“Home runs are over-rated. You don’t have to hit home runs to win. If I don’t get a home run all year, and the team wins, I’ll be more than satisfied.” – Steve Henderson (1981)

The Reccoppa family piled into Dad’s burnt orange 1970 Plymouth Duster for the short ride across the bridge on Route 37 to Seaside Heights. A visit to grandma’s summer house, a sure sign school would be out soon.

Anthony, 10, the youngest of three boys and the lone New York Met fan, suffered through his share of summers. “In school, in New Jersey, there were three teams: Mets, Yankee and Phillies,” Reccoppa remembers. “In the late-70’s, early 80’s there weren’t many Met fans and here I was with my Lee Mazzilli t-shirt.”

But this was the summer when the misery and suffering would end. This was 1980, the year the Magic was Back in Flushing.

The season lived up to its catch phrase on the night of June 14, 1980, when Pete Falcone hooked up with John Montefusco at Shea Stadium. Playing in front of 22,918, the Mets were in mid-summer form, falling behind early and often. Falcone couldn’t finish the second inning, allowing five runs, five hits and two walks. He retired four batters. By the sixth inning, the Giants had built a 6-0 lead and the Mets were held hitless through 5 1/3 innings when light-hitting second baseman Doug Flynn singled.

Anthony and his father kept one eye on the game as they wandered “in and out of the house” through the evening, preparing for the trip to Seaside. The Mets scratched out two runs to cut the Giants lead to 6-2 as the Reccoppa family climbed into the Duster at sunset.

“It was the first new car my father ever bought,” remembers Anthony Reccoppa. “It was red-orange, black interior, no air conditioning and an AM radio,” but good enough to pick up the Mets flagship station WMCA-AM, where sports director Art Rust Jr. boldly guaranteed the 1980 Mets would be playing October baseball at “Flushing by the Bay.”

Any hope for magic was almost snuffed out, when Mets outfielder Elliott Maddox grounded to short to lead off the ninth. Then, Doug Flynn delivered a bunt single but Jose Cardenal grounded out, advancing Flynn to second base. The Mets were down to their final out, trailing by four runs.

Then, Lee Mazzilli singled, scoring Flynn. Frank Taveras walked. Claudell Washington singled, scoring Mazzilli. With the Giants white-knuckling a 6-4 lead, manager Dave Bristol relieved Greg Minton with Allen Ripley, needing one … more … out.

Steve Henderson, two years and 364 days removed from the day he was tagged as “the guy the Mets got in the Seaver trade,” represented the winning run for the Mets.

Henderson had a flair for the dramatic.

Six days after the Seaver deal, on June 21, Mets chairman M. Donald Grant made his first Shea Stadium appearance since his infamous Midnight Massacre. He was greeted by a custom-designed banner that read GRANT’S TOMB.

Henderson bailed out Grant for the moment, smacking his first major league home run in the 11th inning, giving the Mets a 5-2 walk-off win over the Atlanta Braves. The longball became a long-term problem for Henderson.

The Mets adjusted Henderson’s batting style to meet their needs. The team needed power and when Henderson delivered a pair of game-winning home runs against the Braves and the Pittsburgh Pirates (a grand slam off Kent Tekulve), the Mets saw an opportunity.

“After my first season [1977], the Mets changed my batting stance, to make me hit more home runs,” said Henderson. “But [in 1980] I went back to my old stance. I was more relaxed at the plate.”

By mid-June 1980 Henderson was, again, feeling comfortable with his new-old closed batting stance. Coming into the night, he was batting .340 including 17 multi-hit games. On June 8, Henderson went 6-for-8 in a doubleheader against the Pirates.

Henderson, who struck out in his first three at-bats of the night, was now facing Allen Ripley. He took the first pitch. He remembers feeling “tight” and “unable to concentrate,” so he walked back to the on-deck circle loaded his bat with pine tar, took a deep breath and cleared his mind.

Ripley delivered the next pitch under Henderson’s chin, causing him to “jack knife out of the way,” in the words of legendary Mets announcer Bob Murphy.

“I try to keep my temper, but when someone does something like that to me, throwing too close, I sort of turn into a monster,” Henderson would tell the New York Times after the game.

