"They said it couldn’t be done.”

Rarely have so few words so perfectly captured the spirit of a moment, and the indomitable spirit of underdogs who never relinquished faith in their ability to defy the odds.

These were the words on a placard held up by a baseball fan known as “The Sign Man” for the world to see in the moments after the New York Mets recorded the final out of game five to win the Baseball World Series in 1969.

The hapless Mets were the laughing stock of baseball for the previous seven years.  In 1962, their debut season, they set a major league record for most losses in a season, 120, while finishing in last place.  It is a record that still stands today.

They continued to finish in last place or second to last place every subsequent season for the next six years.  In 1968, however, if one listened carefully, one could hear the faintest whispers of respectability.  They still finished in second to last place, but they only lost 89 games.  In addition, they had a very talented young pitching staff that was starting to turn heads, led by Tom Seaver and Jerry Koosman.

Nevertheless, at the start of the 1969 season they were 102 to 1 odds to win the World Series that year.  But something was in the air.  Sometimes there is a subtle foreshadowing that a miracle is in the works for those paying close attention, and that was the case with the Mets. 

Still, as late as August 13th, the Mets were in third place in the Eastern Division of the National League, ten games behind the first place Chicago Cubs.  If a miracle was going to happen for the Mets, it now appeared that it wouldn’t happen this year.  It seemed like the Cubs were destined for a serious championship run and a possible end to their long drought of not having won a World Series since 1908.  It was their time.  They were a talented and veteran team with future Hall of Famers Ernie Banks, Billy William, Ron Santo, and Ferguson Jenkins.

However, over the next four weeks, the Mets went on a torrid winning streak and moved into second place, closing the gap with the first place Cubs to 1 1/2 games by September 9th.  That night, the Cubs played the Mets at Shea Stadium, the Mets home field.  In the fourth inning of the game a black cat ran onto the field, stopped right in front of the Cubs dugout, looked into the dugout for a few moments, then ran under the stands.  This was an insignificant incident that went unnoticed by most, but little did the Cubs or the rest of the league realize that, in that moment their collective baseball fate was sealed.  The Mets went on to win the game 7-1 and pull within 1/2 game of the Cubs.

The next day, the Mets swept a doubleheader and the Cubs lost again.  As a result, the Mets moved into first place by a full game and never looked back.  From that fateful night of September 9th, until the end of the season, the Mets went 17-5, while the ill-fated Cubs went just 7-12.  The Mets finished the season in first place by eight games over the Cubs and won 100 games.  They were the Eastern Division champs, and no longer the laughing stock of baseball.

Back then, there were only two divisions in each league, and one five game playoff series in each league to decide the league championship. The winner in each league went on to play in the World Series.  The Mets made short order of the Atlanta Braves, winning three games straight to sweep the National League Championship series.  Once again, they disposed of a talented veteran team with multiple future Hall of Famers who were poised to make a serious run at the World Series.  The Braves were led by future Hall of Famers “Hammerin’ Hank” Aaron, knuckleball pitcher Phil Niekro, and Orlando Cepeda, but they were helpless to halt the Mets’ inexorable run to the World Series.

Now that they were league champions, the Mets would face the mighty Baltimore Orioles in the World Series.  Like the Mets’ previous two rivals, the Orioles were a veteran team with multiple future Hall of Famers in Frank Robinson, Brooks Robinson, and Jim Palmer.  However, they were the Mets’ most formidable and well-rounded opponent, yet.  They sported a powerhouse lineup, lights out pitching, and a stellar defense.

The Mets had their work cut out for them.  They compared well with the Orioles on pitching and defense, but their offense was no match for the hard-hitting Orioles lineup.  Much of the burden would fall on their young pitching staff who had no postseason experience prior to this year.  The lights would now be shining right on them on the largest baseball stage of them all.

The series began with the Orioles taking game one, 4-1, behind their ace pitcher Mike Cuellar.  He limited the Mets to one run and six hits.  Particularly disheartening to Mets fans, was the fact that the Orioles beat the Mets’ ace pitcher and eventual Cy Young award winner Tom Seaver.  For all appearances, it seemed like the baseball gods had come back to their senses and the series would play out the way all the sane prognosticators had predicted.

But the baseball gods are a stubborn lot and would not be easily deterred.  They were bent on demonstrating to the world that dominant pitching, stunning defense, and most of all, indomitable heart, will vanquish even the mightiest of foes.  So the Mets came roaring back with a vengeance in Game 2, behind a sterling pitching performance by Jerry Koosman.  He limited the hard-hitting Orioles to just two hits and one run.  Unfortunately, the Mets were also able to muster only one run through the first eight innings against the Orioles starter Dave McNally and  the score was tied at one going into the ninth inning.  

Up until this point, all the Mets firepower was provided by one of their two legitimate sluggers, Don Clendenon, who gave them an early lead with a solo home run in the fourth inning.  The gods do have a sense for the dramatic, though, and a keen understanding of the unquenchable human desire to cheer for underdogs, so it was now time for the unlikeliest of heroes to take center stage.  Light hitting Al Weis came to bat in the top of the ninth inning and hit a single to drive home Ed Charles with the eventual winning run.

