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Welcome back to Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing, our weekly stroll through the Mets attic the place where the yearbooks are a little dusty, the bubble gum cards stick together, and every once in a while you stumble across a name that makes you stop and say, “Wait… I remember that guy.” Last week we untangled the curious case of the two Bobby Joneses two pitchers, same name, overlapping in the larger orbit of baseball history, and enough confusion to make even a sco

Welcome back to Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing, our weekly stroll through the Mets attic — the place where the yearbooks are a little dusty, the bubble gum cards stick together, and every once in a while you stumble across a name that makes you stop and say, “Wait… I remember that guy.” Last week we dusted off the file on John Buck, the catcher who spent most of his career being a solid, dependable big league backstop — until April of 2013, when he briefly turned

Welcome back to Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing, our weekly stroll through the Mets attic where the yearbooks are a little worn, the bubble gum cards stick together, and every once in a while you come across a name that makes you stop and say, “Wait a second… how did we forget that guy?” Last week we opened the attic door and found a man who spent nearly two decades quietly standing in the background of Mets history. The traveling secretary who appeared in every of

If you spend enough time around collectors, you start to notice that the best collections rarely begin with money. They begin with moments. A handshake. A story. A childhood connection that somehow follows you for the rest of your life. This month’s Kollector’s Korner Met-o-ra-bil-ia Hall of Fame inductee has built a lifetime of those moments, often without even chasing them. Meet Paul Friedlander. Paul is 71 years old and has spent more than 45 years working as a tax account

Welcome back to Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing, our weekly stroll through the Mets attic where the yearbooks are a little worn, the bubble gum cards stick together, and every once in a while you come across a name that makes you stop and say, “Wait a second… how did we forget that guy?” Last week we talked about the time the Mets brought in Hall of Fame pitcher Bob Gibson to serve as what manager Joe Torre jokingly called the team’s attitude coach. Because if your

Welcome back to Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing, our weekly rummage through the Mets’ attic, where we brush the dust off the bubble gum cards, flip through curling yearbooks, and rediscover the names that once made you stop mid knish and say, “Hold on… he was a Met, right?” Last week we stood, removed our caps, and revisited the voices that opened Mets games long before the first pitch and the first second guessing of the bullpen. From Pearl Bailey setting the tone

Welcome back to Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing, our weekly rummage through the Mets’ attic, where we brush off the dust, squint at old photos, and rediscover the people, places, and moments that once made Mets baseball feel new, hopeful, and occasionally sunburned. Last week, we were in St. Petersburg, Florida, the Mets’ original spring home. Before Shea. Before Port St. Lucie. Before winning seasons were anything more than a rumor. Back when baseballs occasionall

Welcome back to Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing, our weekly stroll through Mets history, where we dust off the forgotten, squint at the overlooked, and remind ourselves that Mets lore is about far more than box scores and batting averages. The last couple of lessons wandered slightly off the basepaths. First, we tipped our cap to Kathy Kersch, Miss Rheingold 1962, the smiling face of the Mets’ first major sponsor and the most photogenic rookie of their inaugural se

Welcome back to Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing, our weekly rummage through the Mets’ attic, where we brush the dust off the bubble-gum cards, flip through curling yearbooks, and rediscover the names that once made you stop mid-knish and say, “Hold on… he was a Met, right?” Last week’s lesson took a slight detour from the usual roll call of orange-and-blue alumni. Instead of Mets who were, we studied Mets who almost were, a half-dozen draft picks whose names were o

Welcome back to Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing, our weekly rummage through the Mets’ attic, where we brush the dust off the bubble gum cards, flip through the curling pages of old yearbooks, and rediscover the players who once made you pause mid–potato knish and mutter, “Hold on… he was a Met, right?” Last week, class focused on Joe Frazier , not the heavyweight champion, but the Mets manager whose brief tenure somehow produced a better winning percentage than Ter

