Watching history from New Hampshire

Johan, in April

My father called during the seventh inning. I was up in New Hampshire, sitting in the living room of my college roommate's lakehouse after the four of us -- my wife, Bryan, his partner and me -- had returned from dinner. We were settling in to watch Lions for Lambs, a 2007 drama with Meryl Streep, Tom Cruise and Robert Redford (who also directed) that I had never heard of.

"Are you in New Hampshire?" he asked, checking up on our itinerary, I figured. "Have you checked in on the Mets at all tonight?"

I didn't get where he was going at first. "I saw Duda homered and they were up like 5-0," I said.

"Yeah. Well, Johan's through seven now, too. The Mets have the bases loaded ..." And then he went on to explain what the Mets had done in the bottom of the seventh. But I didn't care about that anymore.

"Oh! Right!" I said, cutting him off. "We're about to watch a movie, but I'll watch the game online."

"I didn't want to jinx it, so I wasn't going to say anything. But your mother" -- of my parents, she's the bigger Mets fan -- "said I should call you."

"No, she's right," I replied. After a few more words, we hung up and I pulled out the iPad. "Commercial break in progress," it said. We were heading to the top of the eighth.

Bryan stoked the fire and started the movie. I pulled out headphones and put them halfway in my ears, trying to follow the beginning of the movie in between Gary, Keith and Ron describing the game, commenting on history in the making.

One, two, walk, three -- Johan Santana was through eight, becoming the first Mets pitcher to take a no-hitter into the ninth since Tom Seaver in September 1975. He was, in fact, just the second person to take a no-hitter into the ninth for the Mets, because Seaver's three instances were the only other occasions.

But the pitch count is high -- 122 -- especially for a veteran coming off shoulder surgery and a year rehabbing. His spot in the lineup comes up in the eighth, and he strides to the plate, getting a closeup view of six pitches, then walking back to the dugout. The Mets are retired, and it's on to the top of the ninth.

I haven't been following the game, so I know nothing of Mike Baxter's amazing catch or Carlos Beltran's apparent hit down the left-field line ruled foul. I don't know how many balls have been hit hard or how many plays have saved hits, even in the early innings when anything beyond routine is just a nice play, not a history-saving highlight. I don't even know where the Cardinals are in their lineup, having spent the eighth half-watching, half-following the movie. But now I'm all-in; the earbuds are shutting out the dialogue on the TV. I'm not about to take my attention away from the game to see who is due up, so I just take it one batter at a time. It's probably better that way.

Matt Holliday is first, and I only have a moment to ponder how dangerous he might be before he swings at the first pitch and sends what at first looks like a soft, looping line drive into shallow center field. Well, that's it, I think. But it's not, it's out No. 25, hanging up long enough for Andres Torres to jog in and make an easy catch. I haven't watched baseball in a week; my judgement on fly balls off the bat is a little off.

Up comes Allen Craig. He's not a superstar, maybe even not quite a regular yet -- his biggest moments in last year's World Series came as a pinch-hitter -- but he's still young. Maybe he'll become an All-Star. Maybe he'll be a bit better than Jim Qualls. But his anonymity relative to the hitters on either side of him worries me. But on a 2-2 pitch, he flies out to Kirk Nieuwenhuis in left field.

Two outs. One more to go.

And it's David Freese. Uh-oh. Last year's NLCS and World Series MVP. The guy who is no stranger -- and apparently has no fear of -- pressure. A guy who quit baseball because he wasn't motivated, then came back to it and became an October hero. Santana falls behind immediately, then deeply -- three straight balls. And Yadier Molina's on deck -- the guy who drove Baxter into the wall in the seventh, the guy who kept the Mets from the World Series in 2006. Double uh-oh.

But Johan doesn't give in. He gets a called strike on a fastball on the inside corner -- though he probably could've asked Freese where he wanted it, and still Freese would've watched it go by. Then Johan goes back to the changeup, though this late in the game, on his 133rd pitch, his 80-mph changeup is only 6 mph slower than the fastball on the previous pitch. Freese swings and gets a piece -- but not enough, fouling it off. There's really little doubt as to what pitch is coming next: A changeup. Diving toward the dirt. No chance it's a strike, unless -- YES! Freese swings and misses! Strikeout! No-hitter! History!

Sitting there in a New Hampshire cabin, I softly hiss, "YESSS!!" and raise my hands above my head and clap three times. Everyone in the room jumps. Casey, who's used to this kind of thing from me, explains to the guys, "Yeah, this is what happens." I smile, my heart pounding as I watch the celebration on the screen, and apologize, explaining the significance of what just happened. They're not big sports fans, though they do follow the Red Sox and attend an occasional game. But they humor me with "Wow" and "That's cool" comments.

