Nathan News

It’s an emotional thing, the idea of ​​retiring a player’s number like the Mets did for Keith Hernandez’s No. 17 will do. It’s more about symbolism than statistics, about a referendum on a player’s importance to a team and a city.

Many teams have long understood this. There is no plaque for Thurman Munson in Cooperstown, NY, but the Yankees retired his number 15 anyway. Same goes for Johnny Pesky and the Boston Red Sox, Frank White and the Kansas City Royals, Randy Jones and the San Diego Padres, and on and on.

It took the Mets a long time to grasp the concept. It took them until their 55th season in 2016 to retire a second player number. That was because Mike Piazza had just been inducted into the Hall of Fame, meaning his #31 could join Tom Seavers #41 on the upper deck facade in the left corner of Citi Field.

The Mets also had retired managers Casey Stengel, 37, and Gil Hodges, 14, and Jackie Robinson’s 42-retired Major League Baseball-wide. But the team has been notoriously stingy with recognizing players; Even Gary Carter, the Hall of Fame catcher whose number 8 has been out of service since 2001, was not retired with a number before his death in 2012, a cruel and senseless oversight.

Hernandez, 68, is still here. You can find him on SNY shows and Twitter, and “Seinfeld” reruns on Netflix. After Saturday’s ceremony, you’ll also find him lined up with other key Mets players: Seaver, Piazza and Jerry Koosman, whose No. 36 retired last year. No Met has worn the No. 17 since Fernando Tatis Sr. in 2010, and now it belongs to Hernandez forever.

“He brought with him a winning culture, just the way he moved and the way he acted and the way he played,” said Ron Darling, Hernandez’s teammate on the field and in the broadcast booth, later adding, “I knew the game nothing could be played properly.”

In his 20s, Hernandez achieved almost everything a player could hope for with the St. Louis Cardinals: a World Series title, a Most Valuable Player Award, a Silver Slugger, two All-Star selections and five Gold Gloves at first Base.

He also used cocaine, clashed with manager Whitey Herzog, and was traded for baseball oblivion in June 1983: the Mets in last place, for pitchers Neil Allen and Rick Ownbey’s giveaway prize.

“I remember Dave Kingman meeting me in the clubhouse — Dave Kingman who was so dead, never any emotion, straight face, I never saw him smile,” Hernandez said. “He had a big smile on his face as he greeted me and shook my hand, and he said, ‘Thank God you’re here, because you’re my ticket out of here.'”

The Mets had been in a spiral since trading Seaver in 1977, but by 1983 he was back for a second stint. Things had gone crazy for the franchise and The Franchise.

“Seaver comes up to me and says, ‘Welcome to the Stems,'” Hernandez said. “I’m going, ‘Stems?’ He says: ‘Mets spelled backwards!’ I went, ‘Where am I?’ I left a team in first place, was a defending world champion, and I’m like, ‘Oh my God.’

“I get on the bus after the ball game to go back to the hotel, there is no one on the bus. I go to the hotel bar after the game, there is nobody in the hotel bar. I said, ‘Oh boy.’ So I had three months to really soak it all up.”

The Mets finished the 1983 season 68-94, their worst result in the National League. A California native, Hernandez considered signing with the Los Angeles Dodgers or the San Diego Padres. His father John persuaded him to stay in New York, reminding him of the Mets’ strained farm system. After seven straight losing seasons, the Mets would have the majors’ best record (575-395) during Hernandez’s six full seasons in Flushing.

Hernandez prepared for his first spring practice with the Mets with mental and physical changes. Newly separated from his wife, he wintered in Philadelphia at the suggestion of a friend, Gary Matthews, who had just finished his season with the Phillies. Matthews liked to run for exercise, and although Hernandez never trained much in the offseason, he picked up Matthew’s program and ran down the Schuylkill River, past Boathouse Row, down to the Art Museum. He reported to camp in great shape and ready to take on a new role in his 30s: wizened clubhouse manager and easygoing man in town.

Hernandez, who had quit using cocaine shortly before trading, found a mentor in Rusty Staub, the skilled pinch-hitter. Dust encouraged Hernandez to live in Manhattan on the East Side in Turtle Bay. Hernandez took in his surroundings on and off the field and finished second for MVP. The Mets became competitors, then added Carter for the 1985 season and won the 1986 World Series.

To do so, they first had to outlast the Houston Astros in a tense National League Championship Series. Before the final in the 16th inning of Game 6 in the insane Astrodome, Hernandez faced Carter and Jesse Orosco on the mound. Orosco had given up a homer from a fastball on the 14th, and a homer by Kevin Bass would lose the game. Hernandez told Orosco he would kill him if he threw a fastball at Bass.

Orosco threw all the sliders and hit bass to win the pennant. That was the Gravitas of Hernandez.

“I’ve been trying to think of the history of New York sport and I think of Keith a little bit like Mark Messier – a world champion with a different organization, an MVP player, a guy who wore a New York once Uniform brought instant credibility,” Darling said. “And that was Keith for our ’86 players.”

Hernandez won six Gold Gloves with the Mets, with a .387 baseline percentage and 80 homers. His .297 average ranks second in club history behind John Olerud’s .315 among players with at least 1,500 plate appearances. The Hall of Famer has eluded Hernandez, but he appears to have a shot in the years to come.

Hernandez had more wins over substitutes (60.3) than Harold Baines, Lee Smith, Jim Kaat, Tony Oliva, Minnie Miñoso and Hodges, all of whom have been chosen by committees in the past four years. He didn’t have the power of Eddie Murray or Tony Perez or any other star first baseman of his time. But he wouldn’t look out of place in Cooperstown.

“Hopefully I have another one, what for 15, 16, 17, 18 years of life?” Hernández said. “Maybe it will happen before I kick the bucket.”

The Mets and their owner, Steven Cohen, didn’t wait for a committee to confirm Hernandez’s legacy. They understand – finally – that they are custodians of their past and that Hernandez is vital to their story.