The Calm Before the Crazy: Springtime for the '75 Yankees

NO GEORGE. NO BILLY. No Yankee Stadium. No feuding amongst the owner, the manager and the superstar. No fistfights in elevators or with marshmallow salesmen. All those things were still in the future. 

But they did have Bobby Bonds before almost everyone else did.

It was Spring 1975 and strange times for the storied New York Yankees, then deeply entrenched in how the other half lived.

Ephemeral Yankee Bobby Bonds,
from the team's '75 Yearbook

It had been 10 years since their last American League pennant, 12 since the last championship, and it would be the second in which they'd play their home games in someone else's ballpark.

From 1921 through 1964, the Yanks had appeared in an astonishing 29 World Series, winning 20 titles in an era where there was no divisional play and no playoffs. Ten of those championships came in 1947 or later. Their dominance created a cavalcade of household names: Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Joe DiMaggio, Mickey Mantle, Roger Maris, Yogi Berra, Whitey Ford and Casey Stengel.

The Yankees weren't just baseball's best, but in an age when the sport was America's pastime, they were America's best. 

And then they weren't.

Bronx Bummers

In 1965, the Yanks finished sixth in the 10-team A.L. A year later they finished dead last, 26 games behind the eventual champion Baltimore Orioles. The next three seasons saw them finish ninth, fifth and fifth again.

And while they were being mediocre in their decaying stadium, the newfangled cross-town New York Mets went from atrocious to miraculous, winning the World Series in 1969, just their eighth season of existence, capturing the hearts and minds of New Yorkers and the nation. 

The 1970 Mets drew more than 2.6 million fans to their seven-year-old multipurpose stadium in Queens, while the Yankees attracted only 1.3 million to the House that Ruth Built.  

In '72, The Mets drew 2,134,185. The Yanks? Just 966,328.

In '73, managed by Berra, the Mets made it to the series again, losing to the Oakland A's in seven games, and outdrawing the Yankees again, by nearly 700,000.

Forget about being number one in the nation, the Yanks weren't even number one in their home town.

Enter George and Bill

In between their bottoming out at the box office and the Mets' second flag, the Bronx Bombers were acquired by Cleveland businessman George Steinbrenner -- a man who didn't take losing lightly -- and a collection of limited partners. 

Shea Stadium Under-Tenants

Prior to buying them however, Steinbrenner had allegedly made illegal contributions to President Richard Nixon's 1972 reelection campaign and to those of other politicians. In April, 1974, he was indicted on 14 felony counts by a federal grand jury, and later pleaded guilty to two of them. That August he was fined $15,000, his American Shipbuilding Co. hit for $20,000 more.

That November, Commissioner Bowie Kuhn suspended the Yankees's new principal owner for two years, a punishment later trimmed to 15 months.

Adding to their woes, the Bombers were temporarily homeless. Their stadium, open since 1923, was undergoing a two-year renovation. In 1974 and '75, the Yanks were forced to play their home games in the Mets' ballpark, Shea Stadium, where they'd continue to be outdrawn by its primary tenants.

As the '75 season dawned, the Yankees were led by former Pittsburgh Pirates skipper Bill Virdon. Crowding the owners' box were 15 people not named George Steinbrenner, among them businessman John DeLorean, Broadway producer James Nederlander, former Cleveland Indians star Al Rosen, former Indians general manager Gabe Paul and Mike Burke, who'd ran the Yanks while they were owned by CBS Broadcasting.

Bill, not Billy
from the 1975 yearbook

Photos of the team's limited partners all would appear in the team's yearbook. But the general partner's would not, nor would his name be mentioned. 

The '74 squad had done well, winning 89 games and finishing second in the A.L., just two back of the perennial powerhouse Baltimore Orioles, who copped their fifth division title in six years. 

Virdon was named manager of the year by The Sporting News. Not bad for a consolation prize. Steinbrenner had really wanted Dick Williams, who'd quit the A's after they beat the Mets, because of Oakland owner Charlie Finley's endless interference. 

Finley demanded compensation because Williams was still under contract. So the Yanks settled for Virdon, who'd been fired by the Bucs a year earlier.

Importing Stars

Suddenly not under contract after the '74 season, due to a Finley flub was A's ace Jim "Catfish" Hunter, coming off a 25-12 season where he made 41 starts, hurled 318.1 innings and won the A.L. Cy Young Award.

The Yankees reeled him in for five years and a record $3.75 million.

The Yanks' other big off-season pickup was Bonds, acquired from the San Francisco Giants for home-grown Mantle heir-apparent Bobby Murcer. 

Murcer failed to meet enormous expectations despite finishing in the top 10 of Most Valuable Player voting three years running. He had a sub-par year in '74 and that was that.

From the '75 yearbook

Bonds had a great talent for hitting home runs and stealing bases, but also for striking out. He did that a record 189 times in 1970, a mark that endured until 2004.

He would join the a lineup featuring catcher Thurman Munson, infielders Chris Chambliss, Jim Mason and Graig Nettles, outfielders Lou Piniella, Roy White and Elliott Maddox.

Hunter would lead a pitching staff including Pat Dobson, real life physician George "Doc" Medich, Larry Gura, Rudy May, Tippy Martinez and Sparky Lyle. 

Despite the two marquee additions, the Yanks were a .500 ball club wobbling along at 53 and 51 on August 1. Hunter's record on that date stood a decent 14-10. Bonds was batting .251, with 21 homers, 19 steals and more than a few strikeouts. A change was needed. A catalytic spark.

Exit Bill, Enter Billy

Virdon was sacked in favor of scrappy one-time Yanks infielder Billy Martin, recently pink-slipped by the Texas Rangers.

Though he'd steered Texas to a second place finish in the A.L. West a year earlier, Martin's characteristic combativeness wore out his welcome, just as it had with the Minnesota Twins after a first-place finish in 1969 and in Detroit after an A.L. East title for the Tigers in '72.

Hunter, the Yanks' big catch
from the '75 team yearbook

The Yanks took a while to get going under the new regime, ending August at a flat 67-67. A 16-10 September brought them home at 83-79, a game better than their Shea stablemates. They finished third, 12 1/2 games behind the eventual A.L. champion Boston Red Sox.