A flurry of texts and tweets with my mom and a few friends follow as I watch the interviews online. It's Mom -- who has followed the Mets from the beginning, or close to it, who probably enjoys it more than any of us -- who had the misfortune of being away from home with no MLB.TV account to follow it, and no sympathetic bartenders in the Philadelphia area who thought to switch off the Phillies game or whatever NBA playoff game was on one of the half-dozen TVs. You'd think they'd turn one of them to MLB Network or SNY (if they have a sports package) just so they could root for the inevitable hit, another close call for Mets fans.

But that hit never came. From the moment my dad told me what was happening, I knew I had to be watching through the last out. I don't know if it was just a hidden sense of this is finally it or the detachment from baseball I'd had all week along the Maine coast, where the only baseball I watched was the Red Sox game, if it was on in the bar. I think it was more that I didn't have a chance to think ahead, to predict when the hit would come, or to dread it's arrival. I guess it seemed fitting that it would happen when I was away from home -- away from work -- and not fully invested in the day-to-day of the Mets, or any baseball.

And I'm glad we don't subscribe to the events-that-shall-not-be-named theory. Not mentioning a no-hitter in progress is for the dugout. Maybe for the ballpark, if you're in the stands and want to play along. But somewhere along the way, back when the streak was in the 7,000s, I decided that approach hadn't worked for 40-something years of Mets history, so maybe another approach would.

This time, it did. And of course it would be Johan Santana to do it -- though I had started to believe that it had been so long that the first no-hitter in Mets history would be pitched by someone like Chris Schwinden, someone who would turn out to be a journeyman, with no chance of having his uniform number join Seaver's on the wall. (No offense to Schwinden, but his recent waiver acquisition by the Blue Jays makes him an apt and recent example.)

I woke up on Saturday morning with that familiar feeling of not knowing where I was, which often happens after the first night in a new bed. The rain on the roof reminded me I was in the loft of a cabin on Lake Winnipesaukee, and then I remembered what had happened the night before. It wasn't yet 8 a.m., but I reached for the iPad and pulled up MLB.com's extensive coverage, starting with the game story and working my way through every other link on the page. I learned about Beltran's near-hit and watched Baxter's catch again and read every word. History was made and I got to watch it and nothing else mattered at that moment than being a Mets fan.

The Astros in the AL may not be a new idea

 

Lance Berkman may not like the plan to move the Astros to the American League, but the team's current owner is OK with the switch. And back in 1960, the ownership group that brought Major League Baseball to Houston didn't care which league it was placed in; they just wanted a team.

From The New York Times, Oct. 17, 1960:

The Houston Sports Association, of which [George] Kirksey is the executive secretary, is a twenty-man group. No city is better prepared to introduce big league baseball than is Houston, Kirksey said.

"We have everything ready," he said. "We even have a model of the stadium that will be built once the franchise is ours. We have been planning for four years to go big league. Until about ten days ago, we didn't care whether it was the National League or the American League. But the National League moved faster and with greater sureness, and that's the way we now are committed."

Braves history, give or take 90 years

Similar to the issue I have with the Newark Bears' "incorporation" date, I'm a little bit against the patch on the new alternate jerseys the Braves unveiled this week.

The Braves, of course, were established in 1876 (when the National League formed) in Boston. They were known as the Red Stockings, Beaneaters, Doves and Rustlers until 1912, when they adopted the Braves moniker and stuck with it save for a five-year shift to Bees from 1936-40. They moved to Milwaukee in 1953 and stayed for 13 seasons, all as the Braves. Then, in 1966, they relocated to Atlanta, and it's that year that these uniforms are meant to commemorate.

My problem with the patch is that it says 1876 and "Atlanta Braves." But, of course, the team wasn't in Atlanta in 1876. That pairing just isn't accurate to me. (And the 1966 unis had a much different shoulder patch, but that's another issue.) I suppose a solution would be pairing 1876 and "Braves Baseball" or simply "Braves," but the team just didn't see it that way.

Jim Qualls vs. Tom Seaver

Part of my 2011 Christmas haul

I finally watched the recent episode of Studio 42 with Bob Costas in which he sat down with Tom Seaver up in Cooperstown to talk about Tom Terrific's career. There was some great stuff in there, particularly Seaver's opinion of the use of today's pitchers. But he also talked about his "imperfect game" in 1969. When asked about Jim Qualls, who got the lone hit -- who was the only baserunner -- in that game, Seaver said he'd never faced the guy before, and he wasn't sure if he'd ever faced him after that.

