I was 13 years old and it was October in New York City. Game 6 of the 1986 World Series was on TV. While listening to Evans speak, I remembered Billy Buckner, who was not in the auditorium with us, but the memory of that amazing night was vivid in my mind. All I could think about was that ball rolling between his legs and that famous call by Vin Scully:

“A little roller up along first; behind the bag! It gets through Buckner! Here comes Knight and the Mets win it!”

Every time I hear that call, it gives me goosebumps. I feel like a kid again. I was watching the game in my room and from what I can remember, there were three very nervous people in my home wishing and praying that something miraculous would happen as the Mets neared the end of Game 6.

While my stepfather watched the game in the living room, my mother was in the bedroom reading and relying upon me for instant updates from me. We lived on the second floor of a duplex in the East New York section of Brooklyn, and the rooms weren’t that far from each other. So running into her room to give her updates and running back, didn’t take too long  and was actually quite fun.

As the game went along and the Mets found themselves down 2-0, my heart was pounding very hard and I couldn’t breathe. It was only the 4th inning, but being down three games to two and needing to win this game, I couldn’t begin to tell you how frazzled my nerves were.

Then the Mets tied the game with two runs in the bottom of the fifth inning. Whew, a sigh of relief went through my body, now I could finally breathe a little. At this I wondered why my mom wouldn’t come out her room and watch the game with my stepfather on the big TV in the living room. It was if she was too nervous to watch and preferred my between innings updates.

I had this thing, that throughout the World Series, no one was allowed to watch the game in my room; it was off limits because I wanted to be alone when it mattered most and if I wanted to scream or yell, I didn’t want anyone to tell me to shut up.  Neither of them would dare come in especially after the second game of the series, they knew I needed to be alone – just me and my Mets.

Now back to the game. It’s now the top of the 7th and those damned Red Sox scored again, Oh man was I having a fit, but that was short lived because the Mets scored to tie it again in the bottom of the eighth at 3-3.  What a nail-biter this was becoming.

“It’s okay,” I would say to myself. “David, just breathe man, just breath, they will do it, just like the song says. “Do it…Let’s go! Do it…Let’s go!  Lets make it happen!”

We’ll win it in the bottom of the ninth – I was convinced. That’s what I kept telling myself. However, the bottom of the ninth just comes and goes and we are headed into extra-innings. I’m sweating profusely while gazing at my TV in a trance-like state after watching the Red Sox score two runs to take the lead 5-3.

This can’t be happening. Please God, don’t let it end like this…

My mind went blank. I was now so upset that my mother yelled toward my room telling me to stop screaming. By now she was huddled with my stepfather and watching it all unfold together. What’s the matter with them? Did they not just see what has happened; of course I’m screaming.

I dug my head in my pillow and remembered praying real hard that if God would just allow the Mets to somehow come back, that I would always listen to my mom. I am sure my mother would get a thrill if she could read this part of this post.

Here we go… We’re down to our last three outs and before I can finish my praying, Wally Backman and Keith Hernandez both hit fly balls for outs.  Now its two outs and nobody on and I can hear my mother whisper to my stepfather, “Oh this is not good.”

I am sure she was more concerned about me and what my reaction would be rather than the Mets who looked like they were about to lose the World Series.  For so many years at school. my friends had given me a verbal beating for rooting for the Mets rather than the Yankees.

But the Mets were my team and I would be there for them no matter how bad they were. But in 1986, they weren’t bad, they were the most dominating team in the game. It was hard to sit and watch them go down like this. I just couldn’t stand to sit there and watch them lose the biggest game in their history at the time. I was dying inside and then suddenly a glimmer of hope…

One of my favorite Met players Gary Carter came up to bat. And as I peeked through my fingers, as if I am watching a horror flick, I prayed one last time for a miracle. There it was! A base-hit  by Carter and the Mets were still alive!

And before I knew it another base-hit by Kevin Mitchell and suddenly we had two men on and the winning run at the plate and it’s Ray Knight.  I am alive again for just a moment, and think okay, a home run right here and we win. Knight lines another a base-hit and Carter scores as Mitchell hustles to third base.  At this point I start to hear some noise coming from outside my window. I can hear screams from my neighbors, but I just didn’t want to get too excited yet, it was still two outs and the tying run was on third base.

