Hodges brought with him as his pitching coach an old
Brooklyn Dodgers teammate, Walker, then 43, the catcher
who called the fastball that Bobby Thomson hit for the
Shot Heard ’Round the World in 1951. Until ’68, only one
pitcher had ever made 30 starts in a season on four days’
rest—one more than norm then (Jim Maloney in ’63). But
to protect Seaver and Koosman, as well as up-and-comers
Nolan Ryan and Gary Gentry, Hodges and Walker used
their young starters in a groundbreaking five-man rotation
in ’68 and again for most of ’69.
Moreover, the coach instituted Walker’s Law: No Mets
pitcher was allowed to throw a baseball at any time, even
for a game of catch, without Walker’s permission. (Seaver,
Koosman and Ryan would combine to throw 14,008 in-
nings over 66 seasons; Gentry threw 902^2 / 3 in seven.)
Down the stretch in 1969, Hodges and Walker took the
reins off. Seaver and Koosman, sometimes pitching on
short rest, started 24 of New York’s final 56 games. TheMets went 20–4. They blew past a wheezing Cubs team
to win the division. By then Neil Armstrong had walked
on the moon and man needed a new boundary to cross. A
Mets world championship would do.
“[Tom] was moving toward superstardom, but you didn’t
get that vibe from him,” says Swoboda. “[First baseman
Donn] Clendenon would never have put up with it, anyway.
He was a clubhouse lawyer and eventually passed the bar.
Ron Taylor was an engineer working on a medical degree.
“We were a lot of different people. Guys from the South,
black guys, California guys, us East Coast guys who didn’t
know from s---. It was such a wonderful romp.”
In The New York Times in September, sportswriter Leon-
ard Koppett gauged the heart of this team better than an
EKG, noting that 22 Mets had at least some college educa-
tion and 21 of the 27 players used were between 21 and 28
years old. “As baseball teams go,” he wrote, “these Mets are
remarkably free of cliques and rivalries, and exceptionally
in tune with the larger world of their day.”
“A key figure in this respect is Tom Seaver, whose lead-
ership by example is regarded as a major force in the
club’s maturation. He is open, alert, lively, kidding ev-
eryone yet serious about his work, competitive and emo-
tional and natural. Such a man is an asset to any club,
but when he is also the most talented and effective player
the effect is magnified.”That guy believes in elves.
—Orioles third baseman BROOKS ROBINSON, before
Game 1, laughing at a writer who picked the Mets to beat
Baltimore in the World SeriesS
EAVER WOULD run every day between starts to
keep those hydraulic pistons that were his legs pumping
strong. But after he beat the Braves 9–5 in Game 1 of the
NLCS—in the first year of an extra round of the playoffs,
New York would complete a three-game sweep of Atlanta—
Seaver strained a leg muscle shagging flies and had to take
off three days from running before Game 1 of the World
Series. He lost 4–1 in Baltimore, allowing three runs in the
fourth inning.
“I just ran out of gas,” he said.
The Associated Press assigned a reporter to watch the
game in the stands with Nancy (“stylish green cap that
matched her pants suit”). “He had a good fastball but he
just didn’t have the curve,”
Nancy said. “And he must
be awfully hungry. We didn’t
have any breakfast because
the lines in the dining room
were too long.”
The reporter followed
Nancy back to her hotel room
and took note of how she
dabbed at her eyes with a tissue: “Any other 24-year-old
who so much resembles a Miss America and looks so vul-
nerable might have let the tears come. But Nancy Seaver
has too much poise.”
Seaver took the ball again in Game 4, on short rest, with
the Mets up 2–1. Near the dugout at Shea, so many auto-
graph seekers swarmed around Nancy (“brown knit pants
suit, no coat,” shivering as daylight expired) that the Mets
had to summon security to control the crowd.
Tom held a 1–0 lead in the ninth when Baltimore put
runners at first and third with one out. Hodges walked to
the mound in that slow Indiana gait, fists tucked into the
pockets of his jacket, with a grim, dark-eyed “wait-til-your-
father-gets-home-from-work” look your mother warned
you about. “If the ball is hit back to you, go to the plate if
you can,” Hodges told Seaver. “We want to stop that run
from scoring. How do you feel?”
“I’m running out of gas,” Seaver said, “but I still have
a few pitches left.” There was no way Hodges was taking
him out of the game.
Robinson, the All-Star who didn’t believe in elves,
smashed a line drive to rightfield. Swoboda broke toward it.
Each day Swoboda would work on his defense with coach
Eddie Yost. He never took fly balls. He always took line
drives and ground balls from 150 feet away—the hard stuff.
Teammates and coaches always kidded Swoboda about hisoda. “Guys from the South, black guys,
now from s---. It was such a wonderful romp.”