So of course I had to look it up. I went to Baseball Reference's Play Index and drew up all of Qualls' appearances against Hall of Fame pitchers:

	PA	AB	H	2B	3B	HR	RBI	BB	SO	BA	OBP	SLG	OPS	SH	SF	IBB	HBP	GDP	missG
Tom Seaver	6	6	1	0	0	0	0	0	0	.167	.167	.167	.333	0	0	0	0	0
Don Sutton	6	6	2	0	0	0	0	0	0	.333	.333	.333	.667	0	0	0	0	0
Bob Gibson	4	4	0	0	0	0	0	0	0	.000	.000	.000	.000	0	0	0	0	0
Don Drysdale	2	2	0	0	0	0	0	0	0	.000	.000	.000	.000	0	0	0	0	0
Juan Marichal	2	2	0	0	0	0	0	0	1	.000	.000	.000	.000	0	0	0	0	0
Gaylord Perry	2	2	1	0	0	0	0	0	0	.500	.500	.500	1.000	0	0	0	0	0
Catfish Hunter	1	1	0	0	0	0	0	0	0	.000	.000	.000	.000	0	0	0	0	0
Phil Niekro	1	1	0	0	0	0	0	0	0	.000	.000	.000	.000	0	0	0	0	0

Provided by Baseball-Reference.com: View Play Index Tool Used
Generated 12/28/2011.

Not much there. The hit in the ninth against Seaver on July 9, 1969, was Qualls' only one against The Franchise, and he had only three other hits -- of 31 in his career -- off future Hall of Famers. Seaver wasn't sure if he'd faced Qualls outside of that game, but he did, the following week in Chicago. Seaver allowed five hits and a walk and lost, 1-0. Qualls went 0-for-3.

But back to 7/9/69 -- how unlikely was Qualls' hit against Seaver? Qualls' career was so brief (144 plate appearances in three seasons, spread over four years with three teams) that he has no comparables on Baseball Reference. And a search of other players with 130-150 career PA and an OPS under .600 (Qualls' was .540) mostly gives you pitchers. So a present-day comparison might be Argenis Reyes -- or any number of pitchers -- breaking up a Justin Verlander perfecto with two outs to go. Or, from the last perfect game in the Majors, Roy Halladay against the Marlins in May 2010, the equivalent might be Bryan Peterson getting the hit in the ninth to spoil perfection.

Perfection is not easy -- duh -- and though the Mets one day will pitch a no-hitter (they have to, right?), there's no telling if any of us will see a perfect game from the Amazin's anytime soon. If anyone was going to do it, it probably would've been Seaver against those Cubs in the summer of '69, just one week before Apollo 11 launched for the Moon.

What I didn't know about the DH

I know a lot about baseball. I'm not saying that to brag, just as a piece of background information. I'm not claiming to be all-knowing or a trivia savant (off the top of my head, I can't tell you who won the 1962 AL Cy Young Award or '63 World Series), but I do have a firm grasp of a lot of history, especially that which took place since I was born in 1976.

But this one stunned me: The designated hitter, introduced in '73, wasn't used in the World Series until 1976, and then only in alternating years -- regardless of ballpark -- through '85. I learned this from a Joe Posnanski post written nine days ago that I only read today. (Some of the numbers he has in there are interesting.) So yeah, even in '73, the first year of the DH, when the Mets opened the Series in Oakland, starter John Matlack took a turn at bat (and walked). And in '76, when Cincinnati hosted Games 1 and 2, Lou Piniella and Elliot Maddox of the Yankees and Dan Driessen of the Reds stood in at bat for the pitchers.

So the first National League park to experience the DH -- something that has been offered up as a way to spice up Interleague Play, by swapping the DH rule -- was Riverfront Stadium in '76, and Dodger Stadium ('78), Veterans Stadium ('80), Busch Stadium ('82) and Jack Murphy Stadium ('84) followed suit. The 1985 World Series was the last no-DH Fall Classic, and the Mets' win over the Red Sox was the first to use the current format, which uses the rules of the league of the home team.

