. I like this place too. It’s all going to amount to nothing because Shea is going away but this wasn’t a movement like STOP CITI FIELD. This is not like the Tiger Stadium Fan Club grasping hands around the ballpark. Nobody is doing that Shea.

What’s distinguished about the site is your ability to bring your own personal self into it whether you’re talking about meeting your wife or your mother dying and things that, I imagine, would be difficult to write about and send to an unknown audience. Do you struggle with that at all?
Not that much. In June of ‘05 when the Mets played their first series with Oakland since the World Series of ‘73 I had this reaction to it I wasn’t expecting. I put it on the TV and it suddenly brought me back to 1973 and specifically, a suppressed memory that I’d had a fight with my mother who told me, you can’t watch the last two games of the 1973 World Series.

Yeow.
I mean, come on! How often do the Mets get into the World Series? I hadn’t thought of that much. But I think today maybe one of the reasons I indulge myself as a fan is because I didn’t indulge enough as a child. Anyway, I had just begun to write a simple expository post of how this had reminded me of the 1973 World Series, blah blah blah, and it became one of those dialogs, me talking to a psychiatrist, and I recall bringing up really intense feelings I’d had about my mother, why the hell wouldn’t you let me watch the godamn world series? I was angry writing it!

There were some from our limited audience had a good response to that, it was a hill to get over. Because up until then, I was going for a tone, thinking, this is what a blog is supposed to sound like. It took me a few months to write the way I wanted to write. I don’t know if anyone who reads that could tell but I can.

But as for writing the personal stuff, it just seemed very natural to go there. The 1990 flashback was an interesting one for me to write because that was the year my mother died. It was an area I’d never really explored before. In my mind, it was a stressful year. But at the moment where somebody else would have said, “Oh, I can’t follow the Mets,” I’d followed them more closely than I’d had since 1986. They deepened for me. They were my anchor.

I wrote something a few weeks ago about the one game I went to with my father, who’s not a baseball fan. My parents sort of fell into them when they were good, from 1985 to 89, but after my mother died, they just fell away from him. It was like, I don’t do that any more. And it took me some time to realize it. The point was, thank god there’s football because without it my father and I wouldn’t have much to talk about. But going to a game with him as a terrible experience. The comments you get from that tend to be incidental. If I wrote a foul ball landed near me a reader might write, “Hey, I once caught a foul ball.’ Maybe we’re intruding here. Maybe we shouldn’t be reading this on a baseball blog.

But that’s not hard for you to reveal to people?
Not really. If I can use an incongruous word here, I’m brave enough to do it since I know my father and my sister don’t read it. My father’s like, “What’s a blog?”

Continued from Part 1 and Part 2

Earlier in our discussion, Marty Noble remarked that uniform numbers were "a background thing," but something he noticed once they came to the surface. In the conclusion of our interview, there's definitely an itch to scratch. He riffs on numbers, and stories, with the perspective only a veteran beat reporter could have. This whole interview was a blast, but for me, this part was especially fun.

Are there particular Mets numbers you have specific associations with?
I’d be sitting around the clubhouse and see 23. That’s a favorite of mine. I liked Flynn. I thought Gilkey was as good a teammate as they ever had.

I saw the game after 9/11 on TV the other night and they had a guy in right field, No. 23. I had no idea who it was, as the batting order goes around I’m waiting for him to come up thinking Jermaine Allensworth? He was 23. Finally, I realized. It was Matt Lawton.

There’s a study that says when you like something, there’s a secretion in the brain that makes it stick in your head. If you hear a flip side of a song you like, you’ll remember that too because you like the song it’s attached to. So it’s weird. Matt Lawton was unfriendly. He wasn’t a bad human being, but he was unfriendly. I don’t want to think of him.

That turned out to be such a bad trade, for Rick Reed.
Don’t tell me what his number was. He wasn’t 34 or 36…

He was 35.
Billy Beane wore 35. I like him, so I remember that.

That’s right.

34 was always a nondescript pitcher.. The first 34 I met was Apodaca. There was one year they got into late August where he hadn’t even appeared in a victory.