Catfish earned his keep, going 23-14 on the year. Leading the league with 328 innings pitched, he finished second in Cy balloting behind Orioles star Jim Palmer. 

Hunter would be back, though in ever decreasing quantities as his workload took its toll. 

So too would Munson, who had driven in 102 runs while batting .318. Other returnees for 1976 included Chambliss, Nettles, White, Piniella, Lyle, a slim rookie left-hander named Ron Guidry, and Martin.

All of them would be part of a team that once again ensconced at Yankee Stadium, and with Steinbrenner back in charge, would win the A.L. flag in 1976 and a drought-ending World Series championship in '77.

Billy and George

After spending just a single season in the Big Apple, hitting .270 with 32 homers, 30 steals and 137 strike outs, Bonds was sent to the California Angels in exchange for CF Mickey Rivers and pitcher Ed Figueroa.

It was the beginning of an odyssey that would see him also play for the Chicago White Sox, the Rangers, the Indians, the St. Louis Cardinals and finally the Chicago Cubs, all by the end of 1981.

Bonds died in 2003, at just age 57, leaving behind a legacy of unfulfilled promise as well as his son Barry, whose career would be greater and more controversial.

The Yankees would win the series again in 1978. Martin -- perpetually feuding with Steinbrenner and resident superstar Reggie Jackson -- would be forced to resign in midseason.

His replacement, Hall of Famer Bob Lemon, would pilot them to the championship, by which time Martin had already been anointed Lemon's successor for 1979.

Both victories were over the Los Angeles Dodgers, who returned the favor in 1981. During that series, the Yankees owner broke his hand in an alleged elevator fight with two L.A. fans. After it was over he apologized to his team's fans for losing. 

Martin did manage the Yankees in '79, then was fired after a fight with a marshmallow salesman. 

He came back again, and stayed, for all of '83 after a three-year tour in Oakland, during which Steinbrenner cycled through Dick Howser, Gene Michael, Lemon again, Michael again, and Clyde King.

Martin would also manage the Yanks for parts of 1985 and '88, but never win another championship. He died a passenger in a one-car accident on Christmas Day in 1989.

-- Follow me on no-longer Twitter @paperboyarchive

The Jets, the Pats and Death from the Sky at Halftime

FOR 60 YEARS, the New York Jets and New England Patriots have regarded one another with a wariness befitting Cold War superpowers, using whatever treacherous means necessary to gain competitive advantage. Executives have been pirated, head coaches coaxed away, star players persuaded to defect.

December 9, 1979, at
Shea Stadium in NYC

Largely led by Bill Belichick, New England has dominated on the field of play, rolling up a 67-54-1 all-time record with six Super Bowl championships to the Jets' measly one. Two times Belichick was named head coach of the Jets, only to be demoted in 1997 after the Bill Parcells ploy backfired and only to resign in evident disgust when tabbed again in 2000, all without ever actually coaching a game for them.

There's been the evil of Spygate, the embarrassment of The Butt Fumble.

Twice the Patriots/Jets convergence has had near fatal consequences and once, 40 years ago this weekend, it was actually, literally, deadly.

In 1969, just days after designing the offensive scheme for the Jets' Super Bowl III victory, Clive Rush was hired by the Patriots as their head coach. On Feb. 12, he was given the honor of introducing the team's new general manager, George Sauer Sr. (father of the champion Jets receiver George Jr.).

Rush stepped up to the podium, gripped the microphone and began screaming as electricity from a short circuit coursed through his body, according to the Boston Globe. Were it not for a Patriots board member ripping out the wires running to a wall socket, Rush's coaching career -- and indeed his life -- might have ended right there.

Then, on Sept. 23, 2001, early in Belichick's second season as the Pats' head honcho, Jets linebacker Mo Lewis slammed into New England quarterback Drew Bledsoe as he sought to escape New York's pass rush. Bledsoe suffered a torn blood vessel in his chest. Only a team doctor's prompt decision to rush him to the Mass General emergency room kept the quarterback from dying.

While the quick thinking saved his life, it couldn't save his job as backup QB Tom Brady stepped in to the starting role and hasn't relinquished it to this day.

But in between the Rush Electrocution and the Bledsoe Bleed there was a third incident, during halftime of a game at New York's Shea Stadium, that took the life of not a player or coach but of a Patriots fan. It was an accident so improbable, so tragically bizarre, that even the urban legend detectives at Snopes.com felt compelled to confirm it really did happen.

It happened on Dec. 9, 1979. I was there with my pal, Eddie, my dad and more than 45,000 other people.

Game day souvenir

It was the last home game of the season at the gusty multipurpose stadium near the shore of Flushing Bay, perhaps two miles southeast of LaGuardia Airport. The 6-8 Jets had gone into the locker room with a 17-12 lead over the 8-6 Pats.

Mid-game entertainment would be provided by the Electronic Eagles of The Radio Control Association of New York, an organization of gas-powered remote-controlled model plane enthusiasts. Only these weren't ordinary planes or even the hobby drones now popular across the U.S. They were flying contraptions, one of which was configured to look like a lawnmower.

As the innocent, if ill-conceived stunt flying exhibition got underway, my pal and I had headed off to the souvenir stand in search of swag, leaving my dad holding a pair of high-powered Bushnell binoculars I'd received as a bar-mitzvah gift a year earlier. Our seats were in the upper deck on what would be Shea's first-base side during baseball season.

Dad, now nearly 87, picks it up from there:

"The lawnmower plane was flying clockwise around the playing field at about the height of the top of the grandstand, with an occasional swoop downward and over the seating area. I was standing, following the show with the binoculars. 

After a swoop or two at the seating area across the field the plane swooped in and failed to swoop out again, as was expected. Instead, it crashed into several spectators, who went down. The crowd started to chant "Sue! Sue! Sue! It stopped when the injured party (or parties) didn't get up, when the crowd realized that the injury was more serious than originally thought. 

I don't think anyone anticipated a fatality."

The lawnmower plane crashed into field level seats behind the Patriots' bench, along what would be the third-base side of the stadium, and into a crowd of New England fans who'd made the trip to Queens for the game.

