In Mets history, the 1990s can feel like a few different decades in one. The early 1990s were highly anticipated seasons, but then they crashed in a nose-dive into the ground. By 1999, Shea Stadium finally sounded dangerous again. In between came losing streaks, roster churn, deadline deals, false starts, bad summers, and one eternal Queens truth: when the Mets had something to believe in, it usually began with a pitcher standing alone on the mound. David Cone, John Franco, a

They are the pitchers that made Shea Stadium shake during the height of the 80s. They were the popping sound of a fastball in Gary Carter’s mitt. They were the sudden hush before a two-strike curve. They were young, loud, gifted, half-wild — and on the mound, they had three very different ways to make a hitter feel alone. There was Dwight Gooden, the phenomenon, all elbows and electricity, the teenager who made Queens look up from its newspapers and believe it was seeing the

The lefties that helped define Shea Stadium pitching magic in the 1970’s, Tug McGraw and Jon Matlack, couldn’t have been more opposite in approach and in attitude. McGraw was motion, noise, improvisation — the hurler who slapped his glove, shouted belief into a clubhouse, and made the bullpen feel like a stage entrance. Matlack was quieter, cleaner, more severe — a starter whose excellence could be hidden by won-lost records, and an offense that too often left him no margin.

NEW YORK — Before the New York Mets became a miracle, pitching for them could feel like torture. The early 1960s Mets were charming, chaotic and often overmatched, a newborn franchise trying to replace the National League void left in New York after the Dodgers and Giants had left town. For pitchers, that meant taking the ball with huge shoes to fill, to match their predecessors. In those first lean seasons, Al Jackson was the kind of pitcher every bad team needs, but too few

For the Mets, catcher was never merely a lineup spot. It was a stress test. It reflected where the franchise stood at almost every stage of the decade: patching holes after a disappointing era, rebuilding with cost-controlled players, gambling on prospects, surviving injuries, handling elite young pitching, and finally turning to a veteran bat in search of stability. The names changed constantly — Rod Barajas, Josh Thole, John Buck, Travis d’Arnaud, Kevin Plawecki, René River

The Mets’ catching story in the 2000s begins with Mike Piazza, the face of the position and one of the defining hitters in franchise history. By the time the decade opened, Piazza was already the centerpiece of the Mets’ lineup, but the 2000 season turned that status into something larger. He was not merely a productive catcher. He was the emotional and offensive anchor of a pennant-winning team. In 2000, Piazza gave the Mets one of the great offensive seasons in club history

The story of Mets catchers in the 1990s is really two stories that collided. The first is Todd Hundley’s: a homegrown catcher, defensively trusted before he was feared, who slowly became one of the most powerful catchers baseball had ever seen. The second is Mike Piazza’s: a superstar dropped into Queens in midstream, instantly changing what the Mets looked like, what they expected from the catcher’s spot, and how the franchise imagined itself. Everyone else who caught for th

The Mets’ story behind the plate in the 1980s with John Stearns, the bruised emblem of bad teams that still fought hard. Then the story bursts into the Gary Carter years, when the catcher stopped being merely a defensive post and became a source of power. The decade’s lasting image remains Carter in blue-and-orange gear, smiling, crouched, and pulling a young club toward October and to the promised land. In the early years, the Mets’ catcher was Stearns, “Bad Dude,” tough eno

The story of the 1970s Mets at catcher is really a story of transition. The decade opened with Jerry Grote still doing most of the work behind the plate, moved through years when Duffy Dyer and Ron Hodges mattered in real ways, and closed with John Stearns carrying the job almost by himself. One year after the miracle, the Mets still looked familiar at catcher. Grote handled 126 games and hit .255, while Dyer appeared in 59 and hit .209; New York finished 83-79. Behind the p

If the story of the 1960s Mets is told in order, it makes the most sense from behind the plate. The decade opened with an expansion club so raw it lost 120 games, and it closed with a championship team that no longer looked improvised at all. In between, the men in the catcher’s gear changed from symbols of chaos to guardians of a contender. The first catcher in Mets history was also the franchise’s first expansion-draft selection: Hobie Landrith. That choice carried a certai

