Around this time every year, as we contend with the snow and the cold here in the Great Northeast, I always warm my heart with the thought that pitchers and catchers report for Spring Training this week (and next). And I think back fondly to my favorite major league team of all time--the 1969 Mets.
Despite the problems they face both on and off the field now, the Mets of '69 were--for me, and I'm sure many others--a great heroes story, battling far more formidable foes with skill and dash and more than a little luck.
We had come upon the Mets because my Dad was an NY Giants fan, and the Mets of course take their DNA from the old Giants and the Brooklyn Dodgers (if you look at the old photos of Christy Mathewson and John McGraw you'll notice that they wore what we now recognize as the Mets NY insignia). We were also from Long Island, and what better team to root for than the Long Island (okay, Queens) team? We certainly weren't going to the Bronx.
But of course as we all know the Mets were pretty much terrible for those first several years, when expansion teams were constructed with the cast-offs from the better, established franchises.
But 1969 was special! The saga captivated me throughout the entire summer (the way baseball is supposed to), and while the thought of a post-season appearance was not likely, even in August, we just know something magical was going to happen.
I'm not going to retell the story of the entire season--far more eloquent writers than I have done that many times over. But I do want to point out two things about that resonate with me even now, and which I apply in how I manage my business.
The Mets succeeded that season largely because they had great, young pitching and a lot of breaks. But they had these two qualities as well:
1. Everybody was a role player--there were no Marquee Players, just journeymen, each of whom knew his job and how that job made him part of a larger entity;
2. They didn't know they were supposed to fail, so they had no self-consciousness.
The second point has always been particularly meaningful to me because I remember reading an interview with Don Clendenon, the Mets' veteran first baseman, shortly after they won the Series. He was asked what he thought, as a vet player, made this team so special and Don said, "They're too young to realize that they're not supposed to win. And I wasn't gonna tell 'em... ."
Ours is a small business, but the folks who work here do so with passion, team cooperation and that feeling that anything is possible. And I'm not gonna tell 'em otherwise.