Game day program

Kevin Rourke, 25, of Lynn, Massachusetts sustained a concussion, according to a New York Times report. Another fan, John Bowen, 20, of Nashua, New Hampshire, died from his injuries four days later at a hospital in New York City.

The Queens County District Attorney's Office ruled the incident an accident and declined to bring charges against the pilot of the wayward craft, Brooklyn auto body repairman Philip Cushman.  Bowen's father later filed a $10 million federal lawsuit against the Jets, the Electronic Eagles and Cushman.

But from there the trail goes cold. I could find no official record of the case or how it ended.

In the third quarter, New England rallied for a brief 19-17 lead before the Jets added 10 more points. A late Patriots touchdown brought them to within one but New York held on to win, 27-26.

Just grown men playing a game.

-- Follow me on Twitter @paperboyarchive

Shoot the Moon -- The 1969 National League Playoffs

EVERYONE WAS SHOOTING FOR THE MOON in 1969, the Americans, the Russians and even the Atlanta Braves, at least metaphorically.

 The team from The Launching Pad

Fifty years ago this weekend, Major League Baseball's first franchise based in the American southeast fought for the National League pennant. They did it while claiming the entire region as their own, just four seasons after moving from Milwaukee.

It wasn't the first time relocation had rejuvenated the peripatetic Braves, one of the N.L.'s founding franchises.

Sixteen years earlier, as attendance tanked in Boston, the moribund 64-win team relocated to the good land, won 28 more games in their 1953 debut and then, four years later, a championship.

The 1969 edition won 93 games, finishing first in the newly-created NL Western Division. Their roster was studded with stars: future home run king Hank Aaron, his fellow future Hall of Famer Orlando Cepeda plus slugger Rico Carty and former New York Yankees' mainstay Clete Boyer. Leading their pitching staff was a 23-game winner, knuckleballer Phil Niekro.

Stoked to plant their pennant, they produced a gorgeous 80-page playoff program -- full of articles, photos, rosters and stats -- wrapped by a moon landing-themed cover that declared, "One step for the Braves. One giant leap for the Southeast."

The first ever NL West champions (from the Braves' 1969 NLCS program).

But to reach their figurative moon, they needed to step past the New York Mets.

After languishing in last or next-to-last place for the first seven years of their existence and merely a .500 ball club as late as June 2, New York's NL franchise caught fire in the summer, overtaking the first place Chicago Cubs on Sept. 10 and then winning the Eastern Division by eight games. They finished at 100-62.

Leading their charge was brash power pitcher Tom Seaver, a 25-game winner who would have been Braves property had they not violated the rules for signing college players in 1966.

Three years after his Braves contract was voided, Seaver was not merely the best pitcher in baseball, but leading a staff that included 17-game-winner Jerry Koosman, rookie Gary Gentry and down the depth chart, a young fireballer named Nolan Ryan.

The Mets' NLCS program, an adaptive reuse of their
regular season scorecard with minimal new content,
offered for just a single home game for 25 cents.

Their lineup was a mashup of platoon players expertly deployed by Manager Gil Hodges, but led by left-fielder Cleon Jones, who'd hit .340, sterling center-fielder Tommie Agee and hard-hitting first-baseman Donn Clendenon.

"Good pitching will always stop good hitting, and vice versa," baseball sage Casey Stengel reportedly once said. The best-of-five Mets/Braves NLCS was a vice versa kind of series, where good pitching largely took a back seat to good hitting and somehow, the Mets had more of that too.

On Oct. 4, the series opened in Atlanta, in a bullring of a ballpark that came to be known as The Launching Pad. Seaver vs. Niekro. They traded punches until the eight inning when, with the Braves nursing a 5-4 lead, the Mets' erupted for five runs, helped by a pair of Atlanta errors. Game 1 to the New Yorkers, 9-5.

Game 2 the next day saw the Mets jump out to a 8-0 lead en route to an 11-6 romp. The Braves headed to New York, their moon landing in jeopardy.

Foreshadowing from the Braves program

There, Atlanta rapped out five hits and a walk in the first three innings off New York's starter, Gentry, one of them a two run homer by Aaron, his third blast of the series.

With two on and no outs in third, Hodges pulled Gentry in favor of Ryan, who sandwiched an intentional walk around two strikeouts and ended the inning on Braves catcher Bob Didier's fly out.

Atlanta would never seriously threaten again, while the Mets got homers from Agee and infielders Ken Boswell and Wayne Garrett.

Ryan pitched seven innings, striking out seven while allowing two runs to earn the win, one of just two post-season victories in his 27 year Hall of Fame career. Aaron wouldn't appear in the playoffs again. He retired as a Milwaukee Brewer after the 1976 season with the most homers in major league history: 755.

On Oct. 6, 1969, the Mets captured the NL pennant before a raucous crowd at Shea Stadium in Queens. Ten days later, they'd stun the Baltimore Orioles and the world by taking the World Series 4 games to 1. The moon belonged to them.

-- Follow me on Twitter @paperboyarchive

Less Than Miraculous: An Ode to the 1979 Mets

EVERYONE LOVES A WINNER and few winners are more beloved than the Miracle Mets of 1969. Sad sacks, lovable losers and ultimate underdogs, they rose from historic ineptitude to world champs in just eight seasons.

This weekend, those legendary Mets are being honored, revered and remembered at Citi Field. So, fête away 50th anniversary celebrants, this weekend is yours!

The 40th Anniversary

For me, 2019 is a more personal anniversary, I'm commemorating the Mets' return to awfulness, 1979 -- my first year as a dyed-in-the-wool, watch-every-game fan -- the year the Mets had the lowest full-season attendance in franchise history: 788,905 including me, thrice.

It was the year of Maz, Swannie and The Grave Digger, of The Flushing Flash and Kelvin Chapman. It was the swan song for Ed Kranepool, who joined the team as a teenager during its woeful first season in 1962, partook in the miracle, stayed through the downfall, and -- after a brush with death -- will appear at Citi Field today.

At 9-15, the '79 Mets fell to last place on May 7th and never got up. It was the worst of times, it was the worst of times.