Mookie Wilson comes up to bat.  The pitch comes in toward Mookie and he leaps in the air in one swift motion as the ball goes under him and to the backstop, and Mitchell scores to tie the game. Oh My God, the neighborhood erupted, people screaming out the windows, I have tears running down my face, I am so excited that I start to cry.  I can’t believe what I just witnessed, was it real, could it actually be happening.  I run into the living room, and give my mother and stepfather high-fives and run right back to my spot. The game isn’t over yet, but we are back in it and the winning run is now at third base in Ray Knight.

And then it happens… The play that any Met fan watching will never forget – the image burned into our minds forever. A ground ball to first base, everything seems goes into slow motion and I all I hear is that famous Vin Scully call:

“A little roller up along first; behind the bag! It gets through Buckner! Here comes Knight and the Mets win it!”

What, Oh My God, Oh My God, we win, we win, and now my mother and stepfather come running into my room, we are screaming, I am screaming out the window, my friends are all coming out their homes and a party is going on in the street that night.  What a game and with one more win the Mets will become champs.

Well we all know what happens in Game 7 of the World Series.  I got to witness my very first Mets championship, and unfortunately to this point it has been their last.  But I still have hope that they will get it together and allow me the opportunity to relive the Glory Days and witness some more of that Mets magic.

After the Mets win the series, my mother promises me that I could go to the parade, even if it meant me missing school. I am not sure what she told the nuns at my school, but who cares – I was going to the Canyon of Heroes in New York City to celebrate the greatest Met moment of my life. Nothing else mattered other than the Mets were finally champions – and to all my friends that mocked me, I finally had something to brag about.

The night before the parade, my stepfather tells us that we need to be there no later than 7:00 AM.  He says that millions of people will be there and we need to get a head-start. When we arrive in downtown Manhattan, I kid you not, no one was there.

It was 7:00 AM in the morning and the crew that were preparing the parade route were just arriving and just starting to put the barricades up. But because of my stepfather’s insistence that we get there early, we had a great vantage point for the greatest parade I would ever see.  Front row seats to watch our Champions parade down the Canyon of Heroes. How lucky can you get!

It was great… It was amazing… It was a day that is embedded in my brain and I will never forget.  A former Red Sox was a guest speaker a church breakfast meeting and revived one of the greatest games in Mets history. Thanks Dewey.

Here are some pictures we took the day of the parade. They’re not great, but I picked out the best ones that I could share with all of great Met fans on MMO. I hope you enjoyed my story.

October 28, 1986

World Champion Mets Victory Parade

1986 Mets Parade: Darryl Strawberry batted cleanup that day...

1986 Mets Parade: NYPD Blue

1986 Mets Parade: I'm Keith Hernandez...

1986 Mets Parade: That's a Roger...

1986 Mets Parade: Rick Aguilera was there too...

1986 Mets Parade: Here they come...

1986 Mets Parade: Let's have a party!

1986 Mets Parade: Bobby Ojeda and family...

1986 Mets Parade: Mookie Wilson was all smiles...

Teixeira will join Curtis Granderson and Alex Rodriguez with longterm DL stints once the season starts. The Captain, Derek Jeter is also rehabbing a busted ankle, so who knows what the Yankees will get from him this season.

The living legend Mariano Rivera is returning from knee surgery, and announced his retirement on Saturday.

Adding insult to injury is that the Yankees really don’t have a “brand name” catcher, and the outfield is filled with question marks. Hmm… sounds like another team we may know…

Right now… I’ll take the Mets projected starting infield of Ike Davis, Daniel Murphy, Ruben Tejada and David Wright, and take them over the Yankees any day. Heck I’ll stack them up against any other infield in baseball. And for the record, I Wright is one of the best all-around third basemen in the game and certainly in New York.

