Shamsky Art - After the miracle: the lasting brotherhood of the 1969 Mets

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ALSO BY ART SHAMSKY

The Magnificent Seasons: How the Jets, Mets, and Knicks Made Sports History and Uplifted a City and the Country

ALSO BY ERIK SHERMAN

Davey Johnson: My Wild Ride in Baseball and Beyond (with Davey Johnson)

Kings of Queens: Life Beyond Baseball with the 86 Mets

Mookie: Life, Baseball, and the 86 Mets (with Mookie Wilson)

Steve Blass: A Pirate for Life (with Steve Blass)

Out at Home: The Glenn Burke Story (with Glenn Burke)

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Copyright 2019 by Art Shamsky and Erik Sherman

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First Simon & Schuster hardcover edition March 2019

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Interior design by Paul Dippolito

Jacket design by Phil Pascuzzo

Jacket photographs by Herb Scharfman/Sports Illustrated/Getty Images

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Shamsky, Art, author. | Sherman, Erik, author.

Title: After the miracle : the lasting brotherhood of the 69 Mets / by Art Shamsky with Erik Sherman.

Description: First Simon & Schuster hardcover edition. | New York : Simon & Schuster, 2019. | Includes index.

Identifiers: LCCN 2018021020| ISBN 9781501176517 | ISBN 150117651X | ISBN 9781501176524 (ebook)

Subjects: LCSH: New York Mets (Baseball team)History. | World Series (Baseball) (1969) | Baseball playersNew York (State)New YorkBiography. | LCGFT: Biographies.

Classification: LCC GV875.N45 S47 2019 | DDC 796.357/64097471dc23 LC record available at https://urldefense.proofpoint.com/v2/url?u=https-3A__lccn.loc.gov_2018021020&d=DwIFAg&c=jGUuvAdBXp_VqQ6t0yah2g&r=zKAnnLSQltsYNuYG0gjF6SYJylpwsS1CuoJqVbpsc2Q&m=bpqRyn_ACzemOvuZaVt4qxT0vGNHlq52Eh5H3Fp6INw&s=DGl6RDaKtT-Vc-Y595KYZwWMgT1c01YJhdRnwofkMcg&e=

ISBN 978-1-5011-7651-7

ISBN 978-1-5011-7652-4 (ebook)

For Toni and Terri. No father could be prouder.

A.S.

For my mother, JoAnn, who always believed in me.

E.S.

December 16, 2016

MY OLD FRIEND AND MIRACLE Mets teammate Tom Seaver was ailing.

The greatest Met of all time, the heart and soul of our 69 championship team, and the Hall of Famer who had a baseball career marked by brilliance and a burning desire for perfection, was now practically homebound.

The long-term manifestations of Lyme disease, which include extreme fatigue and memory loss, have induced the Franchise to no longer travel outside of his beloved Napa Valley in Northern California. For the onetime fearless power pitcher, a true warrior out on the mound, and one of the most intelligent ballplayers Ive ever been associated with, his limitations are now practically unfathomable.

Another Mets teammate of mine from our halcyon days and one of Toms closest confidants, Buddy Harrelson, was a maestro in the infield who possessed great range and a strong arm in making the most difficult plays look easy. Once a vibrant and fiery All-Star shortstop in a slender 145-pound frame, Buddy was also now greatly slowedin his case, by the harsh early stages of Alzheimers disease.

Its a cruel twist of fate what time has done to two men synonymous with everything great about the game of baseballand the history of the New York Mets.

Buddy and I have remained especially close since our playing days ended, with geography being the main driver. I have lived in Manhattan for decades, following up my playing career with jobs in sports media, partnering in a successful downtown restaurant, making special appearances, and even writing a book entitled The Magnificent Seasons.

Harrelson, a baseball lifer who always loved the game, would rise through the coaching ranks of the Mets organization before eventually being promoted to manage the club for a two-year stint beginning in 1990. Hes now co-owner of the Long Island Ducks, an independent minor-league team, and, despite his ailment, actually still throws batting practice to the players before games.

So like me, Buddy never left New York, and we see each other fairly often.

I keep tabs with as many teammates from our 1969 championship team as possible, as well as manager Gil Hodgess widow, Joan, whom I try to call as much as I can to let her know the guys still think about her. She was, after all, a significant part of our whole wonderful experience when we went from finishing in ninth placea half game from last placemy first year with the club in 1968 to world champions the following season.

From my perspective, there was something, well, amazing, about that feat. And to have played a role in our miracle, its always made me want to stay in touch with the guys. Theres no ulterior motive other than to say hello and reminisce a little bit.

There were now just twenty of us still around from our World Series rostercoaches included. And there is a unique, personal sadness I feel when we lose one of our guys.

The most shocking, of course, was Gil dying of a heart attack two days shy of his forty-eighth birthday on the eve of the 1972 baseball season. The words of our bullpen coach, Joe Pignatano, who was with Gil at the time of his death, still haunt me.

We had just played a round of golfGil and his coaches, Piggy told me. After we grabbed a beer, Gil bought some oranges and arranged to have them sent home. Then, just as we got back to the hotel and were about to part waysGil and I on one side of a path, and Eddie Yost and Yogi Berra on the otherHodges says, Dont forget: dinner at seven oclock. But then his heart just stopped, and he fell backward. Ill never forget the sound it made. It was over. The doctors at the hospital tried to bring him back for two or three hours, but nothing worked.

Aside from Gil, there were others who passed on relatively young, like Tug McGraw, Cal Koonce, Tommie Agee, and Donn Clendenon.

I think my feelings of sorrow all fall back to how we were all a part of this very important thing that happened early in our lives, and when one of us dies, so does a part of the youthful invincibility we once shared.