He took the next pitch for strike two. The Mets were down to their final strike. The following is pure speculation, but it would be fair to suggest that a burst of wind stimulated the magic dust surrounding homeplate, landing squarely on the barrel of Henderson’s bat.

Henderson turned Ripley’s 1-2 fastball from improbable, to maybe, to probably and ultimately magic. The ball cleared the right field fence and was caught on the fly by Mets reliever Tom Hausman.

Final score: Mets 7, Giants 6

The Shea Stadium scoreboard in right field began flashing, HENDU CAN DO! then HENDU DID DO! Fans coaxed Henderson out of the clubhouse for a curtain call before parading down the exit ramps chanting “Lets Go Mets!”

Reccoppa’s father begand pounding the dashboard in excitement

“We’re going to get in an accident,” screamed Reccoppa’s mother, in fear and anger, from the passenger seat

It was Henderson’s first home run of the season and his first home run since July 13, 1979 (226 at-bats). One month after losing 15-4 to the Cincinnati Reds, the Mets were 9-18. Now, the Mets were 27-28, one game under .500.

“The ones over the Pirates and Dodgers were nice, but this one was unbelievable,” said Doug Flynn later. “You keep busting and busting, then Henderson hits his first home run, and it’s a three-run game winner.”

The Reccoppa family arrived, greeted Grandma with a quick hug and turned on WOR in time to catch Henderson and then Mets manager Joe Torre on Kiner’s Korner.

The Mets would follow that magical night with seven straight losses, followed by an August swoon, losing 14 of 17 games.

The 1980 Mets were better remembered for a magic moment.

I have always described myself as a Mets fan first, baseball fan second and a Rangers fan third, but rooting for that team then, the Stanley Cup Championship team was truly a memorable one.

However, I am ashamed to admit that I almost forgot it was the 30th anniversary of a significant Mets event as well today.  Now, class, raise your hands if you are old enough to remember what in the Mets lexicon is known as the “Hendu Walk-off?”

I am dating myself, but I do remember it, only by technicality.  I’ll get to that towards the end of this column, since I am writing this column for history, remembrance, and to remind Mets fans what we all have even when times are tough…and that thing is “hope.”

To get to this evening, we must go back to a date that most Mets fans would like to choose to forget, and that is June 15, 1977 (33 years ago tomorrow), otherwise known as the “Midnight Massacre.”  The Franchise himself, Tom Seaver was traded to the Cincinnati Reds.  What gets muddled in that trade is that the Mets did get four players in return, however paltry or nonsymbolic they may have been since Seaver could never truly be replaced.  Those four players were Pat Zachry, Dan Norman, Doug Flynn and one Steve Henderson.

Even on Steven Curtis Henderson’s Wikipedia page, his opening lines to his bio include being well-known for being part of the contingent returned to the Mets in the Midnight Massacre trade.  However, that diminishes his career, where he was a decent major league ball player.  His major league debut was June 16, 1977, for the Mets where he scored a run in a Mets win.  In 497 games over four season for the Mets, Henderson had a line of .280/.352/.418.  He wasn’t exactly lauded for his power over those years, with 35 HRs and 227 RBIs.  However, he played on some notoriously horrific Mets teams in those years.  Lifetime over 12 seasons, his line was a respectable .280/.352/.413.  Last we saw of him in baseball, he was a coach for the Tampa Bay Rays, earning an American League Championship with them in 2008.

In a year when the Mets were sold by the Payson legacies the de Roulets to the Doubleday/Wilpon consortium for the then-staggering price of $21.1 million, Job #1 in 1980 was to get fans back in the seats.  How so?  Let’s run a major ad campaign: “The Magic Is Back!”  The Mets were on a winning streak at one point, and winning games they by all accounts should have been losing, under Joe Torre’s managerial reign in June of that year.

On Saturday, June 14, 1980, Mets fans filled just under half the stadium (according to Matt Silverman’s 100 Things Mets Fans Should Know & Do Before They Die, the exact number was 22,918), only to see them on the wrong end of what seemed to be a blow out, 6-0, very early on in the game.

Also according to Silverman’s chapter on this particular night, there was a promotion on the old screen called “fan of the game,” with the tune “This Magic Moment” by Jay & the Americans, setting the tone for what would indeed become a “magic” sort of night.