This is fascinating to me. In 1973, when the American League -- back when the leagues were truly separate entities -- altered its rules to have a designated hitter for the pitcher, Major League Baseball decided (or refused?) that this affront to the game could not be used to decide that year's champion. It took four seasons before it was allowed. And then, when MLB decided to allow it in the Series, it chose to do so arbitrarily, alternating its use by year, just as it did with home-field advantage back then. However, it implemented the DH rule opposite the American League's home-field schedule. That is, it began use of the DH in the World Series in '76, a year in which the National League team would host Games 1, 2, 6 and 7. Why it was decided to use the DH throughout the Series or not at all for the first 10 years, instead of based on the home team in each game, is a curious choice, for sure -- and, as Posnanski touches on, perhaps had as much as an impact on the games as where it was played. For those who thought alternating home-field advantage each year was stupid and arbitrary, how about alternating DH use? Crazy.

There's always something to learn about this game. And there's always something to see. This has been an amazing World Series, a thrilling and exciting postseason, starting with the last day of the regular season. I've been watching it all and hope to take some time to write out some thoughts after it's over and I've had time to recover and digest it all.

One more game. Let's see what this season gives us for a finale.

Next year's stamps, all together

Don't these look beautiful? They'll be great to have -- one sheet to keep, others to use -- next summer*.

*Assuming the Post Office still exists.

Getting 3,000 in New York

So now it looks like Derek Jeter's return to the Yankees lineup may be delayed, which would further delay his march to 3,000 hits and reduce the likelihood that he records the milestone hit against the Mets at Citi Field during their July 1-3 Interleague series.

And I think that's a shame.

No, really. I think it would have been a good thing to have happen not just at the Mets' home ballpark, but in New York in general. Not only has no Yankee ever reached the 3,000-hit threshold, but none of the 27 players who have already gotten there collected the milestone in New York.

If Jeter is able to be activated from the disabled list on Wednesday, the first day he's eligible to return, he'd have two games at home and three at Citi Field to collect the six hits he needs. Any delay in his activation obviously affects the timetable, increasing the chances that the lasting images of No. 3,000 will feature Jeter in the road grays and a respectful but half-hearted ovation from the home crowd. After Citi Field, the Yankees play three in Cleveland before finishing out the first half at home against the Rays. If he doesn't get it before the All-Star break, the Yankees open the second half with eight on the road -- four each at Toronto and Tampa Bay. Granted, Tropicana Field is a home away from home for the Yankees, but do we really want to be left with images of a base hit on bright green synthetic turf and a shadowy, artifically lit photo of Jeter doffing his helmet under a closed roof?

Getting the hit at Citi Field might be good for the Mets -- and their fans -- as well. Imagine Fred Wilpon watching that ovation from all the Yankee fans in the house, perhaps supported by a respectful cheer from the Mets partisans as well. Then, Wilpon might look over at Jose Reyes at shortstop or imagine David Wright healthy and standing at third base. If Jeter's getting such a rousing ovation for getting his 3,000th hit in the home of the Mets, imagine what the roar of the crowd would be if Reyes or Wright did the same sometime around 2022. Maybe Carl Crawford isn't worth Reyes money.

Entering this year, Reyes averaged 140 hits per season -- which takes into account his injury history -- which would mean he'd eclipse 3,000 sometime during his 22nd year in the big leagues. That's certainly a stretch, considering how important his speed is to his game and the demanding position he plays. But considering the tear he is on this season -- on pace for 231 hits entering tonight's game in Texas -- and his reduced strikeout rate, perhaps he's finally put it all together and, barring injuries, could average significantly more than 140 per year through the rest of his prime. Should he finish 2011 with 231 hits, he'd be at 1,350 and his yearly average would be 150 per season. At that rate, he'd get to 3,000 right at the end of his 20th year. Having just passed his 28th birthday this month, Reyes would be 39 at the end of his 20th season in the Majors. (Looking at Reyes' healthiest and most productive peak thus far, the four seasons from 2005-08, he averaged 159 games and 194 hits per year, so when he's not on the DL, he's much closer to a 190/200-hit-per-year pace than 140/150.)

While it's certainly unlikely, it's not unprecedented for a player known more for speed than power -- since World War II -- to last long enough in the game to get there. Lou Brock did it at 40 in his 19th and final season (he averaged 187 per year). And contact hitters Tony Gwynn, Wade Boggs, Pete Rose and Rod Carew all got there without being long-ball or stolen-base threats. Roberto Clemente could fit into that group as well; he never hit 30 home runs in a season and finished with 240, fewer than Robin Yount or Craig Biggio (and more than Rose, Brock, Gwynn, Boggs, Carew and several early-century guys). And Reyes' .290 career batting average bests Rafael Palmeiro (.288), Eddie Murray (.287), Carl Yastrzemski (.285), Yount (.285), Dave Winfield (.283), Biggio (.281), Rickey Henderson (.279) and Cal Ripken (.276).

