The Mullet, Bobby Bo and a Blue Moon

I was 34 and had a mullet.  So I wasn’t perfect. Nobody is. I was working for Sportsphone out of Elmont, NY. I was able to cover the Met game with a field and clubhouse pass. Why? I honestly think no one else wanted to.  As a lifelong Met fan I was always thrilled when I got to cover the Mets.  It entailed mingling on the field and catching sound bytes from players during batting practice and warm ups for both teams, then watching the game from the comfort of the Mets press box, which had a great view. Another highlight was having a pre-game meal in the press room and ofttimes sitting at the table next to Ralph Kiner as he downed a pre-game scotch. Then after the game, taking the elevator down to the clubhouse and getting more sound bytes from the victorious or defeated 1994 Mets.

1994 was a strange year. It was the infamous strike year. The Mets were lucky to be a nearly .500 team. (They finished at 55-58 before the strike hit) They were a team in transition and not in a good way. Gone were Gary, Keith and Darryl. Doc with a 6.31 era was in his last year. Ron Darling, Randy Myers, Hojo and Jesse Orosco were all long gone too.  The new faces of the Mets were Jeff  Kent,  Brent Saberhagen, Todd Hundley and Bobby Bonilla.  Bobby Bo, known for this big broad smile and his positive attitude was part of the B & B (Bonds and Bonilla) combination that made the Pittsburgh Pirates a force in the late 80’s and early 90’s.  In the winter of 1991 the Mets signed Bobby Bo as a free agent and it was a big deal. Bonilla helped ease the sting of Darryl Strawberry going to Los Angeles. 

Admittedly there was a lot of pressure on Bonilla. The Mets were spiraling down from their most impressive run in their history. They fielded legitimate contenders from 1984 to 1991. In 1992, the Mets signed the biggest fish in the free agent pond, but, It wasn’t long before he started to stink.  Bonilla started his tenure with a bang! In the Mets season opener in St. Louis  he went 3 for 5 with a pair of homers and 3 RBI, including a go head 2 run homer in the top of the 10^th which proved to be the game winner.  Undoubtedly one of the Mets finest debuts since Gary Carter in 1985, but the shine didn’t stay on that apple.

Over the course of 1992, Bonilla struggled on an off…mostly off. He ended up being a favorite of the Shea boo birds eventually getting to the point where Bonilla wore ear plugs. He batted .249 with 19 homers and 70 RBI. Bonilla was regarded as a slovenly bloated big mouthed repeat of George Foster. While that didn’t prove to be exactly correct (Bonilla did hit 34 homers in 1993), the Mets struggled during Bonilla’s tenure and he was the poster boy underachiever.

Over the next three years Bonilla had a tough time holding up to not only the expectations, but his own mouth. Proudly proclaiming that he can handle the pressure of playing in New York and smile through anything. He quickly became the whipping boy for the press and the fans.  Bonilla was criticized for his fielding, hitting, lack of leadership in the clubhouse and his poor work habits as well as his growing and more and more noticeable spare tire.

Now, let’s jump back to 1994. My mullet and I are in the Met clubhouse after a game. I had already gotten sound from Dallas Green, a man in his late 50’s or early 60’s at the time but who was as imposing as any man I’ve stood next to. When he looked at me, I could feel any semblance of male bravado shrivel up and crawl inside my body.  I don’t remember if the Mets lost or not, but I wanted to get some sound from Bobby Bo. He was actually doing quite well. In 94, he batted .290 with twenty homers and sixty-seven RBI in the partial season, but he was still ground zero for all the angst and complaints that came the Mets way in a clubhouse that was as divided as a prison courtyard.

Now, if you ever wondered, not every reporter in a major league clubhouse is paid a lot of money. Sure the beat writers from the big papers probably are as well as the reporters from the local broadcast and cable networks. But there were some freelancer in there who only got paid by selling their sound bytes to radio stations and other venues all across the country. I was impressed with that. They were real hustlers.

But I worked for Sportsphone.  It was a lot of fun, but to do a Met game the pay was $15. That’s it. $15. I did get a press parking pass and got to see the game in great comfort for free, but I had to provide my own tape recorder and microphone (from Radio Shack) and it was really more a labor of love more than it was anything else.  My point is the disparity. Me, the 34 year old deer in the headlights part time reporter making $15 for the whole night (decidedly less than minimum wage) and Bobby Bonilla who was making millions. 

