| 22 May 2011
When I was a kid, there were three players who weren't Mets who I really liked. One was Willie Stargell. The 1979 World Series was the first one I saw from first pitch to last out. I was nine. I loved Stargell. What nine-year-old wouldn't gravitate toward somebody nicknamed "Pops".
The other two, believe it or not, were Keith Hernandez and Gary Carter. I've hated the Cardinals for as long as I can remember but Hernandez was the guy I could get behind. Imagine my glee when the Mets acquired him.
Carter was quite possibly my favorite visiting player. It started with the 1981 All-Star game when I was at a party where there was a pool to pick the MVP. Me, the dopey kid fresh out of elementary school, picked Carter. He took the award and I was hooked forever. I couldn't tell you how much money I won because I never saw it ... but it was always more about the pride in knowing more about baseball than a bunch of adults (which is the 11-year-old's way of saying I got lucky.)
I found out that Carter was coming to the Mets during a Monday Night Football game. Raiders at Lions. I couldn't have been more ecstatic, save for a brief few moments when they flashed who was going the other way and I found out we were losing Hubie Brooks. But boy you knew it was a big deal when Monday Night Football broke in with it. Of course, good luck getting the monolithic NFL to acknowledge that any other sport exists these days, but back then, it was common for MNF to recognize a big story in a sport not played on a gridiron. The Mets now had the two guys I had loved as much as one child could love another human being wearing a visiting uniform. The fact that they were also two of the best players in baseball didn't hurt either ... certainly not for the young me, who had only known disastrous baseball from 1976-1983. The Miracle of '69 might as well have happened in 1869 as far as I was concerned since I wasn't around for it. Gary Carter meant that the Mets' chance was coming.
When I played softball, it was Carter's stance I copied ... down to the letter. slightly open stance, slightly bent knees, tugging at the left sleeve while holding the bat out before getting set. And always with the wide eyes on the pitch and the exhale on the swing. I even ran like Gary ... though not on purpose. I was just slow. When you say the words "Mets catcher" to somebody older than me, first thought is probably Jerry Grote. Younger than me ... definitely Mike Piazza. For me and those around my age, the first person we think of no doubt is Gary Carter. His high point years with the Mets were fewer than the other two ... the last three seasons were not typical Carter seasons. But he helped the Mets to a world title, and he's a hall of famer. Grote did the former, Piazza will be in Cooperstown. Carter did both.
And, he didn't want to make the last out of the 1986 World Series. If he did, then we're at 42 seasons and counting without a World Series championship. Any Mets team that I could put together by tapping them on the shoulder and returning them to their prime years to take on the world (whether it be the Yankees, terrorists, or zombies) will have Gary Carter behind the plate and batting fourth.
Fans today know Carter for quitting as a manager in the Mets system, and for publicly campaigning for Willie Randolph's job. I get down when I hear people blast him as a camera hog, and perhaps it was some resentment from people who are sick of hearing about the 1986 team, like they have some sort of overload or something. Spotlight hog is the same rap he got when he was doing all those commercials during his playing career and they called him "Camera Carter". You know, kind of the same thing Peyton Manning does now.
Those were the things that caused him to be misunderstood. All Carter had fun playing the game, and you could tell. Fist pumps, curtain calls, hugging teammates ... you young'ns know him as Jose Reyes. Seems crazy to compare a slow, power hitting catcher to a shortstop who electrifies with his speed. But if Carter was on this team he'd be the guy Phillies fans hated, as Reyes is now. Except that Carter got everybody to hate him, not just Philadelphia. Tell me as you watch Carter's first home run as a Met that he doesn't remind you of Reyes with the claps, fist pumps, finger in the air ... if he did this today Larry Andersen would call for a fastball in his ear. Hell, Darryl Strawberry got plunked because David Palmer hated Carter so much. Now that's hate.
Carter was definitely a player we paid to watch play. After that home run we anticipated what was coming next, and we wanted to be there when it happened, whether it was a big hit, a curtain call, or his work in making a young staff the best in baseball. It was tough to watch him get old in the Mets uniform, especially all those weeks and months waiting for home run number 300 in Wrigley, which we listened to on the radio playing baseball in the street, no doubt pretending I was Carter trying to hit it past the second sewer (and not hit any windows in the process.) I was lucky enough to get to thank Gary, and Hernandez in person (along with 18,665 others) as Davey Johnson pinch hit Keith and inserted Gary in the ninth so they could get a last hurrah. Gary doubled in his last Shea Stadium at-bat as a Met, and left the game for a pinch hitter to a standing ovation ... triumphant, as he knew it was the end, but I suspect he also knew that he did what he came to do. He helped put a ring on all of our fingers here in New York (literally for his teammates, figuratively for us watching him.)
And now, Gary's in the fight of his life as he's due to get four small tumors on his brain removed. Everyone gets old ... even the one's that are nicknamed "Kid". But they're not supposed to go this early. Not yet. They're supposed to be the ones who are vibrant into their 80's, always smiling and telling stories about the old days, whether it's the curveball he hit off Neil Allen, the 300th dinger in Wrigley, the 19 innings in Atlanta, the 16 in Houston, or the 10 at Shea against Boston. The last out comes for everyone. And sometimes, life throws nastier curveballs than even Neil Allen threw. If anyone is in a position to fight this one off, it's the Kid. Remember, he didn't want to make the final out in '86 either.
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