With the death of founding owner Joan Whitney Payson in 1975, control of the team passed first to board chairman M. Donald Grant and then, ultimately to Payson's daughter, Lorinda de Roulet.

Grant and de Roulet ran the club as cheaply as possible, dealing away rather than rewarding those who had kept them competitive for most of the 1970s, including Miracle mainstays Tom Seaver and Jerry Koosman. While the cross-town Yankees were signing the likes of Reggie Jackson and Catfish Hunter, winning three straight pennants and back-to-back world series, the Mets were decorating the National League East cellar.

Parity with the Yankees, at least on cardboard.

The '79 season dawned with the my naive expectation they'd somehow outperform their shoestring budget.

Their pitching staff was anchored by Craig Swan, whose 2.43 earned run average led the league in 1978. John Stearns had set a big league record for most stolen bases in a season by a catcher, 25, while first-baseman Willie Montanez drove in 96 runs.

Veteran infielder and off-season grave digger Richie Hebner was acquired from the Philadelphia Phillies after their signing of Pete Rose made him expendable. The price was pitcher Nino Espinosa, whose 11 wins led the staff in '78. His departure would leave a void the team failed to fill.

The brightest star on the Mets roster by far was Brooklyn-born centerfielder Lee Mazzilli, 24, who emerged a bona fide big league talent in '78, batting .273 with 16 homers, 61 RBIs and 20 steals. With his Italian good looks and tightly-tailored uniforms, Maz was a matinee idol on the rise.

The matinee idol, from the '79 yearbook

But he couldn't pitch and the club sorely needed pitching.

The Mets brought to camp then declined to sign veteran Nelson Briles and went north with a rotation including Swan and Seaver trade piece Pat Zachry, Brooklyn-born Pete Falcone and rookies Neil Allen and Mike Scott. In the bullpen: Koosman acquisition Jesse Orosco, 22, starting a career that would see him pitch in a record 1,252 games.

They also brought up Chapman, an infielder attempting to jump from AA to the majors after impressing in camp. He'd open the season at second base, pushing incumbent Doug Flynn to short and veteran Tim Foli to the bench.

The rookie stroked two hits and scored two runs in the Mets' 10-6 opening day win over the Chicago Cubs. Hebner went 4-for-5 with a homer and Swan picked up the victory. Mazzilli's three hits the next day keyed a 9-4 win. It was all down hill from there.

Rookie Kelvin Chapman, from the '79 yearbook

Chapman had four singles and a double in his first 16 at bats, then went ice cold, mustering just one more hit in April, by which time the Mets had dealt Foli to the Pittsburgh Pirates for the fleet-footed though erratic-fielding Frank Taveras, relegating the rookie first to the bench and then to the AAA Tidewater Tides.

Hebner, who'd made the post-season seven times as a member of the Phillies and Pittsburgh Pirates, was a miserable Met. His streakiness at the plate and apparent carelessness in the field wore on the fans and they on him. Despite batting .268 with 10 homers and a respectable 79 RBIs, he'd last just a single season in Queens before being shipped to the Detroit Tigers.

Montanez utterly failed to hit and in August he was traded to the Texas Rangers.

A freshly-minted Met, from the '79 yearbook

Scott and Orosco struggled and were returned to the minors. But for an injury, Allen would have joined them. As he healed, closer Skip Lockwood went down with a bad shoulder. The righty Allen was sent to the bullpen where he formed an effective short-relief tandem with lefty Ed Glynn, a one-time Shea Stadium hot dog vendor nicknamed The Flushing Flash.

They combined for 15 saves, but those opportunities came few and far between.

When an elbow injury sidelined Zachry, the Mets were forced to go outside the organization for help, acquiring veteran Dock Ellis -- who once pitched a no-hitter while high on acid -- and swingman Andy Hassler. Neither could stanch the bleeding.

After 156 games, the Mets record stood at 57-99. The club seemed destined to lose more than 100 games for the first time since 1967. Yet somehow they didn't, reeling off a season-best six-game winning streak to end the year.

Swan went a career-best 14-13, with a 3.39 ERA, hurling 251.1 innings over 35 starts while no other Mets starter won more than six games.

By 1979, he had seen it all.

Utility man Joel Youngblood Wally Pipp-ed the starting right fielder's job away from rare free agent-signee Elliott Maddox, emerging as a viable everyday player with moderate power and a strong, accurate throwing arm.

Still, the year belonged to Mazzilli, who batted .303, with 15 homers, 79 RBIs, and 34 stolen bases. Selected to the National League All Star team, he stroked a game-tying pinch-hit home run, then coaxed a game-winning walk from the Yankees' Ron Guidry an inning later.

The 63-99 season was the last for the Mets' original ownership group, who sold the team to Nelson Doubleday and Fred Wilpon for $21.1 million that winter.

-- Follow me on Twitter @paperboyarchive

O.J. Simpson Runs to Glory -- December 16, 1973

I WAS THERE because somebody dumped New York Jets tickets on my dad.

"The consummate runner fulfills the promise"

It was Dec. 16, 1973, one of those punishingly cold days at Shea Stadium, when icy wind whipped in from Flushing Bay, numbing everything in its path. Green Bay's Lambeau Field may be synonymous with "frozen tundra," but a late season Jets home game could just as easily freeze you to the marrow.

On this day, the team was 4-9. By the 1 p.m. kickoff, snow was falling.

So why go?

Why trudge out to the C-shaped municipal stadium surrounded by parking lots and expressways to sit in the arctic chill, drink watery hot cocoa and watch bad Jets football (a virtually redundant description throughout the 1970s)?

Two words. Make that two initials: O.J., as in Simpson, a man on the cusp of rushing for more than 2,000 yards in a 14-game season, something never accomplished before or since.

O.J., aka The Juice, winner of the 1968 Heisman Trophy while at the University of Southern California. Selected with the first overall pick by the Buffalo Bills in the 1969 National Football League draft, he was handsome, articulate and charismatic. A first-magnitude star.

If you were born after 1994 -- after his descent into infamy -- it may be difficult to comprehend the hold he had on the American public, as an athlete, part-time actor, sportscaster and pitchman for orange juice, western boots and rental cars.

