The Miracle Boys of Summer

With age comes nostalgia.  In my mind, they will be forever young.  Even if you don't like baseball, please stick around for this story.

I grew up in the Bronx in the 1950's and 1960's.  The New York City I was born into had three major league teams.  The teams were the New York Yankees, the Brooklyn Dodgers and the New York Giants.

The year I was born, the Yankees played the Dodgers in the World Series, and the Yankees won. In fact, until 1959, the World Series featured at least one New York City team.  Sometimes both were New York City teams.

But by the time I was old enough to discover and start loving baseball, those days were over. As it happens, neither of my parents were baseball fans, but I managed to discover the sport.  Meanwhile,the Dodgers and the Giants fled New York City for California.  There was only one team left in town, the Bronx Bombers (nickname for the Yankees) and I became a Yankees fan.

In 1962, New York City gained a second team - the New York Mets.  Managed by the former Yankees manager Casey Stengel and populated with a combination of young players and players way past their prime (some of them from the Dodgers), they quickly gained the love of New York City fans.  Lovable, yes.  But champions they were not.

They were bad.  No, they were BAD.  Their first season, they won 40 games and lost 120. The second year they improved, winning 51 games (and losing 111).  For several years, they were mired in mediocrity, but the love of their fans never wavered.  And, during that time period, I abandoned the Yankees and turned to the New York Mets.  The Amazin' Mets.

Then, along came 1969.  In a series of what seemed to be miracles, the Mets started to win game after day (that year, they won 100 games) as the front runner Cubs faded.  The Mets united a city that seemed to be deteriorating daily.   My spouse was at the game where they won the pennant against the Braves.  I cheered from the classrooms I was attending as a high school senior.

Then, in one final miracle, they went to the World Series - and won in five games (the Series is a best four of seven).

This past weekend, the 1969 Mets were given the keys to the city by the Mayor.   It was a weekend of memories, a weekend of nostalgia.

It's been 50 years.  I am a senior citizen now and no longer a baseball fan.  But this brought me back to a special time.  I wish I could have been at Citi Field, but it wasn't all joy. The years have not been kind to all of the Miracle Mets, just as the years aren't necessarily kind to us.

Not all of  the 1969 Mets were there. Their manager, former Dodger Gil Hodges, died at the age of 47. Their general manager (Johnny Murphy) died in 1970.  One of their stars, Tommy Agee, died in 1981 at age 58.  Another, Tug McGraw (better known to many as Tim McGraw's father) died from brain cancer in 2004 at the age of 59 . Donn Clendenon, who became a lawyer after his playing days were over, is no longer with us.  Ed Charles died last year. 

Tom Seaver, the Hall of Fame pitcher, has dementia (he wasn't able to attend).  Eddie Kranepool recently had a kidney transplant.  

And there are those who are still active in their communities such as Cleon Jones, who was 26 when he played in 1969.  Now he is 86 and a community volunteer, still active in making where he lives in Alabama a better place for its residents.

A weekend of nostalgia over, we all return to everyday.  Time marches on, and we know there will be no 75th anniversary with the original players.  Time marches on.

But for this weekend, it was a chance to look back at our youth, our childhoods.