When I saw the news last night that Marty Noble had passed away at the age of 70, I just sat on my couch motionless for about an hour, because I know baseball in New York just won’t be the same without him. And particularly Mets baseball won’t be the same, because a valued Mets historian who is an award winning writer is no longer with us.

I actually think there should be in a place for him in the Mets Hall Of Fame because he gave Mets fans so much in his tenure of covering the team and did it with grace and class every step of the way.

I first met Marty in the mid 80’s when I started covering the Mets, and that was a time when the print and electronic media were often at odds. Even though we were on opposite side of the equation, Marty always treated me so well. He gave me great career advice along the way, and one thing in particular that he always told me stands out to this day.

“Just be yourself, and if that’s not enough then it is not enough,” Marty said.

We spent countless hours during many spring trainings in Post St. Lucie talking Mets history as we generally carpooled together on long trips across the state for road games. We not only talked about baseball, but also life in general.

He listened to my takes as a youngster growing up in the Bronx as a Mets fan, and quite frankly his interest in hearing about that helped inspire the writing of my second book about the ’69 Mets, and just last night I decided I want to dedicate that book to him.

Whenever a former Mets player came to spring training, he gave me a great introduction and then made the conversation about me, helping me gain a connection with them. I learned so much from him about  the clubhouse, and what off the record really meant. Off the record, as he taught me, had to stay that way because no one story is worth losing a valuable connection.

He also taught me how to conduct an interview in a way that makes the players more open to answering your questions. You do that by connecting with them on a personal level, and having conversations that have little to do with baseball.  I highly doubt my relationship with Johan Santana or Carlos Beltran, for instance, would have been as great as it was without Marty explaining to me the best way to develop those relationships.

He also was a master at illustrating how an interview should be done to the extent of knowing the last question could be as important as the first one. He really showed me that working all corners of the clubhouse is a tough task but an absolutely necessary one. That is why when I wrote my first book he was one of the highlights in my chapter on Beat Reporters because he did it on the Mets beat better than anyone I have ever seen.

Even more than that, Marty was a great friend in helping me deal with personal stuff, like my dad’s dementia. I made sure I saw Dad today because he was huge fan of Marty. We both shared memories that even in my Dad’s state of dementia, came through loud and clear.

He counseled me that I needed to expect Dad would have good days and bad ones, but I had to understand that his dementia frustrated him as much as it did me. It was great advice and it has helped me deal with the difficult pain involved in seeing a person you love suffer from dementia.

Regular season baseball begins in a few days, and we will all immerse ourselves in it, because baseball is like a best friend, it’s always there when you need it. Marty taught us all that baseball gets in your soul and keeping it there will make your life better. It is now up to us to pass that legacy onto people in our lives the same way Marty did. I know I love this sport for many reasons, but perhaps the biggest of those reasons is that Marty Noble showed me the way like he did for so many others.

That is why Hall Of Famer should be adjacent to his name. He embodied what a Hall of Famer should be, talented but willing to share that talent by showing others how special being a baseball reporter can be. And especially because of the road Marty Noble paved for all of us. Every time I hear that official scorer in the press box call out the time of first pitch, I know Marty will be looking down on us enjoying the game he taught me to love, and for a brief moment we are watching it together.

Thank you Marty, RIP My Friend.