David Rubin - (GTS MEMORIAL- RE-POSTING) On This Day, 43 Years Later, My Heart Still Breaks

This is the kind of loss that hits you like a punch to the heart. When I heard it last night, I couldn't get out of my chair for an hour. Texts, emails, phone calls came in from family and friends, far and wide. Facebook filled with comments, posts, instant messages...it wasn't just me who received them, we all did, those of us old enough, fortunate enough to have watched him pitch. In person. On television. A World Series. Or just a game in July. But when George Thomas Seaver was pitching, it was NEVER just a game in July. It was a game, a moment, one that we could all rely on to lift us from whatever else in this world we were facing. 

I was blessed...blessed to live in those times, blessed to be a Mets fan, to live in New York, and to have parents that would put other things aside to ensure that my brother and I had a chance to see as many games pitched by this man, this brilliant competitor, this artisan of the mound, regardless of the circumstances. Opening Day on a school day? NO Problem!! Seaver's pitching! Not pitching on the same day as your birthday? No problem - you can have a party AND we will take you to the next home game he pitches. And probably the one before that. And more than likely, the next one, too.

As I sit in my office, I am literally surrounded by the man, in a way that outnumbers even those photos of family, of friends. For, you see, George Thomas Seaver was my first baseball hero, my first hero, before I realized that it's okay for your dad to be your father and your hero, too. Now, he joins my dad in heaven, and I know Pops will be waiting up there with a jacket to keep his arm warm, a cigar to enjoy and a big hug to thank him for allowing his 2 baseball-crazed kids to bond so deeply with him over a kids' game.

Tom was so much more than a baseball player, he was a husband to Nancy, and a father to Sarah and Anne, and we as Mets' fans were blessed to be able to share a small part of him with these wonderful ladies. While we suffer, while we are in pain, their pain is far worse, and we send them our most heartfelt condolences and much love. 

Rest in peace, Tom...you, above all, have earned it.

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***The post below ran a few weeks ago, and both John's at this site were kind enough to re-run it today in tribute to the Franchise. Thank you both, a million!

“I learned to let my talent dictate what I was as a pitcher on any given day. I adjusted to its limits. I couldn’t do more than I was physically or mentally capable of. If I threw harder than I could, the ball went slower than normally. I couldn’t force things, mentally or physically. If I couldn’t fabricate conclusions in my mind about how to pitch to a batter, I didn’t.”

– Tom Seaver, as told to Pat Jordan in Tom Seaver And Me

June 15^th, 1977 was the day my childhood changed forever. I was almost 13, living in Long Island but born in Queens, where my heart stood from the very first game I had watched on TV in 1967 with my grandpa. Not the entire borough, but a small patch of land in the midst of Flushing where wearing the orange and blue colors was the only “gang” I ever joined called home. The infamous Shea Stadium, home of the New York Mets since 1964, the year I was born, and while some called it a cesspool, to me it was the greatest patch of concrete in the entire world. 

What held it together? It wasn’t that poured concrete, or the metal beams, or the rivets, or rebar; it was the shared love of the man we called the “Franchise” – one George Thomas Seaver, or as we knew and loved him, “Tom.” 

In order to discuss that day, an infamous day in Mets lore for all the wrong reasons, we will first discuss a few things; my many connections to this beloved sports icon; some examples of my voluminous Seaver collection; and last, and not least, a brief review of the best book about GTS that has ever been released, Pat Jordan’s recent “Tom Seaver and Me” – out now and available wherever books are sold.

You never know when one of the best days of your life will happen; if you’re lucky, you remember it well; if you’re REALLY lucky, you get to share it with those you love the most. On my favorite day, in the summer of 1972 a few weeks after my 8th birthday, a confluence of things assembled to create the first, best day of my life – a Mets – and Seaver - victory at Shea, great Chinese Food at Lum’s, an armful of post-birthday Mets souvenirs (many of which I still have), AND meeting 3 of my favorite Mets and their wives at our favorite restaurant with my parents and baby brother. If 8-year-old me could choreograph a better day, I am not sure how it could have played out.

