Leaving aside for a second the idiotic debate over whether Wright’s “around the corner” hitting streak should “count”– the correct answer is, of course it should – and the larger question as to whether random counting records like this are important – they’re not – it does provide an example to muse briefly on the men who set the records.

It’s easy to associate David Wright with Hubie Brooks. Both were organization-bred third basemen wearing single-digit uniform numbers. And at the time they set hitting streaks each would be considered “answers” for the organization’s storied struggle to find third basemen. That story today is more like a legend seeing as since Brooks (Johnson, Ventura, Wright) third base has been a position of strength for the Mets.

Brooks’ hitting streak occurred neatly, from May 1 to June 1 of 1984: It was a time where lots of things that previously lurked just below the surface blew up into enormous things that everyone knew about. Van Halen (1984), Springsteen (Born in the USA) and The Police (Synchronicity) all reached massive popularity behind mega-hit albums I considered to be inferior to their prior work but understood as a trade-off these guys had to have made to get girls and jocks to notice them too.

I was a senior in high school and for the first time in my entire life as a Met fan believed the team could make a similar leap — to morph from something appreciated by a few diehards only to a cultural phenomenon that would sweep the city. That moment for the Mets was actually a few years away, as things turned out. But with sophomore Darryl Strawberry, a full year from Keith Hernandez, solid young pitching including Ron Darling and this Dwight Gooden kid, and a confident new manager who used computers — maybe this new Apple thing — you could see it coming. It was an exciting time to be a believer.

And it was especially satisfying in 1984 to have contributions from Brooks, who along with Mookie Wilson, represented the only hope from earlier, uglier, versions of the Mets. Brooks debuted in September of 1980 wearing No. 62. “It was the only uniform they had when I came up, so I had to take it,” Brooks told the New York Times, but he asked for another jersey right away. “I’m kind of superstitious so I told them I’d take any number lower than 62. Any number.” That number was 39. He then switched to his familiar (and lucky) No. 7 in 1981.

The Mets — and Brooks — would cool down some eventually that summer after spending a good portion of the year putting the heat on the division-winning Cubs who needed an otherworldly year from midseason acquiree Rick Sutcliffe just to hold us off. But we won 90 games that season: This was more Met wins than I’d ever experienced in my fan lifespan, which I date from 1972 or 1973, or basically, 1st grade through 12th grade. A few months later, I was watching Monday Night Football in a college dorm when I learned the Mets had acquired superstar Gary Carter in a trade: Going North to Montreal were a few prospects, and Hubie Brooks. The excitement hurt.