By the ninth inning, the Mets managed to scrape together three runs to bring the rally gods out a bit, still losing to the San Francisco Giants, 6-3.  Outfielder Claudell Washington singled in a run, making the score 6-4, when fans started to once again believe.  When Steve Henderson came to bat, the Giants brought in a new pitcher to face him.

With two men on base, the non-power hitter Steve Henderson hit an opposite field three-run home run to win the game in the 9th inning, 7-6.  I think it’s also noteworthy that up until that at-bat, Henderson had not had a home run since July of 1979.

The Magic Is Back?  “This Magic Moment?”  Mets fans that night, whether they watched in the stands or at home knew one thing was certain: magic was certainly in the air.  If it was fleeting, so be it.  With this team’s history, miracles were the rigeur du jour.  Hendu’s walk off made it possible TO believe again, and made Mets baseball engaging and fun after years in the dark.

Why is the Hendu walk-off significant in my memory?  I generally tell people I became a Mets fan in 1983 when some dude named Keith was traded to the Mets (27 years ago tomorrow).  My dad and I would watch games on the old WOR Channel 9, and if my dad liked someone, I liked them too.  I did not go to my first Mets game until the next season, when a kid named Doc would take the mound at moments that always seemed like a rock concert event.

Technically though, my parents attempted to take me to my first game the day after the Hendu walk off.  As legend has it, they got lost in Chinatown, got in an argument, and headed back to Jersey.  Yeah, the promises of a Mets doll or Mets stuffed animal for me were gone, but replaced with a trip to McDonald’s instead.  Hey, I was four years old, what was the difference?  My mom could have promised me a corn dog and lemonade from my favorite stand at the Woodbridge Mall, and I would have been happy.  Indirectly speaking, however, a quarter of the Mets return from the Midnight Massacre is responsible for my being a Mets fan today, and that would be Steve Henderson.

The themes here are prevalent.  Yes, the Midnight Massacre was awful, thankfully I was too young to experience it.  I did feel the aftershocks of said trade for years after that.  As Mets fans though, we’ve all learned that after darkness comes light.  Steve Henderson’s walk off home run that “magic” night provided a glimmer of hope that would shine just enough to get our attention, but provide a bridge to the success of the late-’80s.

On the night Steve Henderson was traded to the Mets in 1977, Dave Kingman was also traded.  In the going-into-1981 offseason, the Mets traded Henderson to get Kingman back.  Just six years after Henderson’s trade to the Mets, Keith Hernandez’s trade for Neil Allen and Rick Ownbey would launch the comeback years, where dramatic walk off fashions were the norm.

Mets fans, let’s tip our caps and raise a glass to Steve Henderson, the Hendu Can Do Walk Off Memories, and the New York Mets.  What’s a Mets fan got to do, if not to BELIEVE???  For this brief magic moment, they all did just that.

Consider that the current leaders, Carlos Beltran and Gary Sheffield, have 8 home runs each so far.  Beltran has three at home, five on the road.  Sheff is split four and four.  Meanwhile, David Wright, who has just 4 homers, has three at home and only one away from Citi Field.  So how do you explain it?  And what does it project out to?  Well, Sheffield has played 58 games but can’t play every day because of creaky knees, and Beltran is on the DL.  Either way, their current pace projects to 18 homers for the season.  Wright’s pace is a paltry 9.  NINE.  We kind of cut the guy slack because he’s been leading the league in batting, but still — I expect nine homers from David Eckstein, not David Wright. 

Fascinating, isn’t it?  Well here is more to ponder.  The last time a Mets player hit less than 20 home runs was Bobby Bonilla in 1992, with 19.  Before that it was Lee Mazzilli’s 16 homers in 1980.  The team’s lowest-ever output was a three-way tie of 12 homers in 1977—between Steve Henderson, John Milner, and John Stearns.  It’s fathomable that if Sheffield and Beltran miss extensive time the rest of the way, the ’77 record could be broken, but it’s highly doubtful.  Even Carlos Delgado, who has 4 homers, could return from the DL in August and reach 20 by the end of September. 