Welcome back to Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing, our weekly rummage through the Mets’ attic, where we brush the dust off the bubble gum cards, flip through the curling pages of old yearbooks, and rediscover the players who once made you pause mid potato knish and mutter, “Hold on… he was a Met, right?” We closed out 2025 by revisiting one of the strangest detours in Mets history, when Tom Seaver, Ron Swoboda, Ralph Kiner and Yogi Berra paid a visit to Sing Sing pri

Welcome back to Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing, our weekly rummage through the Mets’ attic, where we brush the dust off the bubble gum cards, flip through the curling pages of old yearbooks, and rediscover the players who once made you pause mid potato knish and mutter, “Hold on… he was a Met, right?” Last week, we told the story of Randy “Moose” Milligan, a man whose Mets career could fit comfortably on a cocktail napkin but whose fingerprints somehow wound up al

Welcome back to Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing, our weekly rummage through the Mets attic, where we brush the dust off the bubble gum cards, flip through the yearbooks that still smell faintly of pretzels, and rediscover the players who made you pause mid potato knish and mutter, Hold on, he was a Met, right? Last week, we took a sentimental stroll through Shea Stadium’s old organ loft and revisited the legacy of Jane Jarvis, the musical magician who could turn a

Welcome back to Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing, our weekly rummage through the Mets’ attic, where we brush the dust off the bubble-gum cards, rummage through the old yearbooks, and rediscover the players who made you pause mid–potato knish and mutter, “Hold on… he was a Met, right?” Last week, we dove into the rarest of Mets species, the two-sport unicorn himself, DJ Dozier, NFL running back, major-leaguer, and a man who collected job titles the way the rest of us

Welcome back to Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing, our weekly rummage through the Mets’ attic, where we dust off the bubble-gum cards and game-used jerseys of the guys who made you squint and go, “Wait… didn’t he play for us?” Last week, we spotlighted the slime-soaked, neon-splattered Nickelodeon crossover era, a chapter of Mets lore so bizarre you’d swear it was dreamed up by a pack of sugar-fueled 10-year-olds who’d just mainlined Fruit Gushers and were ready to p

Welcome back to Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing, our weekly rummage through the Mets’ attic, where we dust off the bubble-gum cards and game-used jerseys of the guys who made you squint and go, “Wait… didn’t he play for us?” Last week, we spotlighted Kevin Baez — the smooth-handed Brooklyn shortstop who carved out a life in baseball that’s been more meaningful than many players with ten times the headlines. A grinder, a teacher, a championship manager, and a guy wh

Welcome back to Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing, our weekly rummage through the Mets’ attic, where we dust off the bubble-gum cards and game-used jerseys of the guys who made you squint and go, “Wait… didn’t he play for us?” Last week, we looked back at Brent Gaff — the Indiana right-hander who quietly became a dependable arm in the early ’80s Mets bullpen and now builds some of the finest fishing rods this side of the Midwest. This week, we stay closer to home — a

Welcome back to Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing, our weekly rummage through the Mets’ attic, where we dust off the bubble-gum cards and game-used jerseys of the guys who made you squint and go, “Wait… didn’t he play for us?” Last week, we looked back at Brian Cole, the five-tool comet who blazed through the Mets’ system before tragedy cut his story short. This week, we go back to the early ’80s before Doc, before Darryl, before the Home Run Apple even knew how to

Welcome back to Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing, our weekly rummage through the Mets’ attic, where we dust off the bubble-gum cards and game-used jerseys of the guys who made you squint and go, “Wait… didn’t he play for us?” Last week, we looked back at Chuck Hiller and Harvey Haddix , two men who helped shape a young franchise with fundamentals, grit, and good humor. This week, we shift gears to someone who never made it to Shea but whose name still makes longtime

Welcome back to Sunday School: Forgotten Faces of Flushing, our weekly rummage through the Mets’ attic, where the dust smells like pine tar and nostalgia, and where we occasionally stumble across treasures we thought we’d forgotten. Last week, we focused on Ron Herbel, a sturdy right-hander whose brief but reliable stint with the Mets in 1970 made him the kind of pitcher every team needs: steady, uncomplaining, and quietly effective. This week, we return to the 1960s, to a Me