Strawberry Fields Forever

Terry Collins pretty much spoiled the idea of returning to wear No. 1 once he invoked the name of Jim Leland, but it doesn’t mean Luis Castillo is in the clear yet. Newspapers last week were speculating that Mookie Wilson would be named to fill the vacant first-base coaching job — and maintain the proper quota of 1986 laborers in continuing employ with the Mets as stipulated in a secret contract somewhere.

No seriously, Mookie’s a perfect guy for the job — let’s face it, Mookie’s perfect for about any job — so let’s hope it happens, and happens in his customary No. 1. Though real Mookologists know he wore another number — 51 — during his first tenure as a first-base coach under Bobby Valentine in 1997, accommodating Lance Johnson at least until Johnson was traded to the Cubs that August. The Met Braintrust also intends to name an outside choice as hitting coach, a good idea since the Mets have never really developed any hitters of their own beyond David Wright, who already has a job, and, of course,  my close personal friend Darryl Strawberry.

Darryl you might know has a new restaurant out in Douglaston, which was where I ran into him a few weeks ago. Literally: I exited the Men’s room and there he was across the narrow hallway at the entrance to the kitchen. Though I was expecting a destination type place typical of jock establishments, Strawberry’s Sports Grill is really a neighborhood joint on a deadend street across from a LIRR station in bucolic Douglaston, itself resembling a North Shore Nassau County town. It’s loaded with memorabilia from Straw’s career including the Mets locker pictured above but plenty of Yankee stuff from his time there. I guess that’s just a business decision. Times are tough in the restaurant business these days.

The wings were sports-bar acceptable, the “1961” burger was pretty good despite the Yankee affiliation, and the bartender was terrific. But our server was kinda slow and surly if you want to know the truth. Some locals mentioned that the site had been though several incarnations before Darryl took the reigns, and if I weren’t terrified and stammering idiotic things like “Thanks!” over and over again to him during our brief meeting, I’d probably mention it to him — that and get him to remark on the significance of No. 18. I had a chance to touch the man’s shoulder as I turned him for the photo (thanks Greg!) and can report it’s massive and as firm as a car seat.

In summary, Darryl’s not the next hitting coach even though he’s a former 1986er, and you should get a beer and a burger at Strawberry’s while it’s still standing.

Torborgian Debut for Terry

10Terry Collins meets the press wearing the No. 10 jersey. If the Mets can somehow throw Luis Castillo overboard before opening day I could see him switching to his customary No. 1, otherwise, he’d be the second Mets manager to wear No. 10 and the first since Jeff Torborg donned it in 1992 and 1993. Just examining those parallels at a time like this is enough to scare you so I won’t.

Um, Good luck, Terry!

Update: Terry says he is wearing No. 10 as a tribute to Jim Leland, who gave Collins his start in the Pirates organization. “Plus my wife thinks I’m a 10.” 

Me and Terry Became Friends

As a friend said, Terry Collins may have been fifth on my list of the final four candidates to become the next Mets manager but now that he is, I guess we owe him a shot. He’s got some admirers among the bright minds of the Mets front office, he was a finalist the last time they held these interviews, and his teams in two previous stops have performed pretty well if not ended that way. We’ll wait for the press conference Tuesday to comfirm it, but I’d expect they have him appear in the No. 1 jersey, even though it currently belongs to Luis Castillo.

Hale to the Chief

51I’ve given it some thought, and if there’s a downside to Chip Hale‘s potential ascendacy to Mets manager it’s that the team would be left trying to replace its best third base coach in years. Seriously. We’ve seen Razor Shines and Sandy Alomar Sr. sentence dozens of rallies to die at home plate, and others to never start, as they got too lazy, overexcited or panicy. It’s a difficult job requiring concentration, awareness and flash decision-making under pressure, knowledge of the players and of the enemy, the nerve to be aggressive when warranted and the courage to put up the stop sign. Chip Hale demonstrated he was better than most that we’ve seen.