John Buck is a solid veteran with pop behind the plate, and it won’t be long until top catching prospect Travis d`Arnaud makes his way to the big club. I see a bright future for the Mets infield.

As far as the outfield goes, once upon a time, Mookie Wilson and Lenny Dykstra were complete unknowns. So were Jay Payton, Benny Agbayani, Timo Perez, Endy Chavez and Kevin Mitchell. Yet, all these unknown players made it to the post season with the Mets.

Who’s to say Mike Baxter isn’t the next Endy Chavez (get the great catch angle?), or that Lucas Duda won’t be the next Kevin Mitchell. Who knows? The point is nobody knows and that’s the beauty of baseball.

I have no doubt the Yankees will make some lop-sided trades this season and spend some big money for some quick damage control. But who knows how that will turn out either?

I know one thing… This season and moving forward, the Mets have hope for a brighter future built around a solid young core of players and farm system bursting with talent. I’m not so certain you can say the same thing for that other team from the Bronx.

On Thursday, a judge in Chula Vista, CA ordered the 48 year old Mitchell to stand trial from an incident at the Bonita Golf Course. In July, Mitchell allegedly punched another golfer in the head repeatedly, nearly causing the man to suffer a concussion. The individual, whose name has not been released, was confronted by Mitchell for supposedly making ‘disparaging remarks’ about him.

The former NL MVP is no stranger to the legal system. Growing up in San Diego the one time gang member had been shot 3 times in his youth. In 1991, he was arrested for rape but the charges were dropped. In 99, he was arrested for assault after beating up his father. While managing the Sonoma County Crushers in 01, Mitchell was involved in a bench clearing brawl in which he punched the owner of the opposing team in the head. As a result he was suspended 9 games. The following year he was suspended 7 games after beating up his own 3^rd base coach. He currently owes the state of California almost $5.2 million in unpaid taxes. Former teammate Doc Gooden claimed that during the 1986 season an ‘enraged’ Mitchell physically held him hostage and forced him to watch as he decapitated his girlfriend’s cat. Mitchell adamantly denied these accusations.

Mitchell only appeared in 115 games for the Mets, mainly as a utility player. Gary Carter nicknamed him ‘World’ cause he could play everywhere. In 328 AB’s he hit 275 with 12 HR’s and knocked in 44 RBI’s. But he is best remembered for his role in Game 6.

As the Mets trailed 5-3 going to the bottom of the 10^th Mitchell returned to the clubhouse and began changing out of his uniform. When he was advised that Davey Johnson wanted him to pinch-hit in case Carter was able to get something going with 2 outs, he was already in his street clothes and on the phone making plane reservations to go home for the winter. Urban legend has it that he did not dress completely for his At-Bat, not having time to put on his cup. It was Mitchell who ultimately scored the tying run on Bob Stanley’s wild pitch.

He caused a huge dilemma for GM Frank Cashen. There was no doubt that Mitchell had the talent to be a great player. But with that talent came the fact that he was known to be hot-headed, volatile and short-tempered. Two months after getting that big hit, Mitchell was traded to San Diego along with Stan Jefferson and Shawn Abner for Kevin McReynolds, Gene Walter and Adam Ging.

Halfway through the 87 season Mitchell was traded to the Giants. In 1989, Mitchell helped lead San Francisco to the Pennant. He hit 291 with 47 HR’s and 125 RBI’s and became the first Giant to win the MVP since Willie McCovey 2 decades earlier.

However, 89 was the peak of his career. He was a 2-time All-Star but his indifferent attitude on the field combined with off-field distractions and numerous problems in his personal life caused friction with teammates and team owners. He frequently arrived in Spring Training 30-35 pounds overweight. In 1995, he played in Japan, becoming the highest paid ballplayer in that nation’s history. But he quickly wore out his welcome there as well. When he needed to have knee surgery, he refused to let the Japanese doctors operate and chose to fly back to the US, a move that was seen as a huge slap in the face to the proud Japanese people.

Mitchell left the game in 1998, a career 284 hitter with 234 HR’s, 760 RBI’s and 630 Runs. In his brief but memorable 13 year career, he played for 8 different teams.