September 9, 1969—The New York Mets saw irrefutable proof that they would overtake the Chicago Cubs in their first miraculous championship season, when a black cat crossed in front of Cubs’ star third baseman Ron Santo as he waited in the on-deck circle.
Sure enough, the Mets stomped on the Windy City visitors at Shea Stadium, 7-1. The victory left the former lovable losers within a half game of first place in the National League East—and before long, the team dubbed “the Amazin’s” not long before had crossed this threshold.
I mean no disrespect to the Mets when I write that, all around, they were inferior to every team they beat on the way to the pennant and World Series in ’69. Consider the elite players of those in their way:
* The Cubs had three future Hall of Famers (Ernie Banks, Billy Williams, and Ferguson Jenkins) and another player who arguably should join them in Cooperstown (Santo).
Sure enough, the Mets stomped on the Windy City visitors at Shea Stadium, 7-1. The victory left the former lovable losers within a half game of first place in the National League East—and before long, the team dubbed “the Amazin’s” not long before had crossed this threshold.
I mean no disrespect to the Mets when I write that, all around, they were inferior to every team they beat on the way to the pennant and World Series in ’69. Consider the elite players of those in their way:
* The Cubs had three future Hall of Famers (Ernie Banks, Billy Williams, and Ferguson Jenkins) and another player who arguably should join them in Cooperstown (Santo).
* The Atlanta Braves, who the Mets beat in the playoffs, had four Cooperstown-bound players (Hank Aaron, Orlando Cepeda, Phil Niekro, and Hoyt Wilhelm) and another player with All Star-caliber credentials that year, Rico Carty.
* The Baltimore Orioles had three Hall of Famers—Frank and Brooks Robinson, and Jim Palmer—plus two other pitchers having career years (Dave McNally, Mike Cuellar) and an additional feared slugger (Boog Powell).
And the Mets? One Hall of Famer—Tom Seaver, of course—along with another (Nolan Ryan) who made it on the basis of his record with other teams besides the Mets.
No, to say the Mets won with less overall talent than other squads is a tribute to the players’ grit, and especially to the two men who molded the squad, for whom a reasonable-to-good Cooperstown case can be made: manager Gil Hodges and pitching coach Rube Walker.
Hodges commanded instant respect from his players—and his removal of outfielder Cleon Jones, then in the midst of his finest year in the majors (.340 batting average), for not hustling made the squad sit up and take notice.
As for Walker: grandson Thomas Cogliano has made an interesting case for his place in Cooperstown, for his expert cultivation of the five-man pitching rotation.
While Mets fans point to one of Walker’s “projects,” Tom Terrific, as the reason for their victory in this particular game (he won his 21st victory in that 25-win, Cy Young-award season), Cub diehards point to another factor: their jinx.
Know why I love the idea of novels like Bernard Malamud’s The Natural and Philip Roth’s The Great American Novel? Because, all their mythological references merely reflect the reverence, curses, and invocation of fate and the gods that fans hold when they bemoan the ill fortune of their favorite team.
For Cubs fans, “Murphy”—the pet goat refused admittance to Game 4 of the 1945 World Series, thereby driving its owner to lay a curse on his favorite baseball team—was as calamitous a creature as Mrs. O’Leary’s cow. That black cat that circled Santo before scampering under the stands was just another manifestation of what I like to think of as “Murphy’s Law”—all part of a season in which the Cubs squandered a 9½-game mid-August lead over the Mets, only to finish nine games back.
Know why I love the idea of novels like Bernard Malamud’s The Natural and Philip Roth’s The Great American Novel? Because, all their mythological references merely reflect the reverence, curses, and invocation of fate and the gods that fans hold when they bemoan the ill fortune of their favorite team.
For Cubs fans, “Murphy”—the pet goat refused admittance to Game 4 of the 1945 World Series, thereby driving its owner to lay a curse on his favorite baseball team—was as calamitous a creature as Mrs. O’Leary’s cow. That black cat that circled Santo before scampering under the stands was just another manifestation of what I like to think of as “Murphy’s Law”—all part of a season in which the Cubs squandered a 9½-game mid-August lead over the Mets, only to finish nine games back.
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