In the Spring of 1967 I was in the Army and, having finished my workday about 9:30 in the evening, I went to the NCO lounge to get my usual generous helping of abuse from my fellow soldiers for being a Mets fan. For usually, when a Mets game was on the TV, this well- joshed fan was, well, joshed. Mercilessly. But not on this night, May 22. Rather, they were intent on the game a rookie pitcher was unfurling against the Dodgers -- the same Dodgers the Mets had lost to 71 in 90 games over the preceding five seasons.
And it wasn't just what he did on the mound; he also bunted across a run and stole a base, to become the Mets team leader in that category -- at two. At game's end he walked off the mound having allowed only 5 hits, 2 walks, striking out 7 in a 5-2 victory. One of the soldiers, in a state of total sobriety and with no trace of sarcasm in his voice, said to me, "It looks like you've really got someone there, Matty." I should have known better (remember "Golden Boy" Grover Powell), but deep inside I agreed with him. There was definitely something different about this young man, Tom Seaver.
19 seasons later, now a resident of Washington DC, I went to Memorial Stadium in Baltimore to watch #41 in a Red Sox uniform pitch against the Orioles. This match on September 8, 1986, was to be the last "Tom Seaver Game." After eight he had allowed one run on four hits with 6 Ks, and led 3-1. He was relieved after giving up singles to the first two batters in the ninth. You, if you remember Seaver's career with Mets, know what happened next. Yes indeed: a typical "Tom Seaver Game."
In the years between those two games, whether on radio, TV or at the ballpark, I rarely missed a game he pitched for the Mets (and endured the frustrations of picking up what I could of his games for Cincinnati). How many magnificent pitching performances I'd seen or heard. How little his career statistics reflect his excellence and his heart. And now, how little they really matter.
SF manager Bill Rigney probably put the experience of Tom Seaver best after watching him shut out his Giants on four hits: "I shouldn't say this from where I'm sitting, but I get the biggest kick out of watching that man throw a baseball."
In the end, when the final numbers of his career were tallied, none is at the very top of the list. Nevertheless, he was elected into the Hall of Fame by the largest percentage of the vote ever. After all, numbers may be the measure of your usual,garden- variety Hall of Fame pitcher. For Tom Seaver it is measured in the kick you got out of watching that man throw a baseball.