35 Years Later: Reliving the "Midnight Massacre"...or "Dr. Hate-monger & How I Learned to Despise Dick Young"

1977 was a very interesting year for me- at least, it seemed that way. I was to be Bar Mitzvahed in September of that year, meaning, in the Jewish religion, I would officially be considered a "man." I still collected comic books and baseball cards, with fervor, and regularly played a game in Junior High wherein one of my friends would write the initials of a player in major league baseball and I'd have 10 seconds to guess the player (example: they'd write "RJ" and I would guess "Rupert Jones.") I never missed. (No need to "insert a joke here"- what we wore in the 70's was joke enough!)

I rooted primarily for 4 pro teams: the Nets, the Giants, the Islanders and the Mets ( I know, they don't go together, but I'll explain.) My dad, as a first generation American, fell in love with sports, and his father, an immigrant from Lithuania, had no knowledge of such things. My dad became an insane fan of the New York Giants football team, the Giants baseball team, the Rangers and the Knicks. When the Giants moved to San Francisco, my dad's heart literally broke. When the "shot heard 'round the world" was hit, he was drinking in a bar, listening to the game on the radio, in his hometown, Brooklyn, New York. When Bobby T hit that homer, my dad jumped up and screamed in joy- and was chased out of the bar by a horde of Dodger fans. He actually did his first- and only- cartwheel as he ran from the POed fans. 

My dad also had season tickets to the football Giants for many years, primarily after the Giants baseball team left town. When the Mets came to town in 1962, taking the Dodgers colors but the Giants "NY" logo, a second love affair was born, a love affair he passed down to both of his sons. (I had the fortune of being born the same year as Shea Stadium, so it was pre-ordained that I'd fall in love with the ole girl.) I attended my first Mets' game at the age of 4, in the summer of '68, before my brother was born, accompanied by my dad and grandfather. Now, before I go any further, it must be said that this is the same pair that attended the Father's Day Double-header in 1964 vs. the Phils, where Jim Bunning threw a Perfect Game (a true rarity back then); my grandfather's response was that it was a "boring" game- he was a fan of high-scoring games, as opposed to my dad, who appreciated great defense and pitching duels, and passed that down to me (good thing, too, based on how the Mets' teams of the 60's & 70's were put together!)

As time passed, I became a sports fanatic, like my dad, and was excited that, upon moving to Long Island from Queens, we were greeted by the newly formed Islanders hockey team and their co-tenant, in the brand new Nassau Coliseum, the New York Nets basketball team.  Moving "far" from Madison Square Garden meant that, in order to get our fix of hockey and basketball, we'd have to root for the 2 Long Island-based upstarts. It was easier for me- I hadn't gotten into hockey until late 1971, and although I loved the Knicks almost from birth, the Nets were close by, I could go to lots of games (we had season tix for both teams) and the ABA game was very exciting, even then, as defense was something that the army did but not any teams that played hoops in the Coliseum. One thing that I DID take with me to my new home on the Island was my love of reading the sports sections in the local newspapers.

In '71, we had a number of papers available- the New York Post, the New York Times, the Daily News, and the Long Island Press- and, of course, we had each of them delivered to the house, with the Post coming later in the day (the "Late City Edition" - remember THOSE days???) I was also addicted to Baseball Digest, and would get a copy of the annual "Who's Who in Baseball" from my dad every year, but there weren't many additional sources of information for a news-starved, young fan- at least, not compared to the over-saturated times we find ourselves in today.  
 
In fact, some 6 years later, I would find myself on the cover of the second section of the LI Press, as a journalist covered the fact that I'd lent a number of very valuable comics (out of my collection of over 3,000) to the local library and thought it newsworthy, for some reason. (Yes, that's me, circa 1977 - what you CAN'T see is that I'm wearing a Mets shirt over a long-sleeve polo!)

Fast forward to 1976- the Nets broke my heart, trading my favorite basketball player of all time, Dr. J: Julius Erving, to the hated Philadelphia 76ers in exchange for enough money to placate the NY Knicks and enter the NBA (as the ABA had ended play the prior season.) The most exciting player to ever lace a pair of sneakers in the New York area was traded for a sack of cash, and a short time later, owner Roy Boe was gone, too. All I could think about was how betrayed I felt, and how sad it was when my dad gave up our season tickets to the soon-to-be New Jersey Nets...that was two teams (Giants) headed to Joisey...but at least I still had my Mets- and Tom Seaver!!

