The summer of 1969's beautiful reputation is largely unwarranted.
Woodstock was a traffic and public-hygiene nightmare. The Beatles proved the love you make isn't equal to the love you take if Allen Klein is allowed in the mix. Billy and Wyatt demonstrated why it was hazardous for long-haired motorcyclists to tool around the Deep South.
But for fans of the New York Mets lucky enough to be there, 1969 was a blissed-out trip of heavenly delight.
But for fans of the New York Mets lucky enough to be there, 1969 was a blissed-out trip of heavenly delight.
It was the year a perennial bottom-dwelling baseball franchise found its way to the World Championship for the first time, shocking the world with its formidable pitching and timely hits, not to mention beating the legendary Baltimore Orioles in five games. Almost 20 years later, Stanley Cohen set about learning the story by tracking down members of the "Miracle Mets" for his book A Magic Summer. The result is a highly-readable account of how that first championship season went down.
Was it really a miracle? The players clearly resented the label, but Cohen explains early on why one might have thought it apt: "Taken individually, the '69 Mets were not a remarkable team. Their roster was not crowded with names likely to be inscribed on plaques in Cooperstown. Only two members of the team – Cleon Jones and Tommie Agee – came to bat more than 400 times that season. Most of the others were part-time players whose appearance in the lineup depended upon whether the opposing pitcher was right- or left-handed. They were, in short, a team that relied on exceptional pitching and an instinct to seize the moment when chance fell to its favor."
Only two members of the 1969 Mets would go on to enshrinement in Baseball's Hall of Fame: Pitchers Tom Seaver and Nolan Ryan. A third, manager Gil Hodges, is often mentioned as one of the best examples of how tough the Hall is to get into, given how his greatness as both player and manager somehow never added up to a ticket to Cooperstown. In fact, one of the core arguments of Cohen's book is the indispensability of Hodges in making the 1969 Mets the champs they became.
Before Hodges took over in 1968, second-baseman Ken Boswell told Cohen, he was in a game where he made the final out and was warmly congratulated by his fellow Mets when he returned to the bench. It was the last game of the 1967 season and they didn't want to miss their flights out of town. When Hodges arrived, Boswell noted, he brought with him a fresh winning perspective.
"He got the most out of everyone on the team," Boswell explained. "He was a master at juggling the lineup. He used all 25 players, and that kept everyone fresh and well-rested. When it came to a game situation, a guy came off the bench and was ready to play."
Hodges fined and criticized his players, even memorably walked into the outfield in one game to take Jones out of a game after the fielder apparently showed less hustle than the manager would have liked. But his tenure was largely drama-free. In that sense, Hodges presented a stark comparison to Leo Durocher, manager of the Chicago Cubs, the team that led the Mets for most of 1969.
Did the Cubs choke that season, as conventional wisdom claims? Cohen makes the point that Durocher ran his team into the ground, playing only his stars, working his starting rotation on a four- rather than five-day basis (which was how the Mets pitchers worked most of the season), and running out reliever Phil Regan every other day. When star pitcher Ferguson Jenkins asked for a day off, Durocher said no. When rookie centerfielder Don Young misplayed two fly balls in a July game against the Mets, Durocher chewed him out in the locker room in full view of the press.
Mets catcher J. C. Martin played for Durocher and the Cubs when the Mets traded him before the start of the 1970 season. He told Cohen of the Cubs: "They had great pitching, a good bullpen, and All-Star candidates at almost every position. But I found there was one thing they could not do: they could not play in the seventh, eighth, or ninth innings, and that's when you win ballgames."
Hodges, by contrast, kept the Mets focused but relaxed, Martin told Cohen: "I think Gil would have won with the Cubs in '69. I think it was the manager that made the difference."
Cohen's book details the Mets' unusual path to glory. They started the season that April continuing a tradition of losing on Opening Day, this time to the brand-new Montreal Expos. After winning their next two against the Expos, the Mets quickly sunk to a sub-.500 level, where they would remain until early June.