Things are starting to come out. When I see six, I see Darryl Boston.

38?
Tim Leary.

2?
Sandy Alomar. I wouldn’t want Bobby Valentine to know I thought of him. Marv Throneberry was 20 with the Yankees and 2 with the Mets.

6?
My six is Wally. Al Weis is probably the most important 6 in Mets history.

19?
Has to be Bobby O. Though Gardy is a special guy, I love him. In fact, I’ll put Gardy above Bobby O.

20?
I’m drawing a blank. Hojo is 20 but he’s not the one I want. I like Hojo. I like Shawn Green a lot. Ryan Thompson was fun.

27?
Swannie.

28?
My 28 is Bill Robinson.

That’s a good choice. Robinson has been there as long as any player. Except maybe John Milner.
Milner was lazy. He had a bathrobe that was Howard Johnson colors: orange, turquoise and white. He could have gone 60-for-60 in the previous weeks but if he had that bathrobe on, he wasn’t playing. If he had gone 0-for-48 and didn’t have the bathrobe on, he was playing. He wouldn’t say anything. If he had the bathrobe on he’d just walk away. Not a nice person. He once had a wine bottle by the neck and threatened me with it. I called him “the Hamper” not the “Hammer.”

You’re ruining my childhood memories.
He wasn’t a good guy.

How about 33?
Ron Hunt, but Hondo was the big 33 for the Mets.

Actually, Hondo was 55, not 33.
My mistake. I’m seeing him hit against Whitey Ford.

He and Frazier were both managers who wore 55.
I remember Frazier wore 55. Frazier was a misfit. Very nice guy, but completely over his head. He had no sense of New York. He attacked Tom Seaver on the bus, not physically, but he got all over him. If you’re the manager of the Mets in 1976, you can’t do that.

It’s actually part of a funny story. Remember Augie Borgi? Augie was the Daily News Mets writer for years in the 1970s including 1976. Augie was the cheapest man on the face of the earth. No one was remotely close. We were in the bus, coming out of LA into Chicago. Seaver is on the same bus as Frazier, and the manager is a little loaded, and he got on him, calling him Seavers, saying, “I wouldn’t be saying too much if I was pitching like you’ve been pitching, Seavers.” We all wrote this story afterward that nobody had ever spoken about Seaver that way. Augie was right there but he didn’t write it. Why? Because he wanted to put in for a cab fare. Now that redefines cheap!

43?
My first that comes to mind is Paul Siebert. He comes to mind, I can’t tell you why. The other one that comes to mind is Spider Lockhart but he didn’t play for the Mets. Who else wore 43?

Remlinger…
I liked him.

Paul Byrd…
Didn’t remember that.

John Hudek…
God, no.

49?
Benitez comes up. He’s not my favorite but he comes up. What did Mike Bruhert wear?

He wore 26. He was the first 26 after Dave Kingman.
I remember Kingman wore 26, and 10, but 10 may have just been spring training [it was]. Rusty wore 4 and 10. But my all-time 10 is Kelvin Chapman. He wore 10 as a kid when he first came up in 1979, then 11 in 1984 when he came back up. Maybe he changed because 10 was bad luck.

Kelvin Chapman was a great kid and the best basketball player they ever had. Better than Strawberry.

I read somewhere that he has a son who’s a well-regarded prospect.
I wouldn’t doubt that. The Mets wanted him desperately to become a coach. They thought he’d be a great manager. He was as personable a guy as you’d ever want to meet. He and Xavier Nady are two of the most popular people in the clubhouse I’d ever known. Chapman couldn’t touch right-handed pitching but he could really hit lefties and Davey loved him.

Davey rescued him from several years in the minors and in the process turned away guys like Brian Giles.
He should have been turned away. He had skills but he didn’t want to play. And he didn’t want to stand close in the batter’s box. He stand as far back in the corner as you could be. Balls on the outside he couldn’t hit with a telephone pole. Defensively he could do things that most people couldn’t do, but he was afraid of the ball at bat.

29?
My first thought goes to Bud Daley, a Yankee. 29 was Viola who I didn’t like very much. And Magadan who I liked a lot. Very good guy. Very good hitter and a good hitting coach from what I hear.

