Thanks to a 10-year occupation by Yogi Berra, and an ongoing state of paralysis while the team frets over the implications of retiring the jersey forever, only 14 Mets – just 11 of them players including Yogi who barely qualifies – have ever worn the No. 8 jersey. Needless to say, constructing a Top 10 list is challenging and more pointless than usual. But it’s not as if challenging and pointless are deterrents around here. In fact the following list is even more useful than the others in this series because it can also be read upside-down as a Bottom 10 list. Isn’t that something?

Now, on with the countdown…

10. Rick Sweet

Big mustache, big hair. Very short Met career as a would-be backup to Stearns and Hodges in1982. He had three pinch-hitting appearances in April and was then sold to Seattle, where he happened to have grown up. By mid-season, his No. 8 jersey was on the back of the next man on this list.

9. Phil Mankowski

Mainly remembered as one of the guys we received in the blessed Richie Hebner trade, Mankowski wore 8 only during his 1982 appearance when he subbed at third base for a couple of weeks in place of an injured Hubie Brooks. I definitely have a stronger association with Mankowski wearing No. 2 in 1980 even though looking up the stats reminds me he played very little that year too. Anyhow, by September of 1982, the No. 8 jersey had passed from Sweet to Mankowski to the next man on this list.

8. Ronn Reynolds

Like Sweet, a backup catcher; and like Mankowski, a guy for whom I have two uni-number associations, Reynolds was the third and final wearer of the No. 8 jersey in 1982, thanks to a September recall from Class AA Jackson. Considered a tough, defense-first type of backstop, Reynolds broke camp with the big club in 1983 as Ron Hodges’ primary backup while John Stearnswas out with an injury. He’d go back to the minors once Stearns fully recovered.

Reynolds however wouldn’t return until 1985 – and by then wearing a different uniform, No. 9. The new uni number was because the Mets in the interim had acquired the first man on this list. The lengthy gap between appearances was because of the next man on this list.

7. John Gibbons

Gibbons was the third of the Mets’ three first-round selections in the 1980 amateur draft, and the 24^th pick overall. The Mets famously selected Darryl Strawberry with the first overall pick and later got Billy Beane picking 23^rd (the additional selections affording the Mets Beane and Gibbons were compensation for having lost free agents Andy Hassler and Skip Lockwood, respectively). It was a fateful haul, with Strawberry destined to become the team’s all-time slugger and Beane a revolutionary team executive. Gibbons would later become a hot managerial prospect with the Mets organization leading to a five-year gig as the Blue Jays manager which ended last summer. Most recently he was named bench coach for the KC Royals.

Gibbons’ breakout season at Class AA Jackson in 1983 (he batted .298/.375/.515 with 18 home runs as a 21 year-old) allowed him to surpass Reynolds among the Mets up-and-coming catchers. The performance had him touted as the heir to John Stearns and Jerry Grote, the latter of whom was, like Gibbons, a product of San Antonio, Texas. Writing in Newsday in 1984, Marty Noble dreamily described Gibbons as “a rookie catcher with ability and eyes bluer than Paul Newman’s.”

But injuries would eventually arrest Gibbons’s progress: A broken jaw in 1984 cost him his first opportunity and he wouldn’t get a second – other than a brief backup role wearing No. 35 in1986. Also in the official records is a September appearance in 1985 when he was issued No. 43but did not appear in a game.

6.  Dan Norman

Here’s another strange thing about Met No. 8s. Of the 11 players on this list who wore No. 8, seven of them also spent time in a Met uniform with a different number on the back. You might remember Dan Norman as a No. 33, which was his number in his first few appearances with the Mets in 1977 and 1978. He eventually got No. 8 when he came up for a lengthier stay beginning in 1979.

Norman is probably best remembered for being the fourth and final piece of the Tom Seaver haul – the only player in that fateful 1977 trade who didn’t immediately join the Mets, and to certain heartbroken 11-year-olds, he held a certain mysterious promise. Norman was a powerfully built outfielder with good numbers in the minors but limited success with the Mets. After a brief trial as an everyday outfielder in ’79, they turned him into a full-time reserve in 1980 and later included him with Jeff Reardon in a deal for another ultimately disappointing right fielder, Ellis Valentine.

