The Michael Joseph Piazza Love Affair: the Beginning

I was at middle school baseball practice. I saw my grandfather's Nissan Altima pull into the parking lot, as it did every afternoon to catch me playing ball at the field located a short ride from his home. Sensing something was different, I saw him walking with purpose in his step. His stride increased, my heart raced and all of a sudden, he delivered the news I anticipate will be up on the same level as the day I hear "yes" to my marriage proposal and "it's a boy (or girl)" in a waiting room: "the Mets got Piazza!"



My life had changed. Growing up as a catcher, Mike Piazza hitting the scene in 1992 with the Los Angeles Dodgers was like the first time you hear a love song on the radio and realized you could actually relate it to a girl. It was the validation of everything you thought was possible. At the time, I was 13, so I had missed the days of Bench and was left to watch the likes of Don Slaught, Macky Sasser and Benito Santiago play the position I played. Gifted with the glove and calling a good game, sure. But as we learned in 1995 thanks to Maddux and Glavine, chicks dig the long ball. So when a young, scrappy, mountain of a man with a mustache so incredibly '90s in awesome it can only be described as mint exploded onto the scene hitting for average and power, it made young catchers like me dream of a day we too could not only block balls and call the right pitches, but hit bombs.

I came home one day that summer and there it sat. Back then, I didn't even know each league had special JERSEYS for the Home Run Derby. "What a great idea," I thought. Besides the obvious merchandising benefits for the league, it gave each league a kind of common banner to identify under. I thought it was great. And plus...MIKE FREAKIN' PIAZZA! I actually had some form of a Mets jersey with Piazza on it. I was through the roof.



I think my favorite part of this piece is three fold:

A) The color. The American League got a more traditonal black that year and, thankfully, the National League avoided looking like Barney the Dinosaur, clad in purple. I think the green still stands out as one of the coolest All Star Batting Practice jerseys in my closet.

B) The pro-mesh. I love this jersey because of the fabric. Pro mesh it light. It almost feels silky, as opposed to most meshes that have the typical feel you'd associate with a traditional mesh. This is one jersey I love to wear without an undershirt because it's so incredibly comfortable.

C) The quirks. The Diamond Collection tagging (this was pre-Authentic Collection) days and the Majestic wordmark is etched at the bottom of the now very visibile mountains which is a rare sight. I love the plain customization job along with, of course, the blue skyline patch that includes the interlocking NY. Plus this implied one: after being shut out in both the 1995 and '96 Home Run Derby, Piazza never competed in another one. So whenever I brought a Piazza Home Run Derby/All Star BP jersey, it was kind of with a chuckle knowing I'd probably never see him wear it, but knew it was awesome just the same.



After 37 games with the Dodgers and the always comical 5 with the Marlins, Piazza played in 109 games for the Mets in 1998, hitting .348, 23 homers and driving in 76 runs for the orange and blue. His overall line that year was .328, 32 and 111, or as Mets fans began to know them as the typical Piazza year.

While Piazza belted extra base hits, everything changed in my life. I started dating my high school sweetheart shortly after I started high school that fall. I woke up early morning bleary eyed and raced to the paper with my father to find out what happened in the previous night's Mets/Astros series that seemed to last for the month of September.* I saw the Mets collapse...for the first time, losing 6 of their last 8 games, include 3 of 5 on their final homestand to the Marlins and Expos. But, when I look back on it all, it set up probably two of the most fun three years I've had so far watching baseball. The acquisition of Mike Piazza created so many moments where my dad and I went absolutely ballistic and, as my mom puts it, almost ended up in the basement from jumping up and down so much that I will never forget 1998. It was the gateway to my baseball destiny: a lifelong, die hard, bleed royal and citrus masochist. And quite frankly I wouldn't have it any other way. This jersey epitomizes my coming of age. And I hold it in such esteem because of it.



To this date, I've only cried at a ballpark twice in my life: the final game at Shea Stadium and the last day of Mike Piazza's New York Mets career. I lived and died with every single one of the 220 balls that flew over the wall during his tenure as King of Flushing and I always dreaded the day he wouldn't be listed batting fourth and catching on the Shea scoreboard. To me, only a toddler in 1986, the good times were the Mike times, and I consider this jersey the beginning of it all.

*Two posts and I've reference that Mets/'Stros series twice already. For my money, maybe the best regular season series of my years. From September 14th-16th, the Mets and Astros played a series that teetered back and forth. Game One, Brian McRae homered off Billy Wagner down two to tie the game at four, and they'd score 3 runs in the top of the 13th to win. Game Two, Jeff Bagwell tied the game up in the bottom of the 11th with a solo homer off John Franco, not to be outdone by Derrick Bell's walk off shot off Jeff Tam to win it. Then the Mets, trailing 3-2 in Game Three, scored 3 runs in the 8th on a John Olerud 3 run shot, and 3 more in the 9th, to take 2 of 3 in the series and move 1/2 game back of the eventual Wild Card winners the Chicago Cubs.