What did I tell you? The Mets won a close game last night. They played well, did what they had to do to beat the Brewers - and survived another potential meltdown by their closer Frank Francisco. Of course they had three (count 'em -just three) hits and once again triumphed in the most sedate manner possible. Still - a win is a win is a win. And these Mets continue to entertain. The lost opportunities over the weekend against Miami...a thing of the past.And the Brewers. Entertaining as well. Their efforts to help celebrate the Mets' 50th anniversary were very much appreciated. By totally blowing a late inning rundown of David Wright between third base and home plate, the Brewers allowed the Mets to score a crucial insurance run. Marvelous Marv Throneberry - traded to the original 1962 Mets fifty years ago this month - would be so very proud. Marv - he of the base running gaffes, the overrun ground balls and the dropped infield pop-ups - was especially known for screwing up the rundown play. Ernie Banks, the legendary first baseman of the Cubs, once made it to second base safely on such a play. That's because Marv had used his body to physically stop Ernie from reaching second. Unfortunately, Marv did not have possession of the baseball at the time (resulting in an interference call and the umpires sending Ernie to second base).
Marv became a symbol of the Mets early ineptitude. Of course, he was a serious young man who was trying to succeed at his craft (as did all the 1962 Mets). Circumstances dictated a different role for him. The team was so bad...but the fans were very happy to have a National League team back in New York. Casey Stengel and Marvelous Marv Throneberry. Helping to take the fans' minds off the pain.
Can you imagine if sports talk-radio existed in 1962? Vinnie from the Bronx calling a talk-head from WFAN: "What's going on with those Mets? The pitchers are BUMS. Craig, Jackson, Hook...they can't pitch - get rid of them! And the infielders...can't they ever field a ground ball cleanly? Hodges...he can barely walk! Felix Mantilla - why is he playing third base? If the ball is hit to his right he goes to his left. And that Throneberry...he should be SHOT! Why is he on the team? And Hickman...does he ever swing at a third strike? BUM! Which reminds me...why does Casey play these guys?! WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH HIM - he should be FIRED! He's sleeping out there in the dugout anyway!" History records the 1962 Mets as "lovable losers". Good thing Vinnie had no public forum in '62! The joke would have gotten old very quickly.
Anyway...back to 2012 and last evening's game. My neighbor Tony...remember Tony? He also roots for the Mets. He might as well be another Vinnie. He lives right across the hall...and when the Brewers threatened in the top of the ninth inning I heard him screaming curses at the television. A grown man! Cursing at the top of his lungs. In fact - I think I learned a couple of new ones. (Just in case, of course.)
When the game was over Tony knocked on my door. He asked if he'd disturbed me. I told him he hadn't. Tony looked horrible - more beat up than ever. I invited him in for a beer. (Probably the reason he'd knocked on my door in the first place.) As it turned out, Tony was still working. Still trying to do a hundred tasks at once and never able to satisfy his superiors. Still unable make the decision. And retire. He didn't have to ask me how I was.
After our prior conversation Tony had reviewed his finances and determined that he could retire. Why was he still working? Why wasn't he pulling the trigger? Why does he scream at a baseball game on the television?
"I don't know" Tony replied. Then: "What am I going to do all day?" Like a little boy, he looked up at me and asked about the Iverson Bicycle Factory story...he'd evidently been thinking about it. Even after a few weeks. "What ever happened to Larry - your friend who started at the factory with you?"
"Larry retired at forty-five." I replied.
Tony stood up. "From the Iverson Bicycle Factory?" He couldn't believe it.
I smiled. "No, of course not." And I proceeded to tell him Larry's story at the factory.
Management had given Larry a few relatively easy tasks the first day. He showed up to work the next day. The supervisor brought him to another room where there was a big vat of acid. Scattered throughout the room were bins containing old bicycle parts. Rusty old bicycle parts. The company needed to cut costs, so - as the supervisor explained to Larry - his job would be to wash off the accumulated rust from each one of the hundreds of old bicycle parts. Place the old bicycle part in the acid - shake it around vigorously until the rust disappeared. When Larry asked the supervisor how he would protect his hands and arms, he was given a tiny, flimsy protective glove (covering only his hands and wrists). Evidently there wasn't more substantial equipment available - that would cost money.
"One more thing," the supervisor said. "The goal. You have to do twenty-five bicycle parts an hour. The goal...must be met."
Larry looked at the big vat of acid. He looked at the tiny, flimsy glove. He looked back at the big vat of acid. And back again at the tiny, flimsy glove. Larry was no dummy...at the time he was considering a career in law (he later obtained his MBA and went on to a successful career in the private sector). He told the supervisor that he had to go the restroom. He would be right back. And then Larry walked down the hall towards the men's room, turned right instead of left - like Marvelous Marv's teammate Felix Mantilla -and went out the side door. Next thing I knew, Larry was at Smith Point beach, spending quality time with his girlfriend and soaking in the rays.
"And that" I told Tony, "so ends the story of the Iverson Bicycle factory." I walked over the door and opened it for Tony. It was late - I had to be up early to work out. Tony started to leave stopped. "How and why did Larry retire at forty-five?" I smiled. Now that was a story for another day.
Bye for now! Till then,
Stevenn
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