5. (tie) Dave Gallagher and Desi Relaford

In order to fit 11 players into 10 slots I needed a tie somewhere so I chose this pair of veteran journeymen, each known for their professionalism and positive attitude.

Dave Gallagher of Trenton, N.J. is among the few Mets of the “Worst Team Money Can Buy” Era not to be remembered poorly. Acquired from the Angels for Hubie Brooks prior to the 1992season, Gallagher had a reputation as a good defensive outfielder and most often was called on late in games to curtail the potential defensive shenanigans the rotation of starters (Bonilla, Johnson, Coleman, etc.) represented.

Desi Relaford was just the kind of bench player a team likes to have: Though he’d failed as a starter and came only at the cost of waiver claim, he was still young (27) and possessed both young player’s skills (speed and the ability to play the middle infield) and the demeanor to re-establish his reputation. His one and only season for the Mets, 2001, would turn out to be the best of his career, and the Mets alertly parlayed into a trade for two players who would help – theoretically, at least – in 2002.

On May 17, 2001, with the Mets getting hammered by San Diego, Relaford entered as a pitcher in the 9^th inning and retired the Padres in order on 12 pitches, including a strikeout. We’re fairly sure that event marked the lowest number ever to pitch in a game for the Mets.

4. Chris Cannizzaro

The Mets’ first No. 8 in their history was catcher Chris Cannizzaro, selected in the expansion draft from St. Louis. He was an actual prospect but had missed the majority of the 1961 season after an appendectomy and his future behind the plate was blocked by a kid named Tim McCarver. Were he any more desirable in other words, he would be off-limits.

“I’m glad they picked Cannizzaro, because I’m happy he is getting a chance to play. He is a fine prospect who never had a chance with us,” said Cardinals general manager Bing Devine.

Cannizzaro’s chances with the Mets were difficult to come by too, though by 1964 he’d demonstrate a certain usefulness with a .311 batting average in part-time duty. Cannizzaro would later play for the expansion San Diego Padres and become the first All-Star in that franchise’s history.

3. Carlos Baerga

Met GM Joe McIlvaine by the 1990s for the most part had become a value speculator: His portfolio was full of good stocks purchased at low prices – Gilkey, Olerud and Johnson types – that sometimes paid off big. Then there was Carlos Baerga, whose value was not only down but whose price would be a lot higher than Joe Mac ever imagined.

And that value was down to stay. Although Baerga arrived amid whispers he was more attached to his cellphone than to his teammates, his attitude in New York looked pretty good. It was his slowing bat and expanding waistline that were the trouble. And while it may be unfair to hold Jeff Kent’s future success against Baerga the least he coulda done was outplayed Jose Vizcaino.

Baerga began his Met career in 2006 wearing No. 6 – coach Steve Swisher had the No. 8 jersey then. He moved into 8 at the beginning of 1997 and wore it until his contract expired after 1998.

2. Yogi Berra

Among Gil Hodges’s lasting legacies was a competent coaching staff, the core of which was still doing business together a decade after he passed away. There was pitching coach Rube Walker – who was a former catcher. Joe Pignatano, also a former catcher, tending the tomatoes in the Shea bullpen. And Eddie “The Walking Man” Yost on the coaching lines at third, a superstar of on-base percentage long before anyone really cared much for the stat.

One thing that long-lived coaching staff wasn’t comprised of was future managers, which put the Mets in a bind when Hodges suddenly passed away shortly before the season was to begin in 1972. Bob Scheffing, who himself was thrust to the general manager’s role following a sudden death in the front office, was a former manager but not a particularly accomplished one. He expressed lukewarm interest in nominating himself for the role. The next internal candidate was former Yankee legend Yogi Berra, who’d been fired following his single season managing the Yankees in 1964 and been in the Mets’ employ as a catcher –a few turns at-bat only – and a coach ever since.

As one writer remarked Berra could probably have stayed a Met coach forever – he was that well-liked by players and the media. But subject to the greater scrutiny that comes with the Skipper’s hat, he wouldn’t last forever. Berra in fact survived a lengthy referendum on his job in 1973 and by the end of that year he and the Mets had improbably staved off elimination. But he was fired in 1975 amid the general feeling that the Mets underachieved given their level of talent during his reign.