The Mets didn’t believe in him. They had Hernandez who was a slightly better version of him…
Slightly? Hernandez was the best player I ever covered. He made his team win more than any other player. He was a good interview, and we’re friends today, but when he played he never, ever gave me stuff. I still get on him for that. He never helped me! He gave me nothing. I don’t care if you didn’t give it to anybody… give it to me! Keith would give you opinions but wouldn’t give you facts. I don’t think he gave anyone facts.

Who’s on the all-interview team?
Glavine is No. 1. He and Joe Torre are the best interviews in the game. Keith would be No. 1 at first. Wally was great. He tell you to come over and trip you. At shortstop, Elster was great. He saved a quote for me one day. In Chicago, in 1991, they had lost 9 straight games and I walked into the clubhouse and Elster said to me, “Before you go into Buddy’s office, I have to tell you something. I’m saving this just for you.” He said, “You know what makes this so good?” meaning losing 9 in a row on the road? “We just cut four and a half innings off the season.” It was great, and I wrote that. The next day Buddy came to me and he said, “I’m not accusing you of making this up, but did he really say that to you?” I said yeah. He said, “I have no control of my players, do I?” And he didn’t.

At third base, David is not there yet. Hojo was OK. He was good at first, but got too cautious after a while. Roy Staiger wasn’t any good. Hubie didn’t say much. I have to go with Ray.

Left field, no one liked McReynolds as much as I did, but he wasn’t a great quote. Alou is very interesting sometimes but not always. Kingman was a pain in the ass. Foster was a bigger pain in the ass. Gilkey would be the guy.

Catcher would be LoDuca though Todd told me more than LoDuca would. LoDuca was a good quote. Center field had to be Lenny. He’d say anything. Though Brian McRae had the quote of the century. When they lost five straight games at the end of the 98 season, after they were shut out by the Expos he said, “Everyone plays us like the World Series. They want to kick our ass because they hate our manager.”

I remember that quote.
We all went down after that and talked to Felipe, who denied it. But Bob Nightengale of the LA Times was in Houston and heard about this quote and after the game and went to Moises Alou who said, “My dad hates Bobby. Are you kidding? He wants to kick his ass!” So he called me, and we had it confirmed!

Right field? Bonilla never did anything but lie. Burnitz was no good. Straw was Straw. He could be manipulative. Rusty was very condescending when I covered him. Now we’re good friends but then, he was a difficult. Shawn Green is actually quote good.

Relief? Franco was tough. Neil was loose-lipped. Tug was spectacular every day. Billy is good when he pitches like shit. But Tug was amazing.

Did Wagner’s criticism of Willie and Peterson ring true to you?
Yes. They moved Sosa to the bullpen which was a good move but after that I couldn’t ever figure out who they were going to bring in. You see guys warming up who wouldn’t come in. There may have been injuries we didn’t know about – that’s often the case.

Do you find Willie a little churlish?
I get along great with Willie. I’ve known him since he was a baby. But I have to be by myself. If I’m by myself he’ll tell me anything. But in a group, once in a while I think I can read him.

Remember two years ago when Feliciano shot his mouth off? I remember the next day I could tell Willie wanted to say something but he didn’t want to be the one who said it. So I asked, is there anything else you want to say about this and he later thanked me for allowing him the opportunity to say this – he said, “I’ve been around winners all my life and winners don’t do that.” What an incredible way to assert himself and not rip Feliciano, but say what had to be said. I thought it was a genius quote, I couldn’t think of a better thing to say.

We have a system that allows what I can write without his name, what I can write with his name, and what I can’t write. It used to be that way with a lot of guys but the world has changed. Part of that is that there’s more Spanish guys who don’t trust you or just don’t know how to say the things that need to be said. There are also guys who just don’t want to deal with us.

But Wally would say anything. Remember the fight with Eric Davis in ‘86? We came in to the clubhouse afterward and Wally was there and said, “Come here, write this down.” And he motherfucked George Foster for an hour! That motherfucker wouldn’t fight. Danny Heep was out there fighting in his underwear, and George is on the bench. Fuck him. Write it! And say I said it! And I did.