It might have been the fact that I survived Dallas Green unscathed, but that night I wanted to engage Bobby Bonilla. Meaning, ask him a question.  Normally, I never did. I would just stick my microphone in the face of a player among a sea of microphones and get whatever sound I got. Surprisingly man reporters did that.  It was easier and since I wasn’t known by the players, asking questions might seem out of place. But I felt ballsy on this night. I wanted to ask Bobby Bo a question.  So I did.

The biggest bitch on Bonilla was that he had a weak work ethic. Whether true or not he was accused of dragging in practice before games and also wasn’t particularly well known for being a good example to younger players either. My brilliant inspiration was… to ask him what he would like younger players on the Mets to take from his training routine.

That’s exactly how I asked it. Bonilla looked at me, and then laughed and shook his head and said “Man, you gotta come around here more than once in a blue moon to ask me a question like that.” I replied. “No, I mean, you are benchmark for the younger players on the team (like Burnitz, Hundley, Bogar) What do you hope they emulate from you and make part of their game?”

At that point Bonilla stood up. All 6’3” of him. I’m 5’11” and I’m sure I was hunching at that moment (mostly out of fear) and he towered over me. He put his nose about a ¼ inch from mine and said….”OK  Blue Moon. Bobby Bo get’s here three hours before anyone else and takes 3 hours of fielding practice at 1^st, 3^rd and the outfield  and then I take 100 swings from both sides of plate to get ready for each game. Is that what you want to hear from me?” I was pretty much in shock, but I was determined and followed up saying “Do you feel it’s your responsibility to see to it they (Younger players) prepare the same way, or do you let them follow by example”.  He then screamed. “JAY!!”. Jay Horowitz, the Mets long time P.R. director appeared in a flash and said “Yeah Bobby?”  “This guy is bothering me. Get him out of here”  I turned to Jay Horowitz who was always real nice to me and I said “I just asked a question!”, and Jay said “You should go now. Thank you….” And he directed me to the door. Bonilla then said “Bye-Bye Blue Moon, see you in a couple of months” and waved his hand to me like I was a 3 year old and then the wave turned into just a finger.  

Now, self admittedly I probably was out of line asking a question of any player like that considering my stature. But I figured I had the pass, use it! I never forgave Bonilla. A multi-millionaire bullying someone working for less than minimum wage, all because I asked him a question that might actually put a positive spin on something his critics tore him up about.  Obviously he thought my intent was to embarrass him.  It wasn’t.  I honestly thought he would appreciate the opportunity to share what he thought.  The next couple of days I played the incident over and over in my mind. Just as I was coming to the conclusion that Bonilla probably had a bad day, he got into a shoving match with a sports reporter from ABC-7 New York exactly where I was standing two nights earlier. This got captured on video tape and played over and over again. I felt vindicated. Jay Horowitz never held the incident against me and never denied me access after that. There’s a reason he’s been in that position so long and is so well revered.

So what’s the point? The point is, Bobby Bonilla is a polarizing figure in Met history.  Not many “civilians” get a glimpse behind the scenes at the goings on a team that they have loved since were 11. The Mets are currently paying Bonilla over the next 21 years, so ultimately, no matter what, he wins.

Athletes are human, but they do appear bigger than life from the stands or from home and in the case of Dallas Green when you’re standing right next to them.  That was the problem with Bonilla. He was much smaller. Smaller than life. He couldn’t deal with it.  And while yes, I do admit to still holding a personal grudge for the way he treated me. What he did teach me was how mentally disciplined players must be off the field as well.

 In today’s day and age with social media and almost instant information sharing being the standard. Being a stand up man in a locker room or in the field for a season or even a career must be incredibly demanding. It makes you admire the likes of  David Wright and Johan Santana. Not to mention the younger players with enormous hype surrounding them who seem to always say the right thing and always seem to man up and are sterling examples to their team mates, league and fans on how to be an ambassadors of the game.  What they are NOT is a locker room pariah like Bobby Bo, who thought all he needed was a fat bank account and a phony smile to win over fans.

Bobby, if you are reading this. I forgive you. But we don’t really see or hear from you much anymore. Oh well. See you at the next Blue Moon.