Where have you gone “Tom Terrific?”
A true hero of a generation retires from public life, marking the often depressing passing of time.
Nothing marks the passing of time quite like watching its effects on those you remember from your youth. It literally defines your age and generation far more than clothing or hair styles, or any wrinkles in your skin or graying of your temples. All the Viagra in the world can’t reverse this inevitable trend.
The other day I was teaching a class, and in passing I mentioned how saddened I was to see that my favorite sports star of all time, the hero of my youth, the great Tom Seaver had announced to the world through his family that at the age of 74 he was being forced to retire from public life due to the fact that he now was suffering from dementia. Literally nobody in my class knew who he was, which was then followed by a consensus shared by many in the room that in fact, “Baseball sucks! oh and, sorry to hear about that.” While I could rant and rave about these “punks” today, I’d rather discuss all that was good about Tom Seaver, the Mets of my youth, and what he meant to those of us who grew up in the metropolitan area in the early to mid-1970s.
The consummate photo of Tom Seaver pitching for the New York Mets in his prime. The drive, the determination, and of course the ubiquitous knee getting dirty on the mound, the sign you knew he was really working hard. He was all hips, and it was those hips that provided the power behind that Hall of Fame career. (New York Times)
If you grew up on Long Island or in the metropolitan area from 1967 through 1977, and you weren’t enamoured with all things New York Yankees, then I can’t imagine you weren’t completely enraptured by the great George Thomas Seaver. Tom Seaver is the reason that the Mets went from lovable losers, to “Miracle” Mets in 1969. His determination to win, coupled with an utter disdain for losing caused him to forever sever the idea that there was something lovable about the fact that the Mets would lose every season. In essence, Seaver arrived in the Mets locker room as a rookie in 1967 and wondered aloud what was so lovable about losing? From that time on, losing never became acceptable in the New York Mets locker room again. (Not that they haven’t lost a lot of games since then, but at least nobody’s accepting it. Well maybe Bobby Bonilla did.)
Seaver went on to win the Rookie-of-the-Year award, and by his third season in 1969, the so-called “Miracle” Mets shocked the world and won their first (of two) World Series championships. Seaver became a legend pitching for the Mets, and would win three Cy Young Awards, and lead the Mets to the 1973 World Series where they lost to the Oakland A’s. Seaver’s career with the Mets was essentially an accident since he was originally drafted by the Atlanta Braves. However, due to something called the “Rule V draft,” a rule that every Mets fan worth his salt is aware of, but couldn’t explain it if you put a gun to their spouses head, Seaver became a Met, and to bitter New Yorker’s who pined for their dearly departed Giants and Dodgers, Seaver represented a type of sports hero that seemed to be disappearing in the hippie-dippie days of the late 1960s and early ’70s.
Despite pitching during the turbulent ’60s and swinging ’70s, Tom “Terrific” never let his hair grow long, or sport any facial hair. About the only concession Seaver made in regards to the changing times and mores was to let his sideburns get a little shaggy. Don’t get too excited, so did my father the Jewish accountant named Seymour. Hey when it comes to sporting a look whether you’re Tom Seaver or Seymour Hoffman, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. (Getty Images)
It’s hard to explain to younger people today what Tom Seaver represented to his fans. Many have heard the Billy Crystals of the world, those who grew up in New York City and its surrounding areas in the 1050s wax poetic about the great Mickey Mantle and what he meant to their childhood. People used to name their children “Mickey” after the beloved Mantle. Unlike the aloof and too cool for school Joe DiMaggio who predated Mantle in centerfield for the omnipotent Yankees, Mantle was the all-American boy. He was Jack Armstrong come to life, the “Commerce Comet.” His story was made even more dynamic by his background growing up amongst the silver mines of Oklahoma. His story included a beloved father who died of cancer just as Mantle had arrived in the major leagues, debilitating injuries that cost him statistical immortality, and his uncanny talent made him almost a God to Yankee fans all over New York City, New Jersey, and the surrounding suburbs, as the Yanks won championship after championship.
