It’s an odd combination of reassuringly high standards and an embarrassingly poor record with regard to qualified candidates that has gotten the Mets through more than half a century with a single player seeing his number retired, but that’s likely to double this year now that Mike Piazza has been elected to the Hall of Fame.

As it happens the Mets are hosting the Braves Sept. 21 this year, 15 years to the day from Piazza’s signature moment as a Met. I may have told this story before but I was there that night, and nearly killed myself leaping with unimaginable joy, landing on an empty Budweiser bottle, which shot out front under me as I crashed down onto those rib-cracking Upper Reserved boxes.

As a result, I’m not sure he ever touched third base.

This I also remember as the day where the sad new realities of the dehumanizing, cautious and paranoid post-911 world first really set in, requiring us to pass armed soldiers on the 7 train platform, wait in a lengthy queue out in the Shea parking lot just to get into the park (we missed the first inning, and I hate that). Also, I guess due to the long layoff between home games, the beers were warm. I mean, not just not cold, but warm. Jay Payton kicklined with Liza Minelli and before we knew it the Patriot Act was passed. It’s all mixed up still.

On some level I’m also cynical of the whole number-retirement thing, and feel like Piazza’s close association with the Wilpons, and his postcareer outspokenness on his desire to be identified as a Met is on some level orchestrated to this end, though give Mike credit: He knows how to give fans what they want to see.

Mike Piazza probably didn’t deserve the suspicion and innuendo that writers latched onto to deny him the Hall of Fame votes he deserved this year, but if they deny him again based on the garbage in his new biography he has only himself to blame. To be fair I haven’t read LONG SHOT and don’t think I will but the reviews I’ve seen make it apparent that Piazza would be better positioned to head to Cooperstown next year had he not picked a fight with legendary broadcaster Vin Scully, said dumb things about Latin ballplayers, and in an effort to out-hack the hacks, cops to a lifelong struggle with “back acne” while coming clean on trying everything but steriods in an effort to improve his game.

Hey look. We all know by now how the game was played during the Mike Piazza Era, and to me at least whether anyone did or didn’t ought not be the only thing that comes between a player and his Hall of Fame chances. But just having a book coming out seemed like the kind of thing writers who’d hold it against Piazza would hang him for no matter what: If he admits to steroid use in his book, he’s out; if he doesn’t, he’s a liar. I’m sure he gets in, wearing a Mets cap, and the Mets retire his number like they oughta, it’s just going to be more difficult now.

All in all, I prefered the mopey Mike Piazza who didn’t say or do much more than drive home runs screaming into the Keypan sign.

Congratulations to Mike Piazza on a great career and best wishes for a happy retirement, but the Mets didn’t necessarily have to take the whole day off for you.

As readers of the site know, I tend to think too much attention is given to number retirement and not enough attention to the idea of the number as a tradition to be passed along, but I certainly can’t imagine Mets could get away with issuing No. 31 again anytime soon. And it’s not hard to come up with an argument for Piazza’s credentials, so let’s bring it on… in 2013.