1986 New York Mets: Reflections of Game 3 NLCS

Most memorable game attended?

Game 3—1986 NLCS...Mets versus Astros.

Never before or again in my life have I seen a team destined to win a championship.  Starting in spring training, the '86 Mets had one simple goal...annihilate the competition that stood in the way of winning the World Series.  It was a season for the ages as the Mets won day after day and by mid summer were simply counting the days to clinching the division. 

Yet by the time October rolled around, things started to get complicated.  The Houston Astros, winners of the NL West were no pushovers, especially with the most dangerous pitcher in the league...Mike Scott.  

Scott was terrifying to watch, not to mention face in the batters box as he made quick work of the Mets in Game 1 of the NLCS in striking out 14 Mets for a 1-0 victory against Doc Gooden.  

Fortunately, the Mets rebounded the next night against Nolan Ryan, as Bob Ojeda putting in a solid effort winning 5-1 to even the series.   

Going back to Shea for Game 3, the Mets really couldn't afford to lose as they would be facing Scott again the next night in Game Four. 

At the beginning things didn't look too promising as the first inning was nothing short of disaster.  Before we even got comfortable in our seats, the Mets found themselves down 2-0 following a series of close plays and mistakes that seemed to all go in favor of the Astros, until starter Ron Darling whirled around to pick off Glenn Davis at second to end the inning. 

After the Mets went down in order, things went from bad to worse as the Astros leadoff man Bill Doran homered with two outs on a first pitch fastball with a man on to make the score 4-0. 

As an adult, you realize it's simply a game, you have no control and whatever happens isn't going to change your world.  However, when you're still at that tender age between second grade and junior high, you live and die with your team, especially when everything is at stake and deep down you truly believe that only the moment  matters.

At that moment, as a nine-year-old attending my first playoff game, the experience was nothing short of miserable as it was already a cold gray day for October, and to make matters worse, the girl sitting directly behind us was an unabashed Astros fan sporting not just the hat and satin bullpen jacket, but the Texas flag to boot while thoroughly enjoying a 4-0 lead.

Through the better part of the afternoon, it all seemed hopeless as the Astros kept stealing bases at will against Darling and Gary Carter; meanwhile the Mets offense simply couldn't get anything accomplished facing Bob Knepper.  Yet, much like the sun that tried to fight through the clouds that day, the Mets kept punching.  

All day we had been waiting, for something, anything...these were desperate times.

Finally, in the bottom of the sixth, things started to bounce in their favor as Kevin Mitchell reached on a high chopper past Denny Walling to lead things off.  Suddenly, the crowd at Shea came to life as we were now riding on every pitch. 

Somehow, it all innocently came together as Keith Hernandez managed to drop a blooper into center field as Billy Hatcher initially broke the wrong way.  Next up, Gary Carter hit a worm-burner to short that burrowed its way under Craig Reynolds' glove as Mitchell raced from second while briefly stumbling at third to get the Mets on the scoreboard.

Next pitch...tie game.   

Just like that Darryl Strawberry's moon shot down the right-field line restored my faith in the world. 

But the joy was short-lived as Bill Doran led off with a walk, only to be followed by fielding miscues by both Ray Knight and Tim Teufel on consecutive plays that made the score 5-4.

For the next two innings, the clouds and the shadows, almost, as if, on cue slowly crept across the diamond as the heart of the order came up empty against both Knepper and reliever Charlie Kerfeld. 

As we entered the bottom of the ninth with the bottom of the order coming up, Astros manager Hal Lanier took out Kerfeld in favor of closer Dave Smith.  With all of my fragile hopes and dreams hanging in the balance, for some strange reason, I saw this move as a positive for the Mets.  In my mind, Kerfeld was second only to Mike Scott in terms of his scary ability to shut down the Mets. 

The ninth inning would start off not so innocently enough with Wally Backman's bunt single. Hal Lanier's protest then lasted an eternity but fortunately to no avail.  Unfortunately though, Danny Heep was up next and as usual, contributed nothing to the cause outside of getting out of the way for a passed ball moving Backman into scoring position before popping up to center.

With one out, Lenny Dykstra came to the plate.

First pitch, he hacked foul. 

Second pitch, the shape of my world changed forever.  

It seemed that he threw his bat out at the ball to see what would happen.  Who knew that it would climb high enough and just far enough to make its way over the right-field wall?

Next thing I knew, my dad had hoisted me up to witness the pandemonium that followed as it all ended in a blur. 

It truly is special when your team wins as a kid with the first taste of victory being incredibly sweet.  Looking back, I suppose, it's sad to say that never again would I experience that kind of pure, innocent joy at the ballpark. 

I hate to say that, in retrospect, I really didn't savor it as much as I should have as it seemed this team was destined not just to win in '86, but for years to come.  The dynasty we were promised was both a blessing and a curse for this team as time would prove.  We expected things would only get better, but instead, it only got worse.   

Nevertheless, for that one brief moment in time, I along with the Mets were at the top of the world.  Perhaps, the strangest footnote in all from that day, is that when Nails hit the homer, the girl from Texas was no where to be found...