He'd come of age in an era that saw the first wide-spread acceptance of black celebrities as just plain celebrities. In 1965, Bill Cosby became the first black to play a lead role in a television drama, I Spy. Three years later, while Simpson was running to greatness at USC, Diahann Carroll took similar stride for black women in Julia. In 1970, Flip Wilson got in his own TV variety show.

Why run through airports when you can fly?

During the 1960s, Muhammad Ali transcended professional boxing to become one of the world's most widely recognized celebrities, a man willing to sacrifice his career for his principles. But where he was controversial and brash, Simpson was silky smooth and universally liked, by men and women, white and black. He transcended race in the same way Barack Obama would three decades later.

O.J.'s affable demeanor and good looks made him a natural for the tube and silver screen. Holding out for a better deal before signing with the Bills, he even threatened to bypass Buffalo for Hollywood, where he'd already had bit parts in Dragnet, Ironside, Medical Center and It Takes a Thief.

While he eventually signed, he didn't hit the ground running. O.J. rushed for just 1,927 yards over his first three seasons combined, barely surpassing Jim Brown's single-season record of 1,863. But things changed in 1972, when the Buffalo hired a new coach, Lou Saban, who plugged in The Juice and let him run.

Simpson's 1,251 yards led the league. His 94 yard-run from scrimmage in an October game against the Pittsburgh Steelers was the longest in the league that year. He averaged 4.3 yards per carry and 89.4 per game but scored only six touchdowns as the Bills staggered to a 4-9-1 record.

By game 10 of the 1973 season, Simpson surpassed his previous season total, running for 1,323 yards, 123 of them at the Jets' expense in week 3. Though held to under 100 yards in three games, he finished the year in a rush, piling up 480 yards just over weeks 11, 12 and 13. Arriving at Shea, he'd already carried  the ball 1,803 yards and Brown's record was only 60 yards away.

That record fell before the end of the first quarter and, with the frost-bitten Shea faithful to bear witness, he piled up precisely 200 yards on the day as the Bills bullied the Jets, 34-14.  It would be the last game for Jets coach Weeb Ewbank, architect of their Super Bowl III victory, and my first as a fan.

For the season, Simpson had juked and jetted his way to 2003 yards -- almost 1.14 miles -- pursued by 11 men swearing to stop him.

In time, and with extension of the standard NFL season to 16 games, the record would fall. So too would O.J., in a manner that would have seemed unimaginable fiction to football fans on that snowy day.

Simpson as doomed astronaut John Walker, with co-stars Sam Waterston and James Brolin
in the thriller Capricorn One. Photo from the July 1978 issue of Starlog Magazine

Between those two defining moments, Simpson played pro-football for just six more years, the final two for his hometown San Francisco 49ers. His acting credits included roles in The Towering Inferno, The Cassandra Crossing, Roots, Capricorn One and the Naked Gun movies.

In 1985 he wed Nicole Brown, with whom he had two children over seven tumultuous years during which the former football star cheated on and abused her. They divorced in 1992.

In June 1994, he was charged with murdering her and friend Ronald Goldman, but apprehended only after a 50-mile -- or 88,000 yard -- low speed chase across the Los Angeles freeway system pursued by dozens of police officers sworn to stop him.

Simpson was acquitted after an epochal 1995 trial but found legally culpable in a civil suit two years later and ordered to pay more than $33 million to the victims' families.

Ten years after that, he'd be convicted of armed robbery and kidnapping for crimes involving sports memorabilia -- our communal tokens of hero worship. Sentenced to nine to 33 years imprisonment, The Juice was set free in 2017.

-- Follow me on Twitter @paperboyarchive

The Police Play Shea and Sting Decides to Quit

IT WAS ON THAT DAY, GORDON SUMNER SAID, he decided to quit The Police.

Performing with bandmates Stewart Copeland and Andy Summers before 70,000 delirious fans* at a giant municipal sports stadium, Sumner -- aka Sting -- decided he'd reached the summit of his professional life. He was not yet 32 years old.

Summers, Sting and Copeland
on their terminal world tour

The date: August 18, 1983. The place: Shea Stadium in the New York City neighborhood of Flushing, Queens, home of Major League Baseball's New York Mets and the National Football League's New York Jets, both of whom were irrelevant to The Police. 

Two months into a planned 10-month, 107-date world tour, the band's one-night stand at Shea was part performance, part pilgrimage and part homage to The Beatles, who'd famously played there 28 years earlier. 

"We'd like to thank the Beatles for lending us their stadium," Sting said from the stage.

The Beatles. The Fab Four. Simultaneously the best and most popular rock or pop group of their era, they'd split up 13 years earlier.  While many groups and artists had since attained and held the world's attention -- the Rolling Stones, the Who, Bruce Springsteen, the Bee Gees, Michael Jackson with and without his siblings, Diana Ross and the Supremes and the Beach Boys to name a few -- none had yet shown the chart-dominating staying power of those cheeky lads from Liverpool, England.

Enter the London-birthed Police, a trio featuring the charismatic front man Sting on lead vocals and bass, Summers on guitar and Copeland on drums. Their first four albums had produced a string of hits including Roxanne, Can't Stand Losing You, Don't Stand So Close to Me and Every Little Thing She Does is Magic.

A 7-inch plastic piece of rock history

All of that paled in comparison to what came next: Synchronicity, a 10-song LP full of jukebox hits: Synchronicity II, King of Pain, Wrapped Around Your Finger and the omnipresent smash Every Breath You Take.

Conceptualized by psychologist Carl Jung and amplified by author Arthur Koestler's The Roots of Coincidence, Synchronicity was the notion that sometimes things happening at the same moment appear to be related events even if there's no causal connection between them. 

Every Breath You Take was everyone's simultaneous event, it's creepy stalker lyrics set against an utterly irresistible beat. The biggest hit single of 1983, it spent eight weeks atop the Billboard Hot 100. And that was just in the US. It also topped the charts in Canada, Ireland and South Africa, reached number 2 in Australia, Norway and Sweden, number 3 in France, Spain, Italy and the Netherlands and copped the Grammy Award for song of the year. King of Pain quickly followed it up the charts, reaching number three.