My dad told me, about 2 weeks before that game that he had figured out when the next time GTS would be starting at Shea, something that you could actually do in those days, for the most part. He had purchased 4 great seats a few rows behind the Mets dugout, and for the first time to that date, my little brother – all of 4-years-of-age – was going to have his own seat so that we didn’t have to share one! I was counting the days until this game, It was on August 17th, versus the Atlanta Braves and Henry Aaron, Tom Seaver vs Ron Reed. 

I bundled up all of my Mets and Braves baseball cards, and would show my family each player’s card when it was their turn at-bat (I didn’t realize at the time that I would not have every player on either team’s roster, but it was something that an 8-year-old fanatic would do!) I was counting the days and was more excited about this game then I was about going back to school, THAT’S for sure.

The day of the game, all I wanted to do was play baseball in our yard, but it was the middle of the summer, after all, and my mom asked me to give my dad a break that morning – as if going to a game that day wasn’t enough! In a nutshell, a pitching duel was enjoyed as our beloved Mets won, 2-1. Aaron only pinch-hit that day, and walked, but it was so much fun seeing him in person for just the second time. 

Even back then, I always preferred a pitching duel to an offensive barrage, and we were not disappointed as Seaver went 8 great innings, giving way to the one-and-only Tug McGraw to close out the ninth. Reed was equally great, giving up all of 2 runs in a complete game loss, something super rare in these days of 5-man rotations and 7+ relievers per team.

The game, and the souvenirs, was only part one; part two was going out to eat in our favorite restaurant, Lum’s Chinese restaurant on Northern Blvd, also in Flushing. Even then, my favorite food was Chinese cuisine, and that, like my Met fandom, has not changed on bit! We were enjoying our meal, always, and my mom let me bring my Scorecard into the restaurant with me (because wearing my Met batting helmet was not enough for me!) 

About three-quarters through our meal, after reliving every at-bat through the wonders of scoring, who walks into the restaurant?? Mr Bud Harrelson and his wife, Mr Jerry Koosman and his wife, and, best of all, Tom & Nancy Seaver!!!! You could have knocked me over with a feather! Bud saw my helmet and waved while there party was being seated and I was convinced my dad had set this whole thing up! Of course, it was mere coincidence, and in the future we ran into many other Mets players and their wives over the years of eating there, but nothing could match THIS day. 

I begged my dad to let me go over to their table, but of course he told me that they worked very hard that day and we needed to respect their privacy while they were eating. Undeterred, I could not take my eyes off of these legends, these stars, these players whom I idolized before I knew what the word actually meant.

And then it happened- Buddy and I locked eyes, and I held up my program for him to see, excitedly and ecstatic. He motioned me to come over to their table, and I begged my dad, who of course said yes, but cautioned me not to run nor be disrespectful. I hurriedly walked over, and asked, politely, if Mr Harrelson would sign my program? He tousled my hair and of course said yes, and when he was done, Koos motioned me over, and did the same. 

Seaver was engaged in conversation while this was happening, with Nancy and Mrs Harrelson, and Buddy had to excuse himself and ask my idol to sign and acknowledge my being there. He grabbed my scorecard, signed it and asked me if I was at tonight’s game? I told him we had been, and he asked me what the best part of the game was? I told him the fact that he struck out 6 batters that night, and he said something to the point of “and without my best stuff.” 

I later asked my dad what that had meant, hence the quote from Jordan’s book to start this post off. Seaver couldn’t have been nicer, and he too tousled my hair and asked me what position I played. I told him second base, and he asked me why I wasn’t a pitcher? I told him that I was too small, and he said that he was once too small, too, and that as I got bigger, I should watch his pitching motion and learn to repeat it. Again, not something I really understood at that time, but something which I learned later on that was one of the secrets of his amazing success – that great, repeatable motion that resulted in dirty knees and a very low trajectory to the catcher’s mitt.