However, as is always the case, the Yankees success, dating all the way back to the 1920s and Babe Ruth finally came to an end, and Mantle turned out to be all too human both on and off the field. The real Mantle was not the all-American boy, but a party boy, who often arrived hung over at the stadium, who failed to take care of his fragile body, and would eventually drink himself to death while only in his 60s. By the time I was conscious of what was what, Mantle had retired, the Yankees were in the grips of the Horace Clarke era, the South Bronx looked like Beirut in the 1980s, and the Mets were the toast of the town. Their poster boy was a stocky kid with a big smile, married to his beautiful wife Nancy, and the epitome of the professional athlete. Seaver was a proud spokesman for a franchise in its ascendency. Tom Seaver set an example on and seemingly off the field that every parent would encourage their child to emulate.
“The Mick,” was a hero to an entire generation of New Yorkers who grew up believing that the best team in baseball should have the best player. Mantle’s talent was without bounds, however his liver wasn’t quite up to the challenge that Mantle put before it, and he was never quite comfortable in the role of infallible hero that he had been anointed with. (New York Times)
Seaver never shrunk from his responsibilities as the spokesperson for his team. He never dodged an interview, often appearing on the classic show Kiner’s Korner after games he pitched, even if he lost. Despite his great career which included 300 wins, and a first-year of eligibility induction into the Baseball Hall of Fame, Seaver often experienced hard luck. Several times he pitched into the 9th inning with the Mets sporting a no-hitter as well as a perfect game, but disappointingly, he would give up a hit, and would not get his no-hitter until he ended up with the dreaded Cincinnati Reds. While Seaver won 311 games in his career, he probably could have won at least 25 more if the Mets could ever muster together a couple of hits. Seaver lost a host of games 1–0 and 2–1, or ended up with no-decisions thanks to the “Judy and Judy” attack the Mets sported throughout most of his career in New York.
Despite these frustrations you would never hear him complain or point fingers. When he lost his perfect game in the 9th inning in 1969 to a scrub named Jimmy Qualls on the Chicago Cubs, Seaver said that it was an important game so he was glad the team got the win. If he lost 2–1 or 1–0, he would point out how he failed to do his job, and it was his fault the team lost. He possessed a blazing 95 mile per hour fastball that he could throw past anybody whenever he needed to. He also sported a nasty slider that could buckle opposing hitters knees, and he seemed able to place his pitches on the black of the plate just below the knees, or anywhere else he wished. If you didn’t get to him by the second inning, you most likely weren’t going to score the rest of the game. Unlike today’s pitchers with their feeble pitch-counts, Seaver was angry at himself if he didn’t finish what he started. He once struck out 10 batters in a row, and 19 in one game. As he got older and couldn’t throw as hard, he learned to be a control pitcher and while he wasn’t quite as dynamic, he remained successful, and a dominant pitcher well into his late 30s.
Seaver versus the Oakland A’s in the 1973 World Series. Seaver struggled just enough in game six allowing the A’s to tie up the series and win it in game seven. Reggie Jackson stated after game six that Seaver wasn’t his usual dominant self. It’s most likely that he was exhausted having carried the franchise the entire season on route to his second Cy Young Award as the best pitcher in the National League that year. (You Tube)
Seaver remained dominant throughout the 1970s, but relations between he and the Mets ownership began to sour as the team continued to flounder. Legendary sportswriter Dick Young of the Daily News wrote that Seaver was trying to break his contract and force the Mets to pay him more money. This was a time when newspapers actually mattered, and a popular sportswriter like the acerbic Dick Young could make things every difficult for New York athletes. Young was notably anti-player and pro-owner, a company man as my father used to say. Seaver was furious, and demanded a trade. In an event that I will always remember, and in many ways, the day my childhood ended. I woke up on the morning of June 15, 1977, and raced downstairs to see if the Mets had traded Seaver as had been rumored. I asked my father to leave me a note since I couldn’t stay up late enough to see if indeed Seaver had been traded. When I read his note, I was convinced he was busting my hump. I couldn’t believe what I had read. The Mets had unceremoniously shipped “Tom Terrific,” “The Franchise,” to the hated Cincinnati Reds in exchange for essentially the baseball equivalent of a Hydrox cookie.