You’re 59 years old, and approaching 40 years covering baseball. Do you have plans to retire?
I have no plans yet, not while I’ve got a wedding to pay for in September for my daughter, and another daughter still in college.

 

Again, I'd like to thank Marty for being so generous with his time and his opinions. Met fans in general -- and this site in particular -- owe much to his style and spirit while telling us how it is.

Continued from Part 1

In the second part of a 3-part interview, veteran Mets beat writer Marty Noble and I discuss recent Met history with uniform numbers again providing the backbeat. It should be noted this conversation took place in January, shortly before the Johan Santana deal brought a decidedly sunnier outlook to me at least. Thanks again to Marty for his cooperation and candor.

What’s your sense of Charlie Samuels’ power in the clubhouse?
Every clubhouse has a guy like that. Del Webb and Dan Topping didn’t decide what number Mickey Mantle wore: Pete Sheehey did. I know of clubhouse guys, not on the Mets, who wouldn’t give a black player a number that belonged to a racist white player.

Someone wrote me an email once that suggested the Mets only issued No. 21 to black players.
Spahn says that’s wrong. Elliott Maddox? He was 21. Cleon Jones. Bill Pulsipher, Yoshii. Cleon is the first 21 that comes to mind for me. Pulsipher – he was special guy. I wish he’d filled 21 for 20 years. I don’t know anyone who enjoyed the game more than he did. Loved every second of what he was doing. He was strange and crazy and sometimes, not always crazy in a good way, but he loved the game, and I respected him. I liked him a lot.

Terry McDaniel?
He was zero.

Do you remember why?
No. Do you?

There’s hardly a Met fan alive who hasn’t been told at least some of the team's story by Marty Noble. The reporter, who today writes for mlb.com, is now beginning his 38^th season covering Mets baseball, and traces of that history inhabit nearly everything he writes. Much of his best stuff can be found around this time of year, when he’s the only writer who’ll get a story out of which lockers are occupied by whom and, as always, his readers will learn a thing or two about uniform numbers – a topic that he’s definitively chronicled, albeit in passing, for as long as I’ve been reading the sports pages. It was a thrill to contact Marty, first to solicit a blurb for the Mets by the Numbers book, then for an interview that became a lengthy conversation, and then another. Following is part 1 of a multi-part series. Enjoy!

Remind me of your background in journalism.
My first professional job was in Vermont but in 1970 I began working for the Herald News in Passaic, which has since been overtaken by the Bergen Record. I worked at the Record from July of ‘72 through the end of 1980.

I covered the Mets and the Yankees then, split almost 50-50, all their home games. I covered the Yankees only the road when they were close [to the pennant], so that meant, no Mets in ‘76, ‘77, ‘78 and ‘80. I also covered the Yankees on the road in 1974.

Did you aspire to be a baseball beat reporter?
I worked for a paper but didn’t have any thoughts of covering baseball. Then in ‘70, I covered my first game and in ’74, with the Bergen Record, they said, ‘You’re going to cover the Mets.’ I was fine with that. It got me out of the office and doing things that were a little more high-profile than high school stuff. And it rekindled the affection I had for baseball. I lost my way in baseball when I got to high school and the Yankees were such a terrible team. But it came back when I went to cover it.

You are a Bronx-bred Yankee fan, correct?
Yes. I grew up on Tremont and the Concourse around 176^th Street. The ballpark was 161^st. That’s 15 city blocks or three-fourths of a mile. We could run there if we had to or take the subway for 15 cents.

So the origin of your fascination with numbers… or maybe I shouldn’t call it a fascination…
Oh, it is a fascination. There’s an origin to it, but there is no basis. What I remember is thinking that Yogi Berra looked right with Number 8 on his back. He was bowl-legged, and his back was round, and 8 was the number. I just liked it. Mickey being No. 7 was the most important thing in the world to me. I wore 7 a lot as a kid because of him. And I just started to notice it more. Gil McDougald was 12. The first pitcher I ever saw live was Tom Sturdivant, No. 42. I can hear Bob Sheppard say, “Numbah fawty-toooh.” The way he said it just made the number better, sound more official. The way Sheppard said them was a big part of making them sound important to me. Everyone wanted to be a Yankee, but sometimes I wanted to be Bob Sheppard. I have since met him and really admire him.