Bobby Valentine was an excellent third-base coach for the Mets and of course eventually became a hell of a manager. I’m thinking now that if the new brass values a bright guy in charge (and they do) they could do worse than Hale, whose ascendancy to the Final Four has already overcome a lack of name recognition, Major League managing experience and strong Met ties. He probably does however have more intimate knowledge of many of the ballplayers on this team now, and would probably work for less than his co-candidates. I also like the idea of a guy who could become a good manager while managing the Mets, the way Davey Johnson did.

Walter William “Chip” Hale has six years of managerial experience with the Diamondbacks organization, culminating in a Manager of the Year coronation in 2006 with the Tucson Sidewinders of the Pacific Coast League, who won more games than any minor-league team that year. He is credited with helping shepherd Conor Jackson, Carlos Quentin, Stephen Drew and Chris Young to the big leagues. His Major League coaching experience came under co-candidate Bob Melvin in Arizona: I wonder if the parties would be amenable to Melvin bench-coaching for Hale.

Hale wore No. 51, like a good coach should, for the Mets last year but I tend to favor managers with enough juice to wear their own digits if possible. Hale wore No. 4 most often as a ballpllayer but also suited up in 58, 12 and 5. His big-league career consisted of utility infield roles with the Twins and Dodgers. His best skill appeared to be the ability to take a walk.

What About Bob?

Ladies and gentlemen, Bob Melvin.

3I guess there’s something about the dorky, anonymous name, and the fact that he played major league baseball for a decade and never made any impression on me I could recall, and the fact that he’s a former Manager of the Year but I can’t distinguish him from Doug Melvin (no relation; the Mariners’ GM), not to mention Bob Brenly, Bruce Bochy and Bruce Botche: They’re all former catchers, broadcasters, managers, or all three.

There was a time I conflated Jerry Manuel and Charlie Manuel, but I don’t make that mistake anymore.

Clint Hurdle reportedly been hired away by Pittsburgh, so it’s looking like Melvin and Terry Collins are the finalists for the Mets managing job. If Hurdle is the cheerleader and Collins the fiery taskmaster, Melvin is the thoughtful temperature-taker whose good moments draw comparisons to player’s managers like Joe Torre. His strategic rep in Seattle and Arizona took some hits likely as a result of acting on those whims, but the numbers indicate he wasn’t a terrible strategic manager overall. Players liked him.

Melvin is also the most likely of the three to one day be identified as a Mets manager; he’s the youngest and his lack of a brand indicates a potential still to grow. A vanilla personality might not go over for a fanbase wishing for Bobby Valentine‘s mad charisma or Wally Backman‘s brand of dirtbag, but for better or worse it sounds as if he’s got both of them beaten already. Could Collins be tougher? Or a fan/media set having the same trouble figuring out who he is?

Melvin wore eight different uniform numbers for seven different teams as a player, suiting up most often in No. 2 for the Orioles. As a manager, he wore No. 3 with both the Mariners and Diamondbacks.

Clearing the Hurdle

13Clint Hurdle was a one-time “Phenom” of the Kansas City Royals but inconsistent play, insufficient power and probably, a few too many beers (read the extraordinary SI article for details), relegated him to journeyman status by age 25 when he hooked up with the Mets. Hurdle appeared with the Mets in 1983 (wearing No. 33), 1985 (when he wore No. 13) and 1987 (wearing No. 7). Although his contributions with the Mets were modest, the Mets and manager Davey Johnson liked him quite a bit: when he was lost to the Cardinals on a Rule 5 pick in ’86, Johnson was so upset he reportedly cried. The Mets in fact liked Hurdle so much they got him started on the road to managership shortly after he retired: He managed Met farm clubs for 6 years then was hired by the expansion Rockies, for whom he became manager in 2002.

Aside from an extraordinary 21-1 run that vaulted the Rockies all the way to the 2007 World Series, Hurdle’s career in Colorado was remarkable mainly for its length. He is the only manager in major league history to begin his career with five consecutive losing seasons and not get fired. His ability to hang on, many say, was due to a willingness to take bullets for the front office, and for his personal charm. I’ve always enjoyed his guest turns on Mets Extra when the Rockies visited. He wore No. 13 throughout his tenure in Denver.

