The Fan Club
I had the opportunity
to attend the Mets Opening Day in 1984, so I went with my buddy Squig. (Not his
real name, in case you were wondering) 1984 was to be a fateful year for us.
I think
that school was out for Easter, but I couldn't swear to it. I do know that Ron
Darling started the game, and it wasn't a pretty one. the Expos won 10-0, so it
was not a good omen for the upcoming season, or so we thought.
Davey
Johnson had just taken the helm of the Mets after spending the previous year
managing the Tidewater Tides in the International League, winning 71 games.
That spring, he got to witness the phenom that was Dwight Gooden.
Doc had
torn up the Carolina League in 1983, striking out 300 batters in 191 innings,
winning 19 games along the way for the Lynchburg Mets. He was eighteen years old, and he would go on
to win the Rookie of the Year Award in 1984, setting several new records along
the way.
I won't go
into the description of the subway ride from our homes in Woodhaven to Shea
Stadium, but suffice it to say that the subway conductor wasn't going to be
forgetting us any time soon. Essentially, on the G train, Squig and I would
change seats between each of the stops. It took five or six stops before he
noticed what we were doing, and at first confusion led to slight annoyance,
then to what I believe was admiration for our perseverance. I think as we got
to our stop, Squig may have even tipped him.
We finally got to the stadium, about an hour or so before game time. As we were taking in the sights and festivities around us, we both noticed one of the coaches (we knew this because it was the eighties, and he was wearing a number in the 50's) half limping, half walking towards the bullpen. We reached for our scorecard and looked him up:
51- Vern Hoscheit.
Squig and I
had not heard of him prior to that, (remember kiddos, this was before the
Google was available) but there was something almost lyrical about the name.
Vern Hoscheit.
A little
while later, as they introduced both teams, when they introduced "Number
51, bullpen coach Vern Hoscheit", both Squig and I screamed out
"VERN!!" Nobody else did anything else apart from polite home team
applause.
Like I
said, the game itself wasn't anything to be proud of, except for noting that
Gary Carter hit a Grand Slam homer in the game. The commute home was
interesting enough, inasmuch as when we were getting on the G Train, who should
we have as our conductor? Yep. The same one from earlier. And yes, he did
remember us.
A few times that summer, a summer
which was turning into a somewhat magical summer for many teams and many
reasons, we would hear a reference to Vern on a radio broadcast, or a telecast
and each of us would yell "Vern!" no matter where we were at the time
we heard it. (Yes, we got a lot of stares)
Then, I had
an idea.
Sitting on
the stoop in front of my house one evening, I told Squig, "You know, if we
started a Vern Hoscheit Fan Club, and made like a banner, and took it to a
game, they'd probably show us on TV."
There was a
very long pause as Squig looked at me, I could see the wheels spinning, and he
finally said, "You know what, it just might work."
And the
plan was hatched.
The Mets
were on their way to their second 90 win season, with the Gooden show being the
must have ticket, combined with the Mets being in playoff contention until the
last week of the season, made getting tickets more of a challenge than had been
the case in the previous years. But we muddled ahead and picked the last
Saturday game of the season, also against the Expos. That was our debut.
By this
time, I had my drivers license, so we didn't have to rely on the subways to get
us to the game. It also meant we could get to the stadium as early as we
wanted. (Too early as it turned out, they wouldn't let us in at 11:00 for a 2:05
game, so we bided our time.
We had
masks, one Groucho mask and one giant insect mask, both provided by Squig, and
both ungodly hot and uncomfortable to wear. I had the banner, or rather, one of
my mother's white bed sheets with the words "Vern Hoscheit Fan Club, Vern
is God" hand lettered, badly at that, in black spray paint. (Not to pat
myself on the back here, but all the words were spelled correctly) We also had
navy blue t-shirts with red felt iron-on lettering which said "Vern is
God" on the front, and "The Vern Hoscheit Fan Club" in smaller
letters on the back. We looked awesome.
When they
finally let us in, we ran up to our seats, which were on the railing in the
upper deck, the two seats on the foul side of the foul pole. The Mets were
still taking batting practice, and we immediately donned the masks and unfurled
the banner and started yelling to get their attention.
Below us,
Ron Darling and Darryl Strawberry were shagging flies in right field when they
looked up at us and started laughing. Pointing and laughing, if truth be told.
They hollered over to some of the other guys, and then there were a bunch of
players pointing and laughing at us. Ron Darling then tossed us a baseball, and
pointed towards second base, where the man himself was gathering baseballs in a
bucket for the BP pitcher. He saw us and waved at us.
It was
awesome.
So we
settled down to await the start of the game, about an hour or so away, and
tried to plot when the best time to walk with the banner was. We both agreed
that later in the game was better, not sure why, but it made sense to us. As we
were chatting away, Vern started making his way to the bullpen, lumbering
towards our spot, so we jumped up again and unfurled the banner again. he waved
and smiled back up at us.
Man, this
was more awesome.