Everyone has their favorite names for him to introduce. Mine were “Otto Velez” and “Oscar Gamble.” He wrote me a poem about his. His favorite name was “Sal-oh-may Bah-ro-haas.” The whole periphery of baseball appealed to me. The numbers, the way Bob Sheppard said things, the special feeling at Yankee Stadium. I’ve seen a lot of fields, Griffith, Crosley, the Polo Grounds, Fenway. There was something about Yankee Stadium – the smell of cigars and stale beer, which doesn’t exist because they don’t let anyone smoke anymore. I miss the cigars. That smell was special to me. Walking up the ramps, hearing Sheppard, seeing all that green was something. And to see the players from that distance you had to see the numbers. Was I seeing Andy Carey? Or was I seeing Hank Bauer? Now I can look at those players without their numbers and tell you who they are but then I needed the numbers.

I guess knowing numbers it’s like knowing the flip side of a 45. It seemed to be the right thing to do.

Tom Sturdivant finished his career with the Mets in 1964. Do you remember his number?
I have no idea. [It was 47 –ed.] My memory of Met numbers starts only when I started covering them. I didn’t have much thought about them then. I want to say Jesse Gonder wore 12, but I’m not sure of that.

You’re right.
That’s one I remember, because he was a Yankee. I also remember the ‘69 Mets. I was just getting into the game again thanks to Bob Gibson, who really re-kindled my interest in baseball as much as anyone.

He is my all-time 45, with all due respect to Tug McGraw and John Franco.

Even Pedro?
Gibson. If I could be ay player, I’d be him. He was so amazing. 45 doesn’t have any real intrinsic appeal to me, like 8 did or 44 did. Gibson made 45 better than it was. Those Cardinal teams in the late 60s, if you think of the guys who came out of it – Gibson, McCarver, Torre, how articulate they are and how much understanding they have of baseball, that fascinates me.

We’re way off topic already but one of the areas of Mets history that fascinates me is how Bing Devine, who obviously had such a big role in building those Cardinals teams, basically assembled huge parts of the ‘69 Mets team in one year as a general manager.
And don’t forget Whitey Herzog. One thing I came across recently was a letter from Whitey Herzog to Bob Sheffing before the [Padres and Expos] expansion draft regarding who the Mets were protecting and why. They were absolutely magical names, many from the 1969 World Series team, and Jon Matlack who didn’t come up until later. And there was one thing, I’m sure Eddie Kranepool wouldn’t want to see, that said, ‘We told the old man we were protecting Kranepool even though we didn’t – nobody will take him.’

When did you as a reporter introduce numbers into things that you were writing?
I was always interested in doing it, but it takes a little while in the clubhouse before you can act the way you really are. You have to stay in self-created guidelines of what is normal. But once you get more comfortable you can say and do whatever you want. If they like you, they like you. If they don’t, too bad.

It happened in the first spring I was there in 1976. The first time I remember something that happened that I took notice of is when Mazzilli and Stearns switched 16 and 12. I used to pester Herbie Norman, the clubhouse guy, about numbers. Because there was that fascination. It’s like rock and roll. I knew that Yogi had at one time worn 35 and that DiMaggio had worn No. 9. And Mickey wore 6. I read everything I could about Mickey when I was a kid.

Covering uniform numbers was not something the other writers did.
That’s true but I don’t want to say I broke any ground.

I did a piece for mlb.com on who used to inhabit the locker room. One of the lockers had gone from Darryl to Bonilla to Olerud to Zeile. It was always a big home-run hitter who had it. I didn’t think it was important but it was fun. And in ‘06 I wrote a story pointing out that Billy Wagner had been given Doc’s locker. And that locker hadn’t been assigned for a long time. I told Billy, do you know the best fastball in Mets history was in that locker and Billy, who loves history and loves fastballs, just sat up and asked who? Seaver? I told him it was Doc’s locker – only I’d forgotten he and Doc were teammates for a short time.

