The Woeful New York Mutts

Based on their record, my APBA 1965 replay New York Mets are bad. Really bad.

In the 24 years I’ve been doing APBA games, rolling the dice for 11 full baseball season replays (and a half if I’m counting the ill-fated 1925 season I quit after I tried playing the season series-by-series rather than day-by-day), I’ve never had a team lose as many games as the Mets. I’ve had other bad teams in APBA football, basketball and hockey before I began playing baseball in 1998, but none compare to the spiraling Queens team.

On paper, as they say, they are awful. They earn the title of the “Mutts,” as my high school friend, a die-hard Cardinals fan called the rivals, called them back in the late 1970s. But, as they also say, they don’t play the games on paper. Well, in the APBA replayers’ world, we do play ‘em on paper, but you know what I mean.

As of Sept. 5, 1965, New York is 33-106. They’re an astounding 53 games out of first place behind the Cincinnati Reds. I think they were mathematically eliminated when manager Casey Stengel motioned for a relief pitcher for the first time that year.

Let’s look at their pitching corps. The Mets have two 20-game losers already.  Galen Cisco is 3-20 and Gary Kroll is 1-20. Al Jackson is presently 6-18 and ace John ‘Fat Jack; Fisher is 9-17. The Mutts can do a reverse 1971 Baltimore pitching staff when four Orioles won 20 or more games that season.

At least three relievers and spot starters, Tug McGraw at 4-7, Tom Parsons at 4-9 and Larry Miller at 4-8 each have chances of losing at least 10 games.

But when playing the Mets, rolling the dice and anticipating yet another loss, the team is actually in many of the contests. They are like my golf playing of ago. I was so horrible a golfer that the USGA deemed my handicap my entire game rather than a few strokes. But, there was always one or two shot – in my case, non-whiffs when the ball went straight- that kept me coming back. The Mutts are like that.

Here’s a prime example. The Mets were in St. Louis for their Sept. 5, 1965, game.  Ed Kranepool hit a first-inning home run and New York was up, 1-0.  The Cardinals came back, scoring two in the bottom half of the inning and then two more in the fourth. I thought the rout was on. Instead, Ron Swoboda hit two homers and drove in four, Chuck Hiller hit a two run shot and Jess Hickman blasted a three run dinger and McGraw hurled a complete game, albeit with seven walks, and the Mets won, 10-4.

After losing nine in a row, New York has gone a surprising 5-4, including taking two out of three to the faltering Cardinals in Sportsman’s Park.

And when they lose, it’s not by much in many cases. Of their 106 losses, 36 were by three runs or less.

Of course, there are flashes of the Mets ineptness that prompted New York writer Jimmy Breslin to pen the baseball classic about the Mets, “Can’t Anybody Here Play This Game?” They once lost to the Reds, 25-7, and in a three-game road swing in Los Angeles and Houston, they were outscored 30-2. They opened the season with a 12-game losing streak before surprising San Francisco. In jubilation, the Mutts then embarked on an eight-game losing run. Next, they swept the underachieving Milwaukee Braves before going on another eight-game losing streak.

See what I mean about comparing my awful golf game to the Mets?  They didn’t win their 10^th game until June 9. In July, they were 6-22.

When I did a 1981 season replay, the Minnesota Twins lost 26 in a row in the most futile streak I’ve ever rolled. But they ended up winning more games than the Mets will. (I couldn’t find my season stats for 1981, but saw they were 39-95 in mid September 1981.)

Despite their awful record, the Mets are a fun team to play. I find myself rooting for them, although when doing replays, I try to keep an unbiased managerial style in pulling pitchers and subbing players. Each Mets’ game is an adventure and now it’s a challenge to see if they can win 40 games before their season blissfully comes to an end.

The Decision

No, this isn’t a recap of LeBron James’ televised event in 2010 when he announced he was leaving Cleveland to play basketball in Miami.

This is bigger. Much bigger.

After playing nearly 85 percent of my 1965 APBA baseball season, I’ve finally decided what season to do next. It’s come later than usual.

Those of us who do the season replays understand what I’m talking about. It’s not that we’re bored with the current season we’re doing, but instead we’re always looking forward to the next journey this game takes us on. We may be interested in a certain era of baseball, or a player. Maybe a season piques an interest. Can Roger Maris hit 61 home runs in a replay of the 1961 season?  Can the Cubs hold off the New York Mets in a 1969 replay? Will Dizzy Dean win 30 or more games during 1934?

Generally, I pretty much make up my mind about halfway through a season replay on which season I’ll do after completing the current one. Again, it’s not that I’m bored with the season or tired of it. In my 1965 replay, I’ve reached Sept. 4 and both leagues have close races. Detroit is 2 games behind Minnesota in the American League and Cincinnati holds a 4-game lead over St. Louis and is six games ahead of San Francisco. The Reds and Giants tangle seven times, including a four-game series at the end of the season that will keep any APBA fan glued to the replay.

But like most APBA players, I’ve bought a few seasons over the years. For me, a replay may take 18 to 24 months to play. It may take longer; I began a replay of the 1991 season in August of 2015. A week later, I made a phone call to the woman who would later become my wife. I drove to her home in a northern suburb Chicago to meet her in September and then numerous times over the next several months and my replay came to a screeching halt. Took me four years to finish that season, all while my other seasons sat ready to play.

I began the 1965 season in December of 2021. Now, 15 months later, I’m looking at another four or so months of play before I crown a champion.

A lot of making a replay decision is based upon what I’m reading. Right now, I’m reading Leigh Montville’s book on Ted Williams, so I pondered doing a season with him in it. I’ve played 1942, 1947, 1950 and 1957 - seasons I own that feature Williams. The only other season I have with him is 1954.

But then, I usually read Jim Bouton’s “Ball Four,” his classic look at the 1969 season, in the spring and that inspires me.  And I have Jonathan Eig’s “Luckiest Man,” the biography of Lou Gehrig, and Robert Cramer’s “Babe” on deck to read and I think of pulling out the 1927 season.

This decision, though, came down to two things: Friendship and nostalgia.

I chose 1972 to do next.

 My APBA friend, Shay, whom we email back and forth with our APBA replay updates a lot, is doing 1973 now. I thought we could compare players and see how our seasons are going. She’ll be halfway finished by the time I begin 1972, but we can share observations then.

The other reason goes to old memories and Chicago White Sox pitcher Wilbur Wood. I grew up in Minnesota, and 1972 may have been the first year I was really fully aware of baseball. I didn’t like the White Sox because they were the Twins’ rivals, but for some reason I did like Wilbur Wood. I won a stuffed green toy worm at the Beltrami, Minn., County Fair that year and in honor of that magnificent feat, I named it “Wilbur Wood Worm.”

The worm is long gone, but the memories of that fair and the season are still there.

So, it’s 1972 next. The newly relocated Texas Rangers, the emergency of the dynasty in Oakland, Willie Mays with the Mets, Steve Carlton being responsible for 27 of the Philadelphia Phillies’ 57 victories and more. And there’s that feeling replayers get when doing seasons when we were alive. I’m sure that’ll provide substance for future blogs here.

I still have 260 games left in 1965 and it’s been a great season to do. That’s the lure of APBA. We began playing the games as kids and now, half a century later, we’re still rolling the games, trying to decide what’s next.