The other night, watching Mets Weekly, I saw a clip of Butch Huskey making the turn and heading for home against the Reds. The clock read 6:36, meaning he had homered in the first game of a twinight doubleheader. Searching my mental archive (and later confirming it via Retrosheet), I knew it had to have taken place in one of the more pivotal twinbills in Mets history.
The Mets beat the Reds in that opener 7-3. They took Cincinnati 5-3 in the nightcap. It was a sweep for the Mets on a brilliant May evening in 1998. This was about 40 games into the year that followed the uplifting 1997 season. We finished 14 games over .500 in '97 and were running with a winning record a quarter through '98.
Paid attendance: 15,558. To see the clip now and remember what it looked like then, that included a lot of no-shows. The scrappy Bobby Valentine Mets, succeeding on the field, were attracting very few from off it.
Three days later, they announced they were acquiring Mike Piazza. It wasn't a coincidence. He was what was needed to boost the franchise in the public consciousness, never mind the standings.
When Mike returns with San Diego in a couple of weeks, rest assured we'll be happily kissing his blue and orange ascent and calling it Breyers Ice Cream. The pleasure is ours. He gave us eight great years and there's not nearly enough good to say about him, starting with he was exactly the right man at the right time in the right position.
In 2006, that's Paul Lo Duca. He couldn't be less like Mike Piazza and, right now, that's fine. He's not better, he's just different — and he fits.
Mike's got pretty good power numbers in San Diego. He probably would have had them here. But Paul, with only three homers and barely thirty RBI, is better for now. We don't need a catcher to light up the marquee (or even Jason Marquis). We don't need a catcher to make us gasp in awe and grasp our Kleenex. We've got plenty of sluggers capable of producing plenty of drama. We need a catcher who's a catcher. And this guy is a catcher.
There was a play in Monday night's otherwise useless and annoying loss to the Cubs that almost made the whole thing worthwhile. Juan Pierre squibbed one in the Franco's Triangle between home, first and the mound. Lo Duca lunged, pounced and slung, beating Pierre — hustling all the way — to the bag by maybe one stitch on the ball. This came toward the end of an evening when we were reminded that Lo Duca's playing with a nasty ligament yet continues to hit and continues to throw and most of all continues to catch.
Mike Piazza played hurt. He was the strong, silent type. Paul Lo Duca plays hurt. We ache along with him. Paul does not keep it to himself. He makes no bones about being hurt, but he's decided to catch past it so we'll all feel OK. Willie's no dummy; he'll rest him one of every three days. But in the meantime, Paul plays and Paul lets it all hang out. The pounce of Pierre is just one example of how he lets us in to his game every step of the way. He may be strong, but he sure as hell isn't silent.
If this seems like revisionist history-I'll take Lo Duca-you keep Piazza, it ain't. Mike's place in the pantheon is secure. But it's hard to imagine that even if he were to reproduce his 15 Padre home runs as a ninth-year Met that this season would be this season with him and without Lo Duca. Mike's a legend here forever. Paul's the man in 2006.
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