The Sunday Memory Drawer - 41

Tom Seaver passed away this week and my initial reaction was relief.   For him. For his family.  For anyone who cared about him.   As final dance partners go in life, dementia is perhaps the ugliest.   A few news articles listed some other illnesses as well as being causes of death.   One story listed COVID-19.   That is one I am skeptical about.   Given insurance payouts, I am betting there is someone in the world trying to figure out how to connect President Kennedy's assassination to the coronavirus.   

But I digress...

Tom's departure from our lives was one of those stinging moments for a lot of us.   Indeed, a lot of my friends gathered in the virtual town square to hold a mini-wake and share memories.   Some posted photos like this one.   Seaver tossing a football to Joe Namath at the old Shea Stadium.   Cue the tears.

Trust me.  There was a lot of homework handed in late because of these two guys.   

But, while I was a Junior Jet fan, it was baseball that really captured my attention as a youngster.  My world was full of Yankee people.   My friends in the neighborhood.   My own dad.   I became a Met fan to have some team all to my own.   

Of course, with the Pinstripe Patrol all around me, I had to endure adulation for the likes of Mickey Mantle, Whitey Ford, and Tom Tresh.   So, Len, who's your big baseball star?

Um, I would be stuck.   The name "Jim Hickman" didn't exactly cut it...with all due respect to Mr. Hickman's family.

But in 1967, it all changed.   The Mets finally had their own Mantle, Ford, and Tresh.  That was the first season for George Thomas Seaver.  Winding up on the Mets because his name was pulled out of a hat.   Whenever Seaver was on the mound, Met fans weren't figuring how the team would lose that day.  We were coming up with all the scenarios on how they would win.

At last, I was validated as a baseball fan.   And I finally had somebody all to my own to idolize.   From the postings I saw this week on Facebook, I was not alone.

The next season, my family became part of the Met family by securing tickets in their Saturday plan.  Loge Section 7, Row E, Seats 1 and 2.   I would have these very same Saturday seats until Shea Stadium ended up as rubble in a Flushing parking lot.

Oddly enough, my very first game in those Saturday seats was an April contest with...of all teams...the Los Angeles Dodgers.   The Mets won, 3-2.   The winning pitcher on that day?   Of course, he was.

Tom was and will always be my favorite Met, but, eventually, there would be others to join in and give my team some legitimacy.  This all culminated when soon thereafter.  

1969.

There was magic all over that summer.   From Seaver's opportunity to be perfect amidst some July  humidity...

I remember watching this game in my room.   On a black-and-white-TV.   A perfect game had to be viewed in color.   I infiltrated the living room and coerced my mom to turn off Merv Griffin for a few moments.  Of course, I first had to explain to her what the hell a perfect game was.

There was more glory that year.   And a world championship that was helped along by a Seaver performance in Game 4 of the World Series that was out of this world.   Aided and abetted by Ron Swoboda in right field.

I was home from school on that day and had the color TV all to myself.

Indeed, I don't remember a lot more of Tom Seaver's pitching because there was ultimately a sameness to it all.   Each one equally and consistently brilliant.  I remember seeing a near no-hitter in person on July 4, 1972.   And I was there as an adult when the Mets retired Seaver's number.   And when he and Mike Piazza closed the centerfield gate at Shea Stadium for the last time.

I was devastated the day Seaver was traded to the Reds in 1977 after a newspaper skirmish with the detestable shithead journalist Dick Young.   My youth was moving on.   Literally and figuratively.

I got to reconnect in a strange way.   About 15 years ago, there was an article in the newspaper heralding the opening of Seaver's new vineyard in Napa Valley.  Did I want to be on the mailing list for the upcoming harvest?   You bet I would.

And I was a happy purchaser of his wine over several harvests.  Indeed, some of the best red wine I have ever tasted.  Admittedly, a pricey purchase.  But, with everything Tom Seaver was involved with, excellence prevailed.   Luckily, I still have a few bottles left.

Just like me, Tom Seaver has also moved on.   Literally and figuratively.   But memories are etched forever.   I continually embrace them.   

Thank you, Tom Seaver, for all that you gave this kid on South 15th Avenue in Mount Vernon, New York.

Dinner last night:  Proscuitto, mozzarella, and beef steak tomato salad with a balsamic vinegarette.