David Rubin- Once The Franchise, Always The Franchise

In October, 1972, one of my two real-life heroes, my grandfather, Irving Gold – my Poppa – died, leaving his 8-year old, baseball-loving, oldest grandson, heartbroken…and then, in February, 1973, Spring Training came around again, and there he was, George Thomas “Tom” Seaver, wearing the blue and orange…and all once again seemed right with the world…

On October 26, 1976, one of my two sports heroes, the “Doctor” – Julius Erving – was sold to the NBA’s Philadelphia 76ers by the money-strapped New York Nets, in need of making a four million plus dollar payment to the New York Knicks for encroaching on their territory as they joined them in the National Basketball Association. 

My young heart was broken, again…after all, we had Nets season tickets since 1972…but there was still “The Franchise” – George Thomas “Tom” Seaver…and in the Spring of 1977, all seemed right with the world, once again…

Some things, well, you just don’t come completely back from. All these years later, the memory of my grandfather, of what he never got to see, would haunt me occasionally, less so as time went on, but difficult and tangible, nonetheless. I gave up watching basketball after Erving’s sale, lasting all of two seasons. 

The only reason I went back to watching again was due to a major, unforgivable, life-changing mistake that my beloved New York Mets made - because, after June 15^th, 1977, it’s a wonder I remained a Mets’ fan all these years. 

On that day, I learned that sometimes bullies win – in this case, the bullies were the Mets’ Chairman, M. Donald Grant, and the New York Daily News sportswriter, Dick Young – and it STILL hurts to even type out their names!!! 

It wasn’t JUST that Seaver was gone, traded to Cincinnati, which may as well have been Siberia - it’s that he was traded for a minor return in Zachary, Flynn, Henderson & Norman; it’s that, on the same day, slugger Dave Kingman was also traded in another minor return move; and, most of all, it’s that a drunken, nepotistic sportswriter was practically single-handedly able to run out of town the biggest, brightest star that our beloved Metsies would ever know!! 

Every year on June 15^th, my close friends know that its better not to talk baseball with me, and, in fact, I rarely, if ever, watch baseball on that day. I’ve neither forgiven NOR forgotten, although, as we know, life goes on and once more we move forward.

 

Why, though? Why was Seaver so special? I was fortunate to see Nolan Ryan pitch for the team from Queens in 1968; I watched Koosman take the mound regularly, his legacy still under-appreciated beyond the most hardcore of fans; and I was blessed with parents willing to satisfy my need to see sporting events live all the time, holding season tix for the NY Islanders and Nets, and being taken to between 15-30 Mets games a season, depending upon the year (but never less than 15 games in any season from 1970 – 1988). 

There were PLENTY of other distractions, too- a voluminous number of books to read, movies to watch and records to listen to. And yet, nothing was as satisfying as watching perfection on the mound, seeing the determination on the face of good ole Tom, slinging those pitches expertly across the plate, with strike one on the first pitch, we were taught, being the best pitch in the game. 

Inevitably, dirt across the right knee as it brushed across the mound, pitch-after-pitch, perfect mechanics being repeated time after time. The classic “drop and drive” motion on display! How about watching Kiner’s Korner after another Seaver victory, hearing my dad say time-after-time “this kid is so intelligent, I could listen to him talk about pitching all day long” – and tens of thousands of kids throughout the tri-state area would be in lockstep with my dad!

It was the consistency; it was the greatness; it was the humanity; it was the innocence; it was the determination; it was the intelligence; it was the combination of everything that made an athlete special, beyond the good looks, the beautiful family and doing it all on the biggest stage of all. 

It was the fact that he was OURS, a New York Met, NOT a Yankee, and he was better than anyone who ever took the hill for the bitter rivals from the Bronx. We didn’t have The Babe or The Mick or Joe D, but we had ALL we ever wanted, or needed, in The Franchise. Until we didn’t…

Over the years, the “6 Degrees of Tom Seaver” never ended for me. They came at interesting times, but they always came:

~Meeting my hero at Lum’s Chinese Restaurant in Flushing in August 1973, after watching the team win for my birthday present, and having the Koosman, Matlack & Seaver families eating a few tables away. Kooz motioned over to me, and all 3 of among the handful of the greatest in team history to take the mound signed that program for me.

~Some 16 years later, at a card show celebrating that ’69 team on their 20^th Anniversary, I paid to have my hero sign a blown-up photo of Andy Warhol’s painting of GTS, only to find a disturbed Seaver angrily asking me where I had gotten such a thing? I was alarmed at first, but continued to explain that my dad and I had taken a photo of the painting displayed in Cooperstown and my birthday present was a giant photo of it. 

I didn’t know why he was so upset, until I found out that one of the originals of the painting (Warhol usually painted in multiples) had recently been stolen and Tom rightly wanted to make sure that there were no shenanigans going on. When I assured him that one of my childhood friends was the son of Newsday Columnist, Steve Jacobsen, who had helped Seaver pen his autobiography, Seaver relaxed and happily signed and added his #41 for no extra charge.

PC - David Rubin

~Working, in 2006, with someone who actually rented to Seaver, wife Nancy and dog Slider their first home in Queens, across from Shea, in 1967, and hearing stories about how Tom would drive my friend Steve and his cousin to school in his convertible many days a week. Imagine- while we all dreamed of simply meeting this legend, Steve got to talk to him daily and his family remained friends with the Seaver’s all those years (they received a holiday card from Nancy every single year!)

~Helping an organization that raised money for retired baseball scouts every winter and receiving a gift of one of the first bottles of wine from the GTS Vineyard- our hero had moved back to California, although a few hours north of his original Fresno home, to grow enough grapes to bottle and sell a small amount of very high quality vino!

~Finding a box in my garage filled with treasures of my youth, which included various Seaver items, from keychains to buttons to books, all in great shape, a miracle in itself considering that I moved over a dozen times and included amongst them was one GIANT move from NY to California over 25 years ago.

There were many other moments, over the years, when George Thomas Seaver and my paths crossed over the years, although HE didn’t know it; through these decades, and so many miles, it’s amazing that there were dozens and dozens of reminders of my hero, the legend, that was, is, and always will be Seaver. 

That’s why, when it was announced this week by his family that Seaver was suffering from Dementia and would completely retire from public life, ironically in the year that marked the 50^th anniversary of his most exciting sports feat, winning that ’69 World Series, I knew that it was NOT the end of the road for my hero and me…if time had proven nothing else, it was that Seaver would still be around, his legacy never diminishing, his star never tarnished, in spite of the attempts of far, lesser men…and yes, although I felt my legs coming out from under me once more, a sharp pain in the pit of my stomach, tears flowing liberally from my eyes, I can say without failure, that The Franchise will remain larger than life regardless of the path his actual life takes.

Regardless of how the Wilpons choose to honor the amazing work of Tom Seaver, whether or not they build a statue of him or name part of the Stadium in his honor, his status as the most important player in the team's history will not waver and we will always see him as that kid from Fresno who took over that little white strip sixty feet, six inches from home like no one before or since.

So thank you, Tom- you are my cherished friend from grade school until now, across 50+ years, and in spite of not knowing me from any other, dedicated, crazy fan…may your remaining memories be as wonderful as those you’ve given us…