By 1977, free agency was a reality in baseball, with the likes of Jim "Catfish" Hunter and Reggie Jackson making, or about to make, their mark in the Big Apple. At that time, there were a handful of newspaper writers I couldn't live without; in basketball, it was Pete Vecsey in the Post; in baseball, it was Jack Lang and Dick Young; and, as a columnist, Newsday's Steve Jacobson was my favorite (and it didn't hurt that I was childhood friends with his son, Matt, at the time.) Lang was a great writer, but controversy was not his specialty. Jacobson was a columnist par excellence, but he dealt with in-depth stories. Vecsey and Young, however, dealt with something that is commonplace now, but was revolutionary 35 years ago- they shared rumors and innuendo and opinions, where others stuck "merely" to facts. Vecsey's "Hoop Du Jour" in the Post took aim at everyone and anyone in the hoops world (particularly inept Net's back-up center, Kim Hughes) while Young's "Clubhouse Confidential" made the News a must-read for baseball fans and sports-lovers alike. I enjoyed their columns- no, actually, I inHALED their columns, as there was no internet, no ESPN, not even Sports-Phone yet, and their columns provided enough speculation to make the mind wander in excitement. They also pointed their own, unique brand of vitriol at those they disliked, and while Vecsey kept his towards the ineptitude of ownership and players, Young started gunning for the one, sacred player in New York at the time- one George Thomas "Tom" Seaver.


Signed by the Mets as the result of a special lottery draft, Seaver made his way through the minors in no time, playing a major role in the first season of marked improvement in the team's young history in 1968. One mere season later, Seaver was at the center of the success of the '69 "Miracle Mets" team that made everyone, including this young blogger, believe that anything could, truly happen!



Fast forward to 1977. Seaver couldn't help but see the vast riches being showered on players his equal or lesser, and he simply desired what every athlete with a healthy ego wanted- to be paid commensurate with his performance. The problem was that M. Donald Grant (hiss) was running the team for the family of the late owner, Miss Joan Payson, and he was a noted tightwad. Young sided with the owners in this "battle," which wasn't surprising considering his son-in-law was an employee of the team, so while Seaver should have been the center of attention on an otherwise forgettable team, Young took every occasion to throw whatever "barbs" at GTS that he could. In spite of this, I waited every morning for the News to come, hoping I'd get a chance to read it before school. If not, as soon as the bus let us off at the end of the day, I made a beeline for the house and ran as fast as I could, hoping I didn't miss some rumor or trade because I was interrupted by having to attend school- I mean, come on, didn't our society have priorities???



Finally, in late spring of 1977, New York was turned upside down. The streets were plagued with a serial killer at night ("Son of Sam" David Berkowitz), and the team in Queens, unlike their brethren in the Bronx, had lost their viability due to Grant's cheap ways. Seaver derided Grant's inability to add quality players to the roster; in fact, he traded their best hitter, Rusty Staub, to Detroit for an out-of-shape, past-his-prime starter in Mickey Lolich, adding to the only strength the team DID have, a strong rotation. The trade of Staub was tough to swallow, because he was my favorite hitter on the team, and would remain so until he retired a number of years (and a return engagement with the team) later. We still had Dave "King Kong" Kingman in the line-up, which meant that on any given day, you were liable to see either the longest home run ever hit or be the recipient of a strong breeze when he struck out. We also had a strong rotation, made up largely of the group that brought us to the World Series in '73- Seaver, Jerry Koosman and Jon Matlack. We had just enough good players to keep it interesting, but too many holes to make a solid run for first place. And then it happened...

We all have some event that happened in our lives where you know 100% where you were and what you were doing when it transpired; for my folks, it was the deaths of John & Robert Kennedy and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr; for me, it was the '69 Series (my grandfather's lap), the death of my grandpa, and the "Midnight Massacre" trade...and it didn't have to happen. A mere day before the trade deadline (June 15th), Seaver and the team agreed to a deal that would keep him at the same salary that season, but he'd receive a 3-year extension, at $300,000, $400,000 and $400,000, a sizable chunk even by the new salary standards of the day. Seaver had worked out the deal with owner Lorinda deRoulet (Payson's daughter) and he called Grant to rescind his trade request. That lasted all of one day, as the following morning, Seaver was made aware of a column that Young had written, which said that Seaver and his wife were "jealous" of the larger contract that old friend and teammate, Nolan Ryan had signed and that was the last straw for Seaver. He wouldn't tolerate his family being dragged through the mud by Young, and although Lang, also at the News at the time, always wrote favorably about Seaver (and was a close friend), that (and the new contract) wasn't enough to sway his mind and so, on the day of June 15th, "the franchise" was now a Cincinnati Red. Doug Flynn, Steve Henderson, Pat Zachry and Dan Norman were Mets; and I was a hurt and confused young man. I held the newspaper you see in the picture to the left in my hands, as well as that day's Post, and I just couldn't believe what I was reading. I still can't, 35 years later...

