I rearranged the title of this article a dozen times. Finally, I chose the word passing instead of the word death and removed the word hero which will figure prominently in this short remembrance. Writing has never been difficult for me, except when the topic is personal and touches a nerve. Many nerves, emotions and memories encapsulated in a torrent of tears were shed one year ago, on August 31, 2020, when the darkest day in N.Y. Mets history took place: the passing of George Thomas Seaver.

If words flowed as much as my tears, I would have written 1000 words in a few minutes. Today and also one year ago. You see I was asked by MMO to write the obituary of Tom Seaver two years ago, a man I saw play in person and though we never met, a man I admired and adored. I was eight years old when the Mets won it all in 1969, old enough to realize that I was seeing a miracle unfold in front of me in great part due to Seaver, who became my childhood hero. Number 41 jerseys still adorn my closet as do pictures on the walls of my office. Heroes never change, because their impact never changes and the memories persist.

“Think about me,” Seaver once said. “I was blessed with some ability, and with a great right arm. And now, for the rest of my life, I’ll have some of the greatest collection of memories anyone who ever played this game has ever had.” Memories such as three Cy Young Awards, a Hickok Belt as the outstanding athlete of 1969, a plethora of one and two hitters and the honor of being only one of five players to have his number retired by the Mets.

Not bad for a California kid who studied dentistry in his college years. In fact, the late Tommy Lasorda once offered the young Seaver a $2000 signing bonus to join the L.A. Dodgers organization. When Tom countered with a $50,000 bonus instead, Lasorda huffed and said “Good luck in your dental career” and the possibility of his becoming a Dodger vanished. Dr. George Thomas Seaver, DDS doesn’t quite make it for me and it is not a slight to dentistry, because my father, rest his soul, was a dentist for a quarter century.

Even after Lasorda’s failure, Seaver’s trip to Flushing was marred with twists and turns. He was recruited from USC by the Atlanta Braves who reportedly gave him a $40,000 signing bonus. But an old rule, seldom implemented, voided the transaction as the USC season had already started. No one was eligible to sign with a professional team during a college season, and the Braves were left empty- handed. Hounded by Seaver and his family to find a solution, baseball commissioner William D. Eckert was forced to act.

It was declared that any major league team that would match the Braves’ offer could do so, and any team who did would be part of a lottery for Seaver’s services. Three teams showed interest, the Cleveland Indians, the Philadelphia Phillies and the Mets. On April 2, 1966, those names were put in a hat and history, Mets history and my history were changed forever when Mets was selected.

During the next decade, Seaver put his imprint on a professional team like few other athletes ever have. From his Rookie-of-the-Year campaign in 1967, through  nine All-Star appearances, through the most unlikely of championships, Tom Seaver’s name quickly morphed to Tom Terrific and The Franchise. His fluid like delivery and powerful legs created a strike out machine that only five major leaguers in history have ever topped. His 3640 strikeouts over his 20-year career rank him sixth on the all-time list.

He won 311 games for four different teams, sadly winning his 300th as a member of the Chicago White Sox and not the Mets. His lifetime 2.86 ERA may be his most impressive stat along with his 231 complete games. Seaver is one of only two pitchers in the history of baseball with at least 300 wins, at least 3000 strikeouts and a below 3.00 ERA. Walter Johnson is the other.

But the mystique, the aura, the hero worship was all about the summer of 1969, the year a mere eight year old franchise, who were best known for being lovable losers, won a World Championship. That team charged from a losing record at the beginning of June and from 10 games behind in mid-August to capture the National League’s East Division title, then swept the Atlanta Braves in the National League Championship Series and finally defeated the heavily favored Baltimore Orioles, winners of 109 regular-season games, four games to one for the World Series title.

Seaver won his last ten decisions in 1969 on his was to a 25-7 record. The 25 wins is still a franchise record. He then won game one of the NLCS and pitched ten innings in game 4 of the World Series, both important wins. His impact on the team, though, was much greater than mere stats.

“He was a heck of a lot responsible for tightening things up around here,” Mets catcher Jerry Grote told Sport magazine in 1970. “From the first year, he was going out to win, not pitch his turn. When Seaver’s pitching, those guys plain work a little harder.”

Tom Seaver’s number was retired by the Mets in 1988 and in 1992 Tom was elected to the Hall of Fame with a then record 98.84% of the vote.

2019 was supposed to be a happy year for the Mets family. After all, it marked the 50th anniversary of the Miracle Mets of 1969. Celebrations were planned and early in the year it was announced that 123-01 Roosevelt Avenue, the address of Citi Field, would be changed to 41 Seaver Way and that a statue  of The Franchise would one day soon grace the entrance of the Mets home.

But in March of that year, an ominous and unexpected note came from Cooperstown:

“The Seaver family announced today that Hall of Fame pitcher Tom Seaver has recently been diagnosed with dementia,” the National Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York, said in a statement Thursday.

“Tom will continue to work in his beloved vineyard at his California home, but has chosen to completely retire from public life. The family is deeply appreciative of those who have supported Tom throughout his career, on and off the field, and who do so now by honoring his request for privacy.”

I remember the day like it was yesterday.

Reaction was swift and no less a pitcher than Jim Palmer tweeted:

Then, a little over a year later, in the summer of 2020, talking baseball with my MMO cohorts, the news of his death was announced. Tom Seaver died from complications of dementia and Covid-19. He was 75. The only thing I texted that night was ,”OH NOOOOOOOOOOO” and the tears started to flow. I then was asked to write his obituary for MMO and I composed myself to blurt out a few hundred words here:

After the nice reaction to the obituary, I was left to ponder life without a hero. But then I realized that like the encodings on the brain, certain memories last forever. Tom Terrific might be gone but his legacy will never, ever leave us. And so my hero is not gone, he’s just in a better place. The memories are etched forever. The only thing I can’t control are these darn tears, which as I type the end of this small biopic can’t seem to go away. And as the screen becomes a blur, I just want to conclude simply:

RIP Tom (my hero)