How could they give Steve Traschel Tom Seaver’s locker? How could they give Luis Lopez Keith Hernandez’ number? I’m not saying that’s important to the team but some of it is important to the fans. It has zero importance to some of the players. They ask, ‘Who cares about that? Why’d you write that?’ But the readers care.

Do you have an opinion on the No. 17 controversy?
It should be retired for sure. It goes Seaver, Keith, Piazza and then everyone else in Mets history. Those are the three most important players in the history of the organization. Seaver was the driving force behind the first championship and whatever other success they had then. Keith was the force in the second run. And Piazza was the focal point of their most recent success. Now, David has to get them back into the playoffs to make 5 that important.

Do you feel the Mets are aware of the controversy?
I don’t think they have the feel of it in their hearts. Over the years the front office has changed so dramatically. If Bob Mandt were still there things might be different. I know nothing of the Mets’ feeling on this, but what they might be doing in a real sense is to make it as special as they can. Seaver and Gil were obvious. As opposed to the Yankees, who say, if you have a heartbeat you can get your number retired. I’m glad some guys got it, but I don’t think Maris deserved it. I don’t think Elston Howard deserved it and I love Ellie.

It’s a reassuringly high standard the Mets show but from a standpoint as a fan, it sometimes seems like they’re not paying attention. It’s like they don’t always grasp the historical implications of the things they do with the fan base.
I agree with that. I’m not sure what they’re going to do with Straw and Doc. Gooden might not ever be back. Straw was supposed to have a job with the organization but I don’t know what happened.

They seem very concerned about bad reactions.
They are concerned about the Yankees and they are concerned about looking bad.

Of the players you recall, any who were particular about the number?
I remember Hojo turned to 44 and his wife said, ‘You can’t do that. All my jewelry says 20.’

Charlie was pretty good about keeping some numbers the way they always were. Like, 23 was never a pitcher’s number. I don’t know if that’s still the case.

Pat Mahomes came along.
Yeah, a lot of things got bastardized, even the lockers. There used to be a pitcher’s row then Piazza got put in it. Seaver had a locker that was meant for, if not the guy with the most tenure, the guy with the best quality. And Steve Traschsel, as much as he had tenure and as much as I like him, didn’t belong in Seaver’s locker. They had no one who belonged in Seaver’s locker.

Guys ask for numbers when they come to the team. I think Delgado wanted to honor Clemente more than he wanted to ask Matsui for 25. I always thought 36 was for good guys. Koosman was as good a guy as there is, and Eddie Lynch is a friend. What number did Desi Relaford wear?

8.
Well, Desi Relaford should have been No. 36, I told him that, because he was as good a guy as the Mets ever had. I forget some numbers. I mean David is 5 and Jose is 7. Those are the easy ones. Valentin switched 18 to 22 because Alou wanted his number. I wrote about that.

Though it seems that if Valentin had a number he was preferential to it was 22 since he’d had equity in it in previous stops and he couldn’t wear it because Xavier Nady was in 22.
There’s one! If you looked at Nady from not too great a distance, you’d think you were seeing Kevin McReynolds. McReynolds might have been a little thicker, but exactly the same body, same number 22. I remember looking up and just seeing him. That’s the thing. All my references are old. I see the 80s and 90s. But Nady was just like McReynolds. He was 22, McReynolds was 22, Knight was 22. I thought in ‘88 if McReynolds had had a really good postseason he could have been the third straight Met to win a World Series MVP in 22 [Donn Clendenon in 1969 and Knight in ’86 being the others].

And if a lot of things go different in 2000, maybe you’d have Al Leiter.
A lot. If Timo Perez, that wonderful base runner, doesn’t make the same move…

That error doesn’t get enough attention in the annals of all-time baseball screwups made in the postseason.
The reason it doesn’t is that the Yankees are going to win that World Series regardless.

I don’t believe that. I think the Mets are still batting in the 6^th inning of that game if it doesn’t happen.
What I remember in that World Series is Paul O’Neill fouling off a billion pitches and working a walk off Benitez. Benitez was fried when that happened.

