The expression of deep joy felt by Mets fans after Johan Santana’s no-hitter Friday night shouldn’t require much explanation but I was surprised by the number of people who pooh-poohed the historic achievement in its immediate aftermath.
The feedback I received from an array of baseball fans with loyalty to other teams was uniformly disconnected from the accumulated experiences that prompted the Met fan to declare the accomplishment one of the most gratifying in the history of the franchise.
I fully understand those who point to the five walks issued by Johan and the sixth-inning Beltran liner that kicked up enough chalk dust to choke third base umpire Adrian Johnson as he issued the blown call. Those same cynics also say the no-no lacks the importance of many other individual and team performances.
But getting the no-hitter has incredibly deep meaning to the Met fan. Playing its 51st MLB season, the Mets had never recorded a no-hitter. That’s 8019 regular season contests without a no-no. If you were a Met fan from the team’s inception, (and there are lots of those folks in these parts) you watched 148 other major league pitchers notch a no-hitter while your team failed to do it once. Six of those 148 no-no’s came at the Mets’ expense.
We’re talking about an organization that sent out Seaver, Ryan, Matlack, Gooden, Darling, Cone, Glavine, and Pedro when most of those guys were in prime form for at least a portion of their stay here.
What especially stung the Met fan was the fact that seven pitchers got no-no’s with other teams after leaving the Mets. Nolan Ryan alone went on to throw seven no-hitters after departing.
You obviously can’t equate one of your own getting a no-hitter to winning a championship, but the Met fan was tormented by the elusiveness of scoreboards with a zero in the opponent‘s hit column.
It was a constant source of frustration and became the subject of discussion at nearly every game I attended.
I wasn’t there Friday night. In fact, I nearly missed it altogether. I had a horrible day at work and I spent a good portion of the evening at the Fed Ex pickup center in Maspeth waiting to pick up a new phone to replace the one that stopped working. When I finally got back to the apartment and got the new phone connected, it lit up with text messages. Since my directory had not been updated, I had no idea who was sending me messages but I flipped on the game in the top of the eighth. As I always do in these situations, I hit the record button on both the telecast and the radio broadcast.
Howie Rose’s call was electric. Magnificent. Rose’s fandom goes back to the beginning. He had long strongly lamented the team’s failure to get a no-no. Whenever one was broken up, he would advise fans of the precise amount of games gone by without one. He had that information handy, he says, because he noted the franchise’s running game number in every scorecard he’s ever filled out.
What made Friday night even more special beyond finally getting the no-hitter was how it was obtained and the opponent it came against. Before realignment in 1995, the Cards and Mets had a great rivalry. It heated up again during the 2006 NLCS. You know how game seven of that series played out and how it ended. Molina goes deep against Heilman, Beltran strikes out looking and the Mets haven’t recovered since. That game is perhaps the most bitter pill ever swallowed by Met fans of the current era.
Friday night was Beltran’s first game back in Queens since being traded last season. He’s been clubbing the ball for the defending world champs and key guys from the ’06 squad remain on the current offensively loaded team.
The seventh-inning Mike Baxter catch and crash on a shot that should have been a sure-fire Molina double saved the Santana no-no. That play will forever be remembered and evoked memories of Endy’s grab of a Molina blast to the same part of left field six years earlier at Shea. Baxter grew up a few minutes from the Met ballpark and wrecked his collarbone and rib cage as a result of his fearlessness and determination to keep the Cards hitless.
The most intriguing aspect of the Santana no-no however is the absolute agony felt by Met manager Terry Collins as Santana went past his 115 pitch limit. We’re not talking about a paranoid or arbitrary pitch max that’s applied to a young arm. What Collins was responsible for dictating was a medically-advised progression for a pitcher who is eight weeks into a return to competition from a total surgical overhaul of his throwing shoulder.
Collins squirmed as Santana went past 115 and a small part of him probably wished for a Cardinal hit. Johan ended with 134 pitches. Every throw he made past 125 felt like a threat to ruin the Met ace making $23 mil per. The conflict between making history and preserving the health of his team’s best pitcher put the manager in a difficult spot. Had there been a no-no or two in the team’s record books, I honestly believe Collins would have put his foot down at the end of eight innings (122 pitches). Collins shed tears after the game, partly from happiness, but also because he questioned the wisdom of letting Santana continue well past the marker set by doctors.
The way the Mets have played this year with a mostly homegrown roster made it the right time and place for a milestone so badly wished for. The waiting in sports makes the big accomplishment that much more special. This was a long wait. Those who lack the patience of waiting don’t get the benefit of what Friday night felt like. It was Amazin’!
Now that the no-hitter is done, the obsession over it goes away too. Said Howie: “What do we have to bellyache now?”
To hear Howie’s call of the final out, click the on the audio icon below. It appears here without expressed written consent.
It should be noted that Howie’s broadcast partner John Lewin missed this game to attend his daughter’s high school graduation. Howie joked during the post-game show that Lewin was likely on “razor-blade alert.” The former baseball executive Jim Duquette was Lewin’s fill-in. Duquette smartly didn’t utter a word during Howie’s call of the ninth inning.
Howie had never seen a no-hitter in person before Friday night. He carefully avoided saying the phrase “no-hitter” until after the final out was registered.
Citi Field appeared to be half-empty but the scenes of people jumping up and down as the game neared an end reminded me of the enthusiasm level from baseball crowds from when I was a youngster.
(The Santana photo at top of this post was taken at the 4-24-12 Mets/Marlins game)