Before Lee? Why Jane Jarvis and John Stearns Belonged in the Mets Hall of Fame First

This weekend Lee Mazzilli and Bobby Valentine will be inducted into the New York Mets Hall of Fame . This event brings understandable excitement from Mets fans of a certain generation — especially those of us who spent the late 1970s pretending our hair looked just as cool as Lee’s.

Spoiler alert:

It didn’t.

Mazzilli was everything a young Mets fan could want. He was from Brooklyn, he was Tony Manero before Saturday Night Fever, and he carried himself with the kind of swagger that made Shea Stadium collectively forget the team was often 17 games out by Memorial Day.

And to be clear, there is absolutely a legitimate case for his induction.

But Mazzilli’s selection also opens the door to a larger question, which these things always do: If Lee Mazzilli is now officially a Mets Hall of Famer, how exactly are John Stearns and Jane Jarvis still waiting outside like two people who got stuck behind a group trying to redeem 40 expired coupons at Waldbaum’s?

Because honestly, the biggest oversight in Mets Hall of Fame history might not even be a player.

For me It’s Jane Jarvis.

For an entire generation of Mets fans, Shea Stadium did not merely sound like baseball.

It sounded like Jane Jarvis.

Today's music at ballparks sounds like the Schmengie Brothers polka band (too obscure, look it up) and the Kars for Kids band decided baseball needed “more energy” and nobody has recovered since. Back then, you had Jarvis at the organ, somehow knowing exactly when to play something triumphant, funny, dramatic or mischievous — often within seconds of a bizarre Mets baserunning mistake.

Which, admittedly, gave her plenty of material.

From 1964 through 1979, Jarvis was part musician, part conductor, part emotional support system for traumatized Mets fans. Her music became woven into the identity of Shea Stadium itself.

“Meet the Mets.”

“Let’s Go Mets.”

The little flourishes after strikeouts.

The suspenseful notes during rallies.

The soundtrack of summer nights in Queens.

She wasn’t background music.

She was Shea Stadium.

And unlike many stadium organists, Jarvis was a legitimately accomplished jazz pianist, composer and arranger outside baseball. This wasn’t somebody pounding out random notes between innings while waiting for a hot dog. She was a respected musician whose work became inseparable from Mets history.

The Mets Hall of Fame has rightfully honored broadcasters like Ralph Kiner, Bob Murphy, Lindsey Nelson, Gary Cohen and Howie Rose because they helped define the sound and soul of Mets baseball.

How in the name of Banner Day — or the single-admission doubleheader, may it rest in peace — is Jane Jarvis not part of that group?

The Mets Hall of Fame is supposed to preserve Mets history and Mets identity.

Jane Jarvis helped create both.

Then there is John Stearns.

Or as Mets fans of that era knew him:

“Bad Dude.”

Even the nickname sounded like somebody you did not want to accidentally cut in line at the concession stand. And I know that first-hand, because in early August of 1981 I made the mistake of referring to him as a 30-year-old catcher at the top of his game. At which point John Stearns — Stearnly, pun intended — corrected me immediately: “I’m 29, partner.” His birthday was five days away, but he wanted me to know, in no uncertain terms, that he was still 29… as if we were negotiating a contract clause over his exact age. And over the years it was something he never ever let me forget.

If Mazzilli represented charisma and style, Stearns represented grit, toughness and the general feeling that he might play all nine innings with a broken nose and then put the tarp on the field all by himself at the end of the game .

During one of the bleakest stretches in franchise history, Stearns became the player Mets fans rallied around. While the team was inventing new and creative ways to finish fifth, Stearns was actually becoming one of the best catchers in baseball.

Not “good for the Mets.”

Actually good.

From 1977 through 1982:

Four All-Star teams.

Speed that made no sense for a catcher.

Power.

Leadership.

And enough toughness to survive approximately 11 million collisions at home plate during the pre-protective-gear era otherwise known as “baseball.”

Stearns wasn’t simply beloved.

He was elite.

And that’s where the Hall of Fame conversation gets interesting.

Because if the Mets Hall of Fame is about emotional connection, importance to an era and representing what Mets baseball felt like to fans, then Stearns absolutely belongs.

If it’s about peak performance?

He belongs even more.

This is not an anti-Mazzilli argument.

Lee Mazzilli absolutely matters in Mets history.

But if you are building a true museum of Mets memories, identity and impact, it becomes very difficult to explain how Mazzilli gets the call before either Jane Jarvis or John Stearns.

One helped create the soundtrack of Shea Stadium.

The other helped give Mets fans something worth cheering for during years when cheering often required Olympic-level optimism.

Both feel long overdue.

And maybe Mazzilli’s induction will finally help shine a spotlight on that reality.

Besides, somewhere out there, you just know Jane Jarvis would have the perfect organ riff ready for this entire debate.