One thing the Mets had in their favor was no one took them seriously. Contempt came easily, too easily. Cohen relates how Cubs third-baseman Ron Santo, in the same tirade where he joined Durocher in berating Young, said of the Mets: "There's no way the Mets can beat us."
The Cubs were supremely arrogant, something that could not be said of the team the Mets faced in the World Series, the Baltimore Orioles. They were just a very good team who knew it, and were mostly pretty quiet about it. But the notion of having to seriously worry about the lowly Mets got under their skin, too. "We're here to prove there's no Santa Claus," Baltimore third-baseman Brooks Robinson told the media.
Funny how that worked out.
The main drawbacks of A Magic Summer as I read it include an over-reliance on the coverage of The New York Times, which Cohen leans on a bit too much. He completely ignores what the tabloids were writing, which is a shame since The Daily News especially was pretty much ESPN for New Yorkers back then who cared about sports. The approach of profiling various players at different points of the narrative allows for some useful perspective, but also a scattershot quality as critical parts of the season are too-often viewed through the lens of someone's individual experience. An opportunity for a more cohesive narrative is missed.
A Magic Summer has a bittersweet quality to it. As Cohen was researching the book and interviewing former players, including then-Mets coach Bud Harrelson, it was the summer of 1986 and the Mets were driving to their second World Championship. It looked like the Mets might get in the habit of this sort of thing, but in nearly 30 years they have never won it all again. More substantially, all the former Mets except Hodges were still alive then, and all but two willing to talk to Cohen. Today quite a number of them have passed on, including reliever Tug McGraw; outfielder Agee; and first-baseman Donn Clendenon, named the 1969 World Series' Most Valuable Player.
But putting that all aside, reading A Magic Summer is a supremely happy experience, especially if you are a Mets fan like me. Cohen points out how aggrieved his interviewees are, almost to a man, when the term "Miracle Mets" gets brought up. Sure, they weren't stocked with All-Stars or Hall-of-Famers, and they weren't a big hitting club, but they did win 100 games in the regular season and went 7-1 in the post-season playing against the likes of Hank Aaron and Jim Palmer. If it was a miracle, it was one that required a lot of hard work and focus, and the Mets delivered. So does Cohen in this eminently enjoyable account.
Was it really a miracle? The players clearly resented the label, but Cohen explains early on why one might have thought it apt: "Taken individually, the '69 Mets were not a remarkable team. Their roster was not crowded with names likely to be inscribed on plaques in Cooperstown. Only two members of the team – Cleon Jones and Tommie Agee – came to bat more than 400 times that season. Most of the others were part-time players whose appearance in the lineup depended upon whether the opposing pitcher was right- or left-handed. They were, in short, a team that relied on exceptional pitching and an instinct to seize the moment when chance fell to its favor."
Only two members of the 1969 Mets would go on to enshrinement in Baseball's Hall of Fame: Pitchers Tom Seaver and Nolan Ryan. A third, manager Gil Hodges, is often mentioned as one of the best examples of how tough the Hall is to get into, given how his greatness as both player and manager somehow never added up to a ticket to Cooperstown. In fact, one of the core arguments of Cohen's book is the indispensability of Hodges in making the 1969 Mets the champs they became.
Before Hodges took over in 1968, second-baseman Ken Boswell told Cohen, he was in a game where he made the final out and was warmly congratulated by his fellow Mets when he returned to the bench. It was the last game of the 1967 season and they didn't want to miss their flights out of town. When Hodges arrived, Boswell noted, he brought with him a fresh winning perspective.
"He got the most out of everyone on the team," Boswell explained. "He was a master at juggling the lineup. He used all 25 players, and that kept everyone fresh and well-rested. When it came to a game situation, a guy came off the bench and was ready to play."
Hodges fined and criticized his players, even memorably walked into the outfield in one game to take Jones out of a game after the fielder apparently showed less hustle than the manager would have liked. But his tenure was largely drama-free. In that sense, Hodges presented a stark comparison to Leo Durocher, manager of the Chicago Cubs, the team that led the Mets for most of 1969.