Asked once the difference between playing for Hodges and playing for Berra, Tug McGraw replied with a murderous quip. “Six innings,” he said. “Hodges in the third inning would be thinking about what he might do in the sixth, while Berra in the sixth was thinking about what he should have done in the third.”

Ouch.

1. Gary Carter

A year ago, while schilling copies of the Mets by the Numbers book at a New Jersey book store, I had a chance for a brief meeting with Gary Carter – on hand to schill his own book. During a brief break in his furious signing activities I presented him with an autographed copy bookmarked at Chapter 8. “Thanks!” he replied with a big smile and firm handshake, as an assistant put the book aside. “I’ll be sure to read it!” and resumed signing.

As I walked away I had two thoughts:

1) That was a really nice thing to say.

2) Could he have possibly meant it?

And I knew right then: I’d definitely met Gary Carter.

I’m on record here as favoring a less-is-more attitude when it comes to number retirement and the ongoing limbo of No. 8 since Carter’s enshrinement in the Hall of Fame is a good example of why. If you’re going to be wavering on it for years, and if you’re terrified that in his next interview the guy’s going to say something that will embarrass the organization, then he probably isn’t a guy whose number deserves retiring anyway.

This is to take nothing away from Carter’s achievements on the field which were sublime and often heroic and make him, by a long shot, the greatest man ever to wear No. 8 for the Mets, much less anyone else. And Carter to his credit was a bit of a freak about it. His one non-negotiable demand upon joining the team was that he be offered No. 8 (sorry Gibbons), a number reflecting both his birthday (April 8) and wedding day (Feb. 8).

The rankings below are completely subjective and based upon my own estimation of “Metliness.” Often, Metliness will mean they actually contributed something positive to the team but just as often it probably won’t. These are the guys we associate with the number for whatever reason, and together they reflect the character of the number.Today, as part of MBTN’s 10th Anniversary Spectacular, we honor the Top Ten 10s of All Metdom. Please share your greivances below.

And now, on with the countdown…

10. (tie) Joe DePastino and Joe Hietpas

They’re the Mets’ own version of Joe the Plumbers, only not as stupid … probably. A pair of lunchbucket reserve backstops who each spent only a moment in a Mets uniforms, they represent No. 10’s many brief visitors.

DePastino was a 29-year-old, 11-year minor league veteran who’d stalled at Class AAA when he got the call to the Mets roster in August of 2003 to serve as a replacement for backup catcher Jason Phillips, who’d taken time off to attend to the birth of his son. DePastino’s tenure with the Mets lasted for two pinch-hitting appearances and a single inning of catching, both during the late innings of blowouts (a 10-1 win and an 11-1 loss) exchanged between the Mets and Astros at Minute Maid Park.

‘”If something happens and I never play the game again, I accomplished my goal,” DePastino told the New York Times after the first game, when he grounded out to third batting for Dan Wheeler. “I got to the big leagues. As soon as I came in last night, Piazza said, ‘Hey, you’re in the encyclopedia.’”

If DePastino is a real-life Crash Davis, Hietpas might be a poor man’s Nuke LaLoosh – a minor leaguer whose best quality is a powerful right arm. Drafted by the Mets out of Northwestern University in 2001, Hietpas came through the Mets system and made his big-league debut by catching the final inning of the 2004 season: He replaced Todd Ziele, who caught (and hit a home run) in what would be the final game of his career.

Hietpas never got a turn at bat but that may have been just as well: He was a .208 lifetime hitter in the minors, a guy valued more for his defense than for his stick. Convinced his bat wouldn’t take him any further, the Mets in 2007 refashioned Hietpas as a pitcher, sending him to the Florida State League where he posted a respectable 2.47 ERA out of the bullpen. He struggled last year at Class AA Binghamton, but is signed for 2009 and could resurface depending on the level of bullpen terror in years to come. If so, he’d be the first Met ever to be recalled as a position player and a pitcher. Go Joe!