Those who’ve studied his managerial tendencies have not been impressed, noting an adherance character-building but ultimately witless strategies like the sacrifice bunt. Chris Jaffe of the Hardball Times suggests Hurdle’s most striking tendency as manager “is that he has arguably done the worst job picking batters for the No. 1 slot of any manager in the last half century where the data exist.” After enduring five years of bunt-happy, passive baseball under Jerry Manuel and Willie Randolph, I am sure a change would be welcome.

But if Hurdle’s malleability and charisma can trump his tendency to botch strategy, he might not be a bad choice for the Alderson-led Mets. He evidently is among the finalists.

“I’m Bald, and I Live with My Parents”

Isn’t just like the Mets that they needed to be the dumbest team in baseball for five years before they realized they might need to be the smartest? They’re like George Costanza, author of the above title line, upon the realization that his own instincts had become so untrustworthy he needed to openly defy them by doing just the opposite of what they favored. The Mets have a long history of such behavior, whether it’s sitting on their hands whille the bullpen burned to the ground in 2008 then spending the offseason stuffing the roster with high-profile relievers; responding criticism of moves like the Scott Kazmir trade by aggressively promoting 19-year-old hard throwers to the majors; answering their near-complete tone deafness to the will of fans with regards to the new park by inviting bloggers to share a warm chat with executive Dave Howard. Of course they didn’t ask me.

And now it’s replacing the street-smart but improvisational front office of Minaya and Bernazard with the Harvard egghead set of Alderson, DePodesta and Ricciardi. Don’t get me wrong — I like the move and even I liked Omar — but at this time last year we could only hope to get through the offseason before a regrettably dumb move got made. This year, there’s reason to believe we will get through the offseason in better shape than we entered simply because the new guys will apply some discipline and processes designed to get the team pulling together for that purpose. If there’s one thing the previous administration didn’t do, it’s that. Wouldn’t it have been nice if the Mets had realized this when it was time to replace Steve Phillips?

What this all means to the ongoing managerial search remains a mystery although many seem to think it helps Terry Collins‘ candidacy: He’s reportedly admired by Paul DePodesta, got good reviews for his work with the Mets’ minor leaguers last year (he was the opposite of Tony Bernazard, natch), and has been compared favorably to Bobby Valentine for his energy, enthusiasm and international experience (ironically, Collins’ first managerial job was to replace the placid Art Howe in Houston). He was a finalist the last time the Mets interviewed for managers in the dawn of the Omar Era in 2005. On the downside, the veterans in Houston and Anaheim eventually tuned him out, he lacks any real Mets heritage and he’s unlike to excite the fanbase all by himself (but the support of the New Holy Trinity would say something).

Sartorially, Collins wore No. 2 while managing the Astros from 1994-96 and No. 1 for the Angels during their Disney period.

You Never Can Tell

Hey everyone, get your resumes together: The Mets need a new equipment guy.

As you may have read, the Mets confirmed today that Charlie Samuels has been suspended indefinitely after the team became aware that authorities were after him in connection with an illegal gambling ring.

Samuels had served as Met equipment manager for 27 years; needless to say he’s a figure whose influence on my little project here commands a good deal of respect. If you wanted to know why this player was issued that number; or why that other guy changed numbers; or what the deal was with those revolting black unis, he was the man to talk to. Only, he didn’t talk much: Through Mets officials, Charlie declined numerous requests over the years to be interviewed for this site and for the Mets By The Numbers book. As Jay Horwitz, the Mets director of public relations, told me the last time I asked, “He just doesn’t like doing that kind of stuff.” Occurs to me now I didn’t even know what he looked like.

And so it went: The study of uni numbers became something of a hunt: There was mystery and power in the clubhouse, and Charlie Samuels was careful with it. His name would pop up periodically, often in Marty Noble’s stories about who was lockering next to whom, and there was that bet he had with Mike Piazza’s dad: The Piazzas challenged him to lose weight (was it 50 pounds?) with a reward of a new car. I don’t recall whether he succeeded or not.

There also is an undercurrent of the clubhouse being a place where secrets and access were fiercely protected, and where the edges could get all jocky and scummy. It was Samuels who hired confessed steroid distributor Kirk Radomski. Rodamski has described his job with the Mets as looking out for and protecting athletes. “I did a lot of things for guys — things they didn’t want [their] wives to know or anyone to know. That is part of being in the clubhouse,” he told ESPN. Samuels it would appear may also have been involved in an enterprise better kept secret, and its difficult not to wonder who might else could be involved.

