#jesseorosco

Story by Howie Rose

        This is a matter of personal opinion, and it may well be that you see it differently, but all championships are not created equal. They're all great; pizza or ice cream, you can't lose. (Although sushi is the new pizza). It's just that whereas the Mets' 1969 World Championship was sheer joy and wonderment, their 1986 title felt more like a relief. That's what happens when one comes seemingly out of nowhere and the other was seen by some as a foregone conclusion, but the passage of time has left the relief in the dust. The team celebrated May 27-29 at Citi Field, the 1986 World Champion New York Mets are as much about joy and wonderment as any team that has won any championship in any city.

           Jesse Orosco flinging his glove towards the stars after striking out Marty Barrett? Unbridled joy. The ball going through Bill Buckner's legs? Absolute wonderment. It's everything that transpired leading up to that three-day weekend at the end of October that branded this team onto the hearts of so many people in New York, bringing them together to support the common cause. 

           There was nothing at all common about the 1986 Mets. Teams that complex, that diverse, that filled with their own fury which inspired that and more in their opponents just don't come along very often. I've always likened them to the early Beatles who inspired manic behavior by their fans, only with the '86 Mets, the ones chasing them around, pulling at their hair and tearing their clothes were players on the other teams. Don't think those bench clearing brawls they had during the year didn't deepen the bond the players had with each other. They might not have been the Beatles, but they were some kind of band. A band of brothers.

           If ever there was a manager who was the right person for the right team at the right time, it was Davey Johnson. He was a swashbuckler who didn't care a lick what you or anyone else thought, particularly his boss, General Manager Frank Cashen, and his players rallied around that. When Davey told them in spring training that they weren't just going to win, they were going to dominate, they didn't give it a moment's hesitation. Dominate they did, and that's where the relief aspect comes in.

          You don't win 108 regular season games without creating the expectation that a championship is inevitable, but from the beginning of the postseason, the inevitability factor shrunk. They were never ahead during the two games they lost to the Houston Astros in one of the most memorable League Championship Series in baseball history; in two of the games they won, the first time they led was when Lenny Dykstra and Gary Carter delivered game ending hits, and in the decisive Game 6, the only leads they had were in extra innings. The Mets hit just .189 in the LCS and still won in six games. Not exactly domination, but it got the job done.

           Of course, the World Series was a season unto itself, and the only time they led the series in games was when Orosco started the party and was soon pancaked by his delirious teammates. That split second, when out number 27 of Game 7 was recorded was probably the ultimate exult-exhale moment. The cruise control regular season yielded to a stomach jumping, 13 game, cover your eyes excursion of a lifetime but it was worth every twist and turn in the end.

           You know the names and the legend they created, but the 1986 Mets were about so much more than Doc and Darryl, Keith and Kid, Mookie and Lenny. It's great that we’ll have a chance during the upcoming ’86 reunion weekend to reconnect with Ray, and Sid Fernandez, and Rafael Santana and Danny Heep and all of the others who don't come our way very often anymore. They all deserve to soak in the adulation and appreciation from people to whom they gave and meant so much.