I cried during the clips we saw of Seaver's press conference (again, no ESPN, no all-sports networks or radio stations, so we often re-watched the same old clip over and over again). I was inconsolable. Life, as I had known it, had changed- and NOT for the better.


My dad, bless him, tried to put a positive spin on it. "Look" he said, "Seaver was so valuable, we're getting a young pitcher to replace him, plus a great-fielding second baseman and two slugging young outfielders." Sadly, none reached their potential; Zachry was solid, in spite of injury, but had the dubious distinction of replacing a Hall-of-Famer in the rotation. Flynn actually was NOT a good fielder, and his hitting was sub-par, at best. Henderson had some decent seasons, but a star he was not; and Norman was eventually traded and never made a dent in the bigs. I TRIED to like the new players; I cut out their photos in the newspaper over the next few days and taped them onto duplicates of other Met cards from that year, including the other players we received that day in deals wherein Kingman and SS Mike Phillips were dealt, and in their place came Bobby Valentine (future manager, washed-up player due to injury) and Joel Youngblood (jack of all trades, master of none). I just couldn't buy into it. We had gone to about 8 games prior to the trade, and had watched Seaver pitch at Shea twice that season. We would go to another 10 games in the second half of the season, but, quite frankly, that year my heart wasn't really into it and my only solace was the great, salty pretzels we'd gobble up on the way out of the parking lot. 

Writer's Note: I never read anything Young ever wrote after the trade...not in the News, not in the Post, and for about 10 years after he was elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame (in the "Writer's Wing") I was pissed off at the HOF, too. 3 years later, when I met my best friend, Jon Elfenbein, he had the exact same reaction and he, too, never read Young again (AND he was a newspaper-reading fiend as well, in today's biggest under-statement!) I've always wondered how many other fans never read Young again. If you, too did likewise, please comment on this post- I'd love to hear your reactions! 


Any time we have to accept great change in our lives, it's hard. Yes, it was "only" a trade in a boy's game that didn't affect whether or not there was food on my table or clothes on my back. However, for a boy of 13, going through the beginning stages of puberty and a year away from high school, it was as if my legs were pulled out from under me and my innocence went along for the ride. If Tom Seaver could be traded, anything could happen!! Yes, I was ecstatic when he found his way back to the team, briefly, 6 years later, but a LOT of things had changed by then (I had finished high school and started college, I could drive myself to games and, well, girls replaced baseball as my first priority.) Grant retired a year later, forced out by a public which never (rightly) forgave him. Young proved himself to be a hypocrite of the first order, when he left the News a mere 4 years later for a better deal at the rival (hated) Post, something he was all too quick to chastise (and chase out of town) Seaver for a mere 4 years earlier. Vecsey, Lang and Jacobson continued their careers with great success and notoriety; and Seaver remains the greatest player to ever wear a Mets' uniform some 45 years after he first put one on.


I didn't understand the trade as a 13 year old; now, in my late 40's, I recognize that on that day, June 15th, 1977, a large part of my childhood died. The ability to root for a team and, particularly, a player, had been taken away from me, and to this day, while I love a lot of players, I've never grown too overly attached (a la Seaver) to any single player for fear that they, too, would receive the same fate as he had. I buy uniform shirts that have players names and numbers on the back, but it's the team name on the front that I root for, sadly, because the days of one player/one team are long gone. I agree with free agency and players being able to achieve fair market value for their services. It's just a shame that kids today, although armed with every form of instant gratitude that immediate information can provide, will never know (or rarely know) the incredible feeling of watching a player grow up as you yourself do, and remain together for the entire length of the ride. The Derek Jeter's of the world are dinosaurs today; I hope that they, too, won't become completely extinct as well...


Editor's Note: For further reading, please click on this link to read a great piece by the News' Bill Madden from 2007 that offers a great overview (and never-before published details) of this entire situation.

Editor's Note 2: It's very fitting that, on this inglorious day, the Mets are scheduled to play those same Cincinnati Reds on the 35th anniversary of their fleecing our pockets...