I was at Shea Stadium at 1987. It was a beautiful day for baseball, and it was policy that they let everyone attending the game, no matter where their seats were, to come down to field level and watch the Mets take batting practice. So there I was, standing at the railing, with dozens of fans of various ages all around me. My favorite player, Gary Carter–the guy who started off the rally that salvaged Game 6–was just finishing up batting practice.
I was over on the third base side, nearby the visitor’s dugout, and I had a copy of Carter’s instant-book account of the 1986 dream season, appropriately titled “A Dream Season.”
Carter hit his last ball, tossed aside the bat and started jogging around the bases. Now understand that none of the other players were coming anywhere near the fans lined up all around Shea. But I figured I had nothing to lose. I drew in as much air as my lungs would allow and bellowed, “Hey, Gary! Sign a copy of ‘Dream Season?'”
My voice carried across the field, and Carter looked at me (I was the guy holding up a copy of his book), pointed and nodded, circling his hand to convey that he needed to finish running the bases and then he’d be right over.
“Oh my God, oh my God,” everyone standing around me said, eager, unbelieving.
And then Gary Carter touched home plate, and started jogging right toward us.
Everyone around me went nuts. “You did it! Holy crap, you did it!” and they were pounding me on the back with such enthusiasm that I had bruises the next day. Fans from further over were quickly trying to scuttle our way to get in on it.
And Carter drew closer and closer, and we collectively started muttering, “Whoa.”
He was huge. And he just got bigger the nearer he got.
You don’t realize how big some of these guys are when you see them on TV. Football players always come across as gargantuan, but baseball players seem average. Don’t you believe it. Carter was built like a brick outhouse. He was wearing the famed perpetual grin that other ballplayers found annoying, but we loved it. The Kid was coming over to play.
No one disputed that I was first in line. He signed my book, and then a variety of baseballs and program books for the other hands, all of whom were counting their blessings that they’d been standing near a guy with the loudest voice they’d ever heard.
And he was so…dámņëd…nice.
A week or so later, when they were playing the Cubs, Andre Dawson got plunked by a pitch. Hawk took umbrage, and he tried to charge the mound. Carter, who was catching, held him back. And I remember seeing the picture in the newspaper, and realized Dawson was taller and wider than Carter. Having a frame of reference for Carter, I could only think, “My God, how huge is Dawson then?”
I know that Carter’s dream was to manage in the big leagues, and it never happened. The last time I saw him was a year or so ago where he was managing the Long Island Ducks in the Atlantic League. They held a signing before hand, as they typically do, and I stood in line for Carter, holding an LI Ducks ball. I was one of the last people on line, so I had the chance to tell him, fairly quickly, about that time in 1987 and how much it had meant to me. But I could also see that he was thinner, more wan than when I’d last met him. I could see he wasn’t well. I hoped he’d get better. He didn’t.
I have the baseball in front of me. Inscribed on it is, “To Peter, Best of luck. God Bless. Gary Carter.”
God bless you, Kid. Thanks for everything.
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Gary is always going to be an Expo for me (sorry Peter) and it was Carter, Andre Dawson and Tim Raines that first got me interested in baseball when I was a kid. I loved the Expos of the early 80s, no matter how many times we got our heart’s broken (I still hate Rick Monday) and Carter was just the best of them. He was the heart of that team. And in a country that is frankly nuts about hockey, we were nuts about Carter. He was the face of baseball in Canada for a good many years. Broke my heart when he went to the Mets, but everyone was glad he got that World Series ring, even if we wished it was for the Expos.
I wish I’d had the chance to meet him like you did, Peter. Great player, great guy, taken far too soon….
Thank you for sharing. My favorite memory was watching him never give up in Game 6. You could see in his eyes and how he swung that bat that he was not going to make the last out. I was 10 years old sitting with my dad and I was jumping with every pitch.
I’ve been holding back tears since I heard the news. Oddly enough I was passing Citi Field when the news was aired on the radio. It’s amazing how people we don’t know affect our lives. Gary Carter was more than just a baseball player to me. He represented part of my childhood and something my father and I shared.
Thank you Mr. Carter. God bless you and your family.
Thanks for the story. I find myself without much to add to all the commentary I’ve seen the past few hours. I just know he was part of a team I will always love, part of a rare moment when the baseball world revolved around Flushing and not the Bronx or Fenway. Rest well, #8.