9. Greg Goossen

“We got a kid here who’s 20 years old and in 10 years he has a good chance to be 30,” Casey Stengel famously said of Greg Goossen. Though by the time Goossen was 30 he was on his way to Hollywood. A catcher/first baseman with fair power, Goossen was drafted from the Dodgers’ system in the first-year player draft of 1964. He spent parts of four seasons with the Mets but by the time they were ready to contend, Goossen vamoosed to Seattle in the expansion draft. His big league career was over at 24: He later gained modest fame as a character actor and frequent stand-in for Gene Hackman.

8. Shingo Takatsu

Shingo Takatsu made Met history when on Sept. 3, 2005, he trotted out wearing No. 10 – the lowest number a Met pitcher had ever appeared in – and summarily set another new low. Called into protect a two-run lead with two out, the bases loaded and Florida’s Miguel Cabrera at the plate, Takatsu coughed up a ringing three-run double providing the difference in a 5-4 Mets loss that for many, including me, put an end to any fantasies that the ’05 Mets had might challenge for a playoff spot.

Afterward, Willie Randolph memorably defended the decision to call on Takatsu – a fallen star who’d recently been released by the White Sox – by saying he felt the sidearming righty would “bring the funk.” Did he ever.

The loss came smack in the middle of a stretch where the Mets lost 12 of 15 games to fall from a season-high-watermark of 8 games above .500 and four games out of first place Aug. 26 to 5^thplace and 12 ½ games back Sept. 15. Takatsu improved some from his debut but it didn’t matter by then. He hasn’t played in a Major League game since.

7. Duffy Dyer

He’s the guy I always associate most with No. 10, since he was the first one I knew. Though his Met career was spent mainly as Jerry Grote’s understudy, Dyer was every bit the hitter his counterpart was, and maybe better – not that Jerry Grote was much of a yardstick for hitters. But still. A big-time jock out of Arizona State, Dyer in 1972 got a Met career-high 325 at-bats while Grote missed significant time with injuries and during the opportunity socked more home runs (8) than Grote ever did in any of his 12 years with the Mets.

In 1973, Dyer’s pinch-hit, run-scoring double in the bottom of the 9^th inning was critical in the famous “Ball on the Wall” victory that marked the Mets’ unlikely charge to the pennant. Traded for Gene Clines prior to ’75. Yeah, Gene Clines.

6. Jeff Torborg

Like Art Howe would many years later, Jeff Torborg came to the Mets directly from an American League team; had a reputation for decency and order; and enjoyed the strong support of owner Fred Wilpon. And just like Howe, the hiring turned out to be a bad match, even if the team’s failures under his watch weren’t entirely his fault.

Torborg wound up wearing No. 10 after consulting with a numerologist, which provided a window into his inner goofiness and offered a signal he might not have it as together as we believed. His only full season managing the Mets, 1992, resulted in the so-called “Worst Team Money Could Buy” and he was canned 38 games into the even-worse 1993 season. Technically, Torborg managed 37 games – he managed the 38^th knowing it would be his last.

5. Dave Magadan

Dave Magadan was one of the best pure hitters the Mets ever developed but he was curiously underutilized and frequently injured, and never overcame two perceived flaws in his game – a lack of power and a lack of speed. Twice, jobs were taken from him. Twice, a teammate swiped his uniform number.

Magadan wore No. 10 for the 1990 and 1991 seasons only. He debuted in 29 – as the hero of the Mets’ division-clinch victory in 1986 – but ceded that jersey to Frank Viola in 1990. In 1992, he went back to 29 when new manager Jeff Torborg, with the help of a numerologist, selected 10 (see above).

Magadan’s first season in 10 may have been the best of his 14-year career. Despite the indignity of having lost a chance to start at first base by pointlessly imported veteran Mike Marshall (wtf?), Magadan finished the year with a .328 batting average and a .417 on-base percentage – second in the league – while appearing in a career-high 144 games. He slumped some in 1991, and the Mets subsequently imported Eddie Murray (and Bill Pecota, for god’s sakes) to take over his role.

4. Rey Ordoñez

Rey Ordoñez came along at precisely the wrong moment for an all-glove, no-hit shortstop. Stars like Nomar Garciaparra and Alex Rodriguez were redefining expectations at the position, and statistical measures revealing just how poorly Ordoñez compared to them were becoming the language of the common fan. But his fielding was eye-popping enough to inspire the old romantics, and Ordonez subsequently became one of the Mets’ most fiercely debated players of all time.

