6: The Shoe Polish Incident

(This is the second installment in an ongoing series at Y2K focusing on topics raised in Matthew Silverman's "100 Things Mets Fans Should Know & Do Before They Die". Today's installment? Number 6: The Shoe Polish Incident.)

Why 6? Two reasons: one, Street; two, because the '06 season was the greatest season I ever followed, and the first I ever followed as a blogger.

On a scale of 1-to-10, necessity of knowing or doing before you die? 9.

An essential element of Mets fandom is a belief in miracles. If that sounds naive, well, it would have sounded naive to believe the Mets could win a game they were trailing by two runs with no one on and two men down in their last at-bat.

Indeed, the entire history of the Mets hinges upon the twin pillars of endless disappointment and improbable elation. The team's motto, "Ya Gotta Believe," hinges upon the idea that anything is possible; the team's history implores you to keep your expectations in check.

It's a dichotomy that extends all the way back to the earliest years of the franchise. The first decade of Mets history is a study in horrific play. In their first four seasons, the team's best winning percentage was .327 (1964). In 1968, the team went 73-89, easily the best mark in club history to that point.

Then 1969 happened. And 100 wins happened. An improbable World Series title over a heavily favored opponent happened. And the idea that nothing was impossible, that no situation, no matter how bleak, was irreversible, implanted itself in the DNA of Mets fans.

In some respects, it's the only ethos that could ever make sense for the Mets. Born from the demise of two prior New York National League franchises, the Mets inherited the hope and the heartbreak of millions of disenfranchised New York sports fans.

Many of those earliest Mets fans, former fans of the Brooklyn Dodgers or New York Giants, had overcome improbable odds to find some satisfaction in a new National League team.

The ghosts of those organizations endured. The Dodgers and Giants never enjoyed the success the Yankees did, and the Mets haven't either since picking up where those clubs left off.

What the Mets have enjoyed are cathartic moments of triumph aided by improbable moments of chance and fate. And the first such moment, Silverman suggests, is The Shoe Polish Incident in the '69 World Series.

For a Mets fan my age, 1969 is a bit of a funny thing. I don't remember 1986, but I feel ownership over it. I remember Doc, I remember Straw. These were the guys that defined the earliest years of my Mets fandom.

1969 has always been a relic. The only players I knew from that team and that era were the immortals (Tom Seaver, Nolan Ryan), the retired numbers (Seaver, Gil Hodges), and those that went on to be coaches or managers with the Mets later in life (Buddy Harrelson).

I'd always heard of The Shoe Polish Incident, but only in a distant kind of way. It'd kind of be like having heard of the Buckner play, knowing what happened, but having no concept of Ray Knight coming around third to score the winning run.

I had no idea it was the bottom of the 6th inning in Game 5, or that the Mets were trailing 3-0 at the time. Hell, I didn't even know it was Cleon Jones that got hit (I'd always thought it was Tommy Agee). I certainly never knew that "The next man up, Donn Clendenon, homered off the auxiliary scoreboard in left, and it was a 3-2 game" (Silverman, p. 17).

Two innings later the Mets would take a 5-3 lead. Three outs later, the Mets would be World Champions.

I never had any idea of any of that. I'm glad I do now.

- A.F.O.M.G.