I’ve been saying it for over a year to anyone who would listen: David Wright should be paid off big time to stay in Flushing and be named the captain of the New York Mets. Over the offseason, the front office took care of the first part. As a fan of the team who has seen far too many blunders by management, this was far from certain all along, especially after watching them let Jose Reyes walk the season before. But late last week, the ballclub finally made that other half of my statement happen when they anointed him as the fourth captain in the franchise’s history, following Keith Hernandez, Gary Carter and John Franco.
Earning the captain’s “C” is a little different in baseball than in other sports in that it is so rarely awarded. As it is now, only three people in the majors can claim the honor (Paul Konerko of the White Sox and the Yankees’ Derek Jeter being the other two). In baseball you really have to be the guy to be given the title, and for Mets fans, no one has deserved it more for quite some time than Wright.
Why is it so meaningful to have the all-star third baseman as our captain? Simply put, after seemingly a lifetime of agony, no one is better suited to lead us Mets fans out of the darkness and back into glory. First, to grasp how far out of the abyss Wright has to pull our tortured souls, it must be understood exactly what we poor fans have been through since our last World Series title in 1986.
After we win that championship, our ace pitcher, Doc Gooden, gets busted for cocaine before getting to even start in 1987. Our superstar hitter, Darryl Strawberry, who should have had a Hall of Fame career, became more associated with alcohol addiction and spousal abuse than home runs and runs batted in. We then lose the 1988 NLCS to the Dodgers, despite going 10-1 against them in the regular season.
Enter the Jeff Torborg/Dallas Green era in the early-90s, where we finish no closer than 18.5 games back of first place at season’s end. Great fun that was.
In 1998, much to our delight, we land Mike Piazza and gain some hope. In the meantime, the hated cross-town Yankees rip off three championship seasons by the end of the decade and smother all of our faces in it during our daily lives.
Then there’s 2000: one of the many “rock bottom” moments. The Mets somehow make it to the World Series against the Yankees with arguably the worst starting outfield in Series history, we lose game one in 12 innings after Armando Benitez blows a lead in the ninth, Clemens assaults Piazza with a deadly weapon in game two, and are obliterated by game five. That night, Mets fans ponder if it would just be easier to collectively jump off the Verrazano Bridge rather than deal with Yankees fans the next day…and week…and month…and year…and decade.
Let us please not forget the Armando Benitez era. I’ve never seen a guy make so many ho-hum saves against Florida and Montreal, only to blow every game under the sun against the Braves and Yankees. The guy had like 50 saves a season, but the only thing he’s remembered for are the blown ones. That, and having the worst entrance music ever. Mariano Rivera comes out to Metallica. Benitez came out to Baha Men. Who do you think was going to have more success?
Art Howe announces on local TV in 2004 that our one identifiable star (Piazza) will switch from catcher to first base without even telling him. Without exaggeration, I literally found out that Piazza was going to switch to first before he did.
Two years later, with a reloaded roster including David Wright, we lose the NLCS in seven games to a mediocre Cardinals team that squeaked into the playoffs. Let’s not forget Carlos Beltran staring at strike three to end it all.
In 2007, we blow a seven-game division lead with 17 games left to play (which has never been done before) on the last day of the season to Philadelphia, a city we despise almost as much as Boston. Do you know how difficult it is to do that? You almost have to try to blow that lead. To make matters worse, a crappy Marlins team is the one that nails the coffin shut. This two week period was a special kind of torture that I would put up against any extended stretch in sports history.
Think lightning doesn’t strike twice? The very next season, we do practically the same division lead-blowing routine in the last couple of weeks, to the same Phillies team, getting finished off against the same crappy Marlins team, in the same circumstance on the last day of the season. Seriously, could the best screen writer in L.A. have even thought that one up? And what kind of sick nut who makes the schedule gives us the Marlins again as the last series of the regular season? Oh yeah, we had to watch the Phillies win the World Series a month later.
Over the past two seasons, we have Jose Reyes win the batting title and R.A. Dickey win the Cy Young award, neither of which would return the following year.
Which brings us to the present. Obviously, the Mets are not ready to contend just yet, but there is upside. They’re a young team with a lot of talent carrying potential to do great things in the not too distant future. That’s where David Wright comes in.
This ballclub will need a leader, someone still in his prime but who has been to hell and back for the men in blue and orange. They’ll need a guy with the charm and charisma who has proven to handle New York, but with the courage and resolve to overcome its adversity. No one is more capable than number five. A slight alteration of the famous Star Wars quote says it all in how us Mets fans feel: helps us David Wright, you’re our only hope.
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