Obviously, Reyes will have to make some tweaks and adapt his game as he gets older, but if this year is any indication, perhaps he can become continue his improvements and remain a solid contact hitter and on-base threat. And maybe a switch to first or second base or the outfield down the line will allow him to play long enough to get to 3,000 hits. I'm not saying it's probable, but I don't think it's outside the realm of possibility.

And my mom wondered why I saved so many newspapers

As a guy who once thought being an investigative journalist or baseball beat reporter was his ultimate dream job, I kept a lot of newspapers. I thought about the historical value they might have and dreamed of some large game room or memorabilia display in the sprawling house I would have based on my book profits as a well-known author (in addition to my reporting duties, of course).

After Mark McGwire broke Roger Maris' single-season home run record, I asked my friends around the country to send me a copy of their local newspapers from the next day. One college friend -- also a newspaper and baseball buff -- happened to have been visiting his girlfriend in law school in St. Louis at the time and sent me the next day's (if not the EXTRA! edition distributed at the ballpark after the game) Post-Dispatch. I then did the same thing with friends in Knoxville and Austin the morning after the Bush-Gore election, which of course wasn't decided until a month later.

I still have some of the papers from those and other events, though I sorted through them a few months ago and recycled quite a few. At this point, do I really need to see how the Los Angeles Times covered McGwire's feat, especially now that it has lost so much of its luster? But I still have papers commemorating the Mets' 2001 NLCS clincher (which I attended), their World Series Game 3 win over the Yankees, the deaths of Joe DiMaggio and Harry Caray, the Nationals' first game in Washington (which I also went to), the first day-night doubleheader played in both New York ballparks, Tom Seaver's Hall of Fame induction and some significant moments in Lakewood BlueClaws history (as much because I wrote a lot of it).

There is also an assortment of non-baseball and non-sports events: Notre Dame football in Hawaii and the Fiesta Bowl, the women's basketball national championship, the Space Shuttle Columbia disaster and the Devils' second Stanley Cup. Most of the papers are The New York Times and Asbury Park Press, but there are a few issues of the Chicago Tribune, New York Daily News, Orlando Sentinel, Arizona Republic, Washington Post and maybe even a New York Post.

Of course, the oldest of these events is the 1992 Seaver induction. Somewhere (I might not have come across it yet, or I might have ditched it because of the condition it was in), I think I have at least one of the New York tabloids from the 1986 postseason -- I believe it was Lenny Dykstra's Game 3 walk-off home run. I'm just not old enough to have anything as cool as the Daily News covering Don Larsen's perfect game. Who knows how many copies of that paper were burned up, used to wrap up fish for trucking uptown or dishes for a move, or used to cover someone's head during an unexpected downpour. But Gary Sangastiano saved his copy and soon will loan it to Montclair's Yogi Berra Museum to be put on display (Yogi, of course, caught Larsen that day).

I'll make a point to drive up Valley Road to see it, but I also hope they scan or photograph the inside pages, too. As a news nut, I'll be as interested in reading the coverage as I will be in seeing the cover in all its yellowed glory.

Shea Stadium in 1965

Batting practice in 1965, taken by
Flickr user rbglasson

This is a great shot of ol' Shea back in '65 -- with a crowded upper deck for batting practice! Check it out by clicking on the photo to the right or perusing rbglasson's great set of photos.

So Happy New Year and all that. I haven't quite gotten back on track from the holidays, but I hope to be updating again soon.

The Giants' Jersey roots

Something occurred to me on Monday night as I watched the Giants celebrate their first World Series championship since moving to San Francisco. I looked over at my blue Jersey City Giants cap, the white "JC" outlined in red, and thought about the two minor league affiliates that used to play in Trenton and Jersey City. (The photo at right shows Hall of Famer Gabby Hartnett and his son in 1944. Hartnett managed the Jersey City Giants from 1943-45.) I then realized that the last five World Series winners all have or had minor-league ties to the Garden State:

• The Yankees' double-A affiliate is currently the Trenton Thunder.
• The Phillies' low-Class A affiliate is currently the Lakewood BlueClaws.
• The Red Sox' double-A affiliate used to be the Trenton Thunder.
• The Cardinals' short-season affiliate used to be the New Jersey Cardinals.

The Giants' connection isn't solely from the '40s, however, because their starting second baseman, Freddy Sanchez, played for the Thunder back when he was a shortstop in Boston's system. In fact, each of these past five champions have had significant contributions from someone who spent a season in New Jersey on his way to a World Series ring: Yankees second baseman Robinson Cano (2003-04 with Trenton); Phillies catcher Carlos Ruiz (2001 with Lakewood), first baseman Ryan Howard (2002 with Lakewood) and World Series MVP Cole Hamels (2003 with Lakewood); Red Sox first baseman Kevin Youkilis (44 games with Trenton in 2002) and Cardinals shortstop and World Series MVP David Eckstein (1999 with Trenton).

