Read Online THE 1969 MIRACLE METS: THE IMPROBABLE STORY OF THE WORLD’S GREATEST UNDERDOG TEAM by Steven Travers - Free Book Online
Authors: Steven Travers
Tags: Baseball
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when that
year means everything in a kid’s development.
“He was the runt of our crowd,” Selma
recalled.
Selma made the Fresno High varsity as a
sophomore, a singular honor that separates a young man from the
pack. Tom barely made the junior varsity. While Selma impressed the
local prep media and professional scouts, Seaver remained a JV. To
still be a JV in one’s junior year, as he was, invariably means
that one lacks the skills to go beyond high school if indeed he
makes the varsity in his last try as a senior. Tom did not throw
hard, but he was smart. He learned how to set up hitters, to change
speeds, developing a curve and even a knuckler.
“Tom was a hell of a pitcher, as contrasted
to a thrower, even when he was on the JVs,” Selma recalled when he
got to the big leagues. “He knew how to set up hitters, and him
just in high school, I’m still learning now.”
High school sports success often dictates
one’s place in the social hierarchy. Being a career JV was a
comedown after little league stardom, but Tom had much more going
for him. Despite his lack of size, he was a good-looking kid with
an outgoing personality. Tom had easygoing charm and the gift of
repartee. He was popular with teachers, with teammates, but most
importantly with pretty girls. Above all other things, this is the
prized attribute that determines a high school boys’ place in the
pecking order. He was a good student who decided he wanted to
become a dentist.
“He was a real happy-go-lucky guy,” Selma
said. “He had a lot of friends and he always dated all the
good-looking girls.”
In his senior year, Tom went out for
basketball, mainly to stay in shape for baseball. He was determined
that he would make the most of what looked to be his last year of
athletic competition. He was a 5-10, 165-pound guard whose natural
athleticism shone through. Surprisingly, he made the all-city
team.
The scouts were out in force, but not to see
him. Selma was on everybody’s radar and would eventually sign with
the expansion New York Mets for $20,000. Tom did manage to make it
into the starting rotation. Still lacking any heat, he was
effective enough throwing off-speed pitches with control to win six
games against five losses and a place on the all-city baseball
team, “mostly because there wasn’t anyone else to choose,” he
recalled. “When the professional scouts came around, looking over
the local talent, some of the other kids got good offers. I didn’t
even get a conversation; not one scout approached me.”
It was the beginning of the magical “summer
of ’62,” the year depicted by filmmaker George Lucas, who grew up
in nearby Modesto and would attend the University of Southern
California with Seaver. The world Lucas showed in American
Graffiti was the only one Tom Seaver knew. It was a unique
central California culture of cars and girls. Tom Seaver’s Fresno
was not quite The Beach Boys’ Southland surf magic, nor the
brewing, dangerous mix of angry protest, harmful drugs and
unprotected sex that would have such ultimately devastating
consequences in the Bay Area.
Songwriter Stephen Stills wrote a famous
line: “There’s something happening here; what it is ain’t exactly
clear.” Indeed, in California something was happening there.
It had been going on there for decades. Tom Seaver would come to
symbolize what it was.
California’s political ethos can be
traced back to the Civil War. Abraham Lincoln promoted the building
of the Trans-continental railroad. He received his greatest
financial backing from the railroad companies. A look at the map
leaves one pondering why the line was built over the difficult
terrain of the Rocky and Sierra Mountain ranges, to San Francisco,
instead of the relatively flat lands of Texas, Arizona, Nevada, the
Southern California desert, and on into Los Angeles. The reason is
that had it been built over the “Southern route,” slaves would have
built it. Lincoln could not condone
year means everything in a kid’s development.
“He was the runt of our crowd,” Selma
recalled.
Selma made the Fresno High varsity as a
sophomore, a singular honor that separates a young man from the
pack. Tom barely made the junior varsity. While Selma impressed the
local prep media and professional scouts, Seaver remained a JV. To
still be a JV in one’s junior year, as he was, invariably means
that one lacks the skills to go beyond high school if indeed he
makes the varsity in his last try as a senior. Tom did not throw
hard, but he was smart. He learned how to set up hitters, to change
speeds, developing a curve and even a knuckler.
“Tom was a hell of a pitcher, as contrasted
to a thrower, even when he was on the JVs,” Selma recalled when he
got to the big leagues. “He knew how to set up hitters, and him
just in high school, I’m still learning now.”
High school sports success often dictates
one’s place in the social hierarchy. Being a career JV was a
comedown after little league stardom, but Tom had much more going
for him. Despite his lack of size, he was a good-looking kid with
an outgoing personality. Tom had easygoing charm and the gift of
repartee. He was popular with teachers, with teammates, but most
importantly with pretty girls. Above all other things, this is the
prized attribute that determines a high school boys’ place in the
pecking order. He was a good student who decided he wanted to
become a dentist.
“He was a real happy-go-lucky guy,” Selma
said. “He had a lot of friends and he always dated all the
good-looking girls.”
In his senior year, Tom went out for
basketball, mainly to stay in shape for baseball. He was determined
that he would make the most of what looked to be his last year of
athletic competition. He was a 5-10, 165-pound guard whose natural
athleticism shone through. Surprisingly, he made the all-city
team.
The scouts were out in force, but not to see
him. Selma was on everybody’s radar and would eventually sign with
the expansion New York Mets for $20,000. Tom did manage to make it
into the starting rotation. Still lacking any heat, he was
effective enough throwing off-speed pitches with control to win six
games against five losses and a place on the all-city baseball
team, “mostly because there wasn’t anyone else to choose,” he
recalled. “When the professional scouts came around, looking over
the local talent, some of the other kids got good offers. I didn’t
even get a conversation; not one scout approached me.”
It was the beginning of the magical “summer
of ’62,” the year depicted by filmmaker George Lucas, who grew up
in nearby Modesto and would attend the University of Southern
California with Seaver. The world Lucas showed in American
Graffiti was the only one Tom Seaver knew. It was a unique
central California culture of cars and girls. Tom Seaver’s Fresno
was not quite The Beach Boys’ Southland surf magic, nor the
brewing, dangerous mix of angry protest, harmful drugs and
unprotected sex that would have such ultimately devastating
consequences in the Bay Area.
Songwriter Stephen Stills wrote a famous
line: “There’s something happening here; what it is ain’t exactly
clear.” Indeed, in California something was happening there.
It had been going on there for decades. Tom Seaver would come to
symbolize what it was.
California’s political ethos can be
traced back to the Civil War. Abraham Lincoln promoted the building
of the Trans-continental railroad. He received his greatest
financial backing from the railroad companies. A look at the map
leaves one pondering why the line was built over the difficult
terrain of the Rocky and Sierra Mountain ranges, to San Francisco,
instead of the relatively flat lands of Texas, Arizona, Nevada, the
Southern California desert, and on into Los Angeles. The reason is
that had it been built over the “Southern route,” slaves would have
built it. Lincoln could not condone
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