You name it, it’s my fault. In my house I get blamed for everything sports-related. Robby didn’t play high school lacrosse? My fault for raising him to be a baseball player. None of the boys get to root for Eli and the Giants in two weeks against the hated Pats? My fault for being a Jets fan. The whole family saddled with a lifetime of misery rooting for the Mets? My fault again — though I blame this one on my own dad, may he rest in peace.
Robby, Greg, Matt, and I exhaust a lot of our combined brain cells wondering how the
Mets can possibly be as abysmal as they are, year after year. Then, out of the blue, the answer came to me — via a chance e-mail our family friend Matt Heffernan sent to my son Matt, which referenced the blog OLD TIME FAMILY BASEBALL, which quotes from an article in The New York Times:
Mr. Met, history will show, was actually the Mets’ second mascot. Homer the beagle was the first. Trained by Rudd Weatherwax, who put multiple Lassies through their paces, Homer rooted on the Mets in 1962, their first season. Manager Casey Stengel hated him and refused to let the beagle sit on the Mets’ bench.
Homer was supposed to celebrate a Mets home run by running the bases at the Polo Grounds. According to Roger Angell’s book “Game Time,” Homer performed well in rehearsals, but in his first real test he touched first base and second, then took a detour and raced to center field. He had to be wrangled by “three fielders, two ushers and the handler,” according to the book.
Homer was fired.
So that’s it! Homer the Beagle (who seems to have had a lot in common with Ricky — does that unscripted detour to center field sound familiar?), fired after one season, to be replaced by that godawful, inane, wimpy Mr. Met! This exactly parallels the Red Sox selling Babe Ruth to the Yankees — and then failing to win a World Series for 86 years! It’s the Curse of the Bambino all over again!
Seriously, do you really think the Metsies would be this bad if Homer, or one his tribe, were patrolling things at Citi Field, instead of the current Mets’ macrocephalic mascot?
The good news is that I have a solution for this problem. I have a way to end the curse. I have the perfect successor to Mr. Met. But shhh — he’s napping right now . . .
But could the Mets afford him? I hear he’s pricey!
Hey, why all the Mr. Met negativity? He’s a classic, and thanks to ESPN resuscitating him, he actually makes the world see the Metsies as lovable (so at least we Mets fans have that going for us). Not that I wouldn’t like to see Ricky working at CitiField. And if there’s any validity to the curse theory (which may be the best explanation for the team’s history of bad luck and ineptitude), something should be done to exorcise it. But I still love Mr. Met – macrocephalic though he may be — and thanks to you, I now know a word I didn’t before!