I lost a piece of my childhood with Gary Carter’s death. He was the first sports hero that I had. I know he is why I became a catcher when I played baseball.
I was lucky enough to see him play many times in Montreal with both the Expos and the Mets, and was once lucky enough to get an autograph.
Before games in Montreal, I would go down to the screen behind home plate to watch batting practice. Once Gary Carter was passing by, and my voice joined in the others there calling for him to come over to sign autographs. He said he would be back in a moment, but had to pop into the dugout for a moment. After about ten seconds an usher came to send us away since our tickets were not in that section. Everyone started up the steps, and I was watching over my shoulder to see if my favourite player was coming back. Sure enough I saw him leave the dugout and start walking towards where we were, and I pleaded with the usher to let me get my autograph. He relented and I was able to briefly meet my hero, get his autograph, and establish a favourite memory.
I’m happy today to have that memory and autograph. However I wonder how different it would be today with all the cellphone and digital cameras. I’m sure I would have been trying to snap non-stop pictures.
RIP Kid. Thank you for the memories, especially the 1986 World Series.
“Gary figured it out way before we did how to treat people,” former Mets infielder Wally Backman told Klapisch. “We used to make fun of him, the way he’d sign every dámņ autograph. We had to hold the bus for him sometimes, because he didn’t know how to say no. He didn’t want to say no. But you know what? He was right. He really loved the game.”
http://www.usatoday.com/sports/baseball/story/2012-06-30/Gary-Carter-dies-brain-cancer-hall-of-fame/53122190/1
Gary’s last hit, quite a moment.
http://mlb.mlb.com/video/play.jsp?c_id=mlb&content_id=20086255
“The Kid” was my favorite player, which is saying a lot since I am a lifetime Cubs fan. He was my favorite because of who he was as a person, on & off the field. He finished life as he lived it… w/ grit, determination, never backing down, but always smiling… and in the midst of it all still putting others before himself. He was a true testament to his faith, he didn’t just say he had a relationship w/ God like some do, he lived like it and those around him knew it.
Thanks, Gary, not just for all the great plays, and for being a great influence/role model in life, but most of all thank you for being you!
Yesterday morning at Farpoint Bob Greenberger and I were working on a problem he was having with his WordPress installation, and while we were waiting for his site to load I said to him, “Bob, I know that you and the Mets go back a long way, and I wanted to say that I’m really sorry about Gary Carter and your loss. And even though I’m not a Mets fan and can never be a Mets fan — I’m a Cubs fan, and even though it happened four years before I was born, the pain of ’69 is still too near — I feel like I’ve lost something, too, because he was an Expo and the Expo’s legacy is in DC now, and the Nats are second in my heart.” (I may live in Baltimore, but it’s the Nats I consider my local team.) Two years ago the Nationals had a ceremony for Carter and Andre Dawson, ostensibly to celebrate Dawson’s election to the Hall of Fame, but it turned out that they were celebrating both men and their installation on Nationals Park’s Ring of Honor. Their names are both prominent in Nationals Park, on the overhang above the lower deck along the third base line, alongside the names of the stars of the old Washington Senators and the Homestead Grays. There’s some talk that the Nats will wear a Gary Carter patch this year.
I grew up a Cubs fan but I have not been following baseball that closely for the past 8 years. I have been living in New York for the past 6 years. I have a coworker who is a big Mets fan. The first time we talk about baseball I mentioned I liked the Cubs but that since I move to NY I would probably start watching the Mets. He looked at me as if there was something really wrong with me. He told me I couldn’t follow the Mets because of 1969. I didn’t know what he was talking about.
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I have never lived in Chicago or in IL. I was born in 1977 The reason why I was and still am a Cubs fan is that growing up in 80’s I had 3 cable channels: WPIX (METS), TBS (Braves) and WGN (Cubs). That was it. In my opinion Harry and Steve Stone were way above the commentators from the other 2 teams. I learned baseball from watching the telecasts. I dislike the Padres(’84) and I really, really hate the Giants(’89). The Mets? No problems there. Dunston, Sandberg, Grace, Dawson… That is my Cubs line up.
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Kudos on following the Nationals instead of the Orioles. National League teams are always the way to go. Rant – Down with the DH!- End Rant
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Gary Carter was a great player and a class act. May he rest in peace.
Thanks for the Story Pete.
GaryCareter lived life the way we alll should. He was great atwhat he did, but more importantly had fun and seemedto enjoy life