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If you’ve read any of my stuff over the last three years, first of all thank you, and second of all my condolences. You already know I am dangerously prone to falling down Mets rabbit holes on the internet. One minute I’m innocently looking for a Gary Carter highlight to avoid doing something productive, and the next thing I know I’ve lost three hours, three 20 ounce bottles of Diet Pepsi, and any grip on the space-time continuum while watching pixelated footage of long-forgo

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

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 find something we forgot we ever owned. Last week, we wandered off the basepaths entirely and into the barnyard, revisiting Homer the Beagle and Mettle the Mule , the two mascots who barked, brayed, and did their best to distract us from box scores that sometimes made you want to cover your eyes. T