Actually, the Reds sent the Mets every player they seemed eager to get rid of including Doug Flynn, a second baseman who couldn’t hit his IQ, Pat Zachary, a beanpole of a pitcher who once after getting taken out of a game was so angry, he slammed his pitching hand on the top of the dugout and broke it essentially ending his career, Steve Henderson, a decent hitting outfielder who I once saw hit a game-winning three-run home run off of Goose Gossage when he was pitching for the Pittsburgh Pirates, and Dan Norman, a player best described as a “never was.” As long as we are reminiscing about Mets mismanagement, I should add that the team also traded its most exciting player, Dave “King Kong” Kingman in exchange for a pitcher named Paul Siebert, a player who..ah never mind, and in a bit of irony, Bobby Valentine, who would later manage the Mets to the World Series against the Yankees, where of course they lost. However, the thought of Seaver in a Reds uniform had me so despondent, I almost refused to show up for my Bar Mitzvah 10 days later. Lord, how could you have forsaken me??
A sight so unnatural, it’s like having pasta or french fries on your pizza. It’s so unholy, you wish you could somehow un-see what you’ve just observed. (You Tube)
The Mets would eventually bring Seaver back as they attempted to resurrect their long moribund franchise. Despite now being in his 17th season, he managed to pitch well, although the Mets, as always never missing a beat, didn’t hit at all for him. The next season, the Mets in a front office snafu lost him to the Chicago White Sox where he would win his historic 300th game. Interestingly, when the Mets won their second World Series Championship in 1986, Seaver was on the Boston Red Sox roster, but was injured and couldn’t pitch, (Thank God!) and his career finally came to an end.
Seaver would go on to become a broadcaster, and occasionally would show up at Shea Stadium and make appearances, including a historic one on the day the Mets played their last game at their long-time home field along with Mike Piazza to a prolonged standing ovation. Eventually though Seaver, always a California boy would purchase a winery, and retire from his baseball life so he could focus on his beloved wine-making.
Seaver made an appearance at Citi Field in 2013 to throw out the first pitch at the All-Star game, a game started ironically by the latest so-called heir-apparent to Seaver, Matt Harvey. At 68, “The Franchise” still looked pretty robust. (New York Times)
It was actually feared a few years ago that Seaver was already suffering from dementia, but it was dismissed as a side effect from Lyme Disease. Sadly, it turns out that indeed he was suffering from dementia, and has now retired from public life.
As I’ve gotten older, it seems that more and more the heroes that I once held dear are aging, becoming sickly and ultimately passing away. It reminds you of something none of us need to be reminded of. We all age, and if we’re lucky, we get to live 70 or 80 years in relative good health, and those we used to look up to or even idolize are not exempt from this eventuality. Hearing that Tom Seaver has dementia is yet another sign of our lost youth, and the enjoyment as well as the distraction following a Tom Seaver and seeing him dominate the competition for your favorite team, thereby giving them legitimacy at least once every four or five days, made the sometimes rocky experience that childhood can be just a little smoother.
While I don’t believe that Seaver partied quite like Mickey Mantle, and he was as I mentioned before a true stand-up guy, nobody is without sin. He was known to be arrogant, dismissive, and somewhat of a jerk to deal with, and he most certainly didn’t suffer fools. Still, he gave the game he loved and the fans who loved him all that one could ask, and he represented everything that truly is great about sports, particularly baseball. Unfortunately, it would appear that in the 9th inning of life, “Tom Terrific” is once again being felled by another one of life’s “Jimmy Qualls.”