So okay, it’s not necessarily Citi Field, though we’ve seen many potential home runs stay in the park there.  This is a more interesting issue, and maybe one that no one is discussing—the possibility that some of our Mets were using performance enhancers the last few seasons and didn’t get caught.  I’m not accusing, I’m just saying, the numbers just border on staggering, especially when Albert Pujols has 26 homers, 18 more than Sheffield or Beltran.

I’m curious to see what you all think of this.  I don’t believe any Met will reach 20 this season, do you? 

Carlos Beltran is a real gamer (I proposed trading him a month ago because the returning bounty would fill several holes, but I agree with a post who called me “insane” ). He’s hurting right now. (scheduled for a MRI Monday). His knee barks loud when he has to put on the breaks. His diving catch yesterday, that saved two runs, is probably less painful than pulling up in the outfield or on the base paths.

With the team treading water, and the rash of injuries, Jerry Manuel can’t afford to rest Beltran. But, he may have no choice, or risk losing him for an extended period.

When I used to interview players in the clubhouse at Shea, because of the close proximity of the lockers, eavesdropping players would often chime in with a woof that added color to my stories. However, with the vastness of the new digs, a conversation becomes a very private affair. Moreover, with the off-limits section of the clubhouse, replete with pool table, and spa-like hot tubs, etc, many players are no where to be found before or after games.

Great, another obstacle to overcome to garner quotes. Fans want to hear from the players, but how can the reporters gather their precious quotes when the players are not accessible? Add the Jay Horowitz factor (Mets longtime PR man), whose favorite word is the same as Jim Carrey’s “NO,” and you have to be creative and dig to get the word out to the fans.

Nevertheless, we all have our burdens, and when you talk to a guy like Omir Santos, it makes it all worthwhile. He appreciates every minute he dresses in a major league clubhouse. His eyes light up when he talks about being a Met. Add Fernando Tatis to the list of players who “get it.” Both take nothing for granted about the game and life.

On the other end of the spectrum is Ryan Church. He could use a puppy because he has no friends in the Mets clubhouse. He sits alone, mopes alone, and leaves the park alone. Maybe because his body language screams, “get me out of here.” He reminds me of Dave Kingman, who was a fierce loner, that rarely interacted with his teammates or the writers ( unless he was delivering a put-down or a dead rodent).

From the Rays side, there were more clubhouse attendants roaming inside than media. There was an intimate gathering inside Joe Maddon’s office pregame, and speaking to him you realize how sharp this guy is. By the way, Maddon had a stack of printouts on his desk, seemingly for every situation available. Makes me think Davey Johnson was ahead of his time.

Steve Henderson, the hitting coach, and former Mets outfielder, was lamenting about Shea’s demise. He did remark that Citi Field is a “sweet park,” and still fondly recalls his Mets career. “I will never forget how the fans treated me, and the opportunity that the (Seaver) trade gave me. To this day, I still call him, ‘Mr Seaver,’ because if it wasn’t for him I might have never made it to the big leagues.”

Something tells me Hendu would have made it regardless. However, at the time of the infamous “Deadline Massacre” of June 1977 he was toiling in the minors at Indianapolis, teammates with Dan Norman, who also came over from the Reds (and Doug Flynn and Pat Zachry).

(If anyone wants to know what became of Norman, just ask and I’ll tell you. Just seeing if anyone is out there!) Henderson hit one of the most dramatic home runs in Mets history-in 1980, a two out three run walk-off against the Giants’ Allen Ripley, believe it or not. The ball landed in the Mets pen and I watched the majestic flight from the right-field boxes. My voice box never recovered!

Anyone remember it?

Talking to Ben Zobrist, the Ray’s utility man, who only four years ago was a Troy, NY Valley Cat of the NY Penn league, was a pleasure. A highly religious young man whose enthusiasm is infectious has come into his own this season with 15 home runs and leads the AL in slugging %. He blasted an insurance homer off Sean Green for good measure in the 9th. On Friday night he hit several shots that were run down by Beltran and he laughed at the prospect of playing 81 games in the cavernous park.

Speaking of home runs that required a tape measure, or more aptly, a GPS, Carlos Pena’s home run Saturday is still in orbit. I told him they were “able to show a double feature on that flight,” and he smiled in appreciation.

If the Phillies keep losing this could turn out to be 1973 all over again (Mets won it one game over .500).