What do you recall about covering Ron Darling? He wore three numbers.
44, 12 and 15. When Aggie took over 15 after Foster was released, Darling told him, ‘Don’t wear that number, you won’t hit!’ (laughs) That’s why it pays to pay attention to uniform numbers. A quote like that was wonderful. That David Cone took 17 as a tribute to Keith was wonderful. You’re more aware if you’re pay attention.

I pay attention to 7. John Gibbons had 8 and went to 7 when Carter got there. I remember Dozier, Krane, Reyes. And for some reason I know Kranepool wore 21 when he first came up.

Franco made his life in 31 but was very unselfish the way he moved to 45 when Piazza arrived. John is not my favorite guy ever, but I have great respect for him for doing that. That was a very unselfish thing to do.

Numbers for me are not an active obsession, it's a background thing. But when it scratches the surface you think about it.

Still to come: Part II of our interview, when we address the 2008 club and recent Met history.

 

Kelvin Torve was a journeyman ballplayer whose brief career with the Mets is remembered as much for his uniform as for his game. But his moment in history reveals much.

A 10-year minor-league veteran when called up to the Mets to replace an injured Kevin Elster in August of 1990, Torve became the unwitting victim of a procedural screw-up that gave him temporary custody of a uniform number that was supposed to have been kept under guard for one of the team’s immortals. For reasons unexplained to this day they gave him No. 24, a uniform that hadn’t been issued to a player since Willie Mays finished his career with the Mets in 1973.

Joan Payson, the Mets’ original owner and unabashed fan of the Say Hey Kid dating from his career with the New York Giants, had promised Mays the Mets wouldn’t issue No. 24 following his retirement. The succeeding Met ownership, however, never got around to officially retiring the number, leaving 24 in an uncomfortable state of limbo just waiting for a situation like Torve’s to arise. (They should retire it in honor of Mrs. Payson, is what they ought to do). Embarrassed as public outcry grew, the Mets shortly re-fitted the South Dakota native in No. 39.

Torve, who today works as a salesman for a packaging company and teaches at youth baseball clinics around his Davidson, N.C., home, for his part remains a good sport about his accidental casting in a freaky Met episode. In the following interview, parts of which were conducted for, and included in, the Mets by the Numbers book, Torve discusses his career including his moment as an overnight sensation in Willie Mays’ clothes.

Tell me about your career leading up to the Mets.
I was drafted by the Giants and played four years with them. I was traded to the Orioles and played three years with them, making it all the way to AAA. Signed as a free agent with the Twins and played two years with them, mostly in AAA and part of 1988 with the Twins in Minnesota. After that, I spent two years with the Mets.

When you played, were you mostly an outfielder or a first baseman?
Mostly, I was a first baseman. I dabbled in the outfield, mostly if there was a chance to get another first baseman who hit lefthanded into the game. I also went to Instructional League with the Twins to learn how to catch, but that lasted about six weeks, and I was never to darken the doors of catcherdom again.

I guess that was not all that unusual for a player like yourself who was in the game for a long time and trying to be as useful as you can be.
Right. And I appreciated the Twins for giving me that opportunity. I learned a lot, but it didn’t work out. The ultimate goal would have been for me to be a third catcher with somebody, be a pinch hitter, play outfield and first base and in an absolute emergency go back there and put on the catching gear.

In your minor league career, you were a pretty good hitter [.303/.392/.453 in AAA Tidewater in 1990].
I hit well enough to be employed for 13 years. I was a good AAA hitter and had one good year in the big leagues with the Mets. My bat was what kept me in the game. I had a few opportunities but when you’re a minor leaguer for as long as I was you really have to make a splash immediately if you want to stay. The first year with the Mets, I did, and I got quite a few at-bats. The second year, I think I had only 8 at-bats. I hit the ball hard but didn’t get the breaks. That’s the way it goes.

You were a first baseman who didn’t hit many home runs.
That was the knock on me. I was a first baseman who didn’t hit enough home runs. But the Mets at that time had a guy at first base, Dave Magadan, who didn’t hit many home runs either. They at least had the foresight to challenge that stereotype. In baseball, like in a lot of careers I suppose, if you get a label like that, it’s hard to lose.