In between those events, The Police headlined at Shea. Opening for them were Joan Jett and the Blackhearts. Opening for her was a little-known band out of Athens, Georgia, that had cut just a single album titled Murmur. They were R.E.M., and amid late afternoon drizzle that summer day, the big, echoey concrete and steel ballpark in Queens swallowed them up. 

A band in a box: Sting, Copeland and Summers from the '83 tour book

Their day as the world's biggest band was yet to come.

While the Jets would abandon Shea for New Jersey's Meadowlands after the 1983 season, the ballpark continued on as home of the Mets and an occasional concert venue for another 25 years before being torn down and replaced.

Long Island native Billy Joel's two-night run in July 2008 closed out its musical history. In The Last Play at Shea, a documentary film recounting the stadium's role in rock, Sting revealed what he was thinking that rainy evening now 35 years ago, up on stage where the Fab Four once thrilled.

"I realized that you can't get better than this, you can't climb a mountain higher than this. This is Everest," he said. "I made the decision on stage that ok, this is it, this is where this thing stops, right now."

Though the tour continued on, The Police never made another album. Based on their five-LP canon, they made the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2003. Four years later, they were joined by R.E.M. Joan Jett and the Blackhearts finally arrived in 2015.

* Including me and my pal, Eddie, whose idea it was to get tickets. Thanks Big Ed!

-- Follow me on Twitter @paperboyarchive

Tom Terrific and the Turning Point 1983 Mets

WHEN TOM SEAVER came back to New York Mets 35 years ago, he might as well have stepped into a time machine, the Guardian of Forever or that strange void connecting a World War II Navy yard with the '84 Nevada desert in The Philadelphia Experiment.

The '83 Mets were an infinite loop, a continuum through which one could see the team's amazing past, its sparkling future and the shabby but significant season to come. Even though they'd come nowhere near the post-season, a dozen members of that year's squad had played -- or would play -- for one of the Mets three pennant winners, 1969, 1973 or 1986.

Top: John Stearns, left fielder George Foster
and fireman Neil Allen. Bottom: Tom Seaver,
Mookie Wilson and slugger Dave Kingman

They were a team in transition. Their roster, a mashup of once and future heroes as new owners worked to repair the Mets' relationship with their fans while buying time to build a winner.

Seaver had left the Amazin's at the start of their epic fall in a lopsided one-for-four trade with the Cincinnati Reds. That deal, and the concurrent exchange of their biggest home run hitter for lesser players, came to be known as the Midnight Massacre, June 15, 1977.

From 1969 to 1976 the Mets had been a slightly better than average team occasionally kissed by the miraculous. Riding the arms of Seaver, Jerry Koosman, Nolan Ryan and others, they won the '69 World Series by coaxing just enough offense from Cleon Jones, Tommie Agee and a cast of platoon players managed by Gil Hodges with pre-sabermetric brilliance.

Hodges had a fatal heart attack just before the 1972 season. Three days later, the team acquired clutch-hitting Rusty Staub from the Montreal Expos. Seaver, Koosman, Staub and the Mets eeeked out a second National League pennant in 1973, aided by reliever Tug McGraw, hurler Jon Matlack who'd been '72 NL Rookie of the Year, shortstop Bud Harrelson and, in his last big league campaign, Willie Mays.

But the '73 flag was a fluke, a happy accident that allowed management to overlook some of the shortcomings laid bare the next year when the Mets went 71-91, their first losing season since '68. The retooling began that winter. McGraw was sent to the Philadelphia Phillies for catcher John Stearns. Slugger Dave "King Kong" Kingman was acquired from the San Francisco Giants.

A '75 Mets sensation, Kingman hammered a club-record 36 homers. Staub drove in a club-record 105 runs. Tom Terrific went 22-9, struck out 243 batters, and won his third Cy Young Award. Shea Stadium attendance surpassed 1.73 million, but the Amazin's went just 82-80, costing Manager Yogi Berra and replacement Roy McMillan their jobs.

With free agency dawning, the Mets sent Staub to the Detroit Tigers, making room for rookie Mike Vail, who flopped. The '76 season would be about the lefties in Seaver's shadow. Koosman won 21 games, Matlack 17. Kingman extended his single-season home run record to 37 and the Amazin's won 86 games, their second-most in franchise history.

Darkness descends

Seaver -- so synonymous with the team he was nicknamed The Franchise -- had a hard luck year, going a modest 14-11. It would be his last winning season with the Mets.

Seaver, the 1983 version: older, better paid
and out to prove he could still bring it.

Though Tom Terrific had inked a three-year deal at $225,000 per annum, less accomplished players were getting more on the open market, prompting him to seek an adjustment. Kingman too sought a raise. He was making just $95,000.

Seaver and the Mets struck a mid-season deal, but withering criticism from sports columnist Dick Young prompted him to spurn it and demand a trade. He got one. So did Kingman. The foundering post-Massacre Mets finished last.

Matlack was dealt to the Texas Rangers in a four-way swap that left them with less than they gave up. The Cellar Dwelling of '78 was followed by the trade of an unhappy 3-15 Koosman to the Minnesota Twins for minor leaguer Jesse Orosco.

Finally, after a third straight last place finish in '79,  the Mets were sold to new owners promising fans, "The Magic is Back."

But how to make it so?

Attendance had sagged to 788,905, nearly a million less than in 1975, the halcyon year of Rusty, Kong and Tom Terrific. Seeking to rekindle lost good will, that's where they ultimately went.

Good will hunting

Neil Allen emerged from the wreckage of '79 as the Mets fireman and saved 22 games in 1980. That year, the Mets briefly flirted with .500 before settling to fifth place. Meanwhile, Kingman -- now a Chicago Cub -- was routinely torching his old team, burning them for 20 homers after his trade, three of them off Allen including a devastating grand slam. The '80 Mets hit just 61 as a team.

Kingman and Staub in '81.
The boys were back in town.

To boost their own power and halt the rampaging Kong, the Mets reacquired the slugger. They also signed Staub, a free agent. Rookies Mookie Wilson and Hubie Brooks stayed with the team all year but the Mets still finished an aggregate fifth in the strike-split 1981 season.

