Angels & Demons
Because all good batteries have pluses and minuses.
The story of the 1986 Mets is well-known. If you’re not up to speed, there are numerous resources out there to get you caught up. I recommend Jeff Pearlman’s book, The Bad Guys Won! or the 30 for 30 ESPN documentary, Once Upon a Time in Queens.
The point is they were out of control. Reckless, hopped up on booze and God knows how many other substances, prone to wreck hotel rooms and planes, and not above getting arrested in a barfight. But there was at least one outlier in the chaos.
Gary Carter was probably the best catcher of my youth. And he’s one of the best catchers in the history of the game. If his Hall of Fame plaque doesn’t convince you of that, take a quick peek at his career stats.
He was also an 11-time All-Star, 3-time Gold Glover, and 5-time Silver Slugger.
And yet, despite his immense talent, I never cared much for Carter as a kid. I certainly didn’t appreciate him like I do now. I put most of the blame on his goofy perm.
Carter was a bit of dork, and, for better or worse, I tended to gravitate more towards brasher, rebellious types. Who knows, would my life had played out differently if I’d idolized Carter more than say, Rickey Henderson? Oh God, would I have read Nicholas Sparks novels in high school instead of Jack Kerouac? That thought is too disturbing to entertain.
So let’s get back to Carter. He was deeply religious, a concept that’s always been a bit foreign to me, but no one can accuse him of being disingenuous. He wasn’t always that way. In fact, he lost his faith as a kid when his mom died of leukemia, and credits his mentor in Montreal, John Boccabella, for bringing him back into the fold.
Naturally, “The Kid” caught a lot of guff from his less than pious teammates. Although they had other beefs with him as well. “The Kid” nickname dated back to his decade in Montreal, and it was fairly earned for his joyous attitude and energy playing the game. But he also had another nickname that followed him from Canada to Queens.
“Camera” Carter was often accused by teammates of seeking attention. He was never known to turn down an interview request, and being as affable as he was, he received quite a few of them. Fair or not, some teammates, like Andre Dawson with the Expos, accused him of being more interested in his own success than the team’s.
But here’s the thing. Regardless of how much ego was present in the ’86 Mets’ clubhouse, it was an insanely talented group of players. And talent recognizes talent. Even if they thought Carter was corny, no one doubted his skills. In addition to being one of the best hitting catchers of all time, he also knew how to handle a pitching staff. And in New York, he had one of the youngest, most talented and volatile rotations baseball has ever seen.
Just as his wholesomeness acted as a counterweight to balance the craziness of the Mets clubhouse as a whole, it also provided stability to the pitchers he guided from behind the plate. The best of these, without a doubt, was Dwight “Doc” Gooden.
In many respects, Gooden and Carter are one of the most mismatched batteries in the game’s history. Growing up with a violent, alcoholic father, Doc was quiet and reserved. He shied away from the spotlight off the field, and he never seemed entirely comfortable in his own skin, which no doubt contributed to him seeking solace in substance abuse.
Cocaine was the big one for Doc. It derailed his career on several occasions and it has affected him numerous times in retirement as well. But we’re getting ahead ourselves. In order, to understand why Gooden’s career was a bit of a tragedy, you first have to understand how good he was in his prime.
Career stats: 194-112, 3.51 ERA, 2,800.2 IP, 2,293 K, 1.256 WHIP, 53.0 WAR
His career numbers don’t do him justice. Sure, they’re perfectly respectable. A lot of really good, even borderline great pitchers would be more than happy with those numbers. But Doc wasn’t just really good or borderline great.
To get a good feel for the magnificence of Gooden in his prime, let’s look at the first three years of his career.
In 1984, he won NL Rookie of the Year. Keep in mind, he jumped straight from A ball to the majors that season at nineteen years old.
1984: 17-9, 2.60 ERA, 218 IP, 276 K, 1.073 WHIP, 7 CG
Then there is his 1985 season, in which he won the NL Cy Young. Using either stats or the eye test, it’s one of the most dominant seasons in MLB history. And possibly the best display of pitching in my lifetime.
1985: 24-4, 1.53 ERA, 276.2 IP, 268 K, 0.965 WHIP, 16 CG
As the Mets made their magical run to a championship, these were his numbers for 1986.
1986: 17-6, 2.84 ERA, 250 IP, 200 K, 1.108 WHIP, 12 CG
The stats are eye-popping, but for a true appreciation of how good Doc was, you really should go back and watch some highlights or actual game footage. It’s not quite as impressive as seeing it live, but it’s the best we got, and it still has the ability to induce awe.
Unfortunately, the wheels were already coming off for Gooden even as the Mets made their World Series run. The drugs were taking their toll, and while his overall numbers still wowed, he was never as dominant or dependable as he had been during his first two seasons.
Throughout 1986, manager Davey Johnson gradually turned more and more to other members of his staff— Ron Darling, Sid Fernandez, Bobby Ojeda— when it mattered most. And on the biggest stage, Gooden struggled mightily in Games 2 and 5 of the 1986 World Series. Infamously, he missed the Mets’ World Series parade altogether, watching it from his dealer’s apartment instead.
Doc entered rehab for the first time in Spring Training of 1987, bounced back with a pretty good 1988, and then the bottom fell out. Yes, he did eventually resurface with a bit of a redemption story, signing with the Yankees in 1996. He threw a no-hitter in the Bronx and helped the Yankees win their first World Series in nearly two decades.
He stuck with Yankees in 1997, then bounced around a bit with decent production, before finishing his career back with the Yankees in 2000. It was nice epilogue to the story that had ended so sadly with the Mets, but he was never the same guy as in his glory years, and he has continued to ride the rollercoaster that is drug addiction to this day.
If only he could have had Carter calling the shots for him off the field like he did on the mound. Few players could have used an angel on their shoulder more than Doc. Most likely, he would have chafed at the direction. I mean, as much as I respect Carter now, there’s still part of me that would probably treat him the way I react to Jehovah’s Witnesses who knock on my door. But if just a little bit of Carter had rubbed off on him, that might not have been the worst thing in the world.
Unfortunately, Carter is no longer around to influence Doc directly. He died of a brain tumor in 2012 at the age of fifty-six. But one of my favorite Carter stories shows that despite his clean-cut persona, a little of the ’86 Mets’ brashness did rub off on him.
With two outs in the bottom of the tenth in Game 6 of the World Series, Carter smacked a base hit to start the rally that would end with the ball going through Bill Buckner’s legs, setting the stage for the Mets to win their title. After reaching first base, “The Kid” clapped his hands together and shouted, “No fucking way I’m getting the last out of the World Series!”
So I guess there’s probably both a little angel and demon in all of us.
Thanks for reading Powder Blue Nostalgia. Share your memories of Gary Carter and Doc Gooden in the comments below. And let us know if you can think of any other mismatched batteries.
You touched on it, but it is a testament to how amazing Gooden's 1985 season was that those 1986 numbers (ones practically any pitcher at the time would have signed up for) felt like a bit of a disappointment. Being young and naïve then, I remember being shocked when the news about his rehab stint came out the next spring. Sometimes I would like to be that innocent again. Also, it seems unthinkable now to let a 20-year-old throw 276 innings.
Great piece about two special characters from the Mets. Doc was very good before he got lost in drugs. It's a shame someone with his arm and stuff let that happen to himself. Thanks Patrick!