But the Giants may have the earliest New Jersey connection of any World Series champion (aside from the fact that the entire game itself was born in Hoboken): they held spring training in Lakewood back in 1897. I had known that they trained on John D. Rockefeller's Lakewood estate from 1943-45, when teams were restricted in their travel during World War II. But in searching for some articles on that, I came across a few in the New York Times archive describing the club's 1897 preseason preparations. I've included one here as an example.

New Jersey may not have a Major League team of its own, but it continues to make significant contributions to the game 164 years after its birth on the bluffs overlooking the Hudson.

Sensory overload

I'm still a bit overwhelmed by yesterday's visit to the National Sports Collectors Convention in Baltimore. It's a cliche in two ways: It's like I'd died and gone to heaven. Yet, it's also hell -- temptations all around.

I did alright for myself -- I stuck to my budget (that is, I brought just a little cash and didn't spend more than that) and found some cool and interesting (to me) items to bring home. I also went weak in the knees and salivated over a few things that were out -- way out -- of my price range. A $3,000 photo of Honus Wagner with his Paterson Silk Weavers semipro team in the late 1800s, a framed collection of 19th-century baseball club ribbons (starting bid was $5,000, and you can see what it sold for), and several other photos and programs of historical significance in New York and New Jersey, plus a shot of Hall of Famer Ed Walsh with his two sons when they were on the Notre Dame team -- with all three in Notre Dame uniforms.

I'll work on a more detailed post tomorrow, but I wanted to get a few thoughts down now. I'll update this post then.

Hitless, again

Another night, another no-hitter.

This time it was Matt Garza, finally putting the Rays on the right side of zero-hit history after four instances of being held without a hit -- three of them in the past year. Tampa Bay is the first team to experience both sides of a no-hitter in the same season since the Expos, Orioles and White Sox of 1991, the second successive year of a record seven no-hitters. The Rays are also the first club since the 1917 White Sox and Browns to be involved in three in the same season; incredibly, those two clubs both did it, against one another -- two no-nos for the Browns over the White Sox and one for Chicago over St. Louis.

The five no-hitters at this date in the season is the most since 1990, the first year of seven, when five were in the books by June 29, the day Dave Stewart and Fernando Valenzuela each pitched one. And that reminded me of this project:

That's a collage I made sometime during the 1990-91 offseason, using the two-page spread from (I believe) Beckett Baseball Card Monthly (hence the reference to a 660-card set) as the inspiration. The drawings are mine, with Nolan Ryan's taken from the game itself, after which his teammates carried him off the field.

Though the seven no-hitters have stood out in my mind this year as the record, until I went looking for this drawing, I'd forgotten that, at the time, 1990 actually saw nine no-hitters. Down there on the left are Andy Hawkins and Melido Perez, who were each credited with no-hitters that were later rescinded. Hawkins, of course, no-hit the White Sox in Chicago on July 1, but lost, 4-0, after a four-run eighth filled with walks and errors. And just 11 days later, Perez held the Yankees without a hit in a complete-game, 8-0 win at Yankee Stadium -- in a game called after six innings because of rain. The Yankees starter and losing pitcher? Hawkins, again. But after a 1991 rule change that required pitchers to throw at least nine innings to qualify for a no-hitter, Hawkins' and Perez's games were stricken from the records.

Here are close-ups of the rest of the individual drawings:

Mark Langston and Mike Witt, April 11. Angels 1, Mariners 0.

Randy Johnson, June 2. Mariners 2, Tigers 0.

Nolan Ryan, June 11. Rangers 5, A's 0.

Dave Stewart and Fernando Valenzuela, June 29. A's 5, Blue Jays 0 and Dodgers 6, Cardinals 0.

Terry Mulholland, August 15. Phillies 6, Giants 0.

Dave Stieb, September 2. Blue Jays 3, Indians 0.

I particularly remember Stieb's happening because it's my birthday and we were at that day's Mets-Giants game at Shea Stadium -- where the teams combined for 20 hits. Either they announced it at Shea or we heard about it on the radio on the way home. I used to say I was at the ballpark the day Stieb threw his no-hitter. Not the same ballpark, but a Major League ballpark.

