Remembering the Summer of Doc

[WilliamPitt]

http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=simmons/050818

When Dwight Gooden splashed down as a 19-year-old rookie in 1984, I was attending prep school in Connecticut, where my basketball coach, a guy named Wally Ramsey, doubled as the biggest Mets fan alive. With Gooden, he knew right away. This was it. This was the guy. You watch baseball for 50 years hoping a Dwight Gooden comes along.

"I know you're a Boston fan," he told me. "But you need to see this kid pitch. This is a once-in-a-lifetime thing."

So I started to watch. They showed almost every Mets game on WOR-TV back then, and because there was no DirecTV around to give me my Red Sox games, I gravitated toward Gooden and the Mets … first out of baseball boredom, but soon out of marvel. Wally was right: watching Gooden was like watching Mozart bang out a new piece every five days. Only Gooden's work kept getting better. His music gave you chills, and all you could think about was hearing it again.

His fastball went up. That's the best way I can describe it. Started out as a laser, accelerated near the plate and -- defying the law of gravity -- went up. Batters swung late, missed by 18 inches, hung their heads in shame. And it wasn't even his best pitch. Gooden's curveball was so remarkable, teammates dubbed it Lord Charles; it headed for the batter's head, waited for the poor guy's knees to buckle, then veered over the plate like a heat-seeking missile. What could you do? It was like a video game that lets you create your own pitcher, only you make him so completely untouchable that no one wants to play against you.

That September, Gooden blossomed during an impossible three-game stretch: a one-hitter against the Cubs, 16 K's against the Pirates, 16 more against the Phillies. Back to back to back. I watched all three. The Pittsburgh game was my favorite because everyone at Shea stood at every two-strike count to cheer. I'd never seen that before. This was when Gooden's ceiling was ripped away; every start carried the promise of a perfect game, or 20 K's, or Lord Charles blowing out someone's ACL. Doctor K finished the season on an 8-1 run and with 276 strikeouts. We all spent that winter talking about him, writing about him, comparing him with other prodigies and thinking about what was next. By the time he appeared on SI's cover in April, some were wondering if he could possibly live up to the hype.

He did.

...more...

[Sandpiper]

1. If the 1980s Mets had never discovered Cocaine...

They'd have gone down as one of the great dynasties in baseball history.

After the '86 series, they looked set to dominate for several years, but that was when their professional paradigm inverted. They went from being baseball players who did cocaine to coke heads who also played baseball.

[rinsd]

2. I blame Keith Hernandez, 2nd spitter or no 2nd spitter (nt)

[Princess Turandot]

4. Keith practically had his name engraved on a door at one of NYC's

detox/rehab units. Although I believe it was an alias lol.

[FlyByNight]

3. Growing up a Sox fan in Connecticut

I paid attention to the Yanks - of course - and the Mets on occasion. (the '86 Series still give me the shivers.) I tried to watch Doc whenever he pitched. He was scary good. Mid-90s fastball with a filthy 1-to-6 curveball. Oh, the potential he once had.