Sadly, I never became a pitcher, nor did I have the kind of growth-spurt that GTS had between high school and college, but I did become a catcher and was proud as my defense got better, dreaming of a day when my idol would take the mound and I would pair with him, at last. Again, something that never even came close to happening, but a kid could certainly dream!

Fast forward through the years, and I not only did I meet Tom a number more times, at Shea, and at autograph shows, but I also learned about my “Six Degrees of Separation” from my idol as well; a childhood friend’s dad was Steve Jacobson, writer for Newsday, and author of my then-favorite book “Baseball is My Life” about the Franchise! 

I not only bought two copies of that book, both of which I still have, one signed by each author, but I also still have the poster that was advertised in the “Weekly Reader” alongside the book. After all, there’s a reason why the term “fan” is short for “fanatic!”

Moving forward, amongst many other connections (family friends who worked for the team and knew GTS, etc) I ended up working in the mid-2000’s with a great guy, Steve, also from Queens. Turns out, not only was he a Mets fan, but his family and his Uncle’s family lived minutes from Shea – and who was his Uncle’s first tenant in their attached apartment? Mr and Mrs Seaver!!!! Tom drove Steve and his cousin to school numerous times, and they had lunch together a few times and often threw a baseball together. In fact, up until a few years ago, while Steve’s aunt was still alive, Nancy sent their family a card every Christmas without fail. As my dad would say, a family of “Mensch’s”. That they were, and that they have remained.

Over the years, I went to over 25 games that Seaver started, none more sad than, when, on August 21^st, 1977, my family again went to good ole Shea, to see our favorite player, but this time, he was wearing a Reds uniform, something unthinkable a mere 67 days prior. After being awakened by my dad to hear the horrible news on this day, some 43 years prior, there was NO way that we weren’t going to be at this game, and there was NO way that we’d root against our beloved boys from Flushing. This would be one of the few times over the years that I ever rooted against my team, and all of these instances came when Seaver took the mound against us. After all, that trade, as we all know now, was the end of an impossible situation that was put into motion by the heinous sportswriter who won’t be named, but whose first name certainly was a true statement about what he was! He drove this legend out of town, over a contract squabble where once again the players’ were in the right, only to see a few years later this same hypocrite leave his long-time home at the Daily News for a higher paying role at the rival New York Post. It was such a shock but it was the second time that one of my favorite players was traded, following Julius “Dr J” Erving’s sale to the 76ers by my beloved Nets. After Erving’s sale, I believed it was merely an attempt by the Nets to be able to afford entrance into the NBA, something that I never saw repeating itself in NY, let alone to my other favorite player of all time! And while Seaver wasn’t sold, we certainly did not get relative value in return (even though Doug Flynn was one of my all-time favorite Mets). I couldn’t understand it then, and 43 years later I’ve never quite accepted the fact that Seaver didn’t only wear the orange and blue in his career.

I won’t get into Frank Cashen’s leaving Seaver unprotected after re-acquiring him, or the fact that the team never tried to bring him onboard as part of the front office or management staff. For some great inside info on these circumstances, you’ll need to read Jordan’s excellent book, something I’ll get to in a moment.


I've kept so many pieces of Seaver memorabilia over the years, and substantially added to the collection over the years. I've over 50 different signatures, multiple special edition items, game-used items (a few) and some very sentimental pieces, but perhaps the most interesting piece I own is a blown up photo of Andy Warhol's Seaver painting. Why is it so interesting you may ask? Well, first of all, there were never lithos made of this particular painting, at least that I know of. Second, when I presented it to Seaver to sign, somewhere around 1989, he recoiled at the site of it and asked me angrily "where did you get that?" I had no idea why he was so upset, until he explained to me that one of the originals (I believe Warhol had painted 4 of them) had been stolen and he was understandably excited to see whether this had come from that missing painting. I assured him that my dad took a great photo of the traveling display from 1988 and had it blown up for me to frame. Relieved, he signed it and before I could thank him for our meeting 17 years prior, the show agents hurried me along. Now it's framed in my man-cave, alongside some other treasures, a few of which are displayed here.