When the Yankees flirted with New Jersey

In a weird coincidence on Tuesday, I found myself reading early in No Minor Accomplishment, Bob Golon's account of baseball's revival in New Jersey beginning in 1994, about the Yankees' flirtation with moving to the Meadowlands. On the day George Steinbrenner died, it was interesting that I'd reach this passage:

... Meanwhile, the once-mighty Yankees fell upon some hard times at Yankee Stadium in the Bronx. Questionable player deals and numerous managerial changes taxed the patience of even the most dedicated Yankees fans, and empty seats became a common sight at Yankee Stadium. The front office attributed the lack of attendance to the Bronx neighborhood itself. People didn't feel safe coming to the Bronx, claimed Yankees executives, and even those who did were being turned off by the constant traffic delays due to the outdated highways leading to and from Yankee Stadium. The Yankees told anyone who would listen that they were in need of a new ballpark and would consider alternative locations in the New York City area if a deal could be struck.

New Jersey governor Kean, with the backing of the Sports and Exposition Authority and state business and labor leaders, placed a $185 million stadium bond issue on the ballot in 1987. If the bond issue passed, the state would have the funding to build a 45,000-seat baseball stadium in Lyndhurst, adjacent to the Meadowlands complex. A commitment for a team to relocate to the new stadium had to be in place prior to construction, and many thought that the Yankees would be that team. The bond issue's supporters claimed that major-league baseball would create thousands of jobs in Bergen County and be a positive stimulus to the New Jersey economy. The opponents of the bond issue thought it was a risky proposition. Attendance at games could not be guaranteed, and a realistic cost assessment of a new ballpark was in the neighborhood of $400 million. A "north-south" theme also developed within New Jersey, with many residents in the southern part of the state complaining that all of the major Sports and Exposition Authority projects benefited only northern New Jersey. Opposition to the plan increased, and despite the political backing, the voters defeated the bond issue by a two-to-one margin. The Yankees never officially committed to New Jersey, and whether they would have moved or not is simply conjecture. One New Jersey official very close to the negotiations with the Yankees was Robert Mulcahy, currently the athletic director of Rutgers University who was the longtime president and CEO of the New Jersey Sports and Exposition Authority. Mulcahy recalled that Yankees owner George Steinbrenner had genuine interest in the Meadowlands site. "We had very serious conversations that included layouts of what the stadium might be. George made some helicopter flights over the sites that we had either adjacent to or on the Meadowlands, frankly his attraction was to the Meadowlands because he felt it was the symbol of success. So, how close it ever got? You know, it's hard to know when people would pull a trigger on something like that, but I can say that we had some very serious discussions about it." Unfortunately, Mulcahy and New Jersey never got the opportunity to present a firm plan of financing to the Yankees once the bond issue was defeated. The idea of building a major-league baseball stadium in New Jersey died along with the referendum.

Though, I'm sure they would've still been called the New York Yankees. But even then, when I thought that having a Major League team in New Jersey was probably the coolest thing that could happen, I wasn't sure I wanted it to be the Yankees, and not because I'm a Mets fan. I just couldn't see that team leaving its historic site in the Bronx, abandoning the House That Ruth Built and George Renovated.

Plus, I knew most Yankee fans -- pretty much all of those not living in New Jersey -- would be angry. And while some might blame the team and take it out on the organization by no longer attending games, I had the feeling that most of them would blame New Jersey for stealing the Yankees.

Mets -- and baseball -- history on iTunes

Happened to be browsing through the games available for purchase at Baseball's Best on iTunes and noticed these Mets-related gems:

Game 5 of the 1969 World Series

Game 3 of the 1986 NLCS

Game 6 of the 1986 NLCS

Game 6 of the 1986 World Series

Game 7 of the 1986 World Series

Game 5 of the 1999 NLCS (Ventura's "grand slam single")

Plus, these heartbreaking or bittersweet games:

Sept. 16, 1978, Tom Seaver's no-hitter

Game 4 of the 1988 NLCS (Scioscia and Gibson homer as L.A. wins in extras)

May 14, 1996, Dwight Gooden's no-hitter

July 18, 1999, David Cone's perfect game

Game 2 of the 2000 World Series (Clemens' roid rage)

And, for a bit of schadenfeude:

Game 7 of the 1993 World Series (Joe Carter's walk-off)

Game 7 of the 2001 World Series (Luis Gonzalez singles off Mariano Rivera)

The Mets jersey in Yankee Stadium

The Babe has a presence

I finally made it out to Yankee Stadium '09 yesterday. It was a gorgeous, mid-70s afternoon and I didn't even need a seat in the shade to feel comfortable, but I had one, and I was.