Did the Cubs choke that season, as conventional wisdom claims? Cohen makes the point that Durocher ran his team into the ground, playing only his stars, working his starting rotation on a four- rather than five-day basis (which was how the Mets pitchers worked most of the season), and running out reliever Phil Regan every other day. When star pitcher Ferguson Jenkins asked for a day off, Durocher said no. When rookie centerfielder Don Young misplayed two fly balls in a July game against the Mets, Durocher chewed him out in the locker room in full view of the press.
Mets catcher J. C. Martin played for Durocher and the Cubs when the Mets traded him before the start of the 1970 season. He told Cohen of the Cubs: "They had great pitching, a good bullpen, and All-Star candidates at almost every position. But I found there was one thing they could not do: they could not play in the seventh, eighth, or ninth innings, and that's when you win ballgames."
Hodges, by contrast, kept the Mets focused but relaxed, Martin told Cohen: "I think Gil would have won with the Cubs in '69. I think it was the manager that made the difference."
Cohen's book details the Mets' unusual path to glory. They started the season that April continuing a tradition of losing on Opening Day, this time to the brand-new Montreal Expos. After winning their next two against the Expos, the Mets quickly sunk to a sub-.500 level, where they would remain until early June.
One thing the Mets had in their favor was no one took them seriously. Contempt came easily, too easily. Cohen relates how Cubs third-baseman Ron Santo, in the same tirade where he joined Durocher in berating Young, said of the Mets: "There's no way the Mets can beat us."
The Cubs were supremely arrogant, something that could not be said of the team the Mets faced in the World Series, the Baltimore Orioles. They were just a very good team who knew it, and were mostly pretty quiet about it. But the notion of having to seriously worry about the lowly Mets got under their skin, too. "We're here to prove there's no Santa Claus," Baltimore third-baseman Brooks Robinson told the media.
 |
| In Game 4 of the 1969 World Series, with the Mets leading 1-0, one out, and runners on first and third, the Orioles' Brooks Robinson tagged a deep drive to right-center field. It scored a run to tie the game, but that's not what people would remember about the play. Instead, it was the incredible catch of the Mets' outfielder Ron Swoboda that would help seal the legend of the "Miracle Mets." [Image from http://metsfantasycards.blogspot.com] |
The main drawbacks of A Magic Summer as I read it include an over-reliance on the coverage of The New York Times, which Cohen leans on a bit too much. He completely ignores what the tabloids were writing, which is a shame since The Daily News especially was pretty much ESPN for New Yorkers back then who cared about sports. The approach of profiling various players at different points of the narrative allows for some useful perspective, but also a scattershot quality as critical parts of the season are too-often viewed through the lens of someone's individual experience. An opportunity for a more cohesive narrative is missed.
A Magic Summer has a bittersweet quality to it. As Cohen was researching the book and interviewing former players, including then-Mets coach Bud Harrelson, it was the summer of 1986 and the Mets were driving to their second World Championship. It looked like the Mets might get in the habit of this sort of thing, but in nearly 30 years they have never won it all again. More substantially, all the former Mets except Hodges were still alive then, and all but two willing to talk to Cohen. Today quite a number of them have passed on, including reliever Tug McGraw; outfielder Agee; and first-baseman Donn Clendenon, named the 1969 World Series' Most Valuable Player.
But putting that all aside, reading A Magic Summer is a supremely happy experience, especially if you are a Mets fan like me. Cohen points out how aggrieved his interviewees are, almost to a man, when the term "Miracle Mets" gets brought up. Sure, they weren't stocked with All-Stars or Hall-of-Famers, and they weren't a big hitting club, but they did win 100 games in the regular season and went 7-1 in the post-season playing against the likes of Hank Aaron and Jim Palmer. If it was a miracle, it was one that required a lot of hard work and focus, and the Mets delivered. So does Cohen in this eminently enjoyable account.
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