Eighty-two saw another power bat acquisition, former NL Most Valuable Player George Foster, fail spectacularly as he hit just .247, with 13 homers, 70 runs batted in. Kingman led the league with 37 homers, but hit just .204.

Again, they finished last.

But Orosco, the kid acquired for Koosman, finally stuck in the majors and scrappy young infielder Wally Backman saw significant playing time. Plus, the Mets had something going down on the farm.

In 1980, they'd drafted outfielder Darryl Strawberry. In '82, they took pitcher Dwight Gooden and traded fallen star Lee Mazzilli to the Texas Rangers for pitchers Ron Darling and Walt Terrell. Now, those kids were on their way.

Things would take a dramatic turn in 1983, starting with Seaver's return from the Reds.

He'd had a bad year in 1982, the worst of his career, going 5-13 for last-place Cincinnati. His re-acquisition was more about righting a grievous wrong than it was about getting results. The biggest, most consequential roster moves were still to come.

On April 5, 1983, Seaver started the season opener. His catcher was Ron Hodges, who'd come up with the Mets as a rookie during the pennant-winning '73 season. Through all of the changes and almost never a starter, he'd remained as did another '73 rookie, pitcher Craig Swan.

In May, the Mets recalled Strawberry from the minors, anointed him the future of the franchise and installed him in right field, displacing placeholder Danny Heep.

They weren't done.

From the '83 yearbook, a rhapsody in blue and orange.
The Mets ended the year a better team than the one pictured here.

Early in the year, Allen came undone, struggling on and off the field. On June 15, 1983 -- six years after the massacre -- he and pitching prospect Rick Ownbey were traded to the St. Louis Cardinals for first baseman Keith Hernandez, a perennial gold glove winner and co-MVP in 1979.

Turning the corner

His acquisition fortified the Mets lineup and forced Kingman to the bench. Bolstered by Hernandez and Strawberry -- who won Rookie of the Year honors -- Foster bounced back with a 28 homer, 90-RBI campaign. Staub set a record with eight consecutive pinch hits and 25 pinch runs batted in. Orosco replaced Allen as closer, saved 17 games, won 13 others and finished third in Cy Young balloting. Reliever Doug Sisk joined the bullpen. Pitching prospect Ron Darling came up in September.

Seaver started 34 games, pitched 231 innings and went 9-14, proving he wasn't finished. But, at season's end, they were still a last place club. That would change with Gooden's arrival the next year, by which time Seaver would be gone again.

That winter, in a calculated risk, the Mets had left their icon unprotected from the free agent compensation pool and he was claimed by the Chicago White Sox. In their uniform he won his 300th game on the mound at Yankee Stadium two years later.

Gooden would pick up the mantle as the team's best pitcher, winning 17 games, striking out 276 hitters and winning Rookie of the Year. The new-look Mets -- Hernandez, Strawberry, Foster, Wilson, Brooks, Backman, Darling, Terrell, Orosco, Sisk and Heep -- went 90-72, finishing second in the NL East behind the Chicago Cubs.

Boosted by the acquisition of catcher Gary Carter from the Expos, two years later, they'd reach the World Series. So would Seaver, as a member of the Boston Red Sox, though a knee injury would keep him from pitching. The Mets prevailed in seven games.
_____________________________

This entry is dedicated to the great Rusty Staub, who died on March 29, 2018 while it was still being written. Staub came through in the clutch on and off the field. His charitable causes, feeding the hungry and caring for the widows and orphans of first responders, hopefully will live on forever.  

For more information, visit www.rustystaubfoundation.com and www.answerthecall.org

-- Follow me on Twitter @paperboyarchive

History and Mystery of the N.Y. Mets' Tackler, John Stearns

O.J. SIMPSON OR STEVE CARLTON? Pro football or big league baseball? Thirty-two or 32. That was the choice facing then 21-year-old John Stearns, a two-sport star at the University of Colorado drafted in 1973 by the NFL's Buffalo Bills and the National League's Philadelphia Phillies.

A UC Buffaloes defensive back, Stearns set a team record with 16 interceptions. As catcher for its baseball team, he'd led the NCAA with 15 home runs as a senior. The Bills, understanding he was leaning toward baseball, made him a 17th-round pick. The Phillies selected him second in the nation and that was that.

Stearns, still in his Phillies uniform,
 from the 1980 Who's Who in Baseball

A year later, Stearns arrived in the City of Brotherly Love for a brief sip of coffee: one game, two at bats and his first big league base knock before being dealt to the New York Mets as part of a package for reliever Tug McGraw.

There, within two years, he succeeded veteran Jerry Grote as the Mets number one catcher, a slot he'd solidly hold for just three years before a succession of injuries gradually wrecked his career. 

While the bold type will tell you Stearns made the NL All-Star team four times during his Gotham tenure, there's no official record of the former football star's on-field tackles and there were many.

The night in question

Seems Stearns, nicknamed "Bad Dude," never lost his defensive back intensity, at times venting his frustrations on Atlanta Braves mascot Chief Noc-a-Homa, Montreal Expos pitcher Bill Gullickson and Pittsburgh Pirates perennial all star Dave Parker -- no tackle there, but a spectacular home plate collision in which the colossal outfielder sustained a broken cheekbone and jaw.

The Mets backstop had a particular intolerance for fans running on the field and Shea Stadium security's inability to catch them.

Early in the 1982 season, as the Mets were trying to lockdown a victory over the defending World Champion Los Angeles Dodgers, two fans ran onto the the field in the 9th inning. One was caught as he tried to climb over Shea's outfield wall. The other led security on a chase across the infield, where an impatient Stearns slammed him to the turf. 

The New York Times reported the next day, "[Reliever Neil] Allen's work was interrupted when two fans ran onto the field. One was apprehended by security guards as he tried to scale the outfield fence. The other eluded guards to shake Tom Veryzer's hand before being tackled by Stearns, a onetime defensive back at the University of Colorado."

My May 15 1982 scorecard with the notation:
 "Penalty 12 Stearns, holding. 15 Yards
 1st Down, LA." 

So that happened. But it may not have been the first time, or even the second, or the last that some wayward Mets fan met the former college football star the hard way.