I wonder if you can set the scene for me. You’re called to the Mets in 1990 and issued a jersey for the first time. What do you recall about it?
Nothing out of the ordinary. I just got there and saw a locker with my uni in it, No. 24. I didn’t give a second thought to it. I don’t know who assigned the number, it might have been Charlie Samuels but I’m not sure. I guess they didn’t give much thought either.

They didn’t ask you if you had a preference?
Oh, no.

So you’re in a situation where they take what they give you.
Yes. I had spent a long time in the minors. I was just happy to be there. I would have taken two-point-four if they’d asked me to.

When do you become aware that there’s some kind of outcry?
When I was called up we had a homestand with the Phillies and I think, the Cubs. Then we went on the road, to California, and while we were out there Charlie came up to me and said, “Listen, we made a mistake with your number. Some people have been calling in and writing in. So we’d like to change your number.”

I just said, “Shoot, that’s fine with me.” I didn’t want to be a pain about it. And I guess they wanted to keep it low-key, not make a big deal about it. So I just started wearing No. 39 from that point on.

Did you have any preference as to what number you would have wanted?
Not really. I’d played so long in legion ball and college and the minor leagues. I think I’d worn every number there was. I didn’t have any preference at all.

Did you hear anything from the fans, or pick up on it, while you were at Shea?
No, I didn’t. That’s not to say they weren’t yelling at me – just that I didn’t hear anything. The first time I was aware of it we were on the road and Charlie came up to me in the locker room and told me that’s Willie Mays’s number, so we have to change it. And I said, that’s fine.

I looked it up, and you were batting better than .500 in the No. 24 jersey.
Hopefully I did OK in it, because I know Willie Mays did it proud as well.

You played briefly with the Mets again in 1991, then to Japan, correct?
Two years, I played for the Orix Blue Wave. It was a good time. I’m nostalgic when I look back on that time, but while you’re over there it can be frustrating the way they play the game. It’s different than in the United States, and you’re a long way from home. But after leaving Japan, reflecting on it, I realize how much I did enjoy my time there, what it a blessing it was.

I was a teammate of Ichiro over there. When I was there he was a rookie. He was so young he rode his bicycle to the games!

Could you tell at the time he would accomplish as much as he has?
Yes, though back then nobody from Japan was coming to the United States. Watching him play you would say, it’s too bad they don’t because this kid could play in the big leagues. He was 18 at the time and the only thing he couldn’t do well then was throw, and he’s obviously gotten a lot better throwing since then. You could tell he was going to be really good.

What about your time with the Mets do you remember most?
I recall it as a good time because I was in the big leagues. My first at-bat, I got hit by a pitch. My second at-bat, I hit a double that knocked in a few runs [pinch-hitting in a contentious game featuring a Phillies-Mets brawl]. The morning after that I get a call that there’s some policemen waiting to see me in the lobby of the hotel.

Turns out a sports talk radio show had talked about me getting called up, being a kid from the prairie in South Dakota, and being in the big city for the first time. These New York City cops heard that and showed up at my hotel and gave me an escort to the ballpark! They said, we hear you might need help. It was all good natured. I got to be good friends with one of those cops and his family, a guy by the name of Al Weinman. We kept up with Al for years after that.

 

We're obviously saddened to hear of the passing of Karl Ehrhardt, the "Sign Man" of Shea whose iconic presence, wit and impeccable timing is everything this site aspires to be. Our logo, designed by Scott Turner of Superba Graphics, reflects that. RIP Sign Man!

As part of the preparation for the new launch of mbtn.net and the release of the Mets by the Numbers book, I went and gathered some dynamite celebrity interviews with folks with opinions on the Mets, Mets history and/or Mets uniforms that we will be running periodically.

Jacqueline Miranne may not be a household name (yet!) but you may recognize her face. The 21-year-old fashion model and aspiring television personaility has been appearing on your TV every Wednesday as a model on Bravo TV’s fabulous fashion competiton, Project Runway.