So as we
get into the game, fifth or sixth inning, we decide...now is the time. We are
going to walk the banner. So our plan was to start in the row in the far
right field stands, and walk to the other side, the left field stands. We start,
only to be stopped by a stadium guard, who tells us that we can't carry a
banner like that while the ball is in play. But there was about to be a
pitching change, so we could do it then.
As Jim
Fanning marched to the mound to bring in Randy St. Claire, Squig and I began
our march to left field. With one eye on the Diamondvision screen, looking for
ourselves, and listening to a chorus of "Who the Hell is that?" we
made our way from post to post. Satisfied with the job we had done, we rewarded
ourselves with a hot dog and a Coke and returned to our seats to finish
watching the game.
Then, out
of nowhere, between innings, the Mets bullpen door opens, and out comes Vern,
headed our way again. As we were about to unfurl again, he motions for us to go
back into the stands, along the walkway that overlooks the bullpen, and he
would meet us there.
Awesome
strikes again.
We go back
there and we have a few words, he asks if we were for real, and where we got
the shirts and could we get him one. We asked if he could sign our ball, which he did. And we made a promise to stay in touch, which
we most definitely did.
But some
background information first here. Sometimes, as you follow a particular team,
you have certain players that you develop an affinity for. Guys that you want
to see do well, get that clutch hit. Not the big stars, but the guy that starts
maybe once a week. Maybe rides that pine as a pinch-hitter.
Conversely,
sometimes there may be a player that you can't stand. Sometimes nor reasons
that my not be particularly rational. You just hate seeing this guy get up to
bat or being called in to pitch in relief. Whatever. For me, Roger Cedeno fell
into that category. For Squig, it was Ron Hodges.
Squig was
known to unload a stream of expletives whenever Hodges was put into a game. All
hope was lost whenever he saw Hodges by the bat rack. We had been to a
nail-biter against these same Expos in early April as well and they had a lead
going into the ninth. The Mets pushed across 2 runs in the bottom of the ninth
to win the game, helped by a crucial pinch-hit walk by that same Ron Hodges.
When Wally Backman then doubled batting right handed (a rarity for him) poor
Squig was beside himself with joy and anger.
So, fast
forward to our awesome day, and Squig goes back and watches the video tape and
sees us. And I was right, not only did they show us, the announcers also poked
a little bit of fun at us as well. The bullpen TV plays the TV feed as well, so
as they are showing us maneuvering our way through the crowd, the camera cuts
to the bullpen, where they know Vern is, and you can see a slight commotion as
one of the Mets players pushes Vern out to accept the glory of his newly found
fan club.
Anyone want
to take a guess at what Mets player it was the pushed Vern out?
Ron Hodges.
Over the
next little bit, with a little bit of detective work, and some lucky breaks, we
were able to get in contact with Vern by telephone on a few occasions. (This
was when you had to pay extra for long distance). I spent about twenty minutes
one evening speaking with his lovely wife.
Squig and I
sent him a Fudgy the Whale ice-cream cake (from Carvel) for his birthday in 1985. (April 1st in
case you were interested)
After the
Mets won the World Series in 1986, we called Vern during the off season and he
told us that if we made it to spring training, he would buy us dinner one night.
So we took him up on it. In fact, that's what he wrote in the Christmas card he sent:
The Mets
were training in St. Petersburg
that year, the last before moving to Port St. Lucie. Since it was Spring Break
( a concept Squig and I were unfamiliar with) the nearest hotel we could get
was in Clearwater .
But that was OK by us. We caught a couple of games. We made arrangements to
meet with Vern after an exhibition game against the Cardinals, meeting him in
the lobby of the Marriott, where we watched and listened to the legendary Bob
Murphy interviewing the legendary Lindsay Nelson.
Vern took
us to a little Italian restaurant and we had a good meal, a great conversation,
and enough anecdotes and story for a lifetime. He told us that during the post
game team meeting he was trying to rush Davey Johnson along, and Davey jokingly
asked if Vern had a date. To which Vern replied, "I'm taking my Fan Club
out to dinner"
(imagine a
clubhouse full of snickering at this point)
To which
Davey asks' "Do you have enough money? Do you need a little money?"
Bill
Robinson, the Mets first-base coach said, "No, he don't need any money.
There ain't but two of them".
(imagine
even more laughter at this point).
I was happy
to have met Vern and am grateful for the evening he spent with two bozos from
Woodhaven.
Vern shared
a few great stories, some of which I will probably share on these postings from
time to time. Vern has 4 World Series rings, two from the Oakland A's, and one each from the Mets and the
Orioles. He worked with Casey Stengel, was one of Lou Piniella's earliest professional
managers, and seemed to have winning ball-clubs on his resume.
When former Cardinals manager Whitey Herzog was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame in 2010, the first non-family member that he thanked was Vern, who was his first manager in professional ball.
In June,
2007, I received this e-mail:
I just wanted to let you know that Vern passed
away June 11th, 2007. Your fan club meant a lot to Vern, it was something
he was proud of.
Thank You, Billy Ray Hoscheit
No, Thank You...
PS Thanks to Squig for the pictures and the video
PS Thanks to Squig for the pictures and the video
