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 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