Next year, and every year while I am still alive, when June 15th comes, I will celebrate Seaver's career, remember him vividly, and continue to take that walk down memory lane, because it's the one road that never disappoints. If there was a 20 hour-long tribute video to GTS, you can bet that I'd watch it over and over again. And rather than continue to be angry on this day, every year, I'd rather use it as a reminder to celebrate the best pitcher I or anyone of my generation ever had the chance to watch in person or on television - and the site of ole 41 dropping and driving is something that I'll just never get tired of...

To that end, last night, when I was editing this post, I re-watched Edward Burn’s fantastic documentary on Seaver from 2019, entitled simply “Seaver” – and having watched it over 30 times, I find that I’m still enthralled by watching that drop-and-drive motion, the reason why my dad used to call Seaver “as finely tuned as the best Swiss-watch” – and the reason why, to this day, I still prefer a pitching duel to anything else. 

I was blessed to watch arguably (not to me) the greatest pitcher in history so often, and I can still close my eyes and imagine him besting one Steve Carlton on Opening Day, beating the Astros in the middle of summer, or beating his former team that hot day in August. It’s the motion, it’s the precision, it’s the effort, ESPECIALLY when he didn’t have his best stuff, but most of all it was Seaver’s love for the game, his love for taking that mound, that always reverberates the most in my memories. 

So thank you to my late father for bringing me to so many games started by GTS, thank you to GTS himself for giving up so many great memories, and thank you to his family, Nancy, Sarah, Anne & company, for taking such great care of this legend, who you shared with us for so long, and to whom were the only thing more important than that mound, more important than the best pitch, a fastball, more important than the best “count”, oh – and – one, more important than his beloved grapes. I’ll be grateful for the rest of my life – and until baseball comes back again, I’ll be re-watching some games from 1969 and 1973 to keep these wonderful memories alive and active in my mind. Because legends truly never die…

TOM SEAVER AND ME – by Pat Jordan – A Brief Review

Suffice it to say, I have just about every book that has ever been written about Tom Seaver, “by” Tom Seaver, or involving Seaver, including most magazines where he was the cover story. Sadly, most of the books written about our hero have been lacking too many things to list here, but you would think that someone, somehow, would have written the definitive biography of this wildly popular baseball legend. And yet, they’ve mostly been disappointing at best, abysmal at worse. While not a biography in any form of the word, Jordan’s book offers more true insight into this man simply by recalling details of their many encounters over the years, their unconventional friendship, and the insights gleaned by simply being a proverbial fly on the wall while Jordan recounts their many conversations and visits. In essence, simply sharing these interactions offered WAY more insight into the consciousness of this man than any attempt at a biography ever has before.

Jordan shares insights on things challenging and commonplace, many never shared before, but most importantly offers a portrait more real, more interesting, more poignant than anyone’s delivered to date. It shouldn’t surprise anyone, as his story from a few years ago for the now defunct website, “Sports on Earth” was one of the best articles on GTS in years, if not ever. Expanding not only that visit, but a friendship of over 50 years, Jordan, author of a number of books about his own, less-than-legendary career in baseball, sheds new life on Seaver’s current existence (made private by his family’s correct decision to remove him from the public eye due to a worsening case of Dementia). He’s a wordsmith, in a way that would make Hemmingway proud, and watching this friendship evolve, devolve, evolve yet again, and everything in-between, make for a book that you’ll be hard-pressed to put down, even in the middle of the night when your body is begging you to lie down. It’s that good, and although short, at 177 pages of large print, it’s worth twice the price as a fitting coda to the life of a true legend.

Thank you, Pat Jordan, for being so great at what you do, even if you still think your fastball was faster than Seaver’s…

And now we wait until next April, and the arrival of Bill Madden's upcoming bio on The Franchise. Next April cannot come soon enough!