R.I.P. - Andy Carra

by:  Mack Ade


Andy was a friend of mine, but he was my brother's best friend.


We grew up together on the border of Richmond Hill and Ozone Park. We lived on 95th avenue, between 106th and 107th street. Andy lived on 97th avenue, between 107th and 108th street. In between was Mickey's house, but that's another story.


Andy married Eileen. My brother married her best friend, Maureen. That's what you did in those days.


He went on to write for the old Sport Magazine and he visited with us a few years back here at Mack's Mets. It's an email worth re-printing once again:

John (my real name) --

So nice to hear from you. Yeah, Sandy was always a quick one. I remember me and Denny Viola playing two-on-two with your brother and Sandy down at the Atlantic Avenue park. At least "size" might have mattered a little bit then because he was so fast that you could let him get a step and try to block him from behind. I always had trouble with him even in stickball.

Where did you get that association with the Mets, and how long has this been going on? I was there in 1969 and it will be a part of me as long as I live. I don't know if you knew this or if I told you before, but I was working at Sport Magazine back then and picked up a freelance gig with the late Dick Schaap a couple of years before that. At first I helped Dick with the Jerry Kramer book ("Instant Replay") and then the Dave  DeBusschere  book ("The Open Man"). I'd transcribe audio tapes for him and talk to Kramer and Dave. Then Dick asked me in the summer of 1969 if I was willing to work during my vacation from Sport for him. He was doing this book called "The Year the Mets Lost Last Place," and he wanted someone to coordinate a whole bunch of things for him. He offered me the ungodly sum of $1200 to do it for the week. Turns out the week was in July and it was the week of the series against Leo Durocher and the Cubs. It included the night that Tom Seaver almost threw his perfect game. My job was to "pick up" the Mets starting pitcher each day at his home early in the morning, have breakfast with him and his family, accompany him to the ballpark and then coordinate all the other sportswriters who were involved with the project. Dick had hired a whole bunch of the regulars who cover the team to do filler material for the book. One guy would cover the starting infielders, one the starting outfielders, one the bench, one the catchers, one the bullpen, one the coaching staff, etc. I had the starting pitcher and I was the one who would collect everyone's notes and bring them back to Dick's place on East 56th Street at the end of the game. Great stuff. Anyway, later on, when the Mets continued their magical run, I was going to a lot of the games simply because I could as a member of the media and I was there for the clincher, the series against the Braves and, of course, for the World Series. I wish I would have saved the suit I was wearing when Jerry Koosman grabbed me and dumped the champagne all over me. What a great time to be involved.

Those were terrific years and Dick was the luckiest son-of-a-bitch I ever knew and a great friend (I still miss him). His first book was "Instant Replay" and the Packers go on to win the championship and Kramer throws that memorable block. His next diary book was "The Open Man," and DeBusschere helps bring a championship to the Knicks. His next diary book was with Frank Beard, professional golfer and Beard doesn't win a major, but he wins the Westchester Classic in the heart of media coverage. Then he does the Mets book. Then he picks up Joe Namath and I do all the background and some of the interviews and side stuff and Namath takes the Jets to their Super Bowl win. It was just an incredible streak for Dick. He had some help in putting the books together (Paul Zimmerman did the DeBusschere book), but he was the one who was picking the subjects and the guys who would keep the diaries. I got to know some of these guys quite well, better than I would have if I had been just a reporter covering the team. DeBusschere became a friend as did Namath (in a way). And, of course, Dick was a friend for life. He was the guy who enabled me and Eileen to buy our first house, what with all the extra money he threw my way back in those days. I always told him that and he got a great laugh out of it. "Hey, Dick. You're the guy who bought my house."

Anyway, that was then.  Take care of yourself and I'll give your best to Sandy when I see him.

Best, Andy

Andy played golf with his buddies down in Florida and felt a little flushed. They rushed him to the hospital but he was dead of a heart attack. Eileen said he went quickly without pain.  


My brother, Mickey, and Andy had their own softball team and they were they guys that wore red pants. He will live forever in my memories.