Earlier this year, the Centerfield Maz blog reported a similar event on June, 12 1980, also in a game against the Dodgers. But that's not the end of it.

The fan site UltimateMets.com lists every man who ever played for the Mets. Each of those entries includes a page where fans can log their own memories of that player. Stearns' propensity for open field fan tackles is mentioned there a lot, but no two fans seem to agree on the details.

Some say he was catching that day, others say he was manning third base. Some, including me, say it was an infield takedown, others say the outfield. At least two of the entrants corroborate the Centerfield Maz date, saying they were there too.

So here's my question, fellow Mets fans of a certain age:  Just how many times did Bad Dude Stearns take down a runaway fan? 

Bonus question: Was one of them you?

Belated thought: John Stearns would know for sure. Anyone know where to find him?

Please enter your comments below. If you're new to this site, check out the roster of topics. Plenty here about the Mets and more.

Most importantly, thanks for reading.

-- Follow me on Twitter @paperboyarchive

Memorial Day '82: Mets Blast Braves, Bambi Bests Torre, and Then I Keep Ed Lynch Out of Rusty's Men's Room

SEPARATING FACT FROM FICTION, the men from the boys, the contenders from the pretenders.

The 162-game Major League season is really good at sifting and culling, parsing the real and the fake as any team can ride a hot streak and look for a time like a force to be reckoned with.

"Bring the kiddies, bring the wife.
Guaranteed to have the time of your life..." 

Since the advent of wild cards in 1995, a mediocre team can sometimes sneak into the post-season party and -- though unworthy -- wreak havoc. But back in 1982, the only way to prolong the campaign was to outlast division rivals, making the regular season a proving ground, a cruel crucible where hopes and dreams melt away in bitter disappointment.

And so it was on Memorial Day of that year that the New York Mets, occupying second place in the National League East under new manager George Bamberger, met the NL West Division-leading Atlanta Braves led by former Mets skipper Joe Torre.

Both teams finished poorly during the strike-torn 1981 season. The Mets landed in composite fifth place in the six-team NL East, at 41-62, prompting Torre's ouster. Atlanta too finished fifth, still competing however illogically in the NL West. Their 50-56 overall record led to Bobby Cox's firing by Braves owner Ted Turner, who then hired Torre.

Now the Braves would meet the Mets for the first time since their mutual shakeups. The 26-21 Mets sent Charlie Puleo to the mound. Bob Walk started for the 27-19 Braves, who began Torre's tenure by going 13-0.

With a John Stearns single, a stolen base and a Rusty Staub double, New York drew first blood, 1-0 after one. Jerry Royster walked and scored on Rafael Ramirez's doubled to tie it in the top of the second. Consecutive singles by Staub, Ellis Valentine and Hubie Brooks untied it the bottom of the third.

From there, the Mets were off the races, tallying twice in the fourth and four times in the sixth when Wally Backman doubled, Tom Veryzer singled him home, Mookie Wilson reached on an error, a Stearns double plated two, then George Foster singled him home.

A good day for the Mets offense.

Walk quickly yielded to Rick Camp, followed by Al Hrabosky and finally Preston Hannah.

Puleo pitched into the eighth inning before coming undone. He surrendered a single to ex-Met Claudell Washington, walked Glenn Hubbard and, after recording an out, walked Dale Murphy. A Larry Whisenton sac fly followed by a Biff Pocoroba double plated two runs and drove the Mets starter from the game. Craig Swan, rehabbing from a rotator cuff injury, finished up.

But by then in was New York 8, Atlanta 3. Valentine's two-run homer and a Washington solo shot made the final 10-4. Over and out.

The Mets' record stood at 27-21, the Braves at 27-20. After their 13-0 start, Atlanta' had won just 14 games while losing 20. The Mets, who started May at 10-11, had since gone 17-10.

Still, the arc of a baseball season is long and it bends towards talent, something Atlanta had in far greater abundance than New York.

Led by 1982 NL Most Valuable Player Murphy and a supporting cast that included Bob Horner, Chris Chambliss and 43-year-old knuckleballer Phil Niekro, who went 17-4, the Braves won the West with an 89-73 record.

The Mets finished a desultory 67-95, last in the East. Dave Kingman's 37 homers led the league, but his .204 batting average was the lowest ever for anyone who accomplished that feat.

Post-Game

The Memorial Day game was a full-blown father, mother, sister, brother nuclear family outing after which my parents -- in keeping with the theme of the day -- drove from Queens into Manhattan for dinner at Staub's restaurant, Rusty's.

Until we arrived, it hadn't occurred to me the ribs joint wasn't just popular with New Yorkers, but with the Mets themselves. The place was full of them. Pitchers Mike Scott, Tom Hausman, Jesse Orosco and Ed Lynch occupied a single table. I couldn't help but sneak glances in their direction, while a voice inside my head -- or maybe it was my mother -- reminded me that staring was impolite.

Waiting patiently outside the men's room...

Eventually, nature called and I made my way downstairs to the surprisingly small, single-occupancy men's room to take care of business. Once finished, I unlatched the door and found myself at eye level with the mid buttons of a silk shirt. I no longer recall if it was pink or gray, but it had an unmistakable sheen. Atop its buttons, above its collar was a familiar face, one I'd seen in that day's game program. It was the 6'-6" Lynch.

I stood, startled, staring, transfixed. "You're Ed Lynch," I stammered.

"That's right, I am." he replied.

"I was at the game today! You guys were great! I'm such a big fan! I..." Frankly, I've no idea what I actually said. At some point I stopped. At least I hope I did.

Then Lynch patiently asked, "Um... Can I get in there?"

Spell broken, we traded places. He shut the door and I scrambled back up the stairs to breathlessly tell my family about the encounter. I consciously avoid even furtive glances at Lynch's table. Finally, the check came, the bill was settled and my mother, my sister and I waited outside for dad while he got the car.

There we were, on the sidewalk, in front of the restaurant, in front of its big plate glass window, in full view of the pitchers.

"They're pointing at you and talking," my big sister said, maybe just teasing me. I didn't dare look.

-- Follow me on twitter @paperboyarchive