Ordonez broke in with the Mets wearing number zero, and, in retrospect, his switch to number 10 in 1998 signaled the beginnings of a slow decline in overall pizzazz. Nevertheless the Mets signed him to a four-year contract after a 60-RBI season in 1999.

Later it was revealed that Ordonez was older by more than two years than the Mets had initially believed. Suddenly on the wrong side of 30, it was less of a surprise when his once-legendary fielding skills fell into decline, and when he uttered a few unkind words about the fans – even if he was right – any lingering arguments over the value of offense vs. defense turned to a near unanimous call for his removal, which the Mets were only too eager to answer.

3. Endy Chavez

Endy Chavez brought energy, spirit and maybe a touch of Mookie-like magic to the 2006 Mets. His magnificent catch in Game 6 of the 2006 NLCS – which not only stole a home run but turned into a humiliating double-play that should have (but unbelievably, didn’t) inspire the Mets to a league championship – belongs on the short list of baseball’s all-time postseason moments and assured Chavez would never have to buy a drink in New York for as long as he lives.

Throw in a .307 batting average and a few more home runs more than anyone had a right to expect, and Endy’s ’06 goes down among the best ever by a Mets’ reserve. But injuries interrupted a repeat performance in 2007 and while his glove remained magnificent his bat wasn’t the same in 2008. Magic – and productive reserves – only last for so long. His next stop is Seattle. Seeya, N.D.

2. Rusty Staub

Rusty Staub wore No. 10 in Houston and in Montreal but patiently waited three seasons until Duffy Dyer was traded to take the jersey with the Mets.

Staub’s move into No. 10, in 1975, coincided with his best single season as a Met. He hit 19 home runs, 30 doubles, had a .382 on-base average and drove in 105 runs – the latter a team record that lasted until Howard Johnson broke it in 1991. Fearful of players gaining 5-and-10 rights in a new era of worker activism, the Mets traded Staub to Detroit following that season (for Mickey Lolich in one of the biggest trades, pound-for-pound, they ever made) only to watch him rake for another five years. They reacquired Staub again in 1981 when he began a second career as an elderly – though still dangerous – pinch-hitter. He’d last until 1985, at age 41.

1. Rod Kanehl

“Do you know that the very first banner the fans hung up in the Polo Grounds had my name on it? We hadn’t played a game there yet, but there it was. It said: ‘We love the Mets.’ And under that, ‘Rod Kanehl.’ You know why they had my name up there? Because I was a hero…”

Like most of the nascent Mets, the man known as “Hot Rod” was valued not for his ability but for his determination in spite of it. And in the early days of the Mets you couldn’t get much more for much less than Rod Kanehl, a career minor leaguer who played every position except pitcher and catcher in a three-year span as Casey Stengel’s favorite reserve.

As the story goes, Stengel recalled Kanehl for having leapt over a fence to make a catch while in a spring practice with the Yankees, in whose minor-league system Kanehl had spent most of his career before the Mets came calling in 1962. Kanehl rewarded Stengel’s faith by becoming the first Met to hit a grand slam and scored the winning run in their first-ever home victory. If not fluid in Stengelese himself, Kanehl was said to understand the language of his skipper and translate it for teammates. When Stengel passed away in 1975, Kanehl was the only of the early Mets to attend the funeral.

Kanehl’s grit, hustle and versatility helped obscure meager statistical output — a .241 batting average and just 32 extra-base hits in nearly 800 at-bats over three seasons. But Hot Rod was released prior to the 1965 season, and was heartbroken to see another man wear his jersey (it was rookie Kevin Collins).

“I know the game from underneath. I know what goes on in the mind of a mediocre ballplayer. I know what it’s like to be a bad hitter. I know what it’s like to have to battle every time you go up to the plate,” he told Sports Illustrated in a brilliant 1966 article (also the source of the above quote). “I think the Mets were stupid for not keeping me. And you know what hurt most? They gave away my uniform number even before spring training started. They couldn’t wait.”