The New York Mets' story at shortstop in the 2010s was one of transition. It began with a star, moved through uncertainty, paused for one of the most emotional moments in franchise history, and ended with a young player who looked like the club’s next long-term answer—from José Reyes to Rubén Tejada to Wilmer Flores to Amed Rosario, the decade at shortstop mirrored the uneven but compelling path of the team itself. At the start of the decade, the position still belonged to Re

The 2000s Mets' shortstops story was the end of an era and the beginning of something even better for fans in Queens. The beloved, hot-shot fielding shortstop, Rey Ordonez, was on the decline, and the team needed to find a reliable replacement for his super range and super glove. Well, the decade ended up producing a fruitful upgrade for years, Jose Reyes. Ordonez, in 2000, suffered a catastrophic forearm injury really early in the season. The injury happened on May 29, on a

The most popular 90s Mets shortstops all had something in common: they could field the ball as well as or better than anyone else in the National League. Kevin Elster, Jose Vizcaino, and Rey Ordonez were solid fielders. Ordonez stood out as a spectacular fielder. He'll always be remembered for his range, his arm, and his flair. We begin the 90s with Kevin Elster, who had already set a major league record at short in the late 80s for the most consecutive games without an error

1980 was a 67-win catastrophe for the New York Mets, and the Joe Torre-led team wasn't competitive for almost the entire season. They finished 24 games out of first place. It was still four games better than the 63-win 1979 campaign. And just like 1979, the Mets' shortstop was Frank Taveras. The speedy, sure-handed player had a good season. Taveras swiped 32 bags while batting a career-high .279. He added 27 doubles to the stat line. Taveras started the season batting in the

The 70s Mets' shortstop story is really about one person. He was scrappy, he was tough, and he was undersized, but he had an oversized heart. Buddy Harrelson broke onto the scene for the team in the late 60s, but the bulk of his work and his legacy were built in the 70s for the team. The first couple of years of the decade were arguably his best on the team. In his 1970 (all-star) season, he played a career-high 157 games. He batted .243, with 42 RBI, and 72 runs scored. He m

The Mets' shortstops of the 1960s won't go down in history as the strongest players to play the position for the team. That probably would come decades later. However, some solid players filled the role, back when the position was considered more of a fielding spot than a hitter's. The inaugural opening day shortstop in 1962 for the Mets was Felix Mantilla. He was a solid hitter, so he stayed in the lineup, playing most of his games at 3rd base that year. Elio Chacon took the

David Wright, arguably the best New York Met of all time, ended his career in the 2010s. He suffered from a chronic spinal issue that limited his participation in the second half of the decade. From 2015-2018, he only played 75 total games for the Mets, making his exit a quiet one. He'll always be remembered as "Captain America" to the fans who cheered for him, and for what could have been a Hall of Fame lock if the injury hadn't consumed him. He did provide some "Amazin'" mo

We write about the positions by decade every week, but it's super rare to run into a decade where it was all about one person. The 2000s 3rd basemen for the Mets will be all about David Wright. He's a legend for Mets fans, and he ranks at the top of almost every statistical category for the team in the 2000s. "Captain America" was a hero to an entire generation of fans, so he deserves all the kind words. The 2000s started with Robin Ventura at 3rd base for 2000 and 2001. Vent

The 1990s saw the end of an era for a beloved Mets third baseman, and the beginning of an era that still hasn't ended. That era is still shelling out just over $1 million a year until 2035, so we still got a ways to go. The decade ended with a legendary bat, who came through NYC and provided one of the best walk offs in team history. The Early 90s started the way the 80s ended, with the speed and the pop from the fan-favorite, Howard Johnson. In '90 he hit 23 HR and drove in

In the early 1980s, Shea Stadium was a place of echoes — echoes of past glory, echoes of empty seats, echoes of a fan base waiting for something to believe in again. The New York Mets were rebuilding not just a roster, but an identity. Nowhere was that transformation more clearly reflected than at third base. Over the course of the decade, the Mets’ hot corner evolved from a position of stopgaps and hard-nosed placeholders into one of the most productive and symbolic spots on