The 2017 baseball regular season has come to an end. For the Mets, it was over sometime around mid May. A lethal combination of injuries, over hyped expectations, and just plain awful play lead to their demise. But there was always the promise of September.
Back in baseball's simpler times, when there were two divisions rather than three, and only four teams made the "postseason", as opposed to today's ten, September was the month for teams out of contention to showcase their minor league talent - the stars of the future. Teams also played for pride. Finishing in fourth place was better than fifth, so let's give it a go. Or a team could play spoiler - defeating a team in contention for the playoffs. And as a fan, I enjoyed seeing the young prospects showcased on the main stage while these consolation prizes appeased me. There was something gentle and serene as the shadows in left field lengthened. Winter was coming, yet fans were being given a gift - to see the promise of next season.
A great example was in 1983. The Mets were about to finish with a losing record for the sixth consecutive year yet you could tell something was about to change. The team had called up this kid from southern California, Darryl Strawberry, in May, and he looked pretty good. In June, they traded two young players to the Cardinals for Keith Hernandez. He was the real thing. And in September, the team called up this young pitcher who had attended Yale, Ron Darling. He seemed good, too.
That season ended on a happy note. Rusty Staub, always popular in New York especially among redheads, had set a record for consecutive pinch hits (eight) earlier in the season. And he was within reach of the single season record of pinch hit runs batted in (RBI). The final day of the 1983 season was a double header, due to a rainout on the previous Friday. My family was gathered around the TV, watching the games as if the World Series was at stake, or more probably holding on to the last vestige of summer. Late in the afternoon, Rusty strolled to the plate in his pinch hitting role as the Mets trailed 4-3 in the bottom of the 9th. He promptly doubled, driving in two runs and winning the game on the final at-bat. He had tied the record at 25. We were excited. The team was excited. They had won six of their final seven games. Spring of 1984 - hurry up and arrive. The Mets would go on to have seven consecutive winning seasons.
Unfortunately, little of that optimism was felt this September. When it was clear that the Mets were destined for a losing lesson with no chance to make the expanded playoffs, mangement sold off many of its established stars, like Curtis Granderson, Neil Walker, and Jay Bruce, getting little of value in return. But they did have some call ups from the minors, like Dominic Smith and Amed Rosario, heirs apparent to the first base and shortstop positions, respectively. Rosario promptly hurt his hand and Smith, while offering a glimmer of hope, made several plays right out of the 1962 Mets playbook. A few others were showcased, and hopefully will be valuable assets in the future. Sadly, I did not see it. I hope I'm wrong.
The Mets finished the month with 12 wins and 17 losses, and unlike the Rusty-like finish of 34 years earlier, capped off the season with an embarrassing and painful 11-0 loss to the Phillies. Manager Terry Collins resigned after the game and the team trainer was fired today.
And so it ends. Despite my miserable baseball year, the end of the regular season is still a melancholy day. After a month of spring training and six months of games nearly every day, it's time to move on to other activities. I'm not left with optimism but, as Joe Garagiola once said, baseball is a funny game; anything can happen. So I look forward to seeing the green grass and palm trees of Florida on my TV in March 2018.
I love this post. You've captured the ups and downs of my husband's mood over the course of the season.
Posted by: Stacey | October 06, 2017 at 09:50 AM