Part 1: The Unseen Hand: How Underdogs, Depression, and Creativity Shape a Life
1986 Mets World Series Victory Parade
From the diamond to the depths, exploring the profound connections between our inherent leanings and the teams—and battles—that choose us.
There’s an old saying about baseball that “you don’t pick your team, your team picks you.” It points to a kind of organic selection process where one becomes a fan of a particular team, not by any sort of conscious methodology but by a sort of natural (or unnatural) selection that contains factors outside of the scope of one’s mental faculties.
There are all sorts of elements that are involved in this process. I’ve met fans who were merely attracted to a team’s uniform (the colors and the logo and mascot). Sometimes the players create interest, like the cast in a movie. Every team has a history, and that can create a luring mystique about them. But, one of the most common links to a team is the fact that we are often born into them through our families’ allegiance. One of the most powerful forces known to humankind, in my opinion.
Growing up in suburban Long Beach, California in the late 50’s - early 60’s B.A. (before the Angels) meant only one thing: you were going to be a Dodgers fan, and that’s all there was to it. It helped that those teams did well and were in the World Series four times (1959, ’63, ’65 & ’66) and came out on top in the first three. I still have a program from the ’65 Series that my parents brought back from one of the games they went to.
When I moved to Florida in 1974, I maintained my allegiance to the Dodgers but soon realized that there were certain difficulties involved, mostly due to the fact that there was much less media coverage. The closest team was the Atlanta Braves. I developed an interest in them in the early 80’s and even managed to get up to Atlanta to see them play. It was fun, but it wasn’t the same kind of fun as going to see the Dodgers.
In January of 1985, I made my big move to New York City with my “brother from another mother” and fellow musician, Alan Gauvin. We threw everything we had into the back of my small pick-up truck and a U-Haul trailer. We barely had a nickel between us, and I was still in the throes of a bout with depression (but that’s another story).
When we first arrived, we stayed with fellow musician, trumpet player Dean Pratt, at his house in Brooklyn. Dean was a baseball fan, and specifically, he was a Mets fan, so when the season started, the house was often filled with the sounds of a radio or TV broadcast of the games. That, along with the fact that Brooklyn was geographically closer to Shea Stadium than Yankee Stadium, was a key factor in the development of my future self becoming a die-hard Mets fan. As well, the Mets had already traded for Keith Hernandez and brought up amazing young phenoms like Dwight Gooden and Darryl Strawberry. That year, 1985, the Mets acquired Gary Carter, which was one of the final pieces they needed before their mind-blowing, 1986 season drive to become World Series champions.
Those Mets were not only a great team, but they were a New York City celebrity team. The Yankees were struggling at that point, and the Mets were winning. The media, and the city, adopted them big time. The players on that team were talented, brash, arrogant, wild, and at times, seemingly crazy. They drank, took drugs, and partied hard. They were the first team to do regular “curtain calls” after belting a home run; something that really angered the other teams. Yeah, if you weren’t a Mets fan back then, you probably hated them.
I knew about the history of the Mets; their origins and their (mostly disastrous) win/loss record. They were “lovable losers.” A professional team that nobody ever took seriously. Until 1969, that is. In August of that season, the Mets were in 3rd place in the N.L. East behind the Cubs, caught them, and went on to win the World Series. Stuff of legends.
Most of all, I loved the fact that the Mets were underdogs. Not just for the 1985 season but for most of their team history. Even when they managed to get to the postseason, nobody ever believed in them. I mean, we are talking about a team that was born out of pure anguish. The other two National League teams in New York (the Giants and the Dodgers) had abandoned their city and their fans and moved to the west coast. So, this sort of “unwanted child” was spawned. As with most unwanted things, you either love them or abhor them. Being a Mets fan, it often seems like you have to do both.
Perhaps then, it’s because I have always thought of myself as an underdog that I can relate to the Mets. The underdog has always appealed to me as someone or something that can get kicked to the ground and then come right back at the world with that much more determination. The Mets have always fit that description to a tee. To this day, I am a fan of the underdog, much to my dismay at times, but always aware of the fact that it has a place in my brain that continues to shape my course of action.