Not to be outdone by Koosman’s pitching performance in game two, in game three neophyte Gary Gentry shut out the Orioles for 6 2/3 innings, limiting them to three hits.  Nolan Ryan completed the shutout by holding the Orioles scoreless for the final 2 1/3 innings.  The Mets center fielder Tommie Agee got them off to an early lead with a leadoff home run in the bottom of the first inning, but it was his defensive heroics that will be forever etched in World Series lore.

HIs first stupendous catch came in the top of the fourth inning.  The Orioles had runners on first and third with two outs when the batter, Elrod Hendricks, hit a drive to deep left-center field.  Agee made a running backhand catch on the warning track to save two runs.

In the top of the seventh inning the Orioles had the base loaded with two outs.  Paul Blair came to the plate and hit a line drive to the right-center field gap.  Agee made a sliding catch on the warning track to rob Blair.  All told, these two splendid catches saved as many as four or five runs.

Pitching once again shone for the Mets in game four, as Tom Seaver bounced back from his game one loss and held the Orioles to one run on six hits over ten innings.  Despite the performance, a sensational diving catch by Mets right fielder Ron Swoboda to save the game in the top of the ninth inning stole the show.  The image of Swoboda sprawled out as he caught the ball before it hit the ground is indelibly imprinted in the memories of all Mets fans.  The Mets went on to win the game in the bottom of the tenth inning on an Orioles’ error.

Al Weis was once again the unlikely hero in game five.  Up until this point, Weis had hit a grand total of six home runs in his entire career.  Now he came to bat to lead off the bottom of the seventh inning with the Mets trailing 3-2.  I imagine that the Orioles players weren’t aware that fate loves irony more than anything, so they must have been quite shocked when Weiss drove the ball deep over the left field wall for a tying home run.

The Mets took a 5-3 lead in the bottom of the eighth inning, and Koosman came in to pitch the top of the ninth and try to seal the victory.  When Cleon Jones clutched a fly ball to left field with both hands for out number three the Mets were World Series champs.  Don Clendenon was the World Series MVP, hitting three home runs and providing a good deal of the Mets meager offensive output.

The Amazin’ Mets’ Cinderella story captured the imagination of the country, including eight year old me.  I was an instant die hard Mets fan.  For my eighth birthday I asked for an authentic Mets uniform, with pinstripes and all.  I also got the number 22 to put on the back of the uniform, for my hero Don Clendenon.  For weeks I nagged my mother to sew the numbers on the back of my uniform, until she finally did.  It was the spring of 1970 and this began my lifelong love affair with baseball.

My love affair wasn’t just with the Mets.  I was enthralled with everything related to baseball.  I collected baseball cards, studied the statistics on the back of the cards, and became familiar with players around the league.  It was a wonderful era for baseball.  There were so many superstars for a child to idolize.  All-time greats such as Willie Mays, Hank Aaron, Frank Robinson, Willie McCovey, Roberto Clemente, and Ernie Banks were in the twilight of their careers, but there were many still in their prime, such as Willie Stargell, Pete Rose, Tony Perez, Bob Gibson, Steve Carlton and Ferguson Jenkins.

Then there were exciting young superstars just starting to reach their potential, like Tom Seaver, Johnny Bench, Rod Carew, Reggie Jackson, Noland Ryan, and Catfish Hunter.

My favorite players outside the Mets were Hank Aaron, Dick Allen, and Lee May.  My all-time favorite, though, was naturally a Met, and none other than the franchise himself, Tom “Terrific” Seaver.  For a decade Seaver thrilled and captivated baseball fans, and dominated opponents with his blazing fastball, devastating slider, and pinpoint control. 

I ate, drank, and slept baseball.  Once school was out, my brother and I, along with our friends on the block, played baseball on the street from sunup to dusk.  We played with a sponge ball the size of a regulation baseball.  We picked baseball teams from the major leagues, made up lineups using the actual players from the teams, and kept score.  At that young age we understood the nuances of diplomacy.  Since we were all Mets fans, we agreed that none of us would pick the Mets (realizing the impossibility of deciding who should have that honor).  I was usually the Cincinnati Reds, known as “The Big Red Machine”.  We used the real starting lineups of the teams, gleaned from the daily box scores, so I ended up knowing their lineup by heart.

We also decided on all the ground rules in advance, in order to avoid in-game disputes.  Any fly ball in the trees, even if it was technically in fair territory, was foul.  Same thing if a batted ball hit a parked car.  We still had our disputes, but by and large we were all mature enough to honor the prearranged rules.

Of course, I watched every Mets game religiously.  In 1973, I was thrilled by the real possibility of a second Mets miracle.  Once again, they overcame what seemed like an insurmountable late season hole they dug for themselves.  This time they found themselves in last place on August 14th, 8 ½ games out of first place.  Once again, they came storming from behind and went 30-14 the remainder of the season, primarily on the strength of dominant pitching and solid defense.  They clinched first place in the National League East Division on the second to last day of the season.  Like 1969, they defeated a formidable advisory (The Cincinnati Reds) in the National League Championship Series to advance to the World Series.  This time, however, they would not prevail in the World Series.  The Oakland Athletics proved too much for them and they lost in an epic seven game series.

I was eleven years old by that time, and as I grew older the magic of miracles became scarcer.  So did Mets championship runs.  By the end of the decade, the Mets were once again toiling in obscurity.  I would be a young adult before the magic returned to Shea Stadium in the form of a first baseman named Bill Buckner.  But that is for another story.