6Speaking of secrets, I was surprised to read Adam Rubin’s remarks in a recent Internet chat saying that he’d switched gears and now finds the prospect of Wally Backman as the next Mets’ manager to be a considerable longshot. Rubin called this a near certainty months before.  “I just think the Mets know things that are not circulated and don’t feel comfortable,” he said, though he declined to provide detail or even suggest knowledge of what those “things” were. This in some sense however was my concern over Backman, that he might embarrass the organization in some way, and why I have suspected the Mets would ultimately go with an experienced but malleable guy like Lee Mazzilli. In the meantime I find it hard to believe that there’s been 11 managerial hirings and/or re-signings this offseason and Bobby Valentine is still looking for work. Could it still happen?

Finally, goodbye and good luck to Joaquin Arias, who came over in the Jeff Francoeur trade and was claimed on waivers by Cleveland today. His departure closes the book on one-time prized prospect Lastings Milledge. Oh, Omar.

Remembering Bill Shannon

In the aftermath of the recent passing of longtime Mets official scorer Bill Shannon, I received the below message from Dennis D’Agostino, whose “This Date in Mets History” was a major forerunner to the MBTN project containing as it did the first all-time Mets numerical roster ever published in one place. It turns out Dennis owed a good deal of his work to Bill, who died in a fire at his New Jersey home. Mike Vaccaro and Marty Noble also this week shared terrific stories of Shannon, an unsung hero of the press box and Met history. Take it away, Dennis:

 

Bill Shannon’s tragic passing should not go unnoticed by your little corner of the world. When I did the original numerical roster for This Date in 1980, it was Bill who filled in a lot of the holes as I was finishing it. I could not have done that thing without his help.

I don’t know if this was still true at the time of Bill’s death, but back in 1980 he possessed (or so he said) each and every scorecard insert from the Mets home game programs, starting with the opening series against the Pirates in ’62. I distinctly remember — several times that summer — handing Bill a list of three or four players I couldn’t find numbers for, and then a few days later he’d give me back the list with all the numbers filled in.

The mere thought of anyone possessing EVERY scorecard insert was mind-boggling (the Mets, as Tim Hamilton will remember, had very little in their files back then). The way Bill helped me with that roster was something I’ll never forget (but, like you and I, Bill could not solve the mystery of what number Johnny Murphy wore in ’67).

It was unbelivable, and even more so since, in 1980, I was a 23-year old punk who didn’t know anything, just hanging around press boxes. Bill became a great friend right off the bat, which is what he did with everyone, no matter what rank or standing you had among the press box fraternity. Now that I am a 53-year old punk, I still hang around press boxes. . .and have lost a dear friend.

Keep the faith. . .DD

Thanks again to Dennis for the great tribute.

As Good As Yours

Realized the other day that I can’t remember a period during which I’ve had any less idea about what happens next with the Mets as I do right at this moment. And it’s a strange feeling.

53We were all pretty certain that Jerry Manuel wasn’t coming back, and fairly sure Omar would go too, but even back then you were assured by the press that Wally Backman would be next in line, given the Mets’ financial situation, and that maybe for budgetary purposes and tradition they hand it over to John Ricco and a team of bickering advisors but that doesn’t seem all that likely anymore. For one, there’s the idea out there that Sandy Alderson can take the GM job if he wants it, and that would mean neither Backman (who might be fun) nor Bobby Valentine (good and fun!) would be his choice to mange. Well who then? Joe Torre?

And will it matter anyway, now that we’ve seen the accounts of Jon Daniels’ inability to hide interest in the gig? Or will Rick Hahn’s Wolverine background carry the day? If you asked me two weeks ago I’d have said Terry Ryan gets the GM chair. Maybe not now.

Today (Friday the 15th, if anyone asks) my bizarre hunch is that Alderson gets the GM job and names Wally Backman the manager … of Class AA Binghamton. Lee Mazzilli in an upset gets the Mets’ managing job and his No. 13 back. Sorry, Mike Nickeas, that’s just how I see it, today.

What do you guys think?