After emerging from the D train, I walked around Babe Ruth Plaza to pick up my tickets near Gate 4 and took a glance over at the construction site that was once Yankee Stadia '23 and '76. It's nothing more than a dirt field, with the bat still standing behind what used to be the home plate area. I never had a particular affinity for the place -- my memories were of games in my childhood in the '80s, not of seeing great ballplayers -- but it was still a bit of a shock, as everyone says, to see it gone. It's definitely a good thing, though, that they're finally moving on with construction of the park.

Inside about an hour before first pitch, I took the time to walk the whole way around the concourse, a needed improvement from the last place. No longer do you feel like you're walking through the subterranian tunnels of some Cold War weapons base. Instead, the wider walkways -- though not quite as wide as Citi Field's, it seemed -- and high ceilings made for a much more comforting experience.

Out behind center field harkens back to the old stadium, though, as you pass through a tunnel beneath the bleachers and behind the casino sports bar. A set of oversized retired numbers line the wall by the doors to Monument Park (closed by the time I got there, after batting practice), one of three places where the numbers are displayed (Monument Park itself is another, and a third display -- visible on TV -- is behind the bleacher seating in left-center). Then the narrow corridor continues past the sports bar entrance and emerges in left field.

I bought some lunch and intended to eat it while standing at a ledge behind the nearest seating section, but then I noticed numbers on the ledge and an usher came to usher away two people to my left. That's when I realized you actually need a ticket to stand (or sit, because there are high chairs along the shelf) in any of these spots. I suppose they sell those tickets as reserved standing room, rather than general admission. I much prefer the traditional way -- the ledges are there for anyone to use as a convenience. There are just some times I'd prefer to buy my food and drink and consume it at the nearest possible spot rather than trudging back to my seat and risk spilling anything.

After taking in the first four innings or so from my seat, I spent a couple of frames exploring. I checked out the museum, with an impressive display of New York baseball history (even if it's there as much to assert the Yankees' dominance as much as to remember the Giants and Dodgers and acknowledge the Mets), and chuckled at so many instances of Other Teams' artifacts: jerseys and hats from the Dodgers, Giants and, yes, the Mets. Citi Field may have a Rotunda built to honor Jackie Robinson, but Yankee Stadium '09 has Jackie's hat, jersey and bat, plus jerseys from Mel Ott, Carl Hubbell, Pee Wee Reese and Mike Piazza. We won't be seeing a Derek Jeter jersey in the Mets' museum any time soon, and I'm fine with that.

The collection of autographed baseball is impressive, too, and I took special note of 15 of them, finding all randomly, except for Mike Pagliarulo's, which I looked up to get a shot for a friend of mine who loved Pags when he manned third base at the old place. It was cool to look at Thurman Munson's locker, too, which I had only glanced the one time I was in the Yankee clubhouse for a story and didn't have time to really look at it as I was keeping an eye out for Jeter, Jorge Posada, Sterling Hitchcock and Lee Mazzilli for the story I was working on. And next to Munson's locker is a replica of a current stall, with a touchscreen that allows fans to put their own names on the LED board above their heads and take pictures. One proud Mets fan with more guts and guile than I put "Let's Go Mets" on the sign and revelled in all of us taking his picture.

On the way back to my seat, I paused to look at all the overpriced baseball cards at one kiosk, including an uncut sheet of 1984 Topps for $100. Curious, I went on to eBay to see if any were available. One with a Don Mattingly rookie card (the attendant at the kiosk didn't say if either of the two sheets for sale had any particular players on them) could be had for $149, but another auction was only up to $4 or $5 with a few bids in.

I was back in my seat to see CC Sabathia struggle in the eighth, allowing Seattle to tie the score at 2. The guy next to me who had downed three Pepsis (that I had seen) by the bottom of the second had returned with another (no telling how many he had when I was gone) and expressed his displeasure at CC's inability to get outs and Joe Girardi's refusal to bring in Joba. It worked out OK in the end, though, because Alex Rodriguez hit his 595th home run -- a Yankee Stadium shot to be sure, landing in the first row in right field -- to give the Yankees a 4-2 lead that was protected in the ninth by Mariano Rivera.

In the end, I find the new place to be bright and welcoming, but no more intimate than the old place. It's still a colossus, certainly more stadium than ballpark, but it's a needed upgrade from the one it replaced. Even though the concourses are bigger and open to the field, it still felt in some places like we were inside, beneath the stand, rather than outside or under cover of the stands. That may be a feeling derived from the open space above our heads, sloped up and outward for the seating sections.

But it